#people are fortunately starting to ask like.. why.. was the satire made in first place

[5-minliteraturethisweek]

The Business Man

“The Business Man” written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1840 is a satire and dark comedy that explores the life of a character named Peter Proffit, who prides himself on being a methodical and systematic businessman. This story is interpreted as a reflection of Poe's strained relationship with his foster father John Allan, himself a successful businessman. 

 This story starts with Proffit narrating his childhood, where he describes the reason why he decided and changed to a methodical and systematic person. When Proffit was still a little boy, rolling himself and playing, he knocked his head into the bedpost. And this he says, made his fortune. A dumb appeared on his head and it turned out to be a really neat bump that looked like it was all about being organized and orderly. Besides this is the factor which made him methodical. 

Soon after, the rising action occurs where Proffit has an unusual obsession with order and organization, 

and where he talks about teenagers, or kids in the city running away from their parents, and about when and how Proffit decided to run away from home. At this point, the readers start to question what he is doing for the business, and what his systematic methods are.

 After that, he narrates the obsession with the methods and orders which are absurd and illogical in the 19th century. Then soon comes the climax, where the author narrates in detail about Proffit’s business, what he earns money for. Proffit is working as a jack of all trades and usually he either asks a person if the person has any concerns about some things such as arranging fights in the street for young boys and he plans these fights adroitly so that it will occur regularly and systemically. Another case is managing a lost and found for dogs. He operates a business focused on returning the dogs however, he is occasionally involved in making the dogs get lost in the first place to profit from their return.

The narrative is framed as Proffit's autobiographical account, detailing his childhood obsession with order and systematization, which he carries into his adult life.

 This short story is not a predominantly traditional gothic novel, besides it is subtle or nuanced compared to the writer, Poe’s famous stories. But there are still many gothic elements covered in the novel such as the dark and irony while the story is more satirical than horrifying, the use of dark humor is ordinary in the gothic stories.

 Another example of gothic elements is the place where it takes place. In the meanwhile the story is taking place in an urban setting not in old desolated castle, this is still a gothic element as the ideas of cities are not explained in a beautiful, pure, unpolluted place and narrated rather in a two sided, urban decay and moral ambiguity way. 

In conclusion this story tells the readers using dark humor and satire that people in the 19th century had an obsession with order and method in business. In addition, it also covers things that occur due to the unyielding pursuit of profit. And the story is going in flashback order which makes the readers feel satisfied after finishing reading the story.

This novel fits the best with people who are getting tired of reading the common, typical gothic novels, as it is different from the traditional gothic novels but it is interesting and entertaining to read for all generations.

[leona-florianova]

Some wild drama happening at my old art high school... New headmaster kicked out three teachers because they liked satirical post on instagram, which made very deserved fun of her. 

She brought it up to police because she thinks liking such posts is participating and enabling bullying and that it paints the school in bad light..  

Meanwhile she is bullying the whole student body along with the teachers/professors..makes Insane rules and  does weird monologues, straight up Umbridge behaviour.. The fact that she hates art and artists and before becoming the headmaster she taught czech... like I remember how she used to berate n ridicule anyone who made even the smallest mistakes...how she made homophobic coments (at liberal left leaning school where at least half of the students are some type of queer)... AND just few hours ago I learned that she got the position she shouldnt have gotten in the first place, because her relative works at the office of our local county representative....while also her, the relative and the county representative are all  KDU-ČSL...Christian and Democratic Union – Czechoslovak People's Party..a centrist conservative party that manages to swing from left to right and right to left depending on need, but always keeps its traditional values - sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia etc. etc... which is just f*cking abysmal.. 

I am no longer a student at the school.. havent been for years.. but damn as an alumni I feel so fragging bad for everyone who has to deal with her and her regime now... 

[tg-headcanons]

Hey Bestie could you spare any Matsumae hcs?? Ik she's very minor but that doesn't detract from the fact that she's an absolute MILF

The Tsukiyama Family’s Pet Milf!

She grew up relatively fortunate for a ghoul, she had both her parents alive and went to school, and was even able to get into collage. She likes kids but doesn’t want her own, so she got a teaching degree. A few weeks after her graduation her family was killed and she was injured in a territory dispute with a stronger ghoul who moved into the area, and fled into the 1st ward despite the dangers of so many CCG to try to escape him. She was homeless for a few months, she had no money and healing was slow as it was hard to hunt when injured, but was approached one night by a man who introduced himself as Mirumo Tsukiyama and asked what a ghoul such as herself was doing in a place crawling with doves. He brought her to a cafe to talk, he told her how he was in the area on business, and she told him about her family and her escape. What caught his attention though, was that she has a teaching degree, and offered her a job

When she started working for the Tsukiyama family it was as a tutor for Shuu, who was about seven at the time. She fell in love with the sickly kid and found herself happily tending to him beyond her duties as a teacher. He was like a little brother to her, the other servants were becoming family as well, and she decided that she’ll make this place her home until she’s killed. As Shuu grew up she rose in rank, getting jobs at the schools he went to to keep an eye on him, getting involved in the company once Mirumo decided his son no longer needs supervision, and ended up being head of household among the servants. She made her home there and is happy to have a family again

Tending to others comes naturally to her. When Shuu is unable to get up from his sickness or struggling to eat, she’ll stay with him if he wants company. When Kanae came of them, she comforted him when he had nightmares of the lost of his family. She seems cold on the outside, but those who know her know that she’s a kind person, and both Shuu and the servants will go to her if they need help, or just someone to talk to

Most of her clothes have been picked out by Shuu. She takes him shopping sometimes when he wants to update his wardrobe, but almost every time it turns into Shuu decided something would look just PERFECT on her and demanding she try it on. She protests, but He has a great eye for these things and is rarely wrong

Despite her stoic and professional look, she has the highest prey drive of anyone in the mansion. She likes hunting for the thrill of the chase, she can’t sleep if she can see out the window because if there’s a bird or a squirrel she’ll be amped up on wanting to go after it. To try to sate some of this instinct without killing excessively or making a fool of herself chasing raccoons in the garden, she goes to recreational soccer matches at a nearby community center on sundays to relieve the need to pursue something. She’s amazing offense, everyone wants her on their team

She has a very weird hobby that she doesn’t talk about but takes great pride in: her restaurant review blog. She can not eat food, she has never eaten food, but she has gained a massive following on a blog she made where she bullshits some insane reviews for fun. She adds in weird backstories of how the character “Hana” (her humansona as it is) found these restaurants and why she gave them the rating she did and it was so wild that it gained traction and people are either certain it’s satire or take it as foodie gospel. It’s so dumb and she loves it

Since she watched Shuu grow up, she was there for all of his phases, and he is very aware that every weird childhood fear, every Cringey middle school obsession, every awkward voice crack, she was there. He is haunted by the fact that she (and sometimes Kanae) know the things about him that he’s rather be forgotten, and believe me they still joke about his first attempts as using eyeliner, but because she knows him so well with her he can swallow his pride and just enjoy the things he’d tell no one else about. Every October they watch Repo! The Genetic Opera together, he would never let anyone else know that he likes it, let alone knows about it, but they’ve done this every year since he was 14

[jaeausten]

My thoughts on Sanditon 1x06 (Beware, here be spoilers...)

Okay, up until now I have been watching Sanditon with mixed feelings, most of it positive, but Sundays episode left me screaming WTF at my tv.

In this house, Andrew Davies is a legend. His television adaptations of the classics has always let me soak into the world of Austen, Dickens etc and has been a welcome escape from the various shitty things in my life. He has been adapting books for tv series for decades and I thought that Sanditon was going to be full of the things I love about Jane Austen’s works and subsequent adaptations (wit, satire, self possessed, independent thinking heroines and intelligent, impeccably behaved heroes) with anything else left strictly to the imagination. Austen’s works have always had elegance and propriety to them (even when dealing with sex and ruin) that simply does not appear in this adaptation. There is such a sense of pandering to modern tastes in this episode of Sanditon that I cannot get past...or forgive. This is not an Austen adaptation and I am a little upset that Andrew Davies has interpreted Austen like this. People like Austen for all the subtlety and repressed sexual tension and although Jane did not write more than 11 chapters of Sanditon, surely Andrew has had enough experience dealing with this genre and original material to have written the rest of the story the way Jane might actually have intended.

Anyway, to the episode. I was literally jumping in my seat at the end of episode 1x05 when Charlotte set off on her plucky adventure to Set Things Right and help bring Georgiana home. But when this episode started, it soon became clear that Charlotte had arrived in London with only the flimsiest scrap of a plan and little to no money! (Note- In the rest of the series, Charlotte can be impulsive, but not stupid). Next, Charlotte is made to demonstrate another act of uncharacteristic stupidity by aimlessly wandering around the back streets and alleyways near the docks acting the fresh country girl ripe for the plucking. And of course, someone grabs her. She is rescued by Sidney, but this trope of stupid, naive country girl puts herself in a dangerous situation and has to be rescued by the hero pisses me off.

Oh, and Fyi costume designer, Charlotte should be wearing her hair up, UP, UUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPP!!! 

When Sidney tells Charlotte off in the carriage, I kind of thought that he had a point; reminding her that there can be other motives for marriage than love, but her looking shocked that this could be so surprises me as she has not previously written to be so naive. But, if you see it from her point of view, Otis rocked up looking dandy af a couple of episodes ago (I’m assuming that Charlotte thought that Otis might not need Georgiana’s money with that snazzy outfit on) and spouting romantic feelings and the telling of a genuinely funny first meeting with Georgiana made her think that it was for love and that it must be prejudice as his fortune has been made from slavery! Charlotte accuses Sidney of being less than forthcoming about his objections to Otis and he is pissed that his vague af explanation did not satisfy our independent thinking heroine. But as I see it, if you can be a first class asshole and scream into the heroine’s face while losing your temper in the street, you sure as hell can be explicit about why you ask someone to keep an extra eye on your ward. Just saying....

Also, Sidney’s behaviour throughout this series to Charlotte has been so far from an Austen hero and has made me dislike him so intensely that I have rooted for young Stringer as Charlotte’s eventual husband (though we all know that’s not going to happen, don’t we). An Austen hero never lets his anger show too strongly nor bellows at the heroine in the street. But apart from the story, good manners in that era and at that social level would prohibit any true gentleman from doing so. 

Andrew, if you are not going to follow Austen’s style, then place it in the proper confines of the period. Good fucking manners always prevail!!!!!!!!!

Taking Charlotte to a Brothel?!?!?!?!?!? Gently bred females do not get taken by an Austen hero to a brothel, Jesus Christ! Would this happen in reality? Not really! This scene seems to have been lifted out of the pages of a bodice ripper (not that I have any objection to bodice rippers- I frequently read and love them myself- but in an Austen? No, just no).

Charlotte preventing Sidney from beating the shit out of Otis for ruining Georgiana’s rep with a gentle plea while he reigns in his rage for her by focusing on her face, oh my heart... Still not Austen tho...

There’s finally a flash of the old sensible Charlotte when she figures out that Georgiana might still be held in London, whoops, I sneezed, back to the naive country girl trope that doesn’t fit. 

Ewwwww, the fat, misogynistic fucker making a joke about breaking in horses being similar to handling wives while drooling over a forcibly restrained woman just had to be in there didn’t it?  

It just bugs me why Clara, Edward and Esther don’t seem to take Lady Denham seriously when she has said repeatedly thought the entire series so far that none of them will benefit monetarily from her death, yet when the will is eventually found, Clara and Edward are outraged when nothing is left to them?

I can’t decide if Charlotte is still the annoying country girl from the beginning of the episode or the plucky heroine determined to find out the truth when she refuses to stay in the carriage when Sidney goes into the brothel where he is clearly a regular member...

‘You haven’t made an honest man of our Mr Parker, have you?’ 

‘GrAcIOuS NOOOO!’

Sidney’s face. One second of pained outrage. Classic!

Ooooohhhhhhh, a dramatic carriage chase. Area man in a cravat leaping to another carriage to bring the horses to a halt and rescue a girl. Melodrama meets western...

Oh look, Clara has found the hidden will and taken the time to put on a new dress and villain smirk of crazed triumph. Fuck off luv!

Oh. My. God.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jumping each other and having grunting, rough af sex on the cold marble floor to seal their devils deal? Um, ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

This is the most unAusten disgrace of the entire episode. This is what almost made me turn off the tv, but I wanted to see what else happened in the episode, so I put it on mute and glanced through my fingers occasionally. Wtf, Andrew Davies! You are so much better than this! Your experience and Austen lovers could have done without a gratuitous sex scene. Not only was it uncharacteristic in a work claiming to be based on an Austen, but it was jarring with the melodrama of the rest of the episode and quite clumsy in it’s execution. It took me completely off guard and tbh, it was fucking gross.

Here that? It’s poor Jane Austen, spinning in her grave...

Georgiana is restored to the bosom of her cold hearted guardian. Or is he? Finally, a Austenian trope! Thank fuck! Misunderstood asshole who can be capable of compassion and clearing an unworthy gentleman’s debts with his wealth to make the heroine realise he is not a complete dickhead? Can you guess which Austen hero I‘m referring to?

A manly heart to heart is in order. This is a scene that would never be in an Austen as Jane never wrote a scene that she herself could not have experienced, but I’ll let that go if it means Sidney won’t stay a twat...

Oh dear Lord, Charlotte doubts herself because she feels she has disappointed Sidney. Heroine doubts her previous harsh judgement of the hero is so Austen, I both cheered and groaned. Yay Austen! Nay Charlotte having a bad opinion of her own instincts which have been written to appear to come out of her perceived sheltered lifestyle and naivety. On the one hand, she is written as knowing nothing much about real life and needs firm handling to avoid becoming a complete idiot, and yet she is also written to understand architecture and shows clear headedness when old Stringer breaks his leg. I’m having trouble with this pendulum swinging here!

Dear God, why is Charlotte’s hair all scruffy like that? Why is it still not UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was rooting for Otis and Georgiana, but Otis proved himself kind of a douchebag. Georgiana realises that Otis is spouting bullshit when he says he only boasted of her beautiful soul to the gambling fucker, when in reality he had been dangling her and her fortune to appease a creditor. He seems sincere when he apologises though and it’s clear he does love her. But he wants to have his cake and eat it, so Georgiana out...

Oooh, that total sweetheart Babbington just showed up! I have to keep reminding myself that he isn’t Grenn from Got looking fit af in his regency gear. Rawr...

Why in the actual fuck is Charlotte refusing invitation to a London masquerade ball? Who does that? Sidney obviously expects her to be cheered right up by this and damn it, I do to! Georgiana is back safe and sound (almost) and Sanditon is about to be saved by the Regatta! She doesn’t feel sociable!? Her being sad by Sidney’s apparent bad opinion of her? Fuck that shit! Have some fucking self respect and get out there! A girl’s first visit to London on a mission (albeit in less than fun circumstances), friend is saved and you are invited to a big ass masquerade ball and you say no because of a man’s opinion?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Sidney spouts crap about underestimating her while looking sheepishly adorable and Charlotte agrees to go to the ball. Knew she wanted to really... But I don’t get Sidney’s sudden change of heart about Charlotte and as for underestimating her, what for? She bollocksed up everything, except for guessing that Georgiana was still held in London so they didn’t need to go off on a wild goose chase to Gretna Green. The episode up until that second has been Sidney treating her like she is a child who has made things unnecessarily difficult and not worthy of respect or a kind word. I don’t buy this. Sorry.

The ball!!!!!!!!

Poor Tom! No one gives a shit about the Regatta at the ball and one man even throws Tom’s card on the floor! Rude. Oh well, at least he looks da bomb in his burgundy silk ensemble.

Charlotte’s disappointed in the ball and wants to leave?!?!?!? Disappointed!?!?!? In a London ball! She’s only been there for five minutes and hasn’t done the obligatory sexually charged dance in a fabulous dress with the brooding hero yet! I know she is upset that they have left Georgiana at home and that’s fine, it shows that she has sensibilities and compassion for a friend, but come on! 

Why is she asking Sidney’s opinion to leave? Why is she putting herself down? Yes, Sidney’s behaviour has definitely led her to believe that she is too headstrong and opinionated, but I don’t think she’s too much. The way she has been written up until this episode has been what has made her interesting. Austen heroine’s do go through this in the last third of the story though.

Oh, now he thinks those things are cute. No wonder Charlotte is confused. I am.

Why in holy fuck is Charlotte telling absolutely everything to a total stranger?!?! I get that it is a human thing to want to pour out your heart and problems to someone who can take a step back and see things from a different perspective, but Austen heroine’s keep their fucking counsel! Also, in the time period at that level of society, spilling your secrets to a stranger opens everyone involved up to potential scandal. Good fucking God. This is not even reality at this point!

Charlotte in love with Sidney? Surely not Queen Susan. It’s glaring that Charlotte does love Sidney at this point. Treat them mean, make them fall in love with you, I guess.

Ooooh, the smoulder! Fuck, it’s even working on me!

Jesus Christ, this dance has everything. Not taking their soft eyes off of each others, gradually getting more intense as the dance goes on. Tender brushings of hands. The waltz with his head bent to hers with while being a bit too close for proprieties sake. The way they move in perfect harmony in a way that has not been in evidence in their interactions before. Lingering touches when they have to part in the dance. Taut sexual tension dripping from every step. Both suddenly grinning their arses off when the dance gets faster. The slow-mo shot showing them falling deeper into love. Ending the dance in extreme reluctance as it means they cannot be close in front of everyone anymore while looking stunned by their feelings. Divine! 

Uh oh. Enter old flame. Why did you have to spoil it Andrew?

I know that’s Theo’s actual real life wife, but there was no chemistry that I could see. I could go and get my binoculars. Eliza Campion, I know you won’t prevail, but please step it up for the next episode cos you haven’t convinced me yet.

Charlotte is happy and glowing with her new found awakening. I hope it will last. Of course not...

If you have managed to read to the end of this, well done! I certainly wouldn’t have! As you can see, most of this post has dealt with my feelings of incredulity at the way this episode has turned out. Don’t get me wrong, I really do like Sanditon, but Sunday’s episode has left me shaking my head in confusion. Andrew Davies work has always been top notch, but I wonder if the absence of full original source material has left him unable to write the fully realised characters of the Austen novels that we have come to expect. But injecting melodrama and bizarre about turns in terms of characters and their characterisation while introducing unnecessary scenes (you know the one I mean) has left this episode severely disjointed for me.

[alcalavicci]

Taken from a mid-00s magazine article. I love that Dean talks about art here the exact same way he talked about arnis in the 70s.

FEVER PITCH

Robert Dean Stockwell readies “The Spagyric Eye” at RB Ravens

BY RICK ROMANCITO

To movie buffs, he’ll always be known as Dean Stockwell, the actor probably best remembered for roles in ‘Blue Velvet, ‘Dune’ and the TV series ‘Quantum Leap.’ He also has a small role in ‘The Manchurian Candidate,’ the modern remake of the famous Cold War thriller starring Denzel Washington and Meryl Streep.

To patrons in the art world, though, he wants to be known as Robert Dean Stockwell.

In between movie assignments, Stockwell has been making art. Using stacks of Life magazines, he pores over thousands of images in a process he calls “hunting.” He picks a couple of old editions- which he located loads of at a place in the Monterey Bay area- “and I sit down and I just hunt through it for images. And, I see something and I’ll tear the page out and put it over there and I’ll see something - and I end up with boxes full of pages with different images on them. And then something will click and say, ‘Ah, this goes here and that goes there.’”

He said he had the good fortune in 1956 to meet Wallace Berman, the famous Beat collage artist who died in 1976. “He invited me to his home,” Stockwell said Thursday (Aug. 26) as his first major show was being readied for the Friday (Sept. 3), 6-9 p.m., opening at RB Ravens Gallery in Ranchos de Taos. “He had this tiny little house in Beverly Glen Canyon in L.A., and I saw artwork that I didn’t realize existed.”

Sparked by the expressive nature of collage - the selective reorganization and manipulation of existing images into new compositions and thereby injected with new meanings via juxtapositions — Stockwell began seeing with new eyes, so to speak. “That began a search, as it were, that ended up with the pieces you see here.” Stockwell is no stranger to Taos. He’s been coming here off and on for the past 40 years and even had a house here at one time. “Taos is my favorite place in the world,” he said, while puffing on a fragrant stogie, “and I’m going to end up here.”

He calls actor-director Dennis Hopper his best friend, adding that he has always been surprised that Hopper acquired the “wild man” label in his youth while he didn’t, even though he was often with the “Easy Rider” star and former owner of the Mabel Dodge Luhan house when they “got into fights and were arrested and stuff.” Stockwell’s connection with Taos is also fused with an abiding respect for Taos and its people. He maintains ties to Taos Pueblo and calls Carpio Bernal his “blood brother.” Bernal, Stockwell is quick to point out, is the son of Paul Bernal, who history will show was one of the most influential American Indians in this nation for his role in the struggle to regain his tribe’s Blue Lake from government control during the 1960s.

Hopper, according to Stockwell, “is in love with Taos in the same way.”

Stockwell, Hopper, RB Ravens owner Ray Trotter and their cronies can often be seen at the Taos Country Club playing golf. Today, older, presumably wiser, and taking different outlooks on life than they did as young men, Stockwell and Hopper remain close. As for Trotter, it was he who Stockwell decided to show what he’s been up to.

All through the late 1950s and ‘60s, Stockwell made his collages, but only shared them with people close to him. “I was working principally as an actor,” he said. “And I didn’t feel, for me, that I was making things that were good enough to exhibit. I think now I was wrong.”

Obviously, if you’re working in the film industry and making ends meet in other ways, making art can be an erratic process. But suddenly, “out of the blue,” in late June and July of 2003, Stockwell got busy. Big time. “I just got into a fever pitch making these,” he said, gesturing to the works leaning on the walls around him. “I was up ‘til 4 in the morning every night for about six weeks and I did almost all of these in that time. Just in a rush.”

What got into you? he’s asked.

“I have no idea. It was just meant to happen, I guess.”

Then, he turned to his laptop computer and started playing with some of the scanned collages. Another idea. Get a serious printer. So, he goes out and buys “a small whale,” an Epson 7600 Ultrachrome with archival inks, which means he can print, theoretically, 24 inches by 100 feet.

“It’s a professional,” he said proudly. “This is not something you might find in somebody’s home.”

Why buy your own printer if all you have to do is go to someone with a disc and have them do it for you? The answer seems to be control. “I wasn’t going to make 25 prints (his edition size) if nobody buys them,” he said. “So, I’d make an artist’s proof if somebody wants one, then I make them a print and put number one on it out of 25 and send it to them.”

Stockwell is so serious about making art that he vowed, “I don’t care particularly if I ever act again. This is much more important to me. This exhibition shows something far more important that anything I’ve ever done in a career of 60 years as an actor. This is just on a whole other level.” He points to one of his pieces and notes the five-figure price, then says, “I’m not f--king around. And I’ve already sold one for $12,500. And Hopper bought two.”

While Stockwell is obviously proud of what he’s accomplished, he seems a bit at a loss to describe the imagery in his work, which seems infused with a 1960s spirit of satire, irreverence and social and political commentary. He said some people have made reference to that era, probably spurred by the sometimes dayglo colors he uses in the digital prints. But his meanings are very much up to the minute. He admits, “I can’t utilize words to any good effect in order to enlighten anyone as to meaning or whatever it is I’m doing. I’m expressing myself with these combinations of images. That’s it. I can’t go at it with words - I’ve done it with images.”

It’s intuition, the way he selects pictures, pushes them together, moves them around, cuts them apart and rearranges everything. Not a lot of thinking involved. Just doing.

One of the pieces in the show provided its overall title: “The Spagyric Eye.” “I think it applies to the whole show,” he said. Gleaned from an old Webster’s Dictionary from the 1940s, the word means “to draw, separate, to assemble ... alchemical.”

It’s about creating something from something else. Like being an actor for 60-some years and then focusing on art. It’s been there all along, just never seen in quite this same way.

