#so GREAT IDEA THANK YOU JOHNNY FLYNN

[mikimeiko]

Albums I listened to in 2023

Six Signs: Six Songs (Inspired by Susan Cooper's the Dark is Rising) - Johnny Flynn, Robert Macfarlane, Hélöise Tunstall-Behrens & Auclair and Luisa Gerstein (2022)

[papercranesong]

A, C & I (for the ask game :)

Oooh thanks for the ask @tuvok-enjoyer great questions! 

A Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed

So defining currently as - this weekend -

I have been introduced by the people over at the Enterprise discord to a pairing of Malcolm Reed from Enterprise and Tony from Desmond’s, played by the same actor. So the premise is that they are twin brothers, and it’s actually a really cool concept!, like a really interesting way to plumb the depths of a character by suddenly making them have a twin brother who is wildly different from them. 

My other pairing is Robert MacFarlane (a nature author who wrote Underland and Landmarks) and Johnny Flynn (the amazing folk singer/songwriter) - I loved both of them separately but I’ve just realised they have co-written a number of songs together that are just insanely beautiful, so I’m now going through all the songs playing all of them on loop! Like this one - Burial Blessing. 

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will

Chakotay and Seven! Just no. No no no. 

Also I was thinking about it and I never really liked the idea of Kes and Neelix together either. It felt a bit weird. 

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

Well usually Tumblr has the opposite effect - I love seeing what people post and are into, it makes me curious and I usually end up checking out things that look interesting! 

But I have to say, I could have done without the whole baby Yoda thing. I’m a big fan of Star Wars but I find baby Yoda really creepy-looking and I really could have done without seeing a zillion pictures of it filling up my dash for those few weeks 🤣   

Thanks for the ask! 🖖

[cacodaemonia]

7, 8, and 13 for the fic questions?

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of? Hmm, that's a tough one! So much of my worldbuilding in TCW fics has bits of fanon and other people's ideas in it, so idk if I can really take credit for a lot of it. But I'd say maybe the stuff I've been writing (along with lizardberries) about Ryloth, Ryl, and Rylothian Twi'lek culture, as seen through the eyes of Waxer and Boil, who had really only known their own culture for so long.

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)? Hm, the first one that comes to mind because I love the imagery in it is Detectorists, by Johnny Flynn:

Will you search through the lonely earth for me? Climb through the briar and bramble I'll be your treasure I felt the touch of the kings and the breath of the wind I knew the call of all the song birds They sang all the wrong words I'm waiting for you I'm waiting for you Will you swim through the briny sea for me? Roll along the ocean's floor? I'll be your treasure I'm with the ghosts of the men who can never sing again There's a place, follow me Where a love lost at sea Is waiting for you Is waiting for you

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore? I'd say whump. I never super loved it but I read my fair share, and I do not like it at all anymore.

Thanks! :D

ask game

[carpe-mamilia]

What would you wear to a ball at Lost Hope?

Ohhh boy this is a very exciting ask, thank you!

I thought about this a lot and it was tricky narrowing down which time period to draw inspiration from, especially with the temptation to take it from after the point at which Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell is set. My first thought was a turn of the century tea gown, since they have those fantastic renaissance and medieval inspired details, and that art nouveau influence fits really well with the fantasy look:

Liberty tea gown ca. 1897

I also considered an outfit that would take heavy inspiration from the costume Johnny Flynn wore as Viola in the Globe's all-male production of Twelfth Night, but with a single pearl earring:

Viola (right). This production is great, I recommend watching the recording if you can!

But this early 17th century outfit finally led me on to Restoration-era gowns. They're not to everybody's taste, but personally I find the shape of their bodices and necklines very flattering. Many of the Lost Hope costumes draw inspiration from nature (such as the Gentleman's oak leaf coat or Arabella's gorgeous wheat-ear tiara), and I love the sea and wanted to incorporate that into a costume. There are a number of portraits of ladies wearing steely blue-grey silk or velvet that perfectly evoke the colour of the sea in different seasons in my part of the world (the west country, UK; none of the turquoise of hotter climates here!). Stiff, crisp silk also makes a lovely whispering noise when you walk, not unlike the sound of distant waves over shingle.

