To sub, or not to sub, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous grading,
Or to take arms against a sea of graders
And by opposing end them. To die—to slab,
No more; and by a slab to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That wallet is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To sub, to slab;
To slab, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that slab of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long collecting.
For who would bear the ex and vg of time,
Th'grader's wrong, the proud collector's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of posting, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare sneak peek? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a waiting delivery,
But that the dread of something after opening SGC package,
The undiscovere'd contents, from whose bourn
No submitter returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to message board that we know not of?
Thus Official Posting of Grade does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of focus/resolution/centering
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of crack-and-resub,
And enterprises of great pitcher and batter
With this regard their cardboard image turn awry
And lose the name of Registry Reward.

-- Shakespeare (edited)/Hamlet
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#1 in 1959 Topps