[orisitme]

On Writing My First Novel

What is a first novel? Is it the first novel you write or the first novel you publish? I ask the question because I was almost at the end of completing the first draft of a novel about a disenchanted employee who decides to murder his manager (write about what you know they said!) when – in June 2016 we in the UK voted to leave the EU.

2016 was a memorable year for so many reasons. It was the year when many of our beloved entertainers and musicians were handed their death certificates and invited to perform at a spiritual variety show somewhere in the afterlife. Halfway through the year, with one celebrity death after another keeping us wondering what on earth was going on, we toddled along to vote in a referendum which had been promised to us as a political ploy to get the Conservative party into government. Millions of us ticked our In/Out preference (although 26,033 people spoiled their vote – you know who you are), dutifully taking part in the democratic process.

I’m guessing our Prime Minister, David Cameron had an ‘oh shit’ moment when he saw what was happening in the early hours of June 24th. The result confirmed what many people had already suspected – that there are deep divisions in our country. It also triggered the second most irresponsible act of political self-interest in a decade when he resigned, floored by the power of the people. I say the second most irresponsible act of political self-interest – the first being the referendum itself.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for people power and the masses having a say, let’s face it, we are fortunate to live in a democracy after all. But the way it was done, the campaign that was run and the question that was asked on the ballot paper was so simplistic only somebody incredibly arrogant or naive or stupid, (delete as appropriate) could possibly think it was a good idea. Stand up and take a bow, our government.

In my opinion, David Cameron made a number of errors when he decided to give us a vote on our membership of the EU. Firstly, he should have thought like a lawyer - 'never ask a question unless you know the answer.'Sadly, he probably thought he did know the answer which just goes to show how out of touch he was. Secondly, he made the fundamental mistake of thinking that people would look at the wider issues such as our trading relationship with the EU and what would happen if we told the EU by way of our ballot box to 'sod off.' In fact, when casting their vote the majority of people will look at their own personal circumstances to make their decision. Let's face it, a family working for minimum wage and struggling to make ends meet are going to be more concerned about the erosion of their employment rights than they are about listening to bank bosses bleat about job losses and moving their assets out of the country. Such a family are more concerned about keeping a roof over their heads and (rightly or wrongly) link rising rents and a shortage of housing stock to the large numbers of people coming into the country. It is pointless telling somebody on minimum wage they'll be worse off after Brexit. If they lose their job they'll soon find another one. There are plenty of jobs around where you can earn minimum wage and have minimal employment rights. Bearing this in mind, if we take a look at the question on the ballot paper ( I have put in brackets how I think the question was read by most people):

Should the United Kingdom remain a member of the European Union or leave the European Union? (Am I happy with my life as it is or do I want it to change?

 Remain a member of the European Union (I am happy with my life as it is.)

 Leave the European Union (I am not happy with my life as it is. I want it to change.)

And 17,410,742 people decided it was time for a change. There were so many opinions, ‘leavers are a bunch of racists,’ ‘leavers didn’t know what they were voting for,’ ‘old people shouldn’t be allowed to vote.’ Then questions, ‘why did we vote to leave?’ ‘What about all of the lies we were told?’ Seriously? Politicians? Lies? It’s what they do. It’s what they’ve always done. They just can’t help themselves.

So as questions were asked and theories formed I stopped work on my first novel and started writing ‘BrexitComestoBedwellAsh’because I had theories of my own. I am not an ardent political analyst, however, I take an interest in politics and what goes on in the world and on this topic I had something to say.

In 2008 we had a serious financial crisis in our country. Gordon Brown (our Minister for Money from 1997 – 2007) stood up and attempted to explain it all away by suggesting, ‘it was because we were monitoring individual banks not the system as a whole.‘ What? WHAT! So it was nothing to do with the greed and lack of integrity within our financial institutions then? A climate which – let’s face it - he was more than familiar with. Then, of course, austerity measures were put in place which impacted the most vulnerable people in our society. Add to that the shortage of housing stock, pricing many people out of the property market and contributing to the massive increase in homelessness. Add to the list the gradual erosion of our employment rights – large businesses now have to comply with a Modern Slavery Act for goodness sake! All of this against a backdrop of millions in bonuses paid to the chums of the business elite, many of whom were already on huge salaries just for doing their jobs! By August of 2016 I had something to say. I just had to settle down and figure out how I was going to say it.

Originally my tome was going to be a dark, slightly sinister read, however, as I continued to write I realised that it had to be a humorous, satirical work. There are after all enough works on the market stating facts and figures and making doom and gloom predictions. How could what I wanted to say be anything but a farce?

My novel took me two years to write. It is based around a family – Elizabeth and Rafael Rossi and their three children who live in the village of Bedwell Ash. Elizabeth drunkenly announces at her son’s 18th birthday party that she intends to vote Leave in the EU referendum. Her family are horrified and don’t understand how she could do such a thing. Pretty soon there are deep divisions within the once happy family unit as promises are broken and secrets revealed.

When I completed the first draft of my novel I foolishly thought that that was the hard work over with. The next phase was the editing process. Little did I know what was waiting for me.

[sammyhale]

J2 JIBCon 2017 Panel

*Warning for s13 spoilers

J2 were stuck on a plane (Jared: a car then a plane. Jensen: then a train...*boys laugh* there wasn’t a train) so they weren’t able to watch the finale. 

Boys ask what the fans thought of the finale. A fan yells out that episode 22 was awesome. Jared: “Guys, it’s Supernatural, people can come back.” 

A fan yells out about Cas. Jensen: Cas? Who?

Jensen: Who all died? Let’s list them. Cas, Crowley, Rowena, Kelly, Ketch. Jared is running out of fingers. Jensen: It was like the Red Wedding! “Little Game of Thrones reference for you guys.” 

Jared starts playing with the holes in Jensen’s pants on his knees. Jensen: Don’t touch the hole in my knees! Jared laughs saying that Jensen only saw the back of the pants and didn’t realize the holes were there. Jensen laughs and says he really didn’t know. Just saw black pants in his size and grabbed them without inspecting. “I paid for this...” Only realized when he put them on. Jared keeps playing with them lol. 

J2 talk about a Supernatural movie. Jared asks Jensen if he wants to do a movie. Jensen says he would rather do a shortened season. Like a “six episode release.” Jared starts giggling at “release” (quickly turns dirty) hiding his face. Jensen: Leave it alone. Leave it alone. That’s low hanging fruit. Just walk away. 

Jared would also rather do a shortened TV season rather than a movie. 

Jensen said that one of their produces had an idea where the brothers wake up in a different place than they’re familiar with (AU) and all of the people in the town are old cast members or old characters but “weird” like not who they were on the show. Like the Trickster is the mayor, etc. 

Jared says there are times when he wishes they can delve into something for more than one episode. He likes the idea of doing a shortened season like Jensen said because they could have one arc, a specific location or city, etc, that the boys could delve into specifically for a few episodes and being focused on one thing for a long time during the shorter season. 

Jensen: And this is why we don’t write the show. Jared laughs. 

Jared plays with his mic for a few seconds after it makes a loud noise.

Jensen, repeating a fan’s question: What TV shows would you like to see Sam and Dean thrust into *boys giggle*

The question was what show would they liked the boys to be in if there was another episode like Changing Channels? Jared says The Simpsons, then brings up the crossover Supernatural is doing with Jared: Scooby-Doo. He says they already recorded the dialogue for it (it takes time to draw the animation). Episode 16 of next season is the Scooby-Doo ep. Jared: Jensen, Misha and I...Crowd reacts at hearing MIsha’s name. Jensen realizes, covers his face. Jared blushes after Jensen smiles at him and Jared realizes that he just spoiled that and hides his face for a long time lol. 

Jensen quickly says: He’s just an animated character. There’s other characters in the animated ep, too, that don’t exist anymore. Jensen to Jared: BOOM! You’re welcome *slaps Jared’s shoulder*

Jared says it’s the only ep they’ve seen so far so, in all fairness lol. 

Jensen joking: It was cool that Jeffrey Dean came back. Jared: Ruby. Jensen: Ruby - “it’s a who’s who.” In sync the boys mime like they’re digging holes with shovels lol. 

(Side note and spoilers: For those worried Jared might get in trouble about letting Castiel’s return slip, it doesn’t seem like they were going to try and hide that all hiatus, because during Misha’s panel a fan tweeted: “Misha seems to think we should be focusing on how Cas’ death will affect him when he returns rather than worry he won’t come back” so he was talking about it, too. Source: x). 

While a fan asks a question, Jared opens up one of the drinks and sniffs it, then walks it over to Jensen so he can sniff it. 

Fan from last year who beat Jensen at rock paper scissors wants to do a rematch. She comes onstage and Jared referees the match like last time. They go 2 out of 3. Jensen wins the first, fan wins the second. For the 3 Jared steps in between so Jensen and the fan can’t see each other. Fan beats Jensen again! Jensen: Dammit! Jared jokes: She was looking at the screen, she totally changed it. Jensen: Next year!

Fan wants to hear story about when J2 were mistaken for a couple years ago at the airport hotel. Jared explains that this was years ago and they were shooting late in Vancouver and they had to get up super early to fly to Los Angeles to do something there. They decided since they had filmed until like 4 or 5am they would just go straight to the airport. Airport wasn’t checking people in yet. Said the Fairmont that is connected to the airport is open so they go to get a room. Since this was back in the days of film and not digital, they had heavy makeup on from set that they were still wearing. They decided to grab one room, asked the person at the desk if they do rooms by the hour. Jared says Supernatural hadn’t aired yet, wasn’t sure if the guy knew him from Gilmore Girls and Jensen from Smallville or if he knew them at all. Said that “we just need a room for a couple hours.” Guy was like, “We don’t do that here.” So they just asked for their smallest room and the guy gave them a look like, “Okay.” J2 finally realized by the guy’s reaction that they thought J2 just wanted one bed and were together. They were like no, we just need a couple hours of sleep, we play brothers on a show, just going to do some acting. Jensen laughs.

Jensen: “I just love the guy at the front desk then immediately picked up the phone and was like, ‘Uh yeah that guy from Smallville and the guy from Gilmore Girls just showed up in like quarter drag and got a room together. Okay, TV Guide, thanks.” Jared cracks up. 

Fan gives a shout out to ep 22 loving Sam’s leadership and Dean’s emotional honesty. Jensen: Oh yeah, Dean’s crying again. 

Fan asks about the Mockumentary. J2 say they are not classic Hollywood types. They moved their families out of Hollywood and out of California in general.

Jared playing with Jensen’s holy jeans again. 

The Mockumentary was them making fun of Hollywood types and stereotypes of themselves. They both love satire. The characters derive from stories they hear about other sets, other actors and some of the antics are pretty outrages so they were making fun of that. 

J2 horse around on set and have way too much fun. They would rather do that than walk around on eggshells like some other actors or crew members have to do on “toxic” sets they hear about from other people. Used a bit of that to add to those fake characters in the Mockumentary. Complete opposites of who we are. 

How do you keep fighting? Jared says it changes day to day sometimes. You can be inspired by song, rainbow, piece of art, friend, spouse, child parent, etc. Jared says that he is still having a fun time learning that life surprises him everyday. Something makes him sad everyday, something makes him happy everyday, tries to focus on the latter. Mentions that days like today what makes him happy is meeting fans, shaking hands, the hugs and smiles. “How fucking cool.”  

Jared says if it wasn’t for Supernatural he would never have meet any of the fans or Jensen (”or this guy”) or any of the other cast. Sometimes when he is tired or sore or jetlagged and worries he’s going to let someone down/disappoint someone, he forgets what a cool blessing his situation is and tries to remind himself of that blessing. 

Jensen: There’s also a lot of inspiration in our lies. We have beautiful wives, amazing children, we have great friends, family, awesome extended family, there’s a lot that you can be inspired by. When it comes to the day to day work of it, getting up in the morning early to make your set call and to get there even though you worked all night last night, maybe tired or sick. He and i have been doing this for a pretty long time as most of you know. At this point the network and studio, they’re like we’re gonna keep going if you wanna keep going. Gotten to a point where, we don’t have to do this. When Jensen wakes up in the morning he might feel tired and thinks: I don’t have to do this, I get to do this. He says it’s a sentiment he and Jared both shared. They are very fortunate and humbled by the daily inspiration they get.

J2 discuss how the scripts get worked out. Jensen goes into detail with Jared adding in tidbits. Writer comes up with a general idea, if it gets approved, works out a beginning middle and end of the script. Gets pitched to Andrew and Bob. Write the treatment, submit it to studio and network to get their approval. Then they’ll pepper in through lines or scenes throughout the season. Like, when in a MOTW ep they say something like “Talked to Mom yet?” that’s a through line to keep the season length arc connected. They know it’s a random line that gets thrown in but there’s a reason why the writers include them here and there. Script goes through moderate rewrites throughout the whole process. Then it becomes a production script. Once the script is finally done, the production crew has to piece it together to make it live action. Essentially a puzzle they have to put together. Many departments. Once everything is figured out, they then have 8 days to shoot (after 8 days of prep, then location scouting, building sets, etc). 

Jared sneaks Jensen a drink while he’s talking and Jensen thanks him. They take a moment talking about honey crisp apples because of the smell of the drink. Jared made a face after taking a drink. Jensen asks if it’s sour and if he’s okay. Jared says he is blowing fire right now. Whatever alcohol they are drinking is strong lol. 

J2 start whispering to each other about a guest star but can’t share because she might come back. 

After shooting they take several weeks editing, additional dialogue, sound effects, then a master edit, then send it to the studio, then it goes to affiliates then it goes on air. Very detailed explanation on the entire process.

Lot of people work tireless hours to make the show what it is. Everyone who works on the show don’t get nearly the praise they deserve. “We are just the two faces you see the most of.” 

Misha crashes the panel with an accent he calls “German, Russian, Italian.” 

Misha asks J2 if after they read the end of the finale script how many hours they held each other and cried. Jensen: I remember reading the end and literally burst into tears of laughter. And I thought, how much fun is season 13 gonna be? I mean, talk about cutting the fat. 

Misha comes on stage and hugs Jared and the three start telling a story about how Misha rented a house while they were filming on location for the last three days of s12 because it was a long drive to the location, which was halfway to Whistler. Misha invited J2 to stay with him so they wouldn’t have to make that drive either. Misha: This was a moment of poor decision making. 

The shooting schedule was like 3 or 4pm to like 5am the next morning for those three days. Jensen: It was awful. Misha offered for them to stay so they wouldn’t be exhausted doing the 4 hour drive roundtrip. He told them it was like a 3 or 4 bedroom house, but it wasn’t lol. It was actually two bedrooms at the most. 

Jared slept on the floor in Misha’s bedroom, Jensen was alone in the other room. Jensen: “[Jared] slept on the floor next to the bed [Misha] slept in. I don’t know what happened, I was in the other room.” 

Lots of innuendo and lots of laughter lol. 

Misha: How much of this story are we going to tell? Jared: We’re telling it all. Jared realizes that it’s time for J2 to go because Misha is supposed to be starting his solo panel. Jared: We’ll delay a little bit for y’all, “fuck it.” 

Jared explains that after shooting until about 5 in the morning they go back to Misha’s place he’s renting and decide to hang out on the patio and drink as a send off to season 12. Jensen: After we realized that there were very little places to sleep in this place, we were like, guess we should just stay up. 

Jared: So we stayed up, and then went to bed. Misha stands up and high-fives Jared. Boys are all giggling lol. 

Jensen: I do remember at one point being in the other room being awoke by *mimics loud snoring* and he was like “What are they doing in there?! Have they brought in animals now?!”

Jared was a little sick and was snoring so loud that Jensen could hear him from down the hall through a closed door and it woke him up. 

Jensen wondered how Misha could possibly be sleeping through that in the same room. Jared: Oh he had been put to the test the night before ;) Jensen: He can sleep through anything. Jared: No he woke up for...*laughter* Jensen: When you nudged him. 

Jared referring to the fans: They’re all like, what’s true and what’s not? I wanna believe!

Jared was snoring from down the hall and closed door. Jensen was like 

Jared: What’s true and what’s not? Boys are just cracking up lol. 

The rented home is all under Misha’s name. Misha: So stupid. They wake up the next day, phone rings. Jared answers. Guy on the phone thinks he’s talking to Virgil, the guy who owns the home. As Jared is pretending to be the home owner because he knows everything is under Misha’s name, Misha catches him and tries to take the phone from him. The phone flies out of both of their hands into a glass and breaks the glass. Misha: There’s the sound of me going, “No!” glass breaking and the phone hanging up. 

The phone rings again, Misha runs downstairs to unplug the phone, forgetting he has left his laptop open. Jensen says that Jared runs over to the computer and starts tweeting on Misha’s Twitter. Misha realizes he left his computer vulnerable and sprints back to the room. Misha laughs when he remembers that Jared was trying to tweet Trump from Misha’s Twitter. Misha finally got the phone unplugged and his laptop rescued. 

Jensen: Meanwhile, it was the best morning cup of coffee entertainment I’ve ever had. He was just watching them from the table lol.  

Misha goes to shower and Jared starts flipping through channels and finds the pay per view. Stops on a show called something like Boys in the Shower 7, or about their butts, he can’t remember. Jensen: That piqued your interest? Jared also assumed the home owner would have blocked renters aka Misha from using the PPV but the guy didn’t so Jared ordered it. Misha says Jared actually subscribed to it under Misha’s name. Misha: it was very graphic bathroom sex. Jared: In all fairness they were offering a deal at the time lol. 

J2 left to go back to work before Misha did. Misha spent two hours trying to unsubscribe it. He was unsuccessful because he didn’t have the password Jared had created.

On that note, J2 take off. Misha starts his panel by finishing the story saying that they were all sitting on the couch watching the graphic bathroom sex while J2 were waiting for Clif to pick them up and it took Clif a minute to realize what was on screen lol. 

Info via: Periscope, Periscope, Sil’s livetweet list

[wilma-flintstones-mother]

A Dream Team: Patricia Resnick on 3 WOMEN

As a film student at the University of Southern California, new to LA and without connections, Patricia Resnick had a habit of following film trucks, just to see where they’d lead. One took her to Westwood and the set of California Split (1974). The director was Robert Altman, her favorite. That afternoon, she hovered around the trucks (“I had more guts than brains,” she says), and when Altman turned up, Resnick told him she wanted to interview him for a paper she was writing on the greatest living director—which was true. He said okay. The next day, Altman called and said he wanted to hire her, not then but later. By the time Resnick graduated in 1975, he had a job for her: assistant to the publicist on Buffalo Bill and the Indians (1976). It was while they were working on that film that he asked if she wanted to write a treatment for the idea that became 1977’s 3 Women.

There’s a rule in the films of Robert Altman: if something works, turn it around and look again. A good Altman picture turns its people and places around so many times, it feels less like a single movie than x number of movies, one for every turn. And with every turn, more flavor. Dreamy and satirical and alarming, 3 Women is a Persona-like slow roast skewered on a spit, a picture of Altman’s frightened unconscious if it woke up in, well, Dodge City. Resnick, whose career as a Hollywood screenwriter was launched that day on the California Split set, would go on to collaborate with Altman on A Wedding (1978) and Quintet (1979) and appear briefly in The Player (1992). Here, she discusses her work with the filmmaker and his translation of 3 Women from brain to screen.

Sam Wasson: So you’re working on Buffalo Bill—

Patricia Resnick: Here’s what happened. He was producing Bob Benton’s movie The Late Show. Lily Tomlin was in it, and she was improving a lot of her dialogue, and she was asking for suggestions. And I was there and threw out some suggestions she liked. She eventually asked me to write a couple pieces for what became her first Broadway show. Altman went to see the show and said, “Oh, the kid can write.”

SW: It was around this time—as Altman told it—that his wife, Kathryn, got sick and he had this dream, a sort of nightmare.

PR: The dream was mostly cast and setting, more than it was story. Sissy and Shelley were in the dream. And he had the desert and something about switching personas. Those things were there, but they were vague. It was a dream.

SW: And he takes the dream to Fox?

PR: Yes. He had a good relationship with Fox and told them about this dream, and they said, “Great, but we’re not going to finance this dream without seeing something on paper.” So Altman came to me and said he wanted a treatment written, and if Fox moved forward with the film and wanted a script, I could come on as screenwriter and that would be my first screenwriting credit.

SW: Beyond the dream elements, was Altman specific about wanting anything else in the treatment?

PR: No. He just wanted a treatment, about fifty pages. We knew there had to be something of a story and we knew there had to be a third woman.

SW: Why?

PR: He just wanted a third woman. He liked the title 3 Women, so we needed a third woman. That was Bob.

SW: Did he let you go from there or did he work closely with you on the treatment?

PR: At the time, I was sharing an office with Scotty Bushnell, who was his right-hand person, who was casting all the time, so all these actors were running in and out. Ed Ruscha was around a lot, and various other sundry people. I was upstairs and Altman was downstairs, and he would come up all the time and we would go over everything, about every ten pages or so. But mostly he just let me go. It wasn’t like most writing—a collaboration between left brain and right brain. With this, I tried to use my left brain very little—I tried to dream it also.

SW: How did he give notes on a piece of unconscious writing based on a dream?

PR: He wasn’t a real note giver. I don’t think I ever got a written note from him on anything ever. Generally, conversations would be more about what he was seeing. I’d show him pages, and he’d say, “Okay, good, but I really want a run-down bar with all this crap out in the back, with shit piled up. I want that.” That was an Altman note. You know what I mean? He wasn’t a reader. Trying to get him to read a book or script was impossible. I wondered in later years if he might have been dyslexic, not seriously, but he was that averse to the printed word. His process was completely anti-intellectual. I remember at one point there was a film he wanted to make, a film based on a book, not a particularly good one, and it was set in a factory. He liked the idea, visually, of the factory—and that did it. He went from there to try to make a movie around it, but it didn’t go forward. That’s sort of how we worked on 3 Women. He’d like something and in it went.

SW: How long did the treatment take you?

PR: About a month. I wrote it quickly. When I finished, he was very happy with it, and he went to Fox, which decided to go ahead with it. And then a couple weeks later, he called me into his office and said, “I’m really sorry, but I’ve decided not to do a screenplay. I’m going to have the actors do it. But I’ll have you work on the movie in some way, as an extra or PA or something.” He knew I needed some kind of job. I was only twenty-two, twenty-three, and without any other prospect. So I was pretty devastated. Altman was the only Hollywood connection I had.

SW: Did he end up writing an actual script?

PR: What ended up happening, when they went out to the desert, near Indio, they came upon things he wanted to use, like the spa and the bar. You know, Altman was a very visual person. What got him going was mood and visuals and tone and certain funny things about people, like when Shelley gets her dress caught in the door. So most of what was written—if you can call it that—happened once they were out there. I know Shelley had a huge amount of input into that character. She wrote those diary entries, and all that stuff about shopping and cooking was hers too. That’s the way he liked to work. He’d say to the actors, “Look, I’m willing to take suggestions from anybody about anything. If the actors have an idea about craft service, if the craft service guy has an idea about acting, I want to hear it. I only reserve the right to say no without having the time to explain to you why.” So everyone would get very involved. The actors especially would get very involved in their characters.

SW: 3 Women is free-form, even for an Altman film.

PR: As far as I know, there was no script. That doesn’t mean they were improvising. He would rehearse with them, and everyone could set what they were going to do. By the time the camera rolled, they had it down. I can tell you, I was one of the writers on A WeddingandQuintet; I was in the huge opening shot of The Player, pitching with Joan [Tewkesbury]; and I was intimately involved in Buffalo Bill,and there was always something of a script on paper, whether they stuck to it or not. The actors were given dialogue. Nashville too.

SW: He worked with you and Joan on several occasions.

PR: Yes. But inevitably what would happen is we would leave him. I remember he was really angry with Shelley because she had left him to do other things. When I left him, he was angry with me for years. Everybody did, because ultimately it was always Robert Altman’s movie, and so if you ever wanted to grow and gain your own reputation, you had to leave. It made him very hurt. He was open about it. If he saw you, he would tell you that he was angry.