Many of these gowns let the lustrous fabric take centre-stage and are fairly plain, but I really liked the look of the embroidered or decorated stomachers some of them have:

Pearls, swags of fabric, lace, and flowers adorn these bodices. I particularly like how the lady on the right has a matching floral arrangement in her hair.

My own bodice was inspired by the linen sailor collar I embroidered last year, with seaweed-esque vermicelli and oysters holding pearls.

My collar, still not finished...

'Rockpool', textile art by Marian Jazmik

A mixture of pearls, shells, and heavily textured embroidery in blues, greens and silver on my bodice and in my hair would mimic the textures and colours of rocks at low tide. At my cuffs and neckline would be quantities of frothy lace, evoking sea foam, and finally, since it wouldn't be Lost Hope without a little magic, the silk of my gown would sometimes appear to swirl just as the surface of the sea is ruffled by the wind, little wavelets moving over it before becoming calm and smooth again.

Thank you so much for this ask, I really enjoyed it! If anyone else reading this post is a fan of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, or just likes the idea of a fantasy ball, I'd love to hear about your ideal costumes!

[mksc77]

30 for Christmas prompts, thanks

Thanks so much for the ask, anon, sorry this took so long!  I’ve tweaked canon a little bit for Chain Reaction :)

30--”Ugh, I’ve caught a cold.”

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, Sharon sat at the kitchen table with a stack of Christmas cards to mail out. Christmastime often made her miss Emily's and Ricky's younger days, but she had to admit that writing a short message and signing cards was much less of a hassle than getting them ready for pictures and dealing with them moaning and groaning about it. She got a tissue from the Kleenex box beside her and blew her nose, grateful when the tea kettle on the stove whistled. Andy had just had a cold and had whined incessantly about it for over a week, but it wasn't nearly as bad as his antics had made it out to be. After adding honey, cinnamon, and a little lemon juice to her steaming mug, she got back to her Christmas cards.

A few minutes later, Ricky came in. He and Andy had been tasked with buying the Christmas tree that morning. Sharon sipped her tea. "Where's Andy?"

"He's going next door to ask John to help us bring in the tree."

Sharon narrowed her eyes. "Why will that require three of you—never mind. I don't want to know."

Ricky shrugged. "You'll find out soon enough."

It wasn't long before the three men were dragging in the tree. And kept dragging several moments after a normal-sized tree should've been through the door. "Andy, what the hell?!" Sharon couldn't help exclaiming. She followed them into the living room, her eyes widening as the tree nearly reached the fifteen-foot ceiling. "Andy!"

Her pine needle-covered husband looked over at her as he started unwrapping the string from around the tree, all innocence. "What?"

"This is enormous!"

"Yeah, well, we thought-"

"Uh, you need to work on your first-person pronouns, Andy. There was no we," Ricky interrupted. "I told you Mom was going to lose her mind."

"Fine. I thought last year's tree looked tiny in here-"

"It was ten feet!" Sharon moved closer to the tree. This one had to be at least twelve or thirteen. The lowest branches were as high as her knees.

Rusty came in from his bedroom, where he'd been studying for upcoming exams all morning. "What is all the commotion?!...Holy crap, that's a big ass tree."

Sharon nodded at Andy. "Clark Griswold here thought last year's was too small."

Rusty looked over at her when she sneezed. "Oh, god, Mom, are you sick? Stay the hell away from me, I can't get sick before finals!"

Andy glanced at her. "Yeah, you don't look so great."

"Ugh, I've caught a cold." Sharon gave Andy a pointed look. "Your cold."

Andy grinned. "Hey, is it my fault you couldn't stop kissing me?"

Sharon nodded. "It's absolutely your fault for being so damn cute." She looped her arm through his and tilted her chin up to kiss him.

"It's a good thing we haven't eaten lunch yet," Ricky muttered. "It would've just come right back up."

"It's like they try to gross us out," Rusty agreed. "Just be glad you don't have to be here much when this place is a clusterfuck of mistletoe. Andy puts it everywhere. The tradition is to kiss under the mistletoe, not make out, but try telling them that."

Ricky grimaced. "You have my sympathies."

Sharon rolled her eyes and started back to the kitchen. "I'll cook lunch," Andy offered. He looked back at Ricky and Rusty. "After we make a pit stop under the mistletoe."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait to get back to studying," Rusty grumbled. "Next year, I'm hiding that damn mistletoe."

Sharon sat back down at the kitchen table and continued with her Christmas cards while Andy pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator. "I'll make the Margaret Flynn cure-all," he promised, still sounding a little congested, himself. "But I'm not so sure you can pin this on me. If you had what I had, you wouldn't be writing Christmas cards right now. You'd be in bed."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "It's the same thing, Andy, I'm just not the same baby that you are about a little cold."

Andy looked wounded. "It was not a little cold!"

Sharon placed her pen on the table and sipped her tea. The sniffles and mistletoe reminded her of a certain Christmas a few years ago. Rusty had recently pointed out that she and Andy were "dating," and neither of them were sure how they felt about that revelation. The "non-dates" had slowed down, and they weren't sure how to act around each other. After a couple of weeks of thinking about it, Sharon was coming around to the idea, but Andy had taken a couple of steps back. Rusty was also experiencing rejection, and they had commiserated about it after they'd finally solved the case. Rusty didn't know the specifics with Andy, but she'd been frustrated enough to generally vent a little that evening over burgers. She also felt a little dejected that he was back to calling her 'Sharon,' but she wasn't about to bring that up. She'd never thought much about the possibility, but hearing him referring to her as 'Mom' in front of Jeff, the guy he liked, had sounded so natural and warmed her heart. And, god, Jack had been such an ass, basically guilting her about Christmas through the damn interview camera. That had just been the beginning of another headache, and she hadn't been happy with Emily and Ricky for keeping that from her. Especially since they were able to leave town soon after but left Rusty in the middle of the aftermath.

That evening, Nicole and Dean dropped their boys off to spend the night, and Emily, Emmett, and Marie came over for dinner. While they were eating, Marie dropped her fork on the floor and looked over the side of the high chair. "Fuck!" Sharon's eyes widened as the other adults tried not to laugh, and she was soon trying to suppress laughter herself.

Six-year-old Logan and four-year-old Alex were thankfully engaged in their own conversation and didn't notice, but it didn't get past anyone else. The table exploded with laughter, and Emmett finally composed himself first. "Honey, that's not a nice word, so don't say it again, okay?"

Marie gave him a disbelieving look and glanced around the table until her eyes landed on Sharon, then pointed a chubby finger in her direction. "Gammy said it!"

Mocking looks of reproach from the other adults were immediately directed at Sharon. "She's repeating everything we say, now, you have to be careful," Andy chided, in a perfect imitation of Sharon to the rest of them. She'd been getting onto everyone else about cussing in front of Marie for months now.

"This is too funny," Ricky added. "Mom breaking any kind of rule is hilarious enough, but it's the best when she breaks her own."

Emily laughed. "When Marie repeats what she heard her dear Gammy say and gets kicked out of daycare, clear your schedule, Mom, because you'll have a new job."

Sharon rolled her eyes, remembering exactly when she'd gotten busted. "This wouldn't be an issue if someone would put the toilet seat back down every now and then," she muttered in Andy's direction.

Once dinner was over and the kitchen was clean, Sharon started her kids' Christmas playlist while the kids and grandkids poked through her ornament collection and started hanging them on the tree. She would definitely be going behind them and rearranging many of them later, but they were having a good time. The younger ones were, anyway, the older ones weren't so keen on this task. The Glee soundtrack had provided some good, upbeat, kid-pleasing songs, and they bounced around to We Need a Little Christmas as they strategically placed their ornaments. Well, Marie was doing a little more of just watching the others than decorating, which she needed help with, but it worked. Sharon missed Ricky's comment that it didn't feel like Christmas without 'Mom being an ornament Nazi,' but she did notice when she wasn't satisfied with one of his ornament placements. "No, not there, Ricky."

Not surprised, Ricky pointed his finger torward her. "There. Now it's Christmas."

Ignoring him, Sharon lay against Andy on the couch, humming softly as he draped a blanket over her and kissed her forehead. "You don't feel warm, so you definitely can't blame me for this," he informed her. "It can't be the same thing."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "You never had a fever, either." Like a child, he'd claimed that her hand had to be wrong sometimes and insisted on using the thermometer, although it had rendered the same result.