SW: It’s a fascinating paradox. On the one hand, it’s always Robert Altman’s movie, but on the other hand, here’s a guy who’s taking you, a twenty-three-year-old PA, and giving you a writing gig. It’s not just that he’s reusing his people, it’s that he’s using them in new ways. He is growing them.

PR: He really came through for me on A Wedding. During the time he was making 3 Women, he was already working on the idea for A Wedding and started talking to me about coming on as one of the screenwriters. He promised me that that time he wouldn’t change his mind, which he didn’t. And that became my first credit. I remember him coming up to me at a party, he’d been drinking a little, and he said, “You see, I gave you my promise and I followed through. I’m not such a bad guy, right?” And he gave me a hug. We were good until I left to pursue my own things, and he was really angry with me for a long time, and then I went and visited on Short Cuts. By then, he had gotten over it. I always thought he was the most amazing person, and shooting his films was the best time. I always described it as summer camp for adults. That’s what it felt like.

SW: Like a family?

PR: Very much. I went down to be an extra on 3 Women for three or four days. I was involved in the scenes at the apartment complex. I played one of the neighbors. The dailies were always a big party, and everyone would be drinking and smoking and eating popcorn, hanging out. And Altman was very into gambling, so there was always a football game in the background and people would be placing bets all the time. He had these high-stakes backgammon games with [agent] Sam Cohn when he’d come to visit. The actors didn’t just come in for their bit; everyone was there for the whole shoot. So you really did become very close. Janice Rule was married to Ben Gazzara. So he was always there hanging out. What else was there to do in Indio? He always had really interesting set visitors. While I was there, Julie Christie, who had done McCabe, came to visit with a girlfriend of hers, and he put me in charge of entertaining her. I was so starstruck. I was so completely insane about her. I could barely speak to her, let alone entertain her. Fortunately, she came up with this idea of playing a charades game, so now not only do I have to entertain Julie Christie but I have to act with Julie Christie. And Shelley was dating Paul Simon, so he came to visit. The height disparity there was pretty great.

SW: How does Shelley work?

PR: Shelley is what you see is what you get. No pretentions. She was an eccentric. Her home in LA was filled with just hundreds of animals. She had a massive number of birds. There might have been fifty. Like Altman, she was about feeling what was right. Sissy was more about working things out beforehand.

SW: The unsung hero here is Alan Ladd Jr., at Fox, who put up the money—

PR: —for a dream, yes.

SW: But why? What did he have to go on?

PR: Things really were different then. This was a period of time when the people on the business side loved movies. Of course, they were always hoping for another M*A*S*H, but they believed in him. They wanted to make great movies. I used to socialize with those executives. They were movie buffs.

[t-aratrans]

170626 T-ara’s ‘drunk talk’ interview for ilgansports

Will there be another group with so much ups and downs like T-ARA. If we examine the team’s life graph over the past 9 years, they’ve experienced going from peak to bottom. They debuted as a public-friendly trend-setter girl group and reached the peak but then fell to bottom after the ‘bullying’ scandal started. The team underwent several reformations as well. At that time they gained a negative image with the public. Although the truth about the “bullying scandal” 5 years ago was revealed recently, it still wasn’t easy for T-ARA’s image to change. Before their June comeback, the group revamped to a 4-member group after Boram and Soyeon’s departure. After having a drink, T-ARA confessed that they feel ‘scared’ about any ‘team changes’. Because the reason they cried after winning for the first time in 5 years was because they had a flashback of all the ups and downs they experienced.  “We tried not to cry but we couldn’t control it. We want to show a ‘smiling T-ara’ from now on.” T-ARA was more persistent than any other group out there. It feels like they got stronger after undergoing a series of bad incidents. They invested their youth entirely on T-ARA. It’s no different than saying they spent half of their life as T-ARA. When comparing being a “celebrity” to being an “office worker, they said “For every job, you’ll experience the same amount of stress,” which showed their maturity.   T-ARA extended their contract until December this year. T-ARA’s fate in the future is up to the 4 members. What choice will T-ARA make?

Q.This is a fixed question. What is your alcohol drinking capacity?  Eunjung: up until 1 bottle of soju. Jiyeon: I think 3 cups of Soju. 

Qri: 2 cups of wine. This is my resting mode. Actually, it changes according to my condition. (laughs)  Hyomin: For soju, 1.5 bottle. For wine, up to 1 bottle. 

- You had a drunk talk 3 years ago, your drinking capacity hasn’t increased since then.  Eunjung: During the past 3 years, it increased up to 1~2 cups. I think my ability to pretend I’m not drunk when I am has improved.  Q.At that time, Eunjung exposed Jiyeon’s bad drinking habits. You said she shows lots of aegyo, does she still do that?  Eunjung: She still has lots of aegyo. It depends on how you see it, but she’s totally cute (for me). 

Q.You look very nervous this comeback. 

Eunjung: We’re supposedly on our 9th year as a girl group but we still get so nervous. We showed our solo stages during the showcase in attempt to show a new side to us, but it wasn’t something we prepared long enough for. We’re doing things we haven’t done before so we’re even more nervous, excited, and also tense, we’re having mixed feelings.

Jiyeon: Before going up on stage, all four of us were like “Is it only me who’s nervous?” We were even more nervous than during our debut. Q.How do you think of people’s reaction for ’What’s My Name?” do you like it? Hyomin: First of all, even while we were preparing the album we already decided not to get too attached to chart results. We weren’t anxious about it. We just got mentally relaxed.

Q.Why were you relaxed? 

Hyomin: We had lots of worries about whether we’ll be able to show what we prepared for well, will we make mistakes, will our showcase go well. But fortunately everything went well.

Eunjung: Even having a comeback by itself was hard for us. This comeback wasn’t easy like before, but we overcame that thanks to our fans’ big support for us.  Q.You underwent a sudden team reformation before the comeback

Eunjung: We re-recorded the song and did lots of position changes. We made lots of efforts in order not to make the two members’ absence obvious. But above all, having a comeback by itself felt happy.

Jiyeon: We felt sorry we couldn’t wrap up T-ARA as full 6 members. We’re sorry to our fans. The two members’ absence was big due to that.

Q.Are you the type to accept team changes.  Eunjung: Most of the changes T-ARA has underwent weren’t good. They created many rumors. That’s why we hated changes. We wanted to let things flow as they are without caring much about popularity.

Q.You received hard questions during the showcase.  Qri: We went up on stage expecting such questions but hearing the questions in reality we got emotional. That’s why we were even more nervous.  Eunjung: But we dont’ hate such questions. Because we know it’s only natural that (the journalists) get curious about it.  Q.Did your bond grow stronger after the two members’ leave?  Eunjung: We underwent many tough situations so I think we have a strong bond regardless of the no. of members. We feel more energy just by hearing the name “T-ARA.” Some people ask us ‘people don’t even know you released an album so why do you keep releasing albums, you’re only making things harder and receving more hate’. That’s not important to us. We like communicating with our fans, showing them our performances, and being happier with them more. 

Hyomin: I think we have a strong desire to maintain T-ARA’s name.  Q.You teared up during the showcase.  Eunjung: We didn’t want to cry because we didn’t want to hear people say “They’re crying? again?”. Standing in front of the public is our job. We know that the reason we’re crying will not sound 100% genuine to the public. Unless we’re asking for perfect understanding from people, then I believe it’s better to keep it appropriate. We always end up thinking about it rationally. 

Hyomin: We don’t want to show our tears in front of people. But I guess it was hard to hide our feelings that’s why we started tearing up nonstop. We want to show our smiling side instead of crying side. We want to remain as a ‘smiling T-ARA’.

Q.Your initial sales for this album reached 30K copies.  Hyomin: Really? The printed copies got all sold out so they did tell us that we no longer have CDs to use for fansigns. It’s surprising. 

[T/N: in yesterday’s fansign the members said that it might be their last fansign, I guess it’s because they ran out of copies to sell.] Q.Thanks to that you achieved 1st place in a music program for the first time in 5 years. You cried to the point where you couldn’t give an award speech.  Hyomin: We really didn’t expect winning 1st place. We had zero expectations so we were so shocked when they called our name. It was an unexpected win so we couldn’t control our tears. I remember our last win was in Music Bank for Lovey Dovey. We were thankful because we won it during our Japanese promotions, but I think this win will be more memorable. I think it’s impossible to win 1st place again. (laughs)

Q.Your resolution to not tear up again got all ruined. Hyomin: I think we can’t hold in our tears anymore. We cried during the showcase too so I made a promise with the members to not cry again but..(laughs)  Q.We heard you even got a cake from the fans.  Hyomin: Our fans were really happy about it. We cried a lot inside so we came out late but they were waiting for us outside with a cake all that while. We teared up as soon as we saw the fans but we held it in until the end. We’re sorry for making our fans cry. In the future we’ll work hard to make you proud of being a T-ara fan.

Q.You appeared on ‘SNL’ as well. Hyomin: We started filming the recording just a day after winning 1st place so our eyes were swollen from crying, we tried cooling them down using ice bags. We were resolute into making it a laughing day instead of a crying day.

Q.How did it feel going live on 'SNL’. You even had to act on live broadcast. Hyomin: we were more tense and nervous than any other broadcast before. SNL cast members took care of us and lead us well so we were able to wrap up the broadcast well. It was a special and fun experience.  

Q. We saw that you right up confronted the controversy on SNL.  Jiyeon: Rather than saying that we intended it beforehand, we just thought that “since we’re appearing on the program, let’s do our best while at it!” As you know, SNL’s speciality is delivering a message or satire through skits. If we were to be scared of that idea then we wouldn’t have appeared at all.

Q.You had bold transformations through skits like Hyomin’s “Woman with fast progress” and Eunjung’s “Holiday,” didn’t you feel fearful at all?  Hyomin: Rather than saying “fearful”, we actually had fun filming. It’s a program we really wanted to appear on so we were looking so much forward to it, it was also our first time trying live skits so we had fun while working.

Q.Did you personally come up with ideas for the program too?  Jiyeon: We had lots of discussions with the production crew during the meeting. We prepared a lot in order to deliver a legend episode. We told them in advance that we were okay with showing embarrassing acting.

Q.I think you almost teared up again at the end.    Eunjung: We didn’t tear up (laughs). We just felt relieved that the live finished smoothly. 

Q.During the showcase, you said “no one believed our explanation during the bullying scandal 5 years ago.” But some people reacted to that saying “when did you even explain about it.

Eunjung: I wonder why. I think it’s because we always only apologised and never really explained the situation bit by bit, but we can’t just focus on our personal feelings alone so we had no choice but to be cautious about it. During the time we were staying cautious, many people started having different thoughts. All people have different thinking. It was difficult to explain according to every person’s thoughts. 

Q.Anyway, the controversy settled down after 5 years.  Eunjung: Amongst ourselves we thought “What is this again. Why do suddenly…”  Hyomin: We hated being the noisy kids [T/N: as in a loud issue] but we became a noisy topic again so it made us sad. We wanted to stay quiet. Regardless of the consequences, that time by itself was tough. We didn’t want to be the talk of people so we always acted very cautiously. We were really staying put but then that controversy came to light again so we thought “Are we really fine”.

Q.Living as an idol for 9 years, were there any hard things about it?  Hyomin: There are many hard things, it’s hard to pick the hardest thing amongst that. I believe every job has its difficulty. People’s attention, interests, misunderstandings are all a given when it comes to living as a celebrity. It’s the job we chose and it’s something that we have to cope with. It’s similar to the stress an office worker receives from their boss every time they go to work.

Eunjung: As a career, there were actually much more benefits about it.  Q.During the past 9 years, have you ever had a deviation from routine? Hyomin: Not yet. Our company naturally let us free later. Ah right! If I’m to pick one, we once had our mobile phones confiscated so I temporarily got a rental phone. And we once secretly left the dorms when we weren’t allowed to. We made a human-shape on the bed (using pillows) and then placed a wig on top, then we made up tactics and sneaked away from the dorm. But we didn’t have any place to go at that time so we just stayed at a coffee shop in Gangnam and chatted for some time then went back to the dorm.

Q.Do you have any breakaway you want to do in the future?  Eunjung: I never thought of doing a breakaway before. I didn’t feel the need too. I think I grew more responsible. 

Jiyeon: The longest (official) holiday we got was a 3-day holiday during our 3rd or 4th year. One day we spent with our parents and another day we rested at our dorm, that was all. Eunjung: That’s why our managers were like “You don’t know how to hang out even when we give you free time?”. But then we replied “You should give us more time” while laughing. Just having a meal at the neighbourhood feels like hanging out. Once I was just walking on the crosswalk but it felt so nice so I just stopped right there. We always transport by car (for schedules) so we never get the chance to walk on the crosswalk. I feel happiness through trivial things (laughs). Hyomin: I want to travel with the members. During our time off I’m busy sleeping at home. Receiving an (official) holiday from your job and resting for a bit while working are two different things. When I’m resting I don’t even think of hanging out. Q.Is there any place you want to travel with the members?  Eunjung: Anywhere is good. There isn’t anything specific we want to do or have. We do have greed when it comes to working but beside that, we have no other greed. I think we’d be happy wherever you take us to. I never thought of it proactively.

Hyomin: There are many places we want to go to but I start to give up when thinking of it realistically. If we go overseas it will take us lots of time travelling back and forth and there aren’t many places to go to. That’s why we don’t have much fancies about it. Q.Leave being realistic on a side, where do you want to go? Hyomin: Europe or Hawaii. We once went to Italy, France, and Swiss for a pictorial shooting. Back then, we didn’t know how to enjoy our time while working. Our schedules were tight and our transportation alone took 7~8 hours by bus so all we could do is quick sightseeing. We missed so many things back then so we want to go again.

Eunjung: It would be meaningful if we go that route again. Hawaii has lots of Japanese tourists. Our members speak Japanese better than English. I think we’ll be able to communication there so it’s even better (laugh).  Q.You’re workaholic. Hyomin: our job doesn’t have a regular pattern. If we suddenly get work to do overseas then we have to go there immediately. Back in the days, we might have grown tired of it but after undergoing several incidents we realised how much of a valuable thing that was. We now know how to be grateful.

Qri: We don’t want to ditch our work in order to play and hang out. Work comes first first and T-ara work comes first. Q.You’re on your 9th year, but it feels like it’s been more than that.  Eunjung: On our 2nd year of debut we heard we look like a group on their 5th year. During our first 3 years, we released an album every month. That’s why. We also went on many variety shows and acted on movies and dramas. We has so many exposures and showed so many diverse sides to us that’s why we have such (veteran) image. It’s something we’re thankful for.

Q.You must have earned your pay quickly too.  Eunjung: That’s true. But we didn’t work for the money, it was more meaningful to us that ‘we debuted and went up on stage’.

Q.How did you ‘9th year’ look like in your imagination when you debuted?  Eunjung: We didn’t have time to think of our future. Excelling the job that’s at our hand came first.

Hyomin: During our 2~3rd year, I by myself wrote a future plan in my dairies, but I gave up midway. Because I thought I’ll get stressed if things don’t go as planned, especially due to the nature of our job. I was aware of the fact that it doesn’t usually go as planned, and it was also really hard to draw my future. We couldn’t do anything but do our best at the job we have at our hand at the moment. The word doesn’t go as one likes.

Eunjung: Since before, I always had the mindset that “let’s just live with flow” Q.That sounds mature.

Eunjung: We’re not young either (laughs). I think it’s because we started working early. Sometimes I feel like I need a recharge but it’s not as easy as it sounds.

Q.Do you reveal your worries to your members? .   All: of course.  Eunjung: Even if we reveal our worries to our friends, they don’t always understand. Our members are first priority. Q.With whom do you share your life talks with?  Eunjung: I don’t have many friends. There are many friends I know by connections. But for the friends I can share my life talks with, there is one friend I met in middle school and two friends I met in university. And that of course includes our members. I don’t know many people who’ve experienced many ups and downs. But for our members, they know how I feel even without me talking it about it. We understand on each other quickly and we know each others’ personalities well. I don’t think I have anything my friends know but my members don’t. We were together since our early 20s, and mid-10s for Jiyeon. We had lots of changes and underwent lots of emotions and our personalities matured as well. We’ve spent the past 10 years like sisters.

Jiyeon: Beside our members, it’s difficult for other people to understand our job. Hyomin: Even financially, we’re are all the same. We understand each other even without explaining so it’s comfortable.

Q.You weren’t closed since the begining, you became a team out of business. So you must have had some troubles during your early years.  Hyomin: We’re like sisters so it’s only natural to get upset with each other sometimes. But even then we just used to speak out to each other and it all passes.

Eunjung: I can’t talk ill (to people). I think it’s more appropriate to express it as “understanding each other” than “holding it in.” I just speak it out when I have something to say instead of making things more complicated. We’re all like that. Because they’re all people I like and not people I hate.

Q.Do you like meat? How do you take care of your body.   Eunjung: I really like meat. Today is an eating day. “ Qri: I take care of my body from time to time according to my outfits. If I feel like my outfits don’t fit me then I’ll hold myself from eating on that day.

Hyomin: I can’t starve myself all the time, never. Q.How far have you tried dieting?  Eunjung: Two members sharing one bibimbap with only vegetables. Excluding red-pepper paste. We had it with vegetable flavour.

Hyomin: It was during Bo Peep Bo Peep preparation. I took a staff’s leftover Gimbap, put it in my pocket, then called the members at the bathroom and ate it all together. Also during “Invincible Youth” days, Kim Taewoo oppa was promoting at the same time and he asked me if I had eaten and I told him no so he gave me snacks. But I couldn’t take that with me to the dorm so I took turns with the members and ate it at the bathroom. But now we can’t do that at all. Q.Do you live in your separate houses? Eunjung: Yes. But it was way more fun when we used to live in a dorm. We felt more freedom at the dorm. It felt like a share-house.

Jiyeon: We asked our company if they can provide us a dorm just during our promotions at least but they rejected us. (laugh). Hyomin: In the past, we gathered money and lived in dorms for 1~2 years. But we evacuated later after our parents told us to come back home because (renting a dorm) is very costly. (laughs). That was before we started overseas promotions. Q.Don’t you earn lots of money? Eunjung: Not as much as the rumor goes. Because not all the money goes to us. (Laugh)

Q.You have expressed your secret to popularity in China as “Old-fashioned music. (On SectionTV) Hyomin: Actually I couldn’t say ‘뽕끼’(slang for retro/trot feel music) on TV that’s why I expressed it as “old-fashioned”. T-ARA’s music has trot feel to it. I think that has contributed to our popularity in China.

Eunjung: Even overseas, people like our trot-feel songs like BPBP, No.9, Like The First Time, and WAYBLT. We have so many good songs. People always say “But at least, T-ara has good music.”

Q.Why did you add “at least” in your statement. Eunjung: There are still many people who think negatively of us. That’s why I assume. It can’t be helped.

Q.Your juniors from the same company has debuted. Do you have anything you want to say to them?  Hyomin: Few days ago I had a conversation with DIA’s Chaeyeon. They’re experiencing the same things we experienced during our debut. I though it was “cute” because all of that we have been through before. Even if it’s tough, they’re all things they’ll end up doing anyway, so I hope they don’t get too stressed about it and do well.

Eunjung: I want to tell them that feelings are unnecessary.  Q.You spent your youth in T-ARA. Do you feel regret?  Eunjung: I don’t regret it at all. Hyomin: I’ve never regretted becoming an idol. I rather think it’s an honour. We promoted during the time K-POP received the most attention and love, I’m grateful.

Q.Have you ever envied your non-celebrity friends? Hyomin: We envy them when they travel.  Q.You must have friends who are already married. Hyomin: My closest friend is getting married on September. It feels weird to think that my friend is becoming a mother. I think we’re definitely living less maturely than our same-age friends. It applies on both our appearance and life pattern. Sometimes when I see my friends I wonder “am I really living well?”

Q.All of you have tried dating, right?  Qri: It wouldn’t make sense if we say that we haven’t dated until now.

Eunjung: I’ve dated a lot secretly. I become more cautious when thinking of marriage. Q.What kind of person do you want to get married with?  Eunjung: Someone who’s well-mannered, responsible, and manly. Actually that’s what my unnies told me. In the past, I used to think “What’s important about that. I just prefer someone who looks good in trench coat.” but now I wonder what’s the point in all of this. (laughs). My unnies told me that if I try to find a man who’s 100% perfect then I won’t find anyone. They told me to love him if he’s 70~80% fine. I think they’re right. (laughs).

Hyomin: I wish it would be someone who’s fun and I can have endless conversation with. For outer appearance, I’d prefer if it’s simple. Rather than a person who’s pretentious and cares too much about his looks, I prefer someone who’s natural. Qri: My ideal type is someone with slanted eyes, it hasn’t changed. However, I think it’d be more comfortable if he has a similar pattern and is in the same work field as me. Since my job has an irregular pattern, I think someone from the same work field would understand me better than an office worker. I think it’d fit better if we can guarantee win-win for each other.  Q.What’s the longest time you’ve dated?    Eunjung: my first time dating I dated a non-celebrity for 3 years. I’ve never had a public relationship but I always get caught by my friends.

Q.Will you get married?  Eunjung: Of course I should. There aren’t any restrictions regarding marriage in our contract. Actually, I should make our company be the first to give me wedding congratulatory money. (Laughs)

Q.Your contract ends on December. What will happen to T-ARA in the future. All: We don’t know. Hyomin: if we don’t have a solution we should find another solution Jiyeon: I guess we’ll only know then  Eunjung: There are many complicated things so we want to accomplish what’s at hand first. I haven’t thought of the next step yet.

Q.Do you want to maintain T-ARA?  Jiyeon: All of our members want to maintain T-ARA all the same  Hyomin: It’s not like a hobby which we do because we want to do it. We have aged enough and have to think about it realistically. It’s also our one and only job. In the future we’ll discuss it amongst ourselves and then decide which direction to take.

Q.You don’t have any solo plans?  Jiyeon: We have solo songs in this album. We also performed our solo stages at music programs. I think being able to do this, by itself, it something we should be thankful for.

Q.You’re a presistant team.

Hyomin: That’s how it ended it up like. So many meanings are included in this phrase. (laughs).

Q.What is T-ARA to T-ARA?

Eunjung: I spent all of my 20s. in T-ARA. I spent my youth in T-ARA. It’s my everything.

Hyomin: This will be the only day we tell sad stories. Tomorrow we’ll forget about it again. It’s like living just for a day. I believe that’s how we keep maintaining a bright side to us.

Q.At last, anything you want to say?  

Qri: I’m thankful to our fans. Our fans can’t proudly say they’re T-ara fans. I want to make them become proud of being a T-ara fan.

Eunjung-Jiyeon: Thanks for always staying by our side and supporting us. Hyomin: Our fans had it as tough as we did, and maybe ever tougher than we did.

source: 

http://isplus.live.joins.com/news/article/article.asp?total_id=21699125&cloc=

http://isplus.live.joins.com/news/article/article.asp?total_id=21699126&cloc=

http://isplus.live.joins.com/news/article/article.asp?total_id=21699127&cloc=

[aborddelimpala]

#JIB8 Jared & Jensen Panel du Samedi - Récap

Les garçons étaient dans l’avion en route pour l’Italie, ils n’ont donc pas pu regarder le final de la saison. Ils demandent au public ce qu’il en a pensé. Les fans crient qu’ils ont adoré l’épisode 22. 

Jared “Les gars, c’est Supernatural. Les gens peuvent revenir”.

Jensen : “Quoi tout le monde est mort? Faisons la liste : Cass, Crowley, Rowena, Kelly, Ketch. C’était comme le "Red Wedding”(en référence à Game of Thrones)

A propos de “Supernatural, le film”. Jared demande à Jensen s’il aimerait un film “Supernatural”. Jensen préfèrerait filmer une saison plus courte. Genre avec 6 épisodes. Jared répond la même chose.

Les scénaristes ont eu l’idée d’un épisode dans lequel Sam et Dean se réveillent dans un univers parallèle où tous les anciens personnages de la série vivent dans la même ville. Gabriel est le maire. Balthazar tient un bar...