"No, I think we just need a new thermometer," Andy insisted. He stroked his fingers through her hair. "This song reminds me of the Santa murders from a few years ago. But I like this version of it better, I've gotta admit." He'd never wanted to hear Johnny Mathis again after watching the security tape from the flash mob so many times. "Except I was the one with the cold then."

Sharon nodded. "I was just thinking about that earlier. And then you passed it to me after an impromptu rendezvous under the mistletoe after the makeshift Christmas party."

Andy shrugged. "Or, you could've just gotten it from being in close quarters during the case. Provenza caught it from me, too, but I swear it had nothing to do with mistletoe."

Sharon laughed. "There's an image I could've gone without. But I like my version of how I caught it from you better, at least I got a kiss out of it. A good one, might I add."

December 24, 2014

After the case was wrapped up, Sharon was in her office, going over some paperwork before heading home. It was hard to concentrate, both from the sadness of not being at home with her children and from the recent revelation of Provenza's new relationship. She smiled, despite herself, remembering how she'd had to forcefully gesture for her team of elite detectives to leave the murder room after Patrice showed up like they were a bunch of gossip-hungry teenagers. She looked up when she heard a knock at her door and invited Andy inside. He told her a little bit about the end of the case and paused. "You know, if you can't make it home for the holidays, maybe home can come to you." Confused, she got up and followed him to the break room. He opened the door for her. "Merry Christmas."

Sharon's eyes lit up when the first thing she noticed was her old Christmas village. It wasn't arranged exactly like she usually did it, but it was close enough. She did notice a small green gift box adorned with holly berries with her name on it tucked neatly in the snow, and her curiosity got the best of her. She smiled when she opened the gift and found a small angel. The mystery of the sender was solved when Andy appeared beside her. "Merry Christmas!"

Sharon turned and gently tugged at his tie, wishing it was suspenders instead, but anyway, then quickly pulled her hand back before anyone else saw. "Andy! Thank you. You didn't need to get me anything."

"Yeah, well, I saw it and couldn't help but think of you."

They shared a long gaze and might've kissed right then and there if everyone else hadn't been around, but Emily and Rusty, seeming to be in the midst of a heated discussion in the hall, caught her eye. All three of her children had appeared to be up to something, a fact she'd picked up on despite the fact that she regrettably hadn't spent much time with them in the last couple of days. "Excuse me." She still wasn't convinced that they weren't hiding something from her, and she felt like she’d gotten so close to breaking Rusty, but Emily's announcement about being a soloist the next year was exciting enough for her to push it to the back of her mind for the time being and enjoy the rest of the party.

A little while later, everything was cleaned up, and everyone was leaving. After promising her children that she wasn't far behind them, Sharon went to her office to gather the remaining paperwork from the case and straighten up her office from the last couple of days of chaos. The Christmas decorations would stay up for a while. She was never in a hurry for Christmas to be over, especially now that she'd worked for most of Christmas, and the Catholic tradition of leaving Christmas decor up until Epiphany was one she didn't complain about. She looked around the murder room for a few moments before going to the break room to make sure none of her dishes or anything else from the condo had been left behind. She was surprised when Andy was still there. "Hey, I thought you were gone."

Andy shrugged. "I'm not seeing Nicole and her family until tomorrow, and Provenza and I usually spend Christmas Eve together when we don't have to work. He's with Patrice now, so I'm not exactly in a huge hurry to get home."

Sharon gave him a sad smile. "I'm glad you'll get to see some of your family tomorrow. You should probably get some rest, anyway, you've sounded a little congested since yesterday." Things had been different between them for the last couple of weeks, but she could sense a little bit of normalcy creeping back. She noticed the mistletoe above them, and an idea came to her. She didn't know if it was Christmas or what, but she'd been toying with the idea of moving past the friendship stage with Andy since the night they went to The Nutcracker. She just wasn't sure how Andy felt about it, but the electricity that seemed to be between them felt right. "Thanks again for my gift," she added, hoping to pick up where they left off at the party. The long gaze returned, and Sharon's heart fluttered when Andy's face started to move closer to hers. He seemed to think better of it and leaned back again, and her heart sank just as quickly.