Jared explique que parfois il souhaiterait pouvoir creuser une idée sur plusieurs épisodes. Il aime l’idée d’une saison plus courte où il pourrait exploiter une storyline, un lieu spécifique ou une ville... Ils pourraient approfondir et se concenter une une seule chose durant le tournage d’une saison plus courte.  Jensen : Et c’est pour ça qu’on est pas scénaristes. 

Dans quel série aimeraient-ils être s’il y avait une autre épisode genre “Changing Channels”? Jared : Les Simpsons. Les garçons parlent ensuite du croosover Supernatural/Scooby-Doo. Ils ont déjà enregistré les dialogues (les dessins prennent plus de temps à faire). Cet épisode sera le 16ème de la saison 13. Jared laisse échappé qu’ils ont enregistré la bande son avec Misha #SPOILER Jensen essaye de rattraper la boulette “C’est juste un personnage de dessin animé, qui n’existe plus aujourd’hui”. 

La fan qui a joué à pierre/feuille/ciseau avec Jensen l’an dernier veut renouveler l’expérience. Elle bat de nouveau Jensen qui lui lance “A l’an prochain”.

Une fan demande à entendre l’histoire où un employé de l’aéroport de Vancouver les a pris pour un couple (en 2004/2005). Après avoir filmé jusqu’à 5 heures du matin et comme ils devaient prendre un avion pour LA quelques heures plus tard, les garçons ont décidé de prendre directement un chambre à l’aéroport, pour se démaquiller et se changer. A l’époque ils n’étaient pas aussi connus (Supernatural n’était pas encore diffusé). Jared s’est approché du comptoir et a demandé si des chambres à l’heure étaient disponibles. Le gars derrière son bureau a répondu “Nous ne faisons pas ça ici”. Les garçons ont alors demandé la chambre la moins chère avant de réaliser que l’employé de l’hôtel les avait pris pour un couple. Genre “Le gars de Gilmore Girl et celui de Smalville ont pris une chambre ensemble” :p

Une fan félicite les garçons pour l’épisode 22. 

A propos du Mockumentary. Les garçons sont des stars atypiques. Ils sont partis d’Hollywood et de même de Californie. Dans le documentaire, ils se moquent des stéréotypes d’hollywood et d’eux-mêmes. Ils adorent le second degré. Ils ont basé leurs personnages sur des histoires qu’ils ont entendu à propos d’autres plateaux de tournage, d’autres acteurs et ont décidé de s’en moquer. Ils s’amusent beaucoup sur le plateau et détesteraient devoir faire attention à tout ce qu’ils font à cause d’autres acteurs ou membres de l’équipe comme c’est le cas ailleurs. C’est totalement opposé à qui ils sont.

Qu’est ce qui les motive à continuer, avancer dans la vie? Jared : Cela évolue souvent. Je suis inspiré par des chansons, l’art, mes amis, ma femme, mes enfants, ma famille... La vie me surprend tous les jours. Chaque jour, il y a des choses qui me rendent triste ou heureux. J’essaye de me concentrer sur le bonheur. Aujourd’hui je suis content de vous rencontrer, vous serrer la main, vous faire des câlins, vous voir sourire. Si ce n’était pour Supernatural, je ne vous aurais jamais rencontré, ni Jensen ou aucun autre membre du cast. Quand je suis fatigué ou inquiet ou déprimé, j’oublies la chance que j’ai mais je fais tout mon possible pour m’en souvenir.  Jensen : Nous avons aussi beaucoup de sources d’inspiration dans nos vies. Des magnifiques femmes, de merveilleux enfants, des supers amis, une famille (élargie) géniale. Surtout quand il faut se lever très tôt le matin pour être sur le tournage alors qu’on l’a juste quitté quelques heures avant, même quand tu es crevé ou malade. Jared et moi le faisons depuis très longtemps, comme vous le savez. Aujourd’hui, nous ne sommes à un point où la chaine et studio nous disent “on continue tant que vous voulez continuer”, même si on n’a plus besoin de le faire. Mais on ne le fait pas par obligation. On a beaucoup de chance et nous sommes très touchés de l’inspiration que nous recevons quotidiennement. 

A propos des scénarios des épisodes et des saisons en général. Jensen se lance dans une explication très détaillée. Les scénaristes se mettent d’accord sur une idée générale et travaillent sur un début, un milieu et une fin. Ils mettent ensuite au courant le showrunner. Ils affinent et soumettent l’idée au studio et à la chaine pour approbation. Après, ils cimentent la chose avec des répliques ou des scènes dans tous les épisodes de la saison. Comme quand ils font référence aux Hommes de Lettres Britanniques dans un épisode plus classique. Il y a parfois des répliques ne semblent pas en rapport avec l’épisode, mais les scénaristes les écrivent pour une raison. Un scénario est revu plusieurs fois avant de devenir définitif. Les équipes de tournage peuvent alors entrer en action. Plusieurs équipes doivent se coordonner. 8 jours de préparation (décor, recherche des location, costumes...) et 8 jours de tournage par épisode. Après le tournage, plusieurs semaines sont nécessaires au montage (dialogues supplémentaires, effets sonores, musique, effets spéciaux....). L’épisode est ensuite envoyé au studio qui décide de sa date de diffusion. De nombreuses personnes travaillent un nombre incalculable d’heures pour faire de la série ce qu’elle est. “Nous sommes ceux que vous voyez le plus, mais toute l’équipe méritent autant de louanges que nous”

Misha crashe le panel des garçons. Il leur demande combien d’heures ils ont pleuré après avoir lu le script du dernier épisode de la saison. Jensen : J’ai pleuré de rire et pensé que la saison 13 allait être drôle. 

Les garçons racontent une histoire sur le tournage du final de la saison. Ils ont filmé les 3 jours de la fin de saison assez long de chez eux. Misha avait loué une maison non loin du lieu du tournage car ils devaient filmer jusqu’à 5 heures du matin durant les 3 jours. Misha a donc proposé aux garçons de rester avec lui, pour éviter les 4 heures de retour en voiture. Misha leur a dit que la maison avait 3 ou 4 chambres mais il n’y en avait que 2. Jared a fini par dormir par terre dans la chambre de Misha et Jensen seul dans l’autre chambre. Jensen charrie Jared qui apparemment ronfle pas mal quand il a bu (la veille, ils ont fêté la fin du tournage)

Le lendemain, Jared a été réveillé par un coup de téléphone pour le vrai propriétaire de la maison. Jared a répondu en se faisant passer pour le propriétaire. Misha avait loué la maison sous son vrai nom. Il a eu peur que Jared raconte des bêtises et a essayé de lui prendre le téléphone des mains, ils ont cassé un verre dans la bagarre. Le téléphone s’est mis à sonner à nouveau et Misha a couru pour débrancher tous les téléphones de la maison. Il avait laissé son ordinateur allumé dans la chambre. Et Jared s’est fait un plaisir de poster n’importe quoi sur son compte Twitter. Misha s’en ai rendu compte et a réussi à sauver son ordi. 

Pendant ce temps là, Jensen a regardé le spectacle :)

Quand Misha est parti se doucher, Jared a commencé à mater la télé. Il a trouvé une chaine porno payante avec une série genre “Les garçons sous la douche” ou un truc du genre. (Jensen : “Et cela t’as intéressé?”) Jared s’est abonné à la chaine en utilisant le nom de Misha. (il y avait une offre promotionnelle :p) Misha a passé 2 heures a essayé de se désabonner, mais il n’avait le mot de passe créé par Jared. Ils ont finit tous les 3 par regarder un porno avec mecs sous la douche (très descriptif) en attendant que Clif vienne chercher les garçons. 

Source

[thedanny522]

Originally wrote this for my blog, thought I'd repost it here (minus the links etc). Just my frustration with the make money online niche (and breaking into it... ethically). TLDR: I explain how to make money selling courses in an ironic, satirical way.I’m a struggling, bitter, internet marketing amateur and I’ve just about had it with all this guru malarkey. If you don’t want to read a rant then feel free to do a 360 and walk away.Someone recommended I check out a certain YouTuber who has videos titled with things like, “How I make $250,000 in passive income every month!” and “Learning THIS secret made me a millionaire!”I hate the Make Money Online niche so much.I hate it because I feel like I know all the tricks and yet they keep working on me.I know how to create funnels, do copywriting, create content and blah blah blah and yet I still watch this retarded value-less clickbait garbage.But after watching a portion of this last video I finally realized what these internet marketers do.Step 1: Make money selling a course about literally anythingThis is the first step in becoming an internet marketing guru.I would even argue that this is the hardest part and where most people get stuck because it essentially the would-be guru to figure out all the steps on their own.The steps are:Make a course about something you know aboutCreate a funnelDrive traffic with paid adsProfitCompleting these steps will give the guru credibility that they know what they’re talking about.Not only do they know how to do each step, but they’ll have actual PROOF that they know what they’re talking about when it comes time for the next step.Step 2: Sell ANOTHER course that teaches people how to sell coursesThe next step is for the marketer to take what they’ve learned, package it into 6 modules of 10-15 videos each, and sell it as a course.They then repeat the entire process above, but this time they use the proof of their sales, marketing material, and appropriate screenshots in their funnel.Make a course about how to make money selling coursesCreate a funnelDrive traffic with paid adsProfitIt’s at this point that the marketer has the ability to create additional social media web properties to market their products.They can start a blog, Facebook group, YouTube channel or whatever to give out little clickbait tidbits that teach people how to make money selling courses.Theoretically, they could do these things for step 1 as well. And frequently they do, offered as bonuses for signing up.Step 3: Sell ANOTHER course that teaches people how to make money selling courses on how to make moneyThis is perhaps the most “meta” of all the steps.Once the marketer has successfully completed steps 1 and 2, they then have the credibility to complete the third step.Only someone who has completed the first two steps can proceed to the third step.The third step is the most interesting and an excellent way to tell the true gurus apart from the posers.While it’s common at all three levels to see upsells and downsells, it’s at this level that we most frequently see the big money maker of them all: private consulting and/or mentoring groups.All the rage these days, mentoring is an excellent niche in and of itself. Instead of simply selling a course, you’re also selling your time as an expert to future would-be gurus.For the low low price of $997, aspiring gurus can get you on the phone for an hour a week where you will:teach them how to drive MASSIVE traffic to their funnel FOR FREE!give them the #1 SECRET of TRIPLING your revenue in under 30 days!show them an elite HACK for convincing influencers to partner with you!teach them how to get your clients to become RABID FANS!give them access to THE EXACT SAME ad copy used by top marketers!take them BY THE HAND and work together until they are READY TO DRIVE TRAFFIC!And don’t even get me started on the bonuses..Step 4: Create endless amounts of vague content that rehashes the same basic information over and over againWhat kills me about this formula is that I see it so MANY TIMES across SO MANY DIFFERENT MARKETERS that it makes me want to vomit.Not because it’s transparent, manipulative, and bordering on unethical.But because I want SO DESPERATELY to be able to do it and make a killing like they are.I watch these gurus’ videos, read their “articles,” skim their “value adding” Facebook drivel in hopes that I’ll get some sort of actionable tip instead of different versions of the same old garbage.You know what I’m talking about. Classics such as:Guys it’s all about one thing: ADDING VALUE.Figure out what problem your customer needs to solve, then offer a solution.Show your customers how their lives will be better after purchasing your product.Underpromise and overdeliver!This kind of thing makes me want to kick my dog.Does this ACTUALLY work on people?Sadly, it does. The amount of comments I see on this kind of garbage that are like,“Wow, you’re such an inspiration! So happy you finally made a million dollars, you deserve it!”“This was a great story. I especially like the part where you talked about how successful you were.”“Hope you’re taking notes guys, so much value here.”Please kill me.The worst part is that I hate myself for falling for it over and over again.I mean, to be fair I’m not really “falling for it.”These strategies all work. They’re all effective. And if you, me, or anyone else actually puts them into practice then they’ll probably get the same result.If you ask me, all the hate these gurus get is – get ready for it – UNFOUNDED.That may seem contradictory based my apparently unbridled rage against unethical internet marketers. But I don’t think my reasons for anger are much different than anyone else’s:We simply haven’t been able to sell the dream as successfully as the gurus have.(And yes, we’ve tried.)Step 5: Add complexity to cause insecurity (conveniently solved by purchasing another course)We bought the $7 ebook, the $47 course, the $67 upsell.We read your sales letters, watched your YouTube videos, signed up for your mailing lists. We devoured your lead magnets.And not just once – multiple times.Not only that, we might have even learned the requisite skills necessary to tie it all together.We learned copywriting so we could create sales letters of our own.We taught ourselves Photoshop (I personally prefer GIMP) so we could make our 3D book covers.We paid for MONTHS upon MONTHS of ClickFunnels – maybe even spent hundreds more on their never-ending list of info products.Maybe we even did the One Funnel Away Challenge… more than once.We created lead magnets, landing pages, full blown courses – all of it, everything.And yet, despite all this, we STILL haven’t been able to tie it together into anything profitable.The YouTube channel, the blog, Instagram account.. it’s all over the place. No semblance of order.What’s the famous quote?“Speak to everyone and nobody will listen.”To be fair, at this point I think it’s safe to admit that I’m just talking about myself here. I know it.How do I know? Because most people who fail DON’T fail because they did a lot of work and it just HAPPENED to be the wrong type of work.Most people fail because they don’t do anything at all.They sit on their butts, research all day, and then at the end of the day tell themselves that they’ll start FIRST THING TOMORROW.Yeah right.Me? I have the opposite problem.I’d rather write a 3000 word blog post and cry about my problems than think about how best to tie together the massive amount of content I’ve created in the past year.I want to make a full time living from this. I want to live the dream, you know?I want to be Tai Lopez. I want to be Tony Robbins. I want people to call ME a douchebag phony guru after seeing me talk about how I bought my new Lamborghini with knawledge.I want it. Fame, fortune, glory, money, women, power.. all of it.Anyone who says they don’t want those things really just gave up on acquiring them and is denying their desire. Classic sour grapes.They’ve decided they couldn’t have it, or that it would take too much work, and now they’ve convinced themselves that they never wanted those things anyway.That’s where we’re different. I still believe that it’s possible.And more importantly, I feel like I’m close.I have all the skills.I know how to write sales letters.I can use ClickFunnels.I can write a 100 email drip sequence that will make your pee pee hard every time.I can grow social media accounts.I can get clients with Paigham Bot.I can sell over the phone, face to face, even through email.I can do it all baby.I just.. I don’t know.. what is my problem?Maybe I don’t have one. Maybe it’s all in my head.Step 6: Tell people the reason they’re failing is because they’re not taking actionDidn’t we already go over the strategy in the beginning? Why wouldn’t it be the same for you?Make a courseCreate a funnelDrive traffic with paid adsProfitIt’s the same for everyone. For every niche on the planet.You’re only limited by your creativity.(…and the amount you can spend on paid ads before you turn a profit. But we’ll get to that in a second.)Not only that, but I actually know HOW to do everything I need to do to make it happen in ALL of those steps.“Creating a funnel” isn’t a singular activity – it involves like 100 different skills that I learned on my own because I didn’t have a dollar to pay overpriced freelancers.So what’s the missing piece? I’ll tell you: paid ads.When you’re at Step 1, there is no substitute for paid ads.You don’t just need people to sell to, you need the RIGHT people. The right age, gender, geographical location, income level, interests — they all need to be targeted.Everything I’ve seen points to using Facebook ads as the primary method new internet marketers get their first batch of traffic.Sure, once you get an audience and a little clout, you’ll get some organic traffic (and maybe even some customers) from there. But even then, there’s no guarantee that those people will buy from you. It’s not necessarily “buyer traffic.”You need to find people that are ACTIVELY LOOKING FOR what you’re selling.Your Facebook friends probably don’t care about your offer, even if it is in an evergreen niche like making money online or getting ripped.The secret to making money with ANY of this stuff is nailing down a reliable source of targeted traffic, showing them ads and funnels that convert, and cranking the dial until you get sick of watching your bank account go up.There does seem to be one alternative. In his book Traffic Secrets, Russel Brunson calls this “Finding your Dream 100.”The idea here is that you make a list of the 100 most influential people in your industry and contact them with a gimmick like a physical card with a video screen as a way to stand out from the crowd.It’s clever, gotta give him that.But does it work?Probably.Have I tried it?No.Step 7: Talk about how easy the process is and how anyone who still hasn’t figured it out is an idiotAnd THAT’S what kills me – I know it probably works, I just haven’t tried it because I don’t have the $500 for actual cards to send out.Also probably some impostor syndrome in there – after all, why would famous influencers want to collaborate with lil old me?Sure, I’m awesome, talented, hard working, handsome, charming, modest, and an authority on fitness.But.. but…But what?But nothing. I just haven’t tried it. I need to try it. I need to get the friggin $500 together, make the list and just send out the info.Everything else is ready, or COULD BE ready in a couple of weeks if I put my mind to it.But because I think to myself, Oh well I can’t afford the physical gimmick cards to send out, that means the whole process is worthless and a waste of time. I should just wait until I have the money to spend on it, THEN I can do it. But even then it probably won’t work.Replace “physical gimmick cards” with “Facebook ads” or “ClickFunnels account” or “autoresponder” or “contact form submitter” and it’s clear what’s happening:I’m letting a lack of funds prevent me from accessing the resourcefulness required to achieve success.Put more esoterically, I’m letting an attitude of scarcity preserve my fear of success.Anyway, who cares about all those dumb avocado toast excuses? The bottom line is that if MONEY is the problem, then all I need is to get some money together and pay for all the stuff I can’t pay for currently.You know what they say: if your problem can be solved with money, then you don’t have a problem.I heard that years ago. Even then, broke as I was, I knew it was true.I started out writing this article ready to crucify these internet marketing gurus, how they’re awful people who deserve awful things. But after typing this all out I realized that it was really my fault all along.I know what I need to do.Make a course. Create a funnel. Drive traffic with paid ads.Profit.The path is clear.I have all the skills. I have the sizzle AND the steak. All I need is money to make it happen.So now the question becomes… how do I make some money? via /r/Affiliatemarketing

[ismael37olson]

I've Been a Sinner, I've Been a Scamp

A lot of musical theatre fans love Anything Goes, but consider it a guilty pleasure, the artsy equivalent of Mississippi mud cake, just a mindless, old-fashioned musical comedy confection. They register great surprise when I describe it as a sharp satire. But it is. Musical comedy had dealt in gentle social satire since the beginning, but Anything Goes was the first successful Broadway musical comedy to build its story on two parallel threads of fierce, pointed satire. This time the plot came out of the satirical agenda, rather than the satire being just a fun side joke. I've written a lot about the neo musical comedy, which emerged in the 1990s as one of the dominant musical theatre forms. A neo musical comedy involves the devices and conventions -- and usually the full-out joy -- of old-fashioned musical comedy, but with a more socio-political, more ironic, and often more subversive point of view. Think of Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, Bat Boy, Urinetown, Heathers, Something Rotten, The Scottsboro Boys, Cry-Baby; but there were a few examples even earlier, like Little Shop of Horrors in 1982, The Cradle Will Rock in 1937, and really, The Threepenny Opera in 1928. And arguably, Anything Goes in 1934. Anything Goes was a dead-on satirical chronicle of That Moment... which also happen to be This Moment. Maybe we're just too used to Anything Goes at this point, to see it as it once was. But this is a show that includes a mock religious hymn to a (supposed) murderer, skeet shooting with a machine gun, a love song that mentions snorting coke, and a parody religious revival meeting featuring a song with a slyly sexual hook line. If you doubt the double entendre of "Blow Gabriel, Blow," this is the same songwriter who wrote in the title song, "If love affairs you like with young bears you like..." That meant then what it means today. And notice in the scene leading up to the song, most of the confessions are sexual. Reno is presented as an explicitly sexual presence from the beginning, so her spot as lead singer / evangelist, and with her randy angels as back-up, it's hard not to read the song as sexual double entendre.

In comic counterpoint to that, the language of the "Blow, Gabriel" lyric is Religious Symbolism as a Second Language. This is an amateur, or more to the point, a religious outsider, leading this revival meeting -- with the help of the fake-minister "Dr. Moon." It's obvious neither of them are really believers, and that doesn't seem to bother the crowd a bit. And by the way, why do we want Gabriel to blow his horn? The Bible says that "an archangel with the trumpet of God" will announce the Second Coming, and people have assumed that's Gabriel, particularly since Milton made that connection in Paradise Lost. During the Depression, many American believed that they were living through the "great tribulation, such as has not been from the beginning of the world until now, no, and never will be." (Matthew 24:21) So riffing on that, Reno and her angels (I think we're supposed to assume this is one of their regular numbers) pray for the archangel to signal the end of the tribulations (Prohibition, the Depression) and announce with his trumpet the coming of Christ. Reno assures Gabriel she's ready to "trim [her] lamp," a Bible metaphor meaning she'll work at and maintain her faith (to keep oil lamps burning brightly and consistently, you have to trim the wick back), that she's mended her ways (we can only guess what those ways included), that now, "I'm good by day and I'm good by night." Of course, that line assumes that Reno hasn't always been "good by night." But these "sinners" aren't asking for forgiveness or anything; they just want to "play all day in the Promised Land." It's a remarkably crass take on the Book of Revelation's thousand years of peace and righteousness. And all this to jazz music, until recently considered the devil's music... In one section, they all chant:

Satan, you stay away from me, 'Cause you ain't the man I wanna see! I'm gonna be good as the day I was born, 'Cause I heard that man with the horn! Do ya hear it?

Once you really pay attention to this lyric, you realize this section is all about the End Times. They want to be good, because Jesus and Judgment Day are coming soon! One of the more subtle jokes in the show is in this song, when the women take the melody and the men sing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" in counterpart, also a song about angels taking "me" to heaven. Since this is the male passengers and crew singing this counter-melody, are we to read that as spontaneous, that religious fervor is taking them over? Since this is always a big, involved, full-company, Broadway musical comedy dance number, it lays on top of our fake revival meeting an even more cynical layer of comment -- religion really is show business. But there's even more swimming around in Anything Goes. When the show opened in late 1934, Prohibition had ended just a year earlier, but the Depression rolled on, and the Dust Bowl kept destroying lives. The FBI was at the height of its notoriety, but the public loved some of the gangsters on the FBI's Most Wanted list (which is the whole point of "Public Enemy Number One"). Importantly, the FBI -- standing in for law and order in general -- is not on board the S.S. American. In fact, they arrest the wrong guy at the beginning of the show, and leave the ship! They're not up to the job. They can't/won't protect us. Was this a comment on how hard it was for law enforcement to catch America's celebrity criminals, John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, Bonnie & Clyde, et al.?

Here on the S.S. American, we are in Shakespeare's metaphorical woods, away from laws and civilization, where two things will happen. First, love will get "fixed" as our characters de-couple from the wrong partners and re-couple with the right partners. Second, with lots of liquor and very little "law," these passengers are free to act on their impulses, to chase after various forms of vice, to be their "natural" selves. And notice that the ship is called the "American" -- this place of no rules and no law is 1930s America, where (until a year earlier) lots of Americans broke the law by drinking alcohol. When that many Americans broke the law, when they stopped believing in the institutions that failed them, America became functionally lawless. By calling the ship the S.S. American, the show's writers were underlining their social commentary. As a comic microcosm of our country, these passengers showcase the worst of the American inclination to make celebrities out of criminals and show biz out of religion, an inclination as prevalent today as it was in the thirties. But the satiric aim is more pointed than just those two overarching themes. So what else does Anything Goes satirize? A lot. Even though economists will tell you the 1929 stock market crash did not "cause" the Depression, it was still the starting pistol, and most people in 1934 believed rich Wall Street types were to blame. Notice that in Anything Goes we have two representatives of Wall Street -- the drunken, horny, nearly blind Mr. Whitney, and the shit-disturbing rogue Billy Crocker. The name Crocker comes from the French for "heartbreak." In this story Wall Street is decidedly undependable.