"I, uh, don't want to give you my cold," Andy explained, unable to make himself look away from her.

Sharon looked up in a pointed gesture. "Well, you know how I am about rules, and I'm even more strict about Christmas ones. You're going to have to do better than that."

Andy's hesitation must have been more about not knowing whether she wanted to than about him not wanting to, because he didn't waste any time. "Well, I am a diligent rule-follower."

Sharon forced herself not to roll her eyes and choked down a disbelieving laugh as she cautiously slipped her arms around his waist and closed the space between them. She liked the closeness and complied as Andy tilted her chin up and kissed her. It was slow and tender, but not without passion, and she felt stirrings in her that she hadn't felt in a while. Her mind raced with the complications that came along with a relationship with her subordinate, but she forced herself to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the ride for now.

A complaint from Ricky pulled Sharon from her thoughts. "I still can't believe you threw away my pinecone elves. They were the essence of Christmas."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that they were falling apart?"

"A lot more times than you should have to tell an adult," Rusty answered. "Don't worry, Ricky, Harry, Sam, Franklin, Scotty, and Twinkles are in pinecone heaven, I'm sure."

Even after Ricky and Andy had surrounded the tree with ornaments as far up as they could reach, the top half was still massively empty. "A stepstool should be required for the angel at the top, not to decorate the top half," Sharon said. "I refuse to have a half-empty tree, and how are we supposed to get the lights around the whole thing?" They had a pretty large stepstool, but she wasn't sure that it would suffice.

"We'll figure it out," Andy assured her.

True to his word, the tree was fully decorated some time later. Sharon had to admit that she liked the large tree, but Andy didn't need to know that just yet. Emily and Emmett left with a nearly-asleep Marie soon after, and Logan and Alex were starting to look drowsy, too. "All right, boys, I think it's about bedtime," Sharon announced. They didn't protest, and Sharon guided four-year-old Alex to the bathroom to help him with his bath and get him ready for bed. Once both boys were in their pajamas and tucked in, Sharon and Andy curled up in the recliner in the living room. With Rusty intending to get up early to study the next morning and Ricky having an early flight, they both said goodnight and went to their bedrooms earlier than normal. With a piano version of Hark the Herald Angels Sing playing in the background, Sharon lay on Andy's shoulder and enjoyed the Christmas monstrosity in front of them. The pine scent was strong and filled the room, even wafting into nearby parts of the house. After another mug of tea laced with cold-soothing ingredients her grandmother had sworn by and a dose of NyQuil, Sharon was ready for bed, herself.

Andy wasn't tired yet, but he got in bed and read while Sharon was still in the bathroom. When she crawled into bed beside him in one of her warmer nightgowns, it was more obvious that she wasn't feeling well without her makeup. Andy softly kissed her and absently ran his fingers through her hair as she lay on his shoulder. "Tell me when you want me to turn off the lamp."

"S'fine," Sharon mumbled, the cold medicine clearly kicking in. She usually didn't like for anyone to be touching her while she slept at night, much to Andy's dismay, but she was asleep against him just a couple of minutes later. Andy straightened the covers over her and kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

[boss-hoody]

A Kingdom Hearts 3: world-by-world review I guess

when I say “Area” I mean parts of the world separated by loading screen OLYMPUS Consisting of 3 areas, Olympus had itself a major upgrade from its past appearances. The Colosseum is nowhere to be seen, (same with the underworld), and has been replaced by a large town and Mount Olympus itself. The third area you visit in Olympus is “realm of the gods”, and the presentation of this area’s entrance was a legitimate “Stop and look at how pretty this is” moment The gameplay in this world was pretty varied, as it served as your tutorial world, teaching you the various forms of movement and combat the game has to offer, as well as showing you early that enemies can have elemental weaknesses. Story wise, Sora is there to ask Herc’s advice on how to regain the power he lost and ends up showing up at the wrong (right?) time as Hades has finally put his 18 year plan into action and released the titans (All four of them this time)

The (very nice) cutscene that brings us into this world is also the one and only mention and appearance of Final Fantasy characters (Cloud and Auron) in the entire game’s story, which is extremely disappointing and a mark against the game as a whole. 4/5

TWILIGHT TOWN I was really looking forward to jumping back into Twilight town, exploring the streets, the tunnels, and all that again. But sadly, Twilight town, while receiving an aesthetic upgrade, only consists of 1 area consisting of Tram common (Now called “the neighbourhood), the forest and mansion, and a single tunnel connecting them (the hole in the wall is gone). There is no exploration of the mansion.