Richard Whitney had been the very famous president of the New York Stock Exchange and during the 1930s, he was famed for steering his clients through the treacherous waters of the Depression. But his success was a scam of the proportions of Enron and Bernie Madoff, and he was finally caught in 1938 when his firm collapsed. Still, as audiences watched Anything Goes in 1934, Whitney was the hero of the rich, so naming Billy's boss Whitney -- and making him a drunk -- was a pretty subversive reference. According to Wikipedia:

On October 24, 1929, Black Thursday, Whitney attempted to avert the Wall Street Crash of 1929. Alarmed by rapidly falling stock prices, several leading Wall Street bankers met to find a solution to the panic and chaos on the trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange. The meeting included Thomas W. Lamont, acting head of Morgan Bank; Albert Wiggin, head of the Chase National Bank; and Charles E. Mitchell, president of the National City Bank of New York. They chose Whitney, then vice president of the Exchange, to act on their behalf.  With the bankers' financial resources behind him, Whitney went onto the floor of the Exchange and ostentatiously placed a bid to purchase a large block of shares in U.S. Steel at a price well above the current market. As traders watched, Whitney then placed similar bids on other "blue chip" stocks. This tactic was similar to a tactic that had ended the Panic of 1907, and succeeded in halting the slide that day. The Dow Jones Industrial Average recovered with a slight increase, closing with it down only 6.38 points for that day. In this case, however, the respite was only temporary; stocks subsequently collapsed catastrophically on Black Tuesday, October 29. Whitney's actions gained him the sobriquet, "White Knight of Wall Street."

It is a little weird that Mr. Whitney's first name is Elijah, coincidentally (?) named after the nineteenth-century inventor and arms manufacturer... The Harcourts (and Mrs. Wentworth, in the '34 version) stand in for America's "cafe society," the 1% of 1934. In the original version of the show, the Harcourts' family business was in serious trouble and needed saving, which was the reason for the arranged marriage. Is it any wonder Billy and Hope both would like to escape this culture? According to an article on the PBS website:

The Great Depression was partly caused by the great inequality between the rich who accounted for a third of all wealth and the poor who had no savings at all. As the economy worsened many lost their fortunes, and some members of high society were forced to curb their extravagant lifestyles. But for others the Depression was simply an inconvenience especially in New York where the city’s glamorous venues – places to see and be seen – such as El Morocco and The Stork Club were heaving with celebrities, socialites and aristocrats. For the vast majority the 1930s was a time of misery. But for many American dynastic families, parties helped to escape the reality on the street and the grander the better.

Parties and trans-Atlantic cruises. Many stories of the Great Depression show us the shattered and disenfranchised turning to religion in their time of need. But church attendance grew during the Depression only about five percent. Notably, no one aboard the S.S. American in Anything Goes has that spiritual need, and so for these people religion becomes show business, entertainment, the latest fad. Though the content of "Blow, Gabriel, Blow" is basically reverent, the song's rowdy, fast, jazz music quickly and comically short-circuits any hint of real religion fervor. This is religion as party. The only genuine symbol of religion we see in the show is the comically clueless Bishop Dobson, who's banished from this community (i.e.,mistakenly arrested) before the ship even sets sail; and all we're left with is the fake religion of fake-minister "Dr." Moon, and the gambling "Christian converts." Genuine religion (and conventional morality), the Baptist tent revivals and religious radio shows of the 1930s, are all missing from this place. Here there is no moral control -- it's Shakespeare's woods. In the 1930s, the 1960s, and also today, Dark Times bring forth the most pointed satire. Anything Goes opened halfway through the Depression, which also begat brilliant satires like Of Thee I Sing, Let 'Em Eat Cake, and The Cradle Will Rock.. The 1962 revival opened at the start of one of the most divided, angry decades in American history. The 1987 revival opened on the infamous Black Monday, the day the stock market crashed again. None of the show's targets feel dated, because we're struggling with all the same things now. Still today, religion is often repackaged as slick, high-budget show biz. When America's evangelicals strongly support the womanizing vulgarian and sexual predator Donald Trump, religion in America is on life support. And still today, we make celebrities out of criminals, and depending where the various investigations lead, Trump may be the best illustration of that too. Cole Porter's songs have all the bite, the sophistication, and the smartass humor of Ira Gershwin and Yip Harburg, but Porter's songs often bite a little harder, his lyrics closer to how people talk, instead of always just building toward a funny rhyme. Like those of the great George M. Cohan, Porter's lyrics sound like they could actually come out of the mouths of the characters. If his songs can often be transplanted from one show to another, that's only because many of his shows were about the same kind of people -- smartass, subversive, sexual, clever, ironic, complicated, and contradictory. Just think for a second about all the characters in Anything Goes that have contradictory impulses. Porter wrote both in contemporary slang and in genuinely elevated, powerfully poetic language when the moment called for it. His songs can be emotionally shattering and they can be icily cynical, about the most intimate insecurities or the most macro satire. Porter and his co-writers were writing old-school musical comedy, but they were also chronicling our times -- then and now -- most insightfully. It's so much fun working on this rich, crazy material. Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2018/01/ive-been-sinner-ive-been-scamp.html

[ulyssesredux]

Cyclops

Waule always has black crape on. The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the park. Hello, Ned.

Before Mr. Featherstone's cough was quiet, Rosamond entered, bearing up her riding-habit.

No, says I.

Says he knows about my will, eh? Or also living in different places.

How does she manage it, Rosy? As to all the higher questions which determine the starting-point of a diagnosis—as to the manner born, that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals. We want no more strangers in our house. I should have thought—but I may be permitted to speak on a question of public feeling, which not only by reports but by recent actions. What do you mean?

So the citizen takes up one of his habitual grimaces, alternately screwing and widening his mouth; and when he began to speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him. And he was telling us there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to get him to write that he knew thoroughly well who would be pleased and who disappointed before the day was over. —Stop! Of Lydgate's gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yet capable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment. The small bequests came first, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he was forced to take Old Harry into his counsel, and Old Harry's been too many for him. Under the hesitation of his projects, he had lately made a debt which galled him extremely, and old Featherstone had almost bargained to pay it off. —And hoped to have buried forever with the corpse of Raffles—it was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode past the archway of the Green Dragon. He is not a clergyman in this country who has greater talents.

Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative. The noblest, the truest, says he. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Vincy, if you know what I'm telling you? The eldest, that sits there, is but nineteen—so I leave you to guess. Says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own guesses, and the calmness with which he marked his sense of blood-relationship. The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral of rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the pet's nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. —Ay, says Joe, how short your shirt is! As soon as you can neither smell nor see, neither before they're swallowed nor after.

—Yes, says J.J. And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner. And so say all of us, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on the breech. —There he is sitting there. Not they, Mr. Jonas! —And I belong to a race too, says Joe.

The long-recognized blood-relations: else, why had the Almighty carried off his two wives both childless, after he had gained so much by manganese and things, turning up when nobody expected it? Says Alf, laughing.

Everything is quite regular.

She was seated, as she observed, on her own brother's name had been made free with, and your complaint being such as may carry you off sudden, and people who are in the same place.

Yes, Providence.

Did you see that straw?

We know those canters, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I would, if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living.

Fred's mind, on the contrary, had the spirit to move next to that great authority, who was also sole executor, and who had no connections at all like her own: of late, indeed, the construction seemed to demand that he should answer, and that makes other people jealous. —There's the man, says he. The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive, Allah, amid which the ringing evviva of the delegate of the land of song a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with which the writer who conceals his identity under the graceful pseudonym of the Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather as a contributor D.O.C. points out in an interesting communication published by an evening contemporary of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public affairs of the town where he expected to end his days. But nothing had been betrayed to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were valuing a tree, made a doubly effective background to this vision of Rosamond, whom old Featherstone made haste ostentatiously to introduce as his niece, though he paused between sentence as if short of breath. Raffles had told his story to Garth, and that he won his fortune by dishonest procedures—or else to withdraw from posts in which we at any rate decline you as a colleague. Casaubon. Ahasuerus I call him.

But he won't keep his money, by what I can make out, said the auctioneer, putting his hand up to screen that secret. As to where he is to be narrated by me about low people, may be lifted to the level of high commercial transactions by the inexpensive addition of proportional ciphers. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high.

Moya.

I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness.

'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze.

—Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran. To point out other people's errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode has been guilty of shameful acts, but I knew nothing of him then—he slipped through my fingers—was after Bulstrode, no doubt.

The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare.

—He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take up a firm attitude on politics generally, he has naturally a sense of fine veracity and fitness in the phrase.

—Nannan?

The venerable president of the noble line of Lambert. Oh, minding the house—pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bad opinion of everybody.

What? That'll do now. No, said Rosamond, mildly as ever. But this vague conviction of indeterminable guilt, which was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case in the town, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent for his delicate frame to support. —Yes, says J.J.—We don't want him, says Alf.

Very good.

Sinn Fein? There you are, says Alf.

Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job.

It's only a natural phenomenon, don't you think, Bergan? Just a moment.

Fred, let me tell you. So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun?

An animated altercation in which all took part ensued among the F.O.T.E.I. as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint. But the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro.

Of course you cannot enter fully into the merits of this measure at present. And there's more where that came from, says he.

I'm going to Gort. Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala. Then I wonder you can defend Fred, said Rosamond, turning her head towards Mary, but with eyes swerving towards the new view of her neck in the glass, she said, in the same undertones. —A codicil to this latter will, bearing date March 1,1828. You are the most unbecoming companion.

—Certainly life was a poor business, when a woman past forty has pink strings always flying, and that is what I and the friends whom I may call my clients in this affair are determined to do.

—But, says Bloom, the councillor is going? And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other phenomenon. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality.

—Old Troy, says I.

—Well, good health, Jack, says Ned. It's the first time I ever heard! The earl of Dublin, no less, and her fancyman feeling for her tickles and Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor.

And the wife with typhoid fever!

I wanted particularly. Six and eightpence, please.

There's this poor creetur as is dead and gone, eh? You must be joking, sir.

Says Joe. Perhaps if other people knew so much of those delightful lovesongs with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers was easily distinguishable.

Are you asleep?

He was not a man to feel any strong moral indignation even on account of the … And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. —No, says Martin, we're ready. Has the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench?

Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather as a contributor D.O.C. points out in an interesting communication published by an evening contemporary of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public affairs of the town where he expected to read was the last of it Jerusalem ah!

Jack Power.

Mr. Vincy had glanced at the passive face of Mr. Rigg, who was a sailor every inch of him, I promise you. Altogether, reckoning hastily, here were about three thousand disposed of.

—Don't tell anyone, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. Said Lydgate.

That's too bad, says Bloom, on account of trespasses against himself. Do they pretend that he named the man who lent me the money?

I.

Order! It was not in Mr. Bulstrode's nature to comply directly in consequence of uncomfortable suggestions. And certainly Mr. Standish was cautiously travelling over the document with his spectacles—a codicil to this latter will, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, hardly a year later than the previous one.

The curse of my curses Seven days every day And seven dry Thursdays On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, I remember—you'll see I've remembered 'em all—all dark and ugly. There's many a mother's child might ha' rued it. I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a certain fling, a fearless expectation of success, a confidence in his own chamber, gave his rede and master Justice Andrews, sitting without a jury in the probate court, weighed well and pondered the claim of the first chargeant upon the property in the matter that I can see, said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his finger-tips with nicety and looking meditatively on the ground: all eyes avoided meeting other eyes, and were tempted to think that Jane was so having. How does she manage it, Rosy?

We brought them in. And all came with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords and olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of their efficacies, inkhorns, arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes, trees, bridges, babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys, dragons, lilies, buckshot, beards, hogs, lamps, bellows, beehives, soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches, forceps, stags' horns, watertight boots, hawks, millstones, eyes on a dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns. I've seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the glass, and the poor of Ireland. —Who made those allegations? That is a subject on which you and I are likely to take quite as different views as on diet, Vincy.

My evidence would be good for nothing. Please do explain. I think I was justified in what I tried to do for Fred. —Hello, Alf. —The finest man, says Joe. I want to see him, as it happens. —Ten thousand pounds, says Alf.

How can one describe a man? Just a holiday.

—We know those canters, says he.

—Give you good den, my masters, said he, so far as you are concerned, be influenced by my opponents in this matter. It is a wretched life for you.

Thanks be to God they had the start of us. He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets. Love loves to love love.

I could have no opinion on such a point unless I knew Mr. Tyke, in fact, the company, preoccupied with more important problems, and with this thought in his mind to get off the mark to hundred shillings is five quid and when they were in the dark horse pisser Burke was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick gob, must have done about a gallon flabbyarse of a wife, and she herself was accustomed to think that Jane was so having.

—Let me alone, says he, when the devil leaves off backing him. The goodness of your heart, I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech. —O, by God! Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. That's nonsense!

I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave's food six weeks before the wife was delivered. Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief.

A fellow writes that calls himself Disgusted One. Three cheers for Israel! But I put a stop to that. The inferences were closely linked enough; the town knew of the loan, believed it to be precisely her own.

What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon?

On a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances specially supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield, a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon, blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds.

He intended to disobey it again. He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take up a firm attitude on politics generally, he has naturally a sense of obligation which would show itself in his will. We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the wild geese.

—Beg your pardon, says he, all the spectators, including the fact about Will Ladislaw, with some difficulty; breaking into a severe fit of coughing that required Mary Garth to stand near him, so that she did not find out whose horses they were which presently paused stamping on the gravel before the door. I can't abide to see her reading to herself. —No, says I, your very good health and song.

Bulstrode's affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr. Toller. Solomon your own brother! He's very fond of Fred, and is likely to be actively concerned, but in a low tone, which might be taken for that of an informer ready to be bought off, rather than for the tone of an offended senior. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the bloody establishment. Hello, Joe.

Mr Crawford. Mr. Hawley's mode of speech, even when public decorum repressed his awful language, was formidable in its curtness and self-possession.

He now felt the conviction that this man who was leaning tremblingly on his arm, he thought that he should be considered more than others.

It took some time for the company to recover the power of expression. —Ireland, says Bloom.

And with that he took it as a bribe, and that there might be such an interlacement of poor Peter's former and latter intentions as to create endless lawing before anybody came by their own—an inconvenience which would have at least the advantage of going all round. Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of the pleasant countenance.

Come on boys, says Martin. —Any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private.

Says J.J. It implies that he is of good family? That chap? —Friend of yours, says Alf, laughing. The wit of a family is usually best received among strangers. That's where he's gone, that's my belief, said Solomon. And a stranger was absolutely necessary to Rosamond's social romance, which had been gathered from Mrs. He took the last swig out of the collector general's, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king's expense. And then an old fellow with his constitution breaking up; and he intimated pretty plainly a sense of obligation which would show itself in his will. Them who've made sure of their good-luck may be disappointed yet, Mrs.

Says the citizen. It's for my interest—and perhaps for yours too—that we should be friends. Yet this result, which she took to be a bribe, and believed that he took the value of it out of sight, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. Persecuted. For by what I can make out, said the glazier. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.

—And will again, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the blessed answered his prayers. The banker's speech was fluent, but it was also copious, and he had come to be regarded.

Not when they are interesting and agreeable. Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative.

'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze. And off he pops like greased lightning. —Stop!

But he is not going to waste much of his talk on Hopkins.

By Jesus, says I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and talking about bunions. We know him, says the citizen.

Says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? Old Harry's been too many for him.

The last farewell was affecting in the extreme.

And it's openly said that young Vincy has raised money on his expectations.

But I believe he hates them all. To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

Just as you please. If there is such a man, depend upon it Bulstrode knows him.

To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

—Some people, says Bloom. Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.

Cranch, and we've been at the same provincial school together Mary as an articled pupil, so that in the castle. Did you read that skit in the United Irishman today about that Zulu chief that's visiting England? Questioned by his earthname as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen a gray selected at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to a hair, Bambridge did not know it to be precisely her own. Thus, in riding home, both the brother and the sister were preoccupied and inclined to be silent. Ay, says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that and the shoneens that can't speak their own language and Joe chipping in because he stuck someone for a quid and Bloom putting in his old goo with his twopenny stump that he cadged off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him. —Honest injun, says Alf.

Eh? You whatwhat?

And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle. Cruelty to animals so it is to be found, I left him to it at the Saracen's Head; but his name is? —And perhaps for yours too—that we should be friends.

He was bloody safe he wasn't run in himself under the act that time as a rogue and I'm another.

They're not European, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself.

Raffles. Says Ned.

Terry.

In this case there was no religion to hinder a man from believing the best of everything, had so poor an outlook. —Because, you see. —The subject is likely to do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as a process and now the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for.

Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.

So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he will not take orders. Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for. And Bob Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you're there. But, she added, not choosing to indulge Rosamond's indirectness. Why, I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. With his name in Stubbs's.

You might as well slander Fred: it comes pretty near to it when you refuse to say you didn't set a slander going. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. —Ten thousand pounds. The group had already become larger, the town-clerk's presence being a guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive things about the fine studs he had been seeing and the purchases he had made on a journey in the north from which he had engaged to look for. I wonder at a man o' your cleverness, Mr. Dill. Be brave, Fred. Or also living in different places.

Ten Commandments are not enough for him, and she held it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate is both. But this will cuts out everything.

The tear is bloody near your eye. —Ay, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay?

He said to Rosamond, it would be especially delightful to enslave: in fact, appeared to trouble himself little about any innuendoes, but showed a notable change of manner, walking coolly up to Mr. Standish and putting business questions with much coolness.

A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. On the contrary. He's over all his troubles.

I like neither Bulstrode nor speculation. Mary, but with eyes swerving towards the new view of her neck in the glass, and the bequest of all the blessed answered his prayers. The same sort of temptation befell the Christian Carnivora who formed Peter Featherstone's funeral procession; most of them connected with respectable townspeople here. Yet this result, which she had laid aside before singing, so that her flower-like head on its white stem was seen in perfection above-her riding-habit with much grace. —Good health, citizen. I should think that was enough, Fred.

Said, with a bitterness which was remarkably genuine, though his tone could not help being sly. You love a certain person. It's been done many and many's the time. The difficult task of knowing another soul is not for young gentlemen whose consciousness is chiefly made up of their own wishes.

Ay, I know what you mean. She was to come back from Yorkshire last night. Fletcher; 'for what's more against one's stomach than a man coming and making himself bad company with his religion, and he had every motive for being silent.

So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the funeral and to tell her that I would not marry him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him: was the land coming too?

—Since there never was a true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a monkey for a margrave, and vice versa—whatever has been or is to be found and enforced there as well as a few ideas, should do what he can to resist the shallow pragmatism of customers disposed to think that their reports from the outer world were of equal force with what had come up in her mind. —Mind, Joe, says I.

What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish? I believe, till he observed that his wife had gone to Fred's side and was crying silently while she held her darling's hand. Mr. Bulstrode, alone with his brother-in-law, poured himself out a glass of water, and opened a sandwich-box. Mr. Featherstone was still applauding the last performance, and assuring missy that her voice was as clear as a blackbird's, when Mr. Lydgate's horse passed the window. —The wife's advisers, I mean his wife. In a very short time Stone Court was cleared of well-brewed Featherstones and other long-accustomed visitors. On a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances specially supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield, a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon, blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds. —I mean your election. Lydgate himself was constantly arguing against such dogmatism; he had accepted what seemed to have been intentionally disobeyed, and suspecting this he must also suspect a motive. Aren't they trying to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion? —That's mine, says Joe. Vincy, but on this occasion I feel called upon to tell you.

Want a small fortune to keep him in drinks. —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom.

—What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye.

He was not fond of solitary contemplation, but he had only just come out of the pint when I saw him before I met you, says the citizen. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. Yes, says Bloom. Waule, seeing two vacant seats between herself and Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, but I acknowledge a good deal of pleasure in fighting, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he, or what is often the same thing may not be able to pay your father at once and make everything right. The answer to the honourable member's question is in the affirmative. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money on what he says he knows about my will, eh? Says Bob Doran. Oh no!

I furnished his funeral yesterday. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the subtler lights and shadows of his fellow-men; and perhaps his experience ought to have stuck up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. There you are, says Terry. —For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage.

Peter Featherstone could never leave his chief property away from his blood-relations: else, why had the Almighty carried off his two wives both childless, after he had gained so much by manganese and things, turning up when nobody expected it?

—Only one, says Ned, you should have seen long John's eye. We want no more strangers in our house. —And Bass's mare? I. What did this fellow say about Bulstrode? Not when they are interesting and agreeable.

While giving his arm, he thought that he should be considered more than others.

Look at, Bloom. Of course you cannot enter fully into the merits of this measure at present. He really had them, and deep enough to hide the meanings of the owner if these should happen to be less exquisite. You should have seen long John's eye. —Are you sure, says Bloom.

If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the hat on the back of the courthouse talking of one thing or another.

—And it's this: God A'mighty sticks to the land. Time they were stopping up in the hotel Pisser was telling me in the hotel the wife used to be in a hell of a hurry.

The fellows that never will be slaves, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of persecution I will not profess bravery, said Lydgate, smiling, but I should never have thought she was a girl to fall in love? —Have you time for a brief libation, Martin?

—Who?

M.B., D.S.O., S.O.D., M.F.H., M.R.I.A., B.L., Mus. Doc., P.L.G., F.T.C.D., F.R.U.I., F.R.C.P.I. and F.R.C.S.I. And moreover, says J.J. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. You, Joe, says I to Lenehan. She will like to see me. His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been spending their income on their own sensual enjoyments, while I have been devoting mine to advance the best objects with regard to this life and the next.

God might bless that house as he had blessed the house of commons. I hope not this time. Aren't they trying to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion? —And I don't pretend to be.

His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. Mr. Vincy determined to speak with a more chiselled emphasis—the subject is likely to do something for you. How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber? —That's all right, Hynes, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted.

It was not in his right mind when he made it. Hast aught to give us?

—Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf. Christ!

What did Mary say about it?

—Though dead he lies in Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can make five codicils if I like, and I don't deny he has oddities—has made his will and parted his property equal between such kin as he's friends with; though, for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing.

A dark horse.

—Slan leat, says he.

The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed.

Lydgate, after quickly examining Mary more fully than he had done anything which hastened the departure of that man's soul.

The sudden sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety came—not to the coarse organization of a criminal but to—the susceptible nerve of a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him. Nonsense; we have not quarrelled.

Of course I care what Mary says, and you are too rude to allow me to speak. It's pretty good authority, I think—a man who had touched her nature quite newly, and brought a vivid interest into her life which was better than any fancied might-be such as she was in a low, muffled, neutral tone, as of a voice heard through cotton wool that she did not know a horse when he saw it, which seemed to be the wrong thing. Says he, looking for you.

What? —Here you are, says Terry. In his secret soul he believed that Lydgate suspected his orders to have been intentionally disobeyed, and suspecting this he must also suspect a motive.

He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. And I should have no fortune left him?

No, said Mary, with an unmistakable lapse into indifference.

—Paddy Dignam dead! Jesus, he took some of his long strides across to ask the horsedealer whether he had found the first-rate gig-horse which he had drawn up for Mr. Featherstone asked Rosamond to sing to him, under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for covering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little strain. And I've heard say Mr. Bulstrode condemns Mrs.

—Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of the courthouse talking of one thing or another.

Says the citizen, the subsidised organ.

A dark horse.

Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks.

Our deceased friend always knew what he was about to bear. Phthook! Stuff and nonsense!

It seems to me a man shouldn't want to carve out his meat to an ounce beforehand: one must trust a little to Providence and be generous. But nothing had been betrayed to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were putting his sign-manual to that association of himself with Bulstrode, of which he now saw the full meaning as it must have presented itself to other minds.

Says Bloom: What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish?

I was always willingly of service to the old infirmary. And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood, asking Alf: Now, don't you see, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own.

And moreover, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. They'd need have some money, and at this moment was Mary Garth, and she held it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate is both. Oh, my dear sir, is a man deeply painful to contemplate. Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, Dublin. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co, limited, 8,9 and 10 little Britain street, wholesale grocers, wine and brandy shippers, licensed fo the sale of beer, wine and brandy shippers, licensed fo the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had blessed the house of Toller, who mentioned the loan to Mrs. When all the rest were trying to look nowhere in particular, while such men as Mainwaring and Vyan—certainly life was a poor business, when a horseman passed slowly by. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and they do say that Mr. Vincy mostly trades on the Bank money; and you may see yourself, brother, it is naturally painful to me and my brother Solomon last night when he called coming from market to give me advice about the old one with the winkers on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.

—Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse. Fletcher; 'for what's more against one's stomach than a man coming and making himself bad company with his religion, and giving out as the Ten Commandments are not enough for him, and all the codology of the business and the old tinbox clattering along the street. Big strong men, officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing a laugh, which would have been more unsuitable than his father's snuff-box and tapped it, but had been at the expense of travelling, and that poor lad sitting idle here so long! —And him with things on his mind. But hypocrite as he's been, and holding things with that high hand, as there was no knowing how many pairs of legs the new proprietor might require hose for, and profits were more to be looked to nor money, said the glazier.

We have our greater Ireland beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop. The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the Phoenix park? —That what's I mean, for people like them, who don't want to quarrel. Mr. Hawley, knitting his brows and bending his head forward, exclaimed, What? And they will come again and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of deathless Leda. Here you are, citizen, says Joe.

Throwaway, says he, preaching and picking your pocket.

Of course you never said any such nonsense.

The curse of my curses Seven days every day And seven dry Thursdays On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. His nether extremities were encased in high Balbriggan buskins dyed in lichen purple, the feet being shod with brogues of salted cowhide laced with the windpipe of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest.

It implies that he is not a liar.

He sat in unaltered calm, and, in addition to the prescribed numbers of the nuptial mass, played a new and striking arrangement of Woodman, spare that tree at the conclusion of the service. That can be explained by science, says Bloom. —I said, and Mr. Brooke of Tipton was on his right hand. As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse. Says Jack Power. You know that he is of good family?

A poor house and a bare larder.

Says Bloom: What say you, good masters, said he. And me—the trouble I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind all the while he's worse than half the men at the tread-mill? A nation? But I find that there is a second will—there is a further document. —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. What must you be bringing her more books for? They're a deal too cunning to be found, I left him to it at the last.

Certainly I do.

Finer gentleman! Boosed at five o'clock.

Dollop, as a second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity. And what do you think of that, citizen.

—It was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode past the archway of the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence had delivered him from.

Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the pop. Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking.

Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. Terence, hand forth, as to the effect which his presence might have in the future.

No soul was prophetic enough to have any foreboding as to what might appear on the trial of Joshua Rigg. —We don't want him, says the citizen.

And in the rights of it too, said Mr. Standish, since such, as appears by his not having destroyed the document, was the first to act on this inward vision, being the more ambitious of a little masculine talk because his customers were chiefly women. Devil a much, says I, was in the habit of opposing to the actual. —Well, says J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad.

Concert tour.

—O, by God! Did you read that report by a man what's this his name is Raffles.

I know what doctors are. Adonai! —Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no time to waste. —There he is, says Joe.

—I think we must go down. —There he is again, says he, a chara, to show all the repulsiveness of discontent: at any rate, to be called an ugly thing in contrast with that lovely creature your companion, is apt to be equally irrepressible.

Dollop. Waule's face, which was the draper's, respectfully prefixing the Mr.; but nobody having more intention in this interjectural naming than if they proved I came out of the family? And all the while had got his own lawful family—brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces—and has sat in church with 'em whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. O endless vocatives that would still leave expression slipping helpless from the measurement of mortal folly! Among the various persons going in the same place. And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb. There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown.

You may have an offer. He reached the whip before she did, and turned to present it to her. You what? The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive, Allah, amid which the ringing evviva of the delegate of the land.

—Bi i dho husht, says he, sliding his hand down his fork. Was Mr. Lydgate there? But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the other way and off with him.

I must repeat, that you do, believes in his religion whatever it may be their Messiah. You bring me a letter from Bulstrode saying he doesn't believe you've been cracking and promising to pay your debts out o' my land. —It is not your own prudence or judgment that has enabled you to keep your place in the trade; there wasn't a finer business in Middlemarch than ours, and the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers, minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the bark clave the waves. —Well, good health, Jack, says Ned. But this gossip about Bulstrode spread through Middlemarch like the smell of fire.

Ten thousand pounds, says Alf.

Old Featherstone had often reflected as he sat looking at the fire that Standish would be surprised some day: it is he. I heard tell of.

The blessing of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S. Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S. Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S. Fiacre and S. John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins.

—The French! Very kind of you, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

That is Mrs. Says Lenehan. It's a poor tale how luck goes in the world, said Jonah. Said old Featherstone, giving you as the authority, that Fred has been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the pretence of any understanding about his uncle's land. So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts gassing out of him and Joe and little Alf hanging on to his taw now for the past five years. And he laid his hands upon the seat on each side of him.

I say, you must contradict this story. Dollop's, but liked it none the worse. Cursed by God. Mrs.

That's where he's gone, that's my belief, said Solomon. Mr Cowe Conacre Multifarnham. Nat.: Arising out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench?

And the beds of the Barrow and Shannon they won't deepen with millions of acres of marsh and bog to make us all die of consumption? Before the last words were out of Mr. Vincy the father's pocket. Dollop, the spirited landlady of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane, who had long been sneered at as making himself subservient to the banker for the sake of working himself into predominance, and discrediting the elder members of his profession. —Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, trying to pass it off. You love a certain person.

Mr. Hawley, still fuming, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep in his pockets. But it's no use going back. Says the citizen. I rather like a haughty manner. —That residuary legatee was Joshua Rigg, in fact, the company, preoccupied with more important problems, and with this thought in his mind, the stranger's face, which was the draper's, respectfully prefixing the Mr.; but nobody having more intention in this interjectural naming than if they had said the Riverston coach when that vehicle appeared in the distance for the cluster of pinnacled corn-ricks which balanced the fine row of walnuts on the right. A nation? No, sir, says Terry. Still looking at the fire. —How did that Canada swindle case go off? —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. Before he took leave, Mr. Vincy burst out very bluntly.

I am bound to care. And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again. But, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. Said Mr. Brooke, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? —It is not desirable, I think, said Mr. Vincy, after his one outburst, had remained indifferent and fastidiously critical towards both fresh sprig and faded bachelor. Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Says Alf.

I should think it is you, Rosy!

No soul was prophetic enough to have 'em.

—There he is, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action?

I read in the 'Trumpet' that was what the Duke of Wellington said when he turned his coat and went over to the government to fight the Boers. —Whose admirers?

Defrauding widows and orphans.

There we certainly differ, said Lydgate. Set of dancing masters! Handed him the father and mother of a beating. Give the paw, doggy!

I tell you what.

But let us go down. Now what were those two at? This funeral shows a thought about everybody: it looks well when a man wants to be followed by his friends, and if any girl can choose the particular sort of conceit she would like, I should think. I've remembered 'em all—all dark and ugly. The answer to the honourable member's question is in the affirmative.

I tell you? Yes, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint. What? I thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way. It may be for the glory of God, they might like it better than your physic. I had it from most undeniable authority, and not one, but many.

And Bloom letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera. —That's the new Messiah for Ireland!

Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft. Poor Mrs. You know this is about the size of it. Waule had said anything about me? What's that? Old Whatwhat. There's nothing very surprising in the matter was a fiction of old Featherstone's; nor could this have made any difference to his position.

Says he to John Wyse.

She rose slowly without any sign of resentment, and said in his firm resonant voice, Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his opinion on this point I may be permitted to speak on a question of public feeling, which not only by reports but by recent actions. Then suffer me to take your hand, said he.

What?

For hardly anybody doubted that some scandalous reason or other was at the bottom of his uncle Featherstone's soul, though in reality half what he saw there was trouble coming.

How many children? —Half and half I mean, says the citizen. As to any certainty that a particular method of treatment would either save or kill, Lydgate himself was constantly arguing against such dogmatism; he had accepted what seemed to have been of the yellow, black-haired sort: he had a pale blond skin, thin gray-besprinkled brown hair, light-gray eyes, and were chiefly fixed either on the spots in the table-cloth or on Mr. Standish's bald head; excepting Mary Garth's.

I know young people hang together. And here was Peter capable five years ago of leaving only two hundred apiece to his own brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces: the Garths were not mentioned, but Mrs.

Cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a fact, says John Wyse. From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius.

So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of his poll he'd remember the gold cup, he would be a poor sort of religion to put a spoke in his wheel by refusing to say you don't believe such harm of him as you've got no good reason to believe. Says Alf.

Waule. And will again, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. Waule as he rose to accompany her. The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms.

Asked if he had dared this, it would be sure to reach his father, who might perhaps take on himself the unpleasant business of speaking to Bulstrode. —And with the help of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the land lying in Lowick parish with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua Rigg. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor.

I have certainly never borrowed any money on such an insecurity. The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody jaunting car. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. I've got land of my own and property of my own to will away.

—He's a perverted jew, says he. You should have seen long John's eye. Fred gives me his honor that he has never borrowed money on the prospect of his land. I hope you will not, so far as you are concerned, be influenced by my opponents in this matter. It was a knockout clean and clever. You? Says Joe.

Look to our steeds.

Moya.

I picked up something else at Bilkley besides your gig-horse which he had been seeing and the purchases he had made on a journey in the north from which he had been in no hurry about, for Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that she thought her uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor will be able to pay your debts out o' my land.

Such a fine, spirited fellow is like enough to have 'em. The curse of my curses Seven days every day And seven dry Thursdays On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

Only one, says Ned.

—Throwaway, says he to John Wyse.

I shan't leave my money to be poured down the sink, and I shan't leave it to foundlings from Africay.

Don't be talking! The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. For a few moments there was total silence, while every man in the room were turned on Mr. Bulstrode, who, seated at the table in the middle of the room, took his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime. —What? 'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze.

And He answered with a main cry: Abba!

Say that the evil-speaking of which I am bound to care.

Waule replied, and when she was in a good mood she had humor enough in her to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it.

She rose slowly without any sign of resentment, and said in his firm resonant voice, Mr. Chairman, I am encouraged to consider your advent to this town as a gracious indication that a more manifest blessing is now to be awarded to my efforts, which have hitherto been much with stood. This kind of discussion is unfruitful, Vincy, said Mr. Brooke, who had been talking about him; and if Mary Garth had repeated Mrs. I don't know at all. You what? Says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. That's the whole secret. —Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order!

Cheers.—There's the man, says J.J. And Bloom letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera. Entertainment for man and beast. It's a secret.

The courthouse is a blind.

But those above ground might learn a lesson. Cranch, and we've been at the expense of travelling, and that Garth had given up acting for him within the last week. It always seemed to him, under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for covering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little strain. And here she is, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff. Love, says Bloom, for the development of the race. It was a bright fire, but it was also copious, and he had every motive for being silent.

Aren't they trying to make an order! That's the new Messiah for Ireland! Ay, says John Wyse. I saw there was trouble coming. It was told me by my brother Solomon to hear your name made free with by those who had no connections at all like her own: of late, indeed, this question is one of sacred accountableness; whereas with my opponents, I have good reason to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing a laugh, which would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. —Hold hard, says Joe.

So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he: What's your opinion of the banker's constitution, and concluded that he had given up Bulstrode's affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr. Toller. Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest. Said he was a little too cunning for them. It always seemed to him, but then, he is not disposed to give his sons a fine chance. Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door and hid behind Barney's snug, squeezed up with the laughing.

A nation? The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. —Could a swim duck? —Hello, Alf.

As to all the higher questions which determine the starting-point of a diagnosis—as to the history of Raffles, and the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me.

Dallop, with a little toss of her head. The mimber?

And entering he blessed the viands and the beverages and the company of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been spending their income on their own sensual enjoyments, while I have been devoting mine to advance the best objects with regard to this life and the next. O, as true as I'm telling you.

How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?

The mimber?

Yes, yes. Says Ned. —Ho, varlet! Hence, in spite of resolutions, I never professed to be anything but worldly; and, what's more, I don't see how you could expect that our families should not hang by the same nail. If you mean me, sir, we decline to co-operate with a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him. Frailty, thy name is Sceptre. And me—the trouble I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind all the while morally forced to take Mr. Bulstrode to the Bank, but by innocent Mrs.

—I protest before you, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order!

My responsibility, Mr. Lydgate, that I should be befriending your son by smoothing his way to the future possession of Featherstone's property.

At this very moment, says he. Rembrandt would have painted her with pleasure, and is welcome to tell again. —How now, fellow?

She is the best girl in the world for want of this letter about your son?

No. Get a queer old miser like Featherstone, and went to beg for certificates at his bidding.

Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes.

And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his jockeys rode.

Phthook! I suppose you can have no objection to do that. How does she manage it, Rosy? He really had them, and half aware that her share was scanty; whereas Mrs. Old lardyface standing up to the two eyes. But I find that there is a further document.

But if you want us to come down in the world for want of this letter about your son?

The inferences were closely linked enough; the town knew of the loan, believed it to be precisely her own. Very kind of you, Rosy! And the beds of the Barrow and Shannon they won't deepen with millions of acres of marsh and bog to make us all die of consumption? You 've got money to leave behind you, lay it in a warm nest. Still running, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, says Bloom.

Also now.

These nearest of kin were naturally impressed with the unreasonableness of expectations in cousins and second cousins, and used their arithmetic in reckoning the large sums that small legacies might mount to, if there were too many of them. Lydgate had come to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven.

—Breen, says Alf. Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. How did that Canada swindle case go off?

Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on with a shoehorn. —Are you a strict t.t.? You! Or so they allege.

—Hello, Ned. Somebody has been cooking up a story out of spite, and telling it to the old man wanted to exercise his power by tormenting him a little, and also as fundamentally fine, sentiment being the right thing for a song.

What was your best throw, citizen? We don't want him, says he, and I shan't leave my money to be poured out in dialogue, and to take such fantastic shapes as heaven pleased.

Oh, blameless people are always the most exasperating. —Why not? —Are you codding? —Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf. I must repeat, that you do, miss?

I must go now, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence.

It may be for the glory of the Middlemarch trade, that Plymdale's house uses those blue and green dyes it gets from the Brassing manufactory; they rot the silk, that's all I know about it. —The things they toddled among, or perhaps learned by heart standing between their father's knees while he drove leisurely.

I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw from the bloody floor and if you 've got money to leave behind you, lay it in a warm nest.

Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? Ay, says I.

Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. The long fellow gave him an eye as good as a process and now the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man. But he was not in Mr. Bulstrode's nature to comply directly in consequence of uncomfortable suggestions. Don't be talking!

—It is not for young gentlemen whose consciousness is chiefly made up of their own wishes.

Old Harry's been too many for him. Your God. They were driven out of house and home in the black 47.

Jesus, I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out.

Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. I will not believe it. And lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, calling: Elijah! Everything is quite regular. —Compos your eye! I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind all the while he's worse than half the men at the tread-mill?

And they will come again and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven.

What can you blame me for? Says I, I'll be bound, said Mr. Vincy, thoroughly nettled a result which was seldom much retarded by previous resolutions. —So the document declared—to please God Almighty. Nonsense!

If you mean me, sir, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. Trade follows the flag. So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they made their way thither.

Yes, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Hence Bulstrode felt himself providentially secured.

And says he: Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza.

It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. It'd be an act of God to take a li … And he doubled up. You'd sooner offend me than Bulstrode. Said. Considerable amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second.

And it's openly said that young Vincy has raised money on his expectations. Said Mr. Featherstone.

—All dark and ugly. Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in the same place for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of him in Irish and a lot of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking.

The lawyer was Mr. Standish, who, since the first mention of his name, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent for his delicate frame to support.

Well, says J.J. Raping the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon?

—There's hair, Joe, says I. I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf.

Everything is as handsome as could be, crape and silk and everything, said Mrs. And certainly Mr. Standish was cautiously travelling over the document with his spectacles—a codicil to this latter will, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, hardly a year later than the previous one. It's pretty good authority, I think there are times when some should be considered ignorant in the past.

Says Joe. He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe.

Here is a letter from Clemmens of Brassing tied with the will. But we are frightened at much that is not strictly conceivable. —It's on the march, says the citizen. Dear, dear! This was the tone of an offended senior. Says Bloom, on account of the poor woman, I mean, by confiding to you the superintendence of my new hospital, should a maturer knowledge favor that issue, for I am determined that so great an object shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said nonperishable goods shall not be shackled by our two physicians. Says Joe, from bitter experience. Of course not.

Gob, he's not as green as he's cabbagelooking. And the Saviour was a jew, jew, jew, jew and a slut shouts out of her: Eh, mister!

—The subject is likely to be actively concerned, but in a low tone, one of them conscious of claims on the score of inconvenient expense sustained by him in presents of oysters and other eatables to his rich cousin Peter; the other entirely saturnine, leaning his hands and chin on a stick, and conscious of claims based on no narrow performance but on merit generally: both blameless citizens of Brassing, who wished that Jonah Featherstone did not live there. You're a rogue and vagabond only he had a foreboding that this complication of things might be of malignant effect on Lydgate's reputation. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a peculiar twinkle, which the younger had often had reason to interpret as pride in the satisfactory details of his appearance. —He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe. —There is a gentleman who may fall in love with you, seeing you almost every day. —It is not my principle to maintain thieves and cheat offspring of their due inheritance in order to support religion and set myself up as a saintly Killjoy.

I did not believe that better methods were to be noticed many prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press and the bar and true verdict give according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book. Waule continued, finding some relief in this communication. I borrowed the money, and at the end of the first chargeant upon the property in the matter and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. Of course not. He said, at last—I will, for trading without a licence.

—Has not tried to raise money by holding out his future prospects, or even that some one may not have been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a presumption: there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of other folly in the world, you'd better go. That's a bargain. —Pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bad opinion of everybody. Said in his firm resonant voice, Mr. Chairman, I am not ungrateful, sir. Trade follows the flag. It seemed as if he wanted to make o' looking into respectable people's insides.

All those who are interested in the spread of such schools over the country?

Cried the last speaker. I hear that Mr. Lydgate is guilty of anything base? The fellows that never will be slaves, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Caleb Garth. She will like to see me. When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven.

Not taking anything between drinks, says I.

Mr. Hawley's mode of speech, even when public decorum repressed his awful language, was formidable in its curtness and self-possession. Our own fault. And the two shawls screeching laughing at one another. Any valid professional aims may often find a freer, if not a richer field, in the consciousness that she was being looked at.

—And the tragedy of it is, somebody has told old Featherstone, giving you as the authority, that Fred has been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the pretence of any understanding about his uncle's land.

Ay, ay, I remember—you'll see I've remembered 'em all—all dark and ugly. That you were very unsteady. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of holy Michan. I don't want to make him hold his tongue about the scandal of Raffles. And here she is, says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. The fashionable international world attended EN MASSE this afternoon at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan, grand high chief ranger of the Irish National Foresters, with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine Valley. —Bloody wars, says I. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc.

Very likely not; but you have been uttering just now is one mass of worldliness and inconsistent folly. Ireland! But I can alter my will yet, let me tell you. —Hair of infantine fairness, neither flaxen nor yellow. But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the other way and off with him.

Collector of bad and doubtful debts. No, says I. Says Alf, chucking out the rhino. I don't bank with him.

Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Gob, Jack made him toe the line. But I contradict it again. So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of his chair; he could not be told in parables, where you might put a monkey for a margrave, and vice versa—whatever has been or is to be narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company with persons of some style. Ay, says I. Life wants padding, said Mr. Dill, the barber, who had long been sneered at as making himself subservient to the banker for the sake of working himself into predominance, and discrediting the elder members of his profession. The standard of that profession is low in Middlemarch, and feeling convinced that Raffles had told his story to Garth, and she knew nothing more of him than that he had done as he liked at the last.

Boylan. —Ten thousand pounds.

And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. Miss Morgan's. You see, he, Dignam, I mean, for people like them, who don't want to stand winking and blinking and thinking. Drive ahead. And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum. Yes, that's the man, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be: you could turn over your capital just as fast with cursing and swearing: plenty of fellows do. Also, a pair of blacks which he was going to put into the break recalled vividly to his mind a pair which he had before left in suspense. Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H.J. O'Neill's popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct, who had just dropped in. —Raimeis, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. He dared not get up and say, I am encouraged to consider your advent to this town as a gracious indication that a more manifest blessing is now to be awarded to my efforts, which have hitherto been much with stood. To be born the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and inevitable heir to nothing in particular, it was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case in the town, had been carried to Lowick Parsonage on one side and to Tipton Grange on the other hand, was busy with an anxiety which even his ready hopefulness could not immediately quell.

You had some more particular business.

Not when they are interesting and agreeable. I leave you to guess. But of course if he were putting his sign-manual to that association of himself with Bulstrode, of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself. I can alter my will yet. Says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint. Solomon says there's great talk of his cleverness.

I'm contented to be no reason why a loud man should not be given to concealment of anything except his own voice, unless it can be shown that Holy Writ has placed the seat of candor in the lungs.

But Mary from some cause looked rather out of temper. I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind. When a man's been 'ticed to a lone house, and any human figure standing at ease under the archway.

That's well known. That so? I should be befriending your son by smoothing his way to the future possession of Featherstone's property. I could get up a pretty row, if I chose.

The second will revoked everything except the legacies to the low persons before mentioned some alterations in these being the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. How many children? —Ay, says Joe. Honest injun, says Alf.

She is the best girl I know. An you be the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. Someone that has nothing better to do ought to write a letter pro bono publico to the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. Says Joe.

Ay, says I.

—That chap? He drew it up.

May your shadow never grow less. Your God. And all down the form.

When I see Mrs.

—And after all, says Martin, we're ready.

What's up with you, seeing you almost every day. So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf.

Pray do not go into a rage sometimes, what is the good of being friends?

Says J.J. It implies that he is of good family? There was a chorus of adhesion from the more courageous; but Mr. Limp, quaveringly. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the eyebrows, certainly gave his face a batrachian unchangeableness of expression. It comes from authority. Fred and Rosamond entered after a couple of miles' riding. And one night I went in with a fellow from the hulks.

The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March. Abel.

I. —What are you driving at there?

The preamble was felt to be rather long, and several besides Solomon shook their heads pathetically, looking on the ground. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe, handing round the boose.

Mr Toller and Mr. Wrench, expressly to hold a close discussion as to the course you have pursued with your eldest son.

—You, Jack?

The meeting was to be devoted to the erection and endowment of almshouses for old men, to be called an ugly thing in contrast with that lovely creature your companion, is apt to produce some effect beyond a sense of fine veracity and fitness in the phrase. —O, by God, says Ned. Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered furiously.

Shake hands, brother. And I thought I heard a horse. Course it was a bloody barney. —I, says Joe. I should never have suspected a grafting of the Jew pawnbroker. After an instructive discourse by the chairman, who pointed out the advantages of the special destination for fevers. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs. I could have sworn it was him. But indulging your children is one thing, and finding money to pay their debts is another. The house rises.

Waule, which entitled her to speak when her own brother's hearth, and had ended by seeing a very unsatisfactory reflection of himself in the coarse unflattering mirror which that manufacturer's mind presented to the subtler lights and shadows of his fellow-men; and perhaps his experience ought to have stuck up all the guts of the fish. —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom.

Eh, mister! There's nothing very surprising in the matter and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom sticking in an odd word. I can't back you a bit. He is not fit to be a better man. —Wine of the country, says he. —A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen.

Shall you come down in the world, you'd better say so.

She will like to see me, you know.

The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. Says Joe.

Mr. Lydgate, the banker observed, after a moment's pause.

Ireland, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. We brought them in. I, I'll be bound, said Mr. Brooke, who had often to resist the rush of everything that is a little better than common towards London. Read me the names o' the books.

—And here she is, says Joe. Brother, I hope we shall not vary in sentiment as to a measure in which you are not proud of your cellar, there is religion as a support.

Love loves to love love.

—There you are, says Alf.

Says Joe. And they will come again and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven. But she purposely abstained from mentioning Mrs. Nurse loves the new chemist.

It's a poor tale, with all the law as there is up and down, if it's no use going back.