Its also home to the cooking mini game

2/5 (1 point for cooking mini game which is surprisingly fun, and 1 point only because of the atmosphere created by the NPCs and music)

KINGDOM OF CORONA This world is where the game really sines for the first time. Olympus was great, but it was clearly designed as a tutorial area, and Twilight Town lacked anything resembling gameplay content, but Kingdom of Corona makes up for that quickly with a vast forest and a small lively town to explore. Rapunzel constantly wanders off to look at things, which create a number of small character moments and not-quite-mini games you need to do to progress and also helps to make Sora seem more involved. The dancing actual-mini game in the town square was pretty fun once I got the hang of it and realized the symbols on the floor corresponded to buttons based on color, not shape.

Story wise it was a bit janky. The story follows the plot of the movie (Unlike Toy Box, which seems to take place somewhere between Toy story 1 and 2), but Sora becomes separated from Flynn and Punz a couple times, and story progresses without him or us present. At some point Flynn told Rapunzel his real name apparently? And Flynn was knocked out and tied to a boat but we never see it happening. He’s just suddenly tied to a boat an unconscious. Rapunzel’s healing hair comes out of nowhere, as does the song sung to make its magic work. When she rubs her hair on his wound and starts singing as he lay there dying, you might be extremely confused if you hadn’t seen the movie. And by “Might” I mean “WILL”

This world did something interesting with its music that I wish Toy Box had done. When you enter a certain area of the forest, the music (and battle music) change to suit the atmosphere of the area. It was a small touch but it was appreciated and missed once I got to Toy Box...

This is also the first world where we encounter the Nobodies.

4/5. It loses a point for the janky story, but everything else was great

TOY BOX Consisting of two areas, Toy box becomes massive as soon as you leave Andy’s room. It was bizarre running around in a photo realistic suburban street as a tiny toy, (and the fact that you’re a toy in this world is the only reason I like it) and the toy store, Galaxy Toys, is a massive 3 floor area full of toy mechs (seriously they spawn in with regular enemies, you can end up with 5 of them on you very fast).

The mech gameplay was surprisingly fleshed out for a one-world wonder. There are three types of mechs, red, blue, and purple, and they seem to work in a rock-paper-scissors type of deal. Purple has an advantage on red, red has an advantage on blue, and blue has an advantage on purple. Each of the mechs has a different amount of health and firing speed to balance them out further.

The world loses points with me however due to the fact that an instrumental version of “You’ve got a friend in me” is playing throughout the whole world. It became grating very fast and its still stuck in my head.

3.5/5

MONSTEROPLOUS  Taking place almost entirely in doors, this world feels a lot like Kingdom Hearts 2 in the worst way (Hallway, arena, hallway), broken up by rail segments. The “arena” sections at least try to keep things interesting though, with one becoming a  “the walls are a hazard” type of deal. This world introduces us to the Unversed and is actually the only world where they appear, so there’s not many of them.

The battle music in this world was also great. I don’t know, there was just something about it that jived with me.

Story wise, this world takes place after the first Monster’s Inc movie. Sully is the CEO, and laugh energy is the new hotness. Randal is back thanks to his new friend and literally wants to make all children suffer chronic depression forever because, while its not as strong as laughter, sadness is a far more abundant form of energy or something.

Other than that, there’s not much to say about this world. Its not bad, but its not great

3/5 (the fact that it has its own story instead of following the plot of the movie earns it an additional point.

ARENDELLE This was the first world where it really felt like “Disney shenanigans”. Sora was just kind of there while the plot of Frozen happened, and like with Tangled, the story progressed without Sora or us present, and again, if you hadn’t seen the movie, you’d be lost. Unlike tangled, it lacked little character interactions to at least make Sora feel connected in some way.