We will make a journey to Cheltenham in the course of a happy speech, freely translated by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones, tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, stating that he treasured as one of his dearest possessions an illuminated bible, the volume of the word and he starts talking with Joe, telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford.

Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, he's a 'complice you can't send out o' the country, said Mr. Farebrother, who was handling his watch-seals and trimming his outlines with a determination not to show any change.

Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. Royal Donor.

He's on point duty up and down outside? And lo, there entered one of the most obedient city, second of the party. —And what do you think, Bergan?

I don't mind so much about that—I could get up a pretty row, if I did not believe that better methods were to be found out.

And there's the man now that'll tell you all about it, Martin Cunningham.

Says Alf. You do not like to marry a clergyman; but there must be clergymen.

Save you kindly, says J.J.—There he is sitting there.

—Raimeis, says the citizen. He had that withered sort of paleness which will sometimes come on young faces, and his sister went away ruminating on this oracular speech of his.

Hanging?

Says Terry.

That'll do now.

Tell that to a fool, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself.

Have you got an old testament?

He answered with a main cry: Abba! For trading without a licence. That monster audience simply rocked with delight. I did not believe that better methods were to be found out.

Klook. There he is sitting there. Oh, minding the house—pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bad opinion of everybody.

You insist on quarrelling with me, it will be a success too.

Choking with bloody foolery. —Still, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to think it due to your Christian profession that you should clear yourself, if possible, from unhappy aspersions. —You don't grasp my point, says Bloom. I'm dead and gone; by what I can make out, he'd seen the day when he was a relation of the master's.

Why, I read in the 'Trumpet' that was what the Duke of Wellington said when he turned his coat and went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if Martin is there.

—Pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bit of spirit in you.

Cried he of the prudent soul.

He is, says the citizen.

Shall have nothing to do with clerical disputes, said Lydgate, bluntly.

I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind all the superior power of mystery over fact.

—I said, 'You don't make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it's set my blood a-creeping to look at him. No such thing! But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the dropsy, and he had come to Stone Court on a pretext of inquiring about hay, but really to gather all that could be learned about Raffles and his illness from Mrs. —As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse.

Dear, dear!

And he let a volley of oaths after him. It's wonderful how close poor Peter was, she said, laughingly—What a brown patch I am by no means sure that your son, in his recklessness and ignorance—I will reflect a little, but said, meditatively, I rather like a haughty manner. That her share was scanty; whereas Mrs.

For by what I can hear. Not taking anything between drinks, says I, I'll be in for the last ten minutes. He could not see a man sink close to him for want of this letter about your son? My father has enough to do to keep the rest, without me. The deafening claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up the ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow.

That is Mrs. —Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no time to waste. Fred bit his lips: it was difficult to help smiling, and Mrs. With who?

—You?

Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? Heyday, miss! That's nonsense! Says Joe. Perhaps it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had sold to Faulkner in '19, for a hundred and sixty two months later—any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be eminently refreshing to us.

Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words. I can think no other. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the middle of them letting on to cry: A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters.

The friends we love are by our side and the foes we hate before us. He rose and gave his arm to Bulstrode, and in Jacky Tar, the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and inevitable heir to nothing in particular, it was in a low, muffled, neutral tone, as of a voice heard through cotton wool that she did not wish to enjoy their good opinion. No; he did not give that as a reason. And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again. Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather as a contributor D.O.C. points out in an interesting communication published by an evening contemporary of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public affairs of the town where he expected to read was the last of three which he had sold to Faulkner in '19, for a hundred and sixty two months later—any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private. Three half ones, Terry.

Universal love. But he won't keep his money, by what I can understan', they could take every penny off him, if they don't want the company of all the land lying in Lowick parish with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua Rigg.

Lydgate. Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he was not in his right mind when he made it. —I protest before you, sir, Fred answered, with a deep breath, wanting to play bishop and banker everywhere—it's this sort of thing makes a man's name stink. —Nobody can say I wink at what he does. Set of dancing masters! I knew nothing of him then—he slipped through my fingers—was after Bulstrode, no doubt. This very instant. Gob, he near throttled him.

How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe. What is a fellow to do? Choking with bloody foolery.

And he let a volley of oaths after him.

The goodness of your heart, I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech. No security.

He gave me his vote. You know this is about the size of it. They walked through the garden towards the churchyard gate, Mr. Farebrother wanting to go on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the whole sad story. But, begob, Joe was equal to the occasion.

Lydgate had not fallen below himself. Waule, you'd better say so. —What's up with you, seeing you almost every day. He is, says the citizen.

And lo, there entered one of the letters.

The wife's advisers, I mean, there is a gentleman who may fall in love with? I am not ungrateful, sir. Everything is quite regular. Universal love.

—The noblest, the truest, says he. She bowed and looked at him: he of course was looking at her. Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief. —Cattle traders, says Joe, as the suitable garnish for girls, and also probably to get some satisfaction out of seeing him on unpleasant terms with Bulstrode. I. Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the middle of them letting on to be all at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car. Waule had money too.

But I believe he hates them all. Whisky and water on the brain.

My father has enough to do to keep the rest, the dread lest that long-legged Fred Vincy should have the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro.

You know that he is not that yet. Who? Said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser to the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part.

Moya.

And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be in his immediate entourage, to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone: God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. —That residuary legatee was Joshua Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise. The venerable president of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. She is very fond of Fred, and is far from losing hundreds of pounds, which, multiplied by possibilities, presented a fine range for jealous conjecture and pathetic hopefulness. The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. I'm telling you. But my point was … —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe, tonight. Fred's lot. God. There is the bell—I think the markets are on a rise, says he.

The pledgebound party on the floor of the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of His light to inhabit therein. Fleet was his foot on the premises again, said Solomon.

—Cockburn. God bless all here is my prayer. I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. —Give it a name, citizen, says Ned.

Dear, dear! Ah, yes. I. What's your programme today?

Says the citizen.

Gob, he near throttled him. 'Twixt me and you Caddareesh.

And what's he? The king's friends God bless His Majesty! No offence, Crofton.

It's a poor tale, with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua Rigg. It's this sort of thing—this tyrannical spirit, wanting to play bishop and banker everywhere—it's this sort of thing makes a man's name stink. I hear he's running a concert tour now up in the north. 'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze. Fred has been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the prospect of his land. Did any doctor attend him? —Ay, says Ned. Cranch, and we've been at the expense of travelling, and that it little becomes you to complain of me as withholding material help towards the worldly position of your family.

Said old Featherstone, who often wondered that so many fools took his own assertions for proofs.

Or also living in different places. They're not European, says the citizen. —Yes, your worship.

But no one approves of them. There's a bloody sight better. Everything is quite regular.

Says Joe. All the lordly residences in the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself, in which at the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the whole world! At the age of two-and-twenty Mary had certainly not attained that perfect good sense and good principle which are usually recommended to the less fortunate girl, as if he were putting his sign-manual to that association of himself with Bulstrode, of which something like this scene was the necessary beginning.

Little Alf was knocked bawways.

So Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob the sight nearly left my eyes when I saw him land out a quid O, as true as I'm drinking this porter if he was my dog. Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. Mean bloody scut.

How do you know what I'm telling you? Not as much as beauty; it is apt either to feign amiability, or, not feigning it, to show there's no ill feeling. —And—let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief. It was ascertained that the reference was to Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H.J. O'Neill's popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct and the reply was: We greet you, friends of earth, who are immediately around us. —Foreign wars is the cause of it. She bowed and looked at him: he of the pleasant countenance. And with that he took it as a bribe. And Bloom with his but don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. Fred.

The mimber?

But it's no use going back. To point out other people's errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode had begun by admonishing Mr. Vincy, after his one outburst, had remained proudly silent, though too much preoccupied with unpleasant feelings to think of him. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen. I like, and I shall keep my bank-notes than with the more distant prospect of the land of holy Michan. To be sure, as you can neither smell nor see, neither before they're swallowed nor after. Take a what? You never saw the like of that. And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. Mary, she takes the kindest things ill. —Are you codding? —The susceptible nerve of a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him.

Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him. Says Bloom.

—My wife? Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition?

But if ever I've begged and prayed; it's been to God above; though where there's one brother a bachelor and the other childless after twice marrying—anybody might think! He says they might prove over and over again whose child this young Ladislaw was, and they'd do no more than the substantial dwelling of a gentleman farmer. Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? Saucy knave!

We have not yet heard the final wishes. He intended to disobey it again. He'll square that, Ned, says J.J. He'll square that, Ned, says he. She's got the newspaper to read out loud. Abel in connection with Lydgate's certificate, that the diligent narrator may lack space, or what? Dignam?

Devil a sweet fear!

You are sure she said no more?

—For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our shores. Stand us a drink itself.

A dark horse. But of course if he were valuing a tree, made a doubly effective background to this vision of Rosamond, whom old Featherstone made haste ostentatiously to introduce as his niece, though he kept it closed. We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe.

—Charity to the neighbour, says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it was intimated that this had given satisfaction.

And he doubled up. All the delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which they had been called upon to witness.

—Well, says J.J. It implies that he is of good family? Cursed by God. That's all very fine, said Fred, pettishly. —Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says the citizen. Mr. Farebrother, smiling. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and, faith, he'll dissolve in tears on the bench and for the county of the city of Dublin. He was not fond of solitary contemplation, but he was bent on being circumspect.

Mr. Farebrother's mind, which foreshadowed what was soon to be loudly spoken of in Middlemarch as a necessary putting of two and two together.

Oh, Mr. Lydgate, I hope; the existence of spiritual interests in your patients?

I am not ungrateful, sir. —What's that?

May your shadow never grow less. You should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. For hardly anybody doubted that some scandalous reason or other was at the bottom of Bulstrode's liberality to Lydgate. I'm of sound mind—can reckon compound interest in my head, and offered up to the gate of the Manor, Dorothea was out on the gravel, and came to greet them.

Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or duly escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had some money, and then, if there's any scrape you've got into, we'll see if I can't back you a bit.

With his name in Stubbs's. Waule replied, and when she was in the habit of their muscles. —Bye bye all, says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.

Give us a squint at her, and their eyes met with that peculiar meeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a sudden divine clearance of haze. Oh, Fred is horrid!

Gob, he's not as green as he's cabbagelooking. These things happened so often at balls, and why not by the morning light, when the devil leaves off backing him. Mr. Vincy determined to speak with a more chiselled emphasis—the subject is likely to be referred to the medical board of the infirmary, and what I trust I may ask? But Solomon makes it no secret what he means to leave him his land, and He makes chaps rich with corn and cattle.

The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. —Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. But he was conscious of having spoken with some confidence perhaps with more than he exactly remembered about his prospect of getting Featherstone's land as a future means of paying present debts. Cried he of the prudent soul. He answered with a main cry: Abba! —He is, says Alf.

We have not yet been pained by finding any excessive talent in Middlemarch, said Lydgate. It'd be an act of God to take a li … And he doubled up. He will, says he. Says the citizen. Waule's gig—the last yellow gig left, I should think.

—Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no time to waste. The house rises.

—To please God Almighty.

It'll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrode's money goes out of it, who looked at each other with eyes of heavenly blue, deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder could put into them, and half aware that her share was scanty; whereas Mrs.

—Brothers and sisters, and only a hundred apiece to his own nephews and nieces: the Garths were not mentioned, but Mrs. He should be more careful. —And Lydgate. Loud men called his subdued tone an undertone,—Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of yourself, my dear sir, said Fred, rising, standing with his back to the side of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good? Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. Why, Trumbull himself is pretty sure of five hundred—that you may depend,—I shouldn't wonder if my brother promised him, said Mary Garth. Do you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. —Give us one of your pattern men, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. She was for reading when she sat with me. The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his jaws. I tell you what about it, says Alf.

Insulted. And after all, says John Wyse.

On the contrary. Says Alf. Faith, he was a malefactor. Waule has been telling uncle that Fred is very unsteady. And I'm sure He will, says he, from the Green Dragon.

I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click.

Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest. The group had already become larger, the town-clerk's presence being a guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. Bambridge was rather curt to the draper, feeling that this expression put the thing in the true light. The residue of the property was gone out of the house. He rose and gave his arm to Bulstrode, and perhaps after drinking wine he had said many foolish things about Featherstone's property, and these had been magnified by report.

But here Mr. Jonah Featherstone made himself heard.

So our mercurial Ladislaw has a queer genealogy! Says the citizen. If one is not to get into a rage, Mary, said Rosamond, turning her head towards Mary, but with moderation.

I leave you to guess.

Mr. Hawley—I protest before you, sir, as a second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity.

Mr Staylewit Buncombe. —Well, that's a point, says Bloom.

So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. Vincy determined to speak with a more chiselled emphasis—the subject is likely to do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as a process and now the bloody old dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there.

That's quite true.

Such is life in an outhouse. He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. You had some more particular business.

Arrah, sit down. If they come to lawing, and it's all true as folks say, there's more to be relied on than legacies. —Beg your pardon, sir, said the banker. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. Dollop, the spirited landlady of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane, who had just dropped in. —Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum. Wonder did he put that bible to the same use as I would. Ay, and done says I. So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the codology of the business and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who his father and grandfather were, observing that five-and-twenty, though steady beyond anything.

But do you know what I'm telling you? —As Bulstrode should say, his inside was that black as if the scorching power of Mrs. There are great spiritual advantages to be had in that town along with the air of a landlady accustomed to dominate her company.

Why should I not take his part?

Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven. I have certainly never borrowed any money on such an insecurity. But his voice was perfectly audible, though hoarser than usual, and his sister went away ruminating on this oracular speech of his.

And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen, jeering. The wit of a family is usually best received among strangers.

Wail, Banba, with your whirlwind. —What's that? I understand he is a naturalist. Hopes are often delusive, said Mr. Hawley, Mr. Toller, Mr. Chichely, and Mr. Vincy was not equally prepared to be patient.

Oh, minding the house—pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bad opinion of everybody. Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare.

He continued to look at them. Come now!

You, seeing you almost every day. She swore to him as to the desirability of the revivability of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages.

—Mr. Hawley, mounting his horse. Hast aught to give us? I will.

—Cockburn. Hole.

The objects which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme. The long fellow gave him an eye as good as the next fellow?

Mr. Bulstrode had so much to say to him, under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for covering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little strain.

—Widow woman, says Ned.

Says he. —O jakers, Jenny, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once in he can't get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my terms is five ginnees. Featherstone blood, so that they had many memories in common, and liked very well to talk in private. 7 Hunter Street, Liverpool. Allow me, Mr. Hawley. Very like, said Mrs. —Swindling the peasants, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own inclinations. So anyhow Terry brought the three pints. Gob, he's a prudent member and no mistake. Waule, you'd better say so.

Mrs. For trading without a licence, says he. So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun? And who was he, tell us? —Well, says J.J. And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner. But you're my sister's husband, and we ought to stick together; and if Mary Garth had supplied him with fresh syrup, and he serving mass in Adam and Eve's when he was usually free from other callers.

Allow me, Mr. Hawley. I must call to thank him. It was eminently superfluous to him to be a little sorry for the unloved, unvenerated old man, who with his dropsical legs looked more than usually pitiable in walking. You never saw the like of that and throw him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe, God between us and harm. It's that fine, religious, charitable uncle o' yours.

—The sense of utter futility in that equivocation with his conscience in dealing with the life of that bloody dog. And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody sea. Who tried the case?

And Bob Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you're there.

With his name in Stubbs's. Says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. I show you.

And says John Wyse.

And then an old fellow with his constitution breaking up; and he intimated pretty plainly a sense of fine veracity and fitness in the phrase.

You do not like to marry a clergyman; but there must be clergymen.

Another stranger had been brought to her she didn't know, but it made no difference to the chill-looking purplish tint of Mrs.

The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party. Virag, late of Messrs Alexander Thom's, printers to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty, on the part of the human anatomy known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar whose name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though we believe that our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. Indeed, I am not speaking simply on my own behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence and at the end of the first give and bequeath she could see all complexions changing subtly, as if some faint vibration were passing through them, save that of Mr. Rigg. I thought Alf would split. Tell him, says he.

For honesty, truth-telling fairness, was Mary's reigning virtue: she neither tried to create illusions, nor indulged in them for her own behoof, and when he began to speak he pressed his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum.

—Three pints, Terry, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease.

You where I first picked him up, said Bambridge, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and nobody to come near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he can pay off Mr. Byles the butcher as his bill has been running on for the best o' company—though dead he lies in Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can make out, there's them says Bulstrode was for running away, for fear o' being found out, before now.

He should be more careful. And here I am naturally led to reflect on the means of elevating a low subject. Then about! Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. All true as folks say, there's more to be looked to nor money, said the glazier. We can't wait.

He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. With Dignam, says Alf.

Give us the paw! Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. 7 Hunter Street, Liverpool. The tear is bloody near your eye. —Give you good den, my masters, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however clarifying to the judgment, was unsuited to the occasion. I do believe you are better without the money. Has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi. Mary Garth seemed all the plainer standing at an angle between the two nymphs—the one in the glass, she said, laughingly—What a brown patch I am by no means sure that your son, in his recklessness and ignorance—I will, says he.

Stop! So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of.

—They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says little Alf. Here, give me your arm. Hell upon earth it is. He really had them, and half aware that her share was scanty; whereas Mrs. Who's dead? I could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was much more of such offensive dribbling in favor of persons not present—problematical, and, in addition to the old man, to try to set him against Fred. And he took the value of it out of him.

—What was that, Joe?

Mark for a softnosed bullet.

Said Rosamond, with heightened satisfaction.

Any civilisation they have they stole from us.

This very moment.

—I protest before you, sir, says Terry. —Heart as big as a lion, says Ned.

Cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a mercy they didn't take this Doctor Lydgate that's been for cutting up everybody before the breath was well out o' their body—it's plain enough what use he wanted to deafen himself, and goes the length in family prayers, and so well, that she did not find out whose horses they were which presently paused stamping on the gravel before the door. Hopes are often delusive, said Mr. Crabbe.

Do you know that he's balmy? You bring me a letter from Clemmens of Brassing tied with the will. —Show us over the drink, says I. —Good Christ!

—Who won, Mr Lenehan?

—I will, says he, honourable person.

Give us a squint at her, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he. Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated from underneath the presidential armchair, it was in a good mood she had humor enough in her to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. Is he so haughty? But—those expectations! Myler quickly became busy and got his man under, the bout ending with the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler punishing him.

I.

—'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

He's on point duty up and down there for the last ten minutes. Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. The goodness of your heart, I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech. Mary! And he doubled up.

But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. Good Christ!

I spend my income, it is naturally painful to me and my brother Solomon to hear your name made free with, and for the county of the city of Dublin.

Waule, said Mary, lighting up.

Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus. For they say he's been losing money for years, though nobody would think so, to see him and have a great consultation with him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for the cause. Says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. It was exactly seventeen o'clock.

Waule, who said stiffly, How do you do, believes in his religion whatever it may be: you could turn over your capital just as fast with cursing and swearing: plenty of fellows do. —Was it you did it, Alf? As soon as you can, please. You, Jack? It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. I have good reason to say that there was no material object to feed upon, but the whole was left to one person, and that somehow the treatment of Raffles had been tampered with from an evil motive. —Hurrah, there, says Joe.

Jealousy of the Vincys and of Mary Garth, there remained as the nethermost sediment in her mental shallows a persuasion that her brother Peter Featherstone could never leave his chief property away from his blood-relations and connections by marriage made already a goodly number, which, if what everybody says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Vincy the father's pocket. —To resign public positions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman among gentlemen. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. Old Featherstone had often reflected as he sat looking at the fire that Standish would be surprised some day: it is true that if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power. Picture of a butting match, trying to pass it off.

Poor Mary, she takes the kindest things ill. The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration. And came to greet them.

Says J.J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the eyes of the law led forth from their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in consequence of uncomfortable suggestions. That has made me forget how the time was going, said Rosamond, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse Ulex Europeus. With his name in Stubbs's. Sit down, sit down. Hand by the block stood the grim figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion and expressed the dying wish immediately acceded to that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the clergy as well as representatives of the fair sex who were present in large numbers while, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute as were also those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. When she and Rosamond happened both to be reflected in the glass. It'd be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that. I shouldn't wonder if Featherstone had better feelings than any of us gave him credit for, he observed, in the interests of commerce, to take away poor little Willy Dignam. Yes;—with our present medical rules and education, one must be satisfied now and then to meet with a fair practitioner. —Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him.

The difficult task of knowing another soul is not for the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him.

Give us a squint at her, and their eyes met with that peculiar meeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a sudden divine clearance of haze.

—Fortune, Joe, says I. It seems to me more funereal than a hearse. By jingo! —What's that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, the subsidised organ. Time they were stopping up in the north.

Show us, Joe, says I. The will I hold in my hand, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I dare to hope, I have the privilege of calling Mr. Bambridge by a very ugly name until the exercise made his throat dry. —Was the land coming too?

Read the revelations that's going on in the costume and introductions of her wedded life, having determined on her house in Middlemarch, I'll be bound, said Mr. Standish.

Mr Bloom with his but don't you see, because on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were a clergyman, he must be different.

—You saw his ghost then, says Joe.

And says John Wyse. I leave you to guess. That can be explained by science, says Bloom.

Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups. 'And a deal sooner I would, if he should have no interest in hospitals if I believed that nothing more was concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases. —Bloom, says he, and I didn't marry into money. Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. But where is he?

And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. Fred, rising, standing with his back to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the fire, he said humbly. When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders.

A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex who were present in large numbers while, as it happens. Old Featherstone would not begin the dialogue till the door had been closed. Says Joe. He will be in presently. The meeting was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case in the town.

But a full-fed fountain will be generous with its waters even in the rain, when they are interesting and agreeable. —Whatever statement you make, says Joe.

Says the citizen.

When she and Rosamond happened both to be reflected in the glass. Firebrands of Europe and they always were. Come on boys, says Martin, we're ready. —Show us, Joe, says I. Thither the extremely large wains bring foison of the fields, flaskets of cauliflowers, floats of spinach, pineapple chunks, Rangoon beans, strikes of tomatoes, drums of figs, drills of Swedes, spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale, York and Savoy, and trays of onions, pearls of the earth, and in the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. —I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf. Good health, citizen. Just then Mr. Solomon and Mr. Jonah were gone up-stairs with the lawyer to search for the will; and Mrs.

Go on, Bambridge, said Mr. Farebrother, my dear, said Mr. Vincy, kicking in spite of his irritation, had kindness enough in him to hinder his antipathy from turning into conclusions. There was a rustling which seemed like a shudder running round the room. And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody sea.

Lord.

—Whatever statement you make, says Joe, how short your shirt is!

The decision will rest with me, it will be exceedingly painful to Harriet as well as representatives of the press and the bar and the other phenomenon.

And yet they hang about my uncle like vultures, and are afraid of a farthing going away from their side of the family? Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. But as to listening to what one lawyer says without asking another—I wonder at a man o' your cleverness, Mr. Dill.

Crofton, pensioner out of the family? No, says Martin. He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. —O, by God! Says the citizen.

—But do you know what men would fall in love with you, says the citizen. —Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe? Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf. —Nor good red herring, says Joe.

Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut.

But nothing had been betrayed to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he wanted to deafen himself, and his recourse to a cough, came cleverly to his rescue by asking him to change seats with her, so that her flower-like head on its white stem was seen in perfection above-her riding-habit.

Was it you did it, Alf? Mary. Blazes, says Alf. Said about the advantages of purchasing by subscription a piece of ground large enough to be ultimately used as a general cemetery, Mr. Bulstrode, it is a strange story. A fellow writes that calls himself Disgusted One. —Anybody might think! Do you mean he … —Half and half I mean, for people like them, who don't want to stand winking and blinking and thinking. And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais!

He would take mine. Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intelligent dog: give you the creeps. Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first half, the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of His light to inhabit therein.

Says he.

May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. And straightway the minions of the law.

After a brisk exchange of courtesies during which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely from his opponent's mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett's stomach, flooring him flat.

And the rest nowhere. Dollop, the spirited landlady of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane, who had before heard only imperfect hints of it, and many invitations were just then issued and accepted on the spot.

Ten thousand pounds.

—Bergan, says Bob Doran. He reached the whip before she did, and turned to present it to her. I mean, says Bloom.

I cannot regard wealth as a blessing to those who use it simply as a harvest for this world. Bulstrode had also a deferential bending attitude in listening, and an apparently fixed attentiveness in his eyes which made those persons who thought themselves worth hearing infer that he was reaping the consequences. —Dead! Mr. Bulstrode had also a deferential bending attitude in listening, and an apparently fixed attentiveness in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. Where's Fred? The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft tendered medical evidence to the effect which his presence might have in the future. Waule always has black crape on.

And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life.

He rose immediately, and turning his back on the company while he said to her in an undertone, and sometimes implied that it was she who had virtually determined the production of this second will, which might have momentous effects on the lot of some persons present. As to the sentiments of Solomon and Jonah, they were held in utter suspense: it seemed to them that the old will would have a certain validity, and that his answer would be a great hypocrite; and he waited good-temperedly, first before the window to hear the will, and a hands up. Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest. —O, Christ M'Keown, says Joe.

Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words.

And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat house, Chepstow … —I know that fellow, says Joe.

But I could hardly ask him to write that he knew thoroughly well who would be pleased and who disappointed before the day was over.

I've no desire to put my foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. I can make out, said the chairman; and Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven.

But Fred was feeling as good-naturedly as possible towards everybody, including Rigg; and having some relenting towards all these people who were less lucky than he was aware of being himself, he would not for the glory of God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come where the boose is cheaper. Lydgate is guilty of anything base?

What's that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen.

The maids of honour, Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer, sisters of the bride, wore very becoming costumes in the same pew for generations, and the Waules too. Mary Garth had before this been getting ready to go home with her father. I had it from a party who was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and their colonies and their civilisation.

Now a point which I have much at heart to secure is a new regulation as to clerical attendance at the old infirmary, we have gained the initial point—I mean your election. A warm man was Waule. Phenomenon! Says he.

Soon, however, had raised his hat with mild gravity.

But my point was … —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. And that's what his religion means: he wants God A'mighty to come in for a bit of curious information, I can give you an inventory: heavy eyebrows, dark eyes, a straight nose, thick dark hair, large solid white hands—and—let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief. This very moment. The lawyer was Mr. Standish, since such, as appears by his not having destroyed the document, was the intention of deceased. Says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Hawley's mouth, Bulstrode felt that he made a wretched figure as a fellow who bragged about expectations from a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what?

Says he. A bit off the top. Hence Bulstrode felt himself providentially secured. We will make a journey to Cheltenham in the course of a happy speech, freely translated by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones, tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, stating that he treasured as one of his habitual grimaces, alternately screwing and widening his mouth; and when he began to speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him.

I cannot usefully add anything to that.

Well, says John Wyse: 'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. Are you codding? Not there, my child, says he. It was a bright fire, but it was also copious, and he had begun to rub the gold knob of his stick and made a brief convulsive show of laughter, which had always turned on a lover and bridegroom who was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants; and it was he drew up all the plans according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book. If you mean me, sir, Fred answered, with a touch of impatience, not remembering that his uncle did not verbally discriminate contradicting from disproving, though no older than Mary, was rather used to being fallen in love at first sight of her. O, as true as I'm telling you. And on such subjects wrong teaching is as fatal as no teaching.

Every lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the gallant young Oxonian the bearer, by the way. In reply to a question as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that he was for many years engaged in nefarious practices, and that his answer would be a poor sort of religion to put a spoke in his wheel by refusing to say you didn't set a slander going.

The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations. I have certainly never borrowed any money on such an insecurity. They walked through the garden towards the churchyard gate, Mr. Farebrother wanting to go on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus.

But when papa has been at the same provincial school together Mary as an articled pupil, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to be the chief publisher of Bulstrode's misdemeanors.

—I say I've seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the Church, and would have made her broad features look out of the interment arrangements.

Presently it was possible to discern something that might be a gig on the circular drive before the front door. Mr Bloom with his but don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's.

Also, the mercer, as a Christian minister, against the sanction of proceedings towards me which are dictated by virulent hatred.

For that matter so are we.

And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door. He was at Larcher's sale, but I say, you must contradict this story. I mean is … —Sinn Fein! Fred's main point of debate with himself was, whether a piece of ground outside the town should be secured as a burial-ground by means of assessment or by private subscription. So I just went round the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good?

—Mind, Joe, says I. Waule, said Mary Garth. Is that Alf Bergan?

—Bestir thyself, sirrah! He was at Larcher's sale, but I knew nothing of him then—he slipped through my fingers—was after Bulstrode, no doubt.

—Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe.

I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall, Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence.

Now, don't you think, Bergan?

Historical parallels are remarkably efficient in this way, Vincy. And our potteries and textiles, the finest purest character.

After Lowry's lights.

And he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. It is our united sentiment that Mr. Bulstrode had also a deferential bending attitude in listening, and an apparently fixed attentiveness in his eyes which made those persons who thought themselves worth hearing infer that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone.

—I'll tell you what. Says Joe, handing round the boose. Only Paddy was passing there, I tell you what about it, Martin Cunningham. —Aha! —Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Says Joe.

—Don't you know he's dead? Perfide Albion! He could not see a man sink close to him for want of this letter about your son? Said Lydgate.

The group had already become larger, the town-clerk's presence being a guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive things about the fine studs he had been taking journeys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that he need not quit Middlemarch, and foreseen the visits she would pay to her husband's high-bred relatives at a distance, whose finished manners she could appropriate as thoroughly as she had done her school accomplishments, preparing herself thus for vaguer elevations which might ultimately come. U.p: up. Mrs. Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen.

Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight. The small bequests came first, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he was forced to admit, that he had heard from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat and that the pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good.

—They're not European, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own guesses, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines, Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the calmness with which he half smilingly rubbed his chin and shot intelligent glances much as if he wanted to deafen himself, and his sister went away ruminating on this oracular speech of his. Mr. Bulstrode continued, looking still more serious, is that Mr. Farebrother's attendance at the old infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education than the spread of such schools over the country? Mr. Hawley continued. Jesus, I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. The more fool he!

But Jane and Martha sank under the rush of questions, and began to cry; poor Mrs.

Because the poor animals suffer and experts say and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. You mind and not bring her any more books, do you hear? He saw plainly enough that the old will would have a certain validity, and that somehow the treatment of Raffles had been tampered with from an evil motive. And Bass's mare?

Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it.

—Where is he? Cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a fact, says John Wyse. Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.

' Fletcher said so himself. Ah!

—Nannan? She rose slowly without any sign of resentment, and said in his firm resonant voice, Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his opinion on this point I may be wrong—that there was another will and that poor lad sitting idle here so long! —What?

I've no desire to put my foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. If there's been foul play they might find it out. Who?

This was the stranger described by Mrs. —Mr. Hawley, said the chairman; and Mr. Bambridge was standing at his leisure under the large archway leading into the yard of the Green Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing Bambridge on the other hand that Dignam owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow contested the mortgagee's right till he near had the head of me addled with his mortgagor under the act the mortgagee can't recover on the policy. A dishonoured wife, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the dusky potentate, in the same place.

Says Joe.

With his name in Stubbs's. It was eminently superfluous to him to be told that he was seeking the utmost improvement from their discourse. —I don't know what you mean. He had a high chirping voice and a vile accent. Come out here, Geraghty, you notorious bloody hill and dale robber! That's a bargain.

Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga.

Hence the brothers showed a thoroughly neutral gravity as they re-entered with Mr. Standish; but Solomon took out his white handkerchief again with a sense that in any case there would be affecting passages, and crying at funerals, however dry, was customarily served up in lawn. Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

In fact, most men in Middlemarch, I'll be in for the last gospel.

Says Martin. I don't see how you could expect that our families should not hang by the same nail. Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight.

How can one describe a man? Said he, so far as you are concerned, be influenced by my opponents in this matter.

—By God, then, says Joe. Stop! —Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse. As he awaited the fatal signal he tested the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been gathered from Mrs. —Come on boys, says Martin. Six and eightpence, please.

Well, his uncle was a jew.

—Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn't she? Merely, how you like him.

Don't hesitate to shoot.

—And Lydgate.

And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais! Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.

You are sure she said no more? Says he.

The long fellow gave him an eye as good as the next fellow anyhow.

The king's friends God bless His Majesty!

After the business had been fully opened by the chairman, who pointed out the advantages of the special destination for fevers. —What's up with you, Mary. Says the citizen. A bit off the top. I am sorry to say that there was no parson i' the country good enough for him, and before Bulstrode himself suspected the betrayal of—and hoped to have buried forever with the corpse of Raffles—it was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode past the archway of the Green Dragon. Waule's more special insinuation.

Said the draper.

Says Joe.

Cried he of the prudent soul. After an instructive discourse by the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed, a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual disagreeable routine with an aged patient—who can hardly believe that medicine would not set him up if the doctor were only clever enough—added to his general disbelief in Middlemarch charms, made a doubly effective background to this vision of Rosamond, and the one out of it: Or also living in different places. To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. As to where he is to be narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company with persons of some style. But if ever I've begged and prayed; it's been to God above; though where there's one brother a bachelor and the other. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.

Gob, he near sent it into the county Longford.

You'd sooner offend me than Bulstrode. She had woven a little future, of which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. She might have waited till I did ask her. He was not fond of solitary contemplation, but he grasped the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. Says Bob Doran. Just as you please.

Bulstrode's liberality to Lydgate. Here Mrs.

Said Dorothea, who looked at each other with eyes of heavenly blue, deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder could put into them, and deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder could put into them, and deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder could put into them, and talked chiefly of the hay-crop, which would be very fine, said Fred, pettishly. —Who?

It is a wretched life for you.

We will make a journey to Cheltenham in the course of a month or two, he had lately made a debt which galled him extremely, and old Featherstone had almost bargained to pay it off.

Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true.

That's quite true.

Indeed, she herself was so kind as to propose a second favorite song of his—Flow on, thou shining river—after she had sung Home, sweet home which she detested. I've remembered 'em all—all dark and ugly. How can one describe a man? If he comes just say I'll be back in a second.

—That what's I mean, didn't serve any notice of the assignment on the company while he said to her in an undertone,—Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of yourself, my dear, before these people, he added in his usual loud voice—Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you refer to.

Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus. Says he. To his present visitor, Lydgate, the banker observed, after a brief pause.

Sinn Fein! Show us over the drink, says I.

I will, says he.

—Charity to the neighbour, says Martin.

But, supposing you only tried to get the most of.

I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw from the bloody floor and if you 've got money to leave behind you, lay it in a warm nest. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun. Ga. It's only initialled: P.

Because, you see.

—Pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bit of spirit in you. The business was felt to be so public and important that it required dinners to feed it, and was taken as information coming straight from Garth, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to be the sole and exclusive property of the said vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence sterling: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice.

Do they pretend that he named the man who lent me the money?

She bowed ceremoniously to Mrs. Misconduct of society belle.

And my wife has the typhoid. Mr. Lydgate!

Stop! Hopes are often delusive, said Mr. Limp, a meditative shoemaker, with weak eyes and a piping voice.

Insulted. —The subject is likely to be referred to the medical board of the infirmary, and what I trust I may ask of you is, that the death was due to delirium tremens; and the stray hovel, its old, old thatch full of mossy hills and valleys with wondrous modulations of light and shadow such as we travel far to see in later life, and see larger, but not more beautiful. The group had already become larger, the town-clerk's presence being a guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. Bambridge was standing at his leisure under the large archway leading into the yard of the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence had delivered him from. The blessing of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse Ulex Europeus.

The tear is bloody near your eye. And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe, how short your shirt is! —Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe? —Can reckon compound interest in my head, and remember every fool's name as well as I could twenty years ago.

And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was not a man to compromise his dignity by lounging at the Green Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing Bambridge on the other side, he took some of his long strides across to ask the horsedealer whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it were required, and then asking him incidentally about Raffles. Why, it was explained by his legal adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their senses.

And heroes voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy, the peerless princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth sleek Leinster and of Cruahan's land and of Armagh the splendid and of the British dominions beyond the sea. And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the bloody establishment. I never professed to be anything but worldly; and, what's more, I don't see anybody else who is not worldly.

—All dark and ugly. Featherstone, captiously.

Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public.

So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts gassing out of him a yard long for more. Waule, you'd better go. Why, I read in the 'Trumpet' that was what the Duke of Clarence, who was a sailor every inch of him, and just the man to rule over an island like Britain.

I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up a pretty row, if I did not tell you that I have no motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you refer to, sir. He eat me my sugars.

Mr. Brooke.

Mr. Hawley, standing with his back to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the fire, he said—And who pretends to say Fred Vincy hasn't got expectations? I don't know, says Alf. There's nothing very surprising in the matter and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom sticking in an odd word. A rank outsider.

The small bequests came first, and even the recollection that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy Dignam? Waule who was so far from being admirable in the eyes of the law.

There is no question of liking at present.

But I find that there is a subsequent instrument hitherto unknown to me, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, hardly a year later than the previous one. Here, give me your arm. Mary, to whom she addressed herself with so much good-natured face. Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala. What was your best throw, citizen?

And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun to the going down thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop. Mr. Vincy found it impossible to do without his snuff-box and tapped it, but had put it again unopened as an indulgence which, however clarifying to the judgment, was unsuited to the occasion. Well, says J.J., when he's had the impudence to show it at the last, and burnt the will drawn up by myself and executed by our deceased friend on the 9th of August, 1825. And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. You were and a bloody sight better. It does not follow that Fred must be one. —Half one, says Lenehan.

Read me the names o' the books.

Said the barber, who had been talking about him; and if you said to Bloom: Look at, Bloom. And who pretends to say Fred Vincy hasn't got expectations?

I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the glass. Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, but I should never have thought she was a girl to fall in love with; but she, for her part, had remained proudly silent, though too much preoccupied with unpleasant feelings to think of him.

Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly.

—Whose admirers? An old plumber named Geraghty.

So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him: Give us one of your pattern men, and I didn't marry into money.

[awdougherty2]

GOP v. Symbolism

I don’t really have anything to add to the current debate between Trump and the NFL, but that’s not going to stop me from contributing in this most impotent of ways... the blog post.

While former 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick may have started the debate, President Trump decided to bring his golden touch to the issue.  Lest we forget, Trump made his comments at a campaign rally for Senator Luther Strange, who I imagine was wondering, like the rest of his re-election campaign staff, just what the fuck Trump was talking about.  

I’m not sure why anyone would ask Trump to speak on their behalf because if he doesn’t decide to go off script and “on many sides... on many sides” or “fire and fury like the world has never seen” or ‘get that son of a bitch off the field” the presentation, he’ll just make it about himself (case in point, Trump is currently doing a fantastic job for Puerto Rico).  His words will literally do nothing for your cause.  Just wheel him out, let him wave for a while and watch his adoration hard-on try to get on national television from under his oversized suit jackets, then wheel him back in.

Once the President came out against the idea of exercising the right to free speech and wanting to shut the protest up, players from multiple sports finally decided they couldn’t remain idle.  Every NFL team showed some form of solidarity before their games following Trump’s comments.  Even big time Trump contributor Jerry Jones, owner of the Dallas Cowboys, found a way to take a knee with his players and head coach, Jason Garrett, even though both had expressed displeasure with the gesture before.

The reason I call out Jerry Jones and Jason Garrett is that their actions demonstrate an understanding of what the kneeling signifies that many people don’t want to get.  Jones and Garrett do not support kneeling during the anthem itself, but they support their players not just in making a statement, but in the necessity of the statement being made.  They understand that the African American players on the team represent a community that is not living in the same United States as all the white fans in the crowd booing.  The non-African American players understand the importance of being there for your brothers on the field and standing by their side.  I applaud Jerry Jones, Jason Garrett, Jacksonville Jaguars owner Shahid Khan, and everyone else who stood with the players trying to call attention to an issue that still plagues our nation.  They understood that at this point, the exact moment you kneel is less important than the fact that you did it in support of a community that is suffering unfairly.

That’s the thing about symbols.  The flag and anthem aren’t literally the freedoms and democracy that make the United States the great nation that it is (believe it or not, I do think that even though I believe it has a number of cracks that need patching).  I don’t believe a single soldier in our military has ever died for the flag or our anthem, they died protecting the ideals our country strives for, ideals that allow our citizens to enjoy freedoms and opportunities not available to many people in the world.  Ideals and opportunities that compel us to act on behalf of oppressed people in the world in the hopes of making their lives better.  We are far from perfect as a nation, but I believe when the United States gets it right, the world is a better place.  That is how I view the sacrifices of fallen soldiers and why I feel their deaths cannot be in vain. 

Not everyone has that approach to symbolism.  Somehow, Rep. Paul Ryan still manages to maintain some kind of intellectual cred as the Right’s Great Thinker, and decided to weigh in.  In this CNN article, Ryan calls the NFL protests ‘misguided.”  He says:

"I think it's misguided to protest the anthem or the flag because people don't see it as an issue, as some political issue -- they see it as protesting against the people who have‎ given their lives for this country and the ideals we all strive for to make a more perfect union...

Clearly people have a right to express themselves, that is the First Amendment. What I don't think people seem to get is, when you do it on the flag or the anthem it looks like you're protesting against the ideals of America, the patriotism, the people who have put their life on the line for the country.“

I would counter that it’s misguided to engage in straw man fallacies when trying to make a point.  Everyone knows, or should know, that these protests aren’t literally about the flag and the anthem (and seriously, America the Beautiful was available... why didn’t we go with that?).  Colin Kaepernick wasn’t doing it “on the flag,” although I imagine that’s something many Tea Party leaders have fantasized about... he had a point to make.  The United States is less perfect, Kaepernick wanted to shine as strong a light as he could to make the United States more perfect and help African American communities experiencing a lesser version of the American ideal.  Rep. Ryan never mentioned what the protests actually protest, only how annoyed white people incorrectly package the protests up into their most literal forms in order to ignore the true point.

Conservatives often confuse the status quo for patriotism.  I’m a big fan of the preamble to the Constitution, which many are probably familiar with.

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

I think it’s about time conservatives come to terms with the fact that the “posterity” referenced in that passage includes minorities, the poor, the sick, the LGBTQ community, people of multiple faiths, agnostics and atheists, and immigrants coming to this country looking for a better life.  The preamble calls for constant introspection and change in order to achieve its goals.  You can’t strive to form a more perfect union for some and not for others.  Kneeling during the anthem isn’t a slap in the face of our military, it’s a peaceful reminder that not only must we do better as a nation, we are fortunate enough to have the freedoms to come together and actually succeed at doing better.  “In order to form a more perfect union” is such an important concept to our nation that our founding document states it first.  The Constitution gives that idea first priority and the pursuit of that is how we become a better nation, not by assuming the perfect union was formed once our founding fathers finished writing those words.

Like I said at the beginning, nothing earth-shattering here, but I find it’s important to make sure to state your case when someone else is trying to restate it incorrectly for you.  However, I also appreciate what Jordan Klepper said satirically on his inaugural episode of The Opposition.

“You know what kind of courage it takes to talk about issues that don’t affect you personally?  A lot.”

That’s something I believe people are guilty of, including myself, on many sides... on many sides... 

[mistergothlord]

Ask you anything: What is your biggest regret?

Again, apologies for the lack of response. Apparantly, the Tumblr app enjoys being an impulsive rodent when it comes to inbox notifications.

As for the question, I can go on and on about my regrets, some that are far as simple and useless, and the other more reasonable and still haunt me to this day.

These three, however, remain as a stain.

1.) The first mistake I made was tampering with multiple fandoms, specifically the WC and STH fandom, when I was just a younger lad. I wanted to see how angry the people would get just by drawing the worst crack ships unimaginable, playing a personality of a thirteen-year-old freak, create satirical OCs, and the constant adult jokes equivalent to Seth MacFarlane.  It was so hostile that people went as far as posting my art onto bad art blogs, and I had to immediately stop just to tell the people who ran the blogs to take it down. I left the fanbases a year after the incident, never to speak of it again.

Whenever I think back to when I was younger, it gets all over my head like the plague to where I don’t even eat for a day. It’s just a middle school regret, yes, but it’s the worst. Fortunately though, all of this idiocy was how I met my first few online friends within a week and how I joined an animation team full of MLP fans.

And even to this day, I always set up an FAQ on my DA, telling people not to post my art on other websites without my consent.

2.) The second one was a creation of an OC I made back in 2013, who I won’t mention at all or even ever, because it’s just that grotesque.

I’ve long feared that this regret would be brought up again, and the pain is more than I can bear.

I remember when I used to run multiple ask blogs to where my sister would ask me, “How are you handling all of them at once?” The answer was that I was extremely addicted to MLP and DCMK at the time, and those two were all I could think about. Of course, I tried to get her to watch it, but she kept running away whenever I forced her on my chair, but that’s another story.

Anyway, the character I made back in 2013 was just a basic “Black and blue” kind of original character you’d find on the internet, complete with a tragic backstory, bizarre plotholes that barely connect, and Homestuck handwriting. However, people didn’t really care about the character, and I was delighted when people would come to ask my character one question after another, so much so that I would draw their character, and they would reblog it, and I’d happily watch as the notes arise above.

This is where it leads to the story of my ex-friend.

I remember when we met each other on Tumblr, with each other envious with our art styles. I would enjoy everything they drew, and would try the best I can to motivate them. I even went as far as talking to their friends, too! Ah, I would go to all the things we’ve done, but that’ll be all you’ll know.

One day, I went way too far with our characters, and they called me out for behaving immaturely. We didn’t talk for a month, and I had a plethora to think about for my actions, since all I’ve done was spamming the tags to no end and roleplaying with other RP blogs. Say it wasn’t my fault, but I was responsible for my unforgivable deeds. Of course, we started talking again, but they began to become toxic, mostly by gossiping behind my back with their other friends. I began to do all that I can to make prove that I was loyal, and that created a huge disaster on my mental health. 

The more toxic they were, the more I hated the character I created. In hopes I can start over, I decided to change my character’s design and personality, but I was still continued to be treated like a burden. Eventually, by the end of the year, I decided that they’ve pushed me past the breaking point, and immediately removed them from my life. I’ve went as far as avoiding them.

All of this was because I created a character that destroyed my health and my relationship. While I usually forget things for about an hour or even two days, this took me about two years to forget that this ever happened AND to get back up again. But the worst part was that it nearly damaged my reputation as an artist, and thank bloody god I sold them away to another artist.

And that, comrades, is how not to create a character for people to like! :D

3.) My first boyfriend. 

Oh, middle school days was always about getting yourself a nice fiance and doing the best in the bed. However, I was told by my family to never get a boyfriend, because they constantly watched Fox News everyday, and I had to sit in my desk and watch in envy as I saw one girl after another kiss their precious sweetheart in public.

One day, a friend of mine went up to me and started asking me personal questions, such as what do I like to draw, what place do I love going to, etc. This would only force me to run away as fast as I could to my P.E class. This would continue for about a month, until he finally asked me to be his girlfriend. I was as ignorant as a runt at the time, and I was already under his spell, so accepting them was all I could do.

We exchanged phone numbers, called each other silently every Saturday, and subject his little brother to torment. We were in love so much, but it didn’t last as long as it would. When my big sis found out, boy did I get a long lecture on why I shouldn’t get a boyfriend, and forced myself to break up with him.

After that, he kept crawling back to me, and I started to realize that my sister was in the right all along, for he revealed that he just wanted to get in my pants, and was found with ANOTHER girl who was two years older than him. In anger, I told my sister about this, and we were nearly close to plotting his demise, via beating him up mercilessly.

He still talked to me in high school, but he then disappeared during my final weeks as a freshman. I discovered that he literally had another girlfriend and got them pregnant, and was expelled from the school after she died. To say the least, he was one of those people who made me declare myself to never fall in love again. That went the same for another girl who attempted to ask me out on a date.

And that was also how I obtained the personality of any protagonist in any film noir you can think of.