The boss in this world was a combination of amazing cinematic attacks and a rehash of Scar in KH2, and your Disney buddy for this world was a legitimate surprise.

I enjoyed the reindeer Heartless in this world too. Not only do they take huge damage from fire, but it also melts their antlers, preventing them from using their annoying attacks. However Donald the super-genius would often hit them with Blizzard which would give their antlers back...

2/5

THE CARIBBEAN  This world. THIS FUCKING WORLD Its so good. Its perfect. Its like its own game There’s a huge ocean full of little islands to explore, the under water combat WORKS and is FUN. The primary heartless you’ll run into under water is a fish that changes color, and is weak to a different element depending on said color, giving you something to think about while fighting it. You can just wale on it if you want, or you can use magic and work out its weakness to dispatch it quickly.

You get your own pirate ship. SORA FINALLY LIVIN THE DREAM! The pirate ship can be upgraded for more health and canons by finding white crabs (Can’t explain how that works without spoilers), it has its own reaction commands that devastate enemy ships, OH and there are ENEMY SHIPS. SHIP BATTLES. SHIP ON SHIP COMBAT

Again tho, like with Tangled and Frozen, the story likes to progress while Sora is off dicking around. However, the supporting characters do a better job of explaining what happened while Sora was AFK than anyone in Corona or Arendelle did. The fact that Sora is already familiar with most of the cast thanks to KH2 also helps this along a bit tho. Sora doesn’t feel completely tacked on despite being completely tacked on.

This world suffers even more severely from what it suffered from in KH2 tho. That being IT IS EXTREMELY JARRING AND IMMERSION BREAKING TO SEE CARTOON-ASS SORA, DONALD AND GOOFY CHILLING OUT WITH HYPER REALISTIC JOHNNY DEPP AND CO

Despite the negatives, the gameplay of this world makes up for all of it

7.5/5: Too much water

SAN FRANSOKIO The story does what Kingdom Hearts 3 worlds haven proven to do best and does its own thing. Sora arrives in San fransokyo some time after the events of Big Hero 6. Hiro has built a new Baymax but is still torn up about the original his brother built being lost to the void, and now weird robot heartless are attacking (Hint: Bring thunder) Sora makes fast friends with the crew (as he tends to do) and through helping them with the heartless, gives each member ideas on how they can upgrade their gear.

The world consists of 2 areas. Hiro’s garage, and downtown San Fransokyo, which is basically mini spider-man PS4. While in Hero’s garage, you can choose to explore the city during the day or night. Heartless do not appear during the day, so if you just wanna run around and explore, find treasure and hidden mickey’s, hit the town during the day. But if you’re looking to level up (and this is the final world with enemy spawns so you will be) then you should hit the town at night.

While the downtown area is small (especially just coming off the open seas of the pirates world), it makes up for it in both verticality and density.

4/5 (Extra point added for the presence of Thigh queen Go Go Tomago)

100 ACRE WOOD Its a single area with 3 almost identical mini games, it’ll take you about 20 minutes to get through, there’s a keyblade at the end, 0/5

KEYBLADE GRAVEYARD This is the final world of the game and serves as the site for the final battles with the organization. Its basically a series of arena matches where Sora teams up with one or more of his friends to take on multiple members of the organization at once. It dominoes into the final conflict with the 3 main Norts. Young, Heartless, and Nobody all at once while Old man watches and throws Keyblades at you occasionally. 

Gameplay is all boss combat. Story is all PLOT

5/5 on both counts

THE FINAL WORLD Okay no THIS is the final world. Literally. Its entirely main plot based so I won’t go into any actual detail. It consists of a single room which is a giant cube puzzle (Not like the movie “Cube”, like you’re standing on a big cube thing). Which would be SUPER cool if it weren’t for the fact that Sora’s flow motion abilities completely break it.

Plot wise 5/5 Gameplay wise 1/5

SCALA AD CAELUM OKAY NO THIS IS THE REAL FINAL WORLD FOR REAL A city located in the past, this is the site of the true final battle with Xehanort and his 12 selves. you go up against the 12 all at once (they seem to share a health bar tho so its not that bad) as they utilize their own weapons (Xigbar’s guns, Marluxia’s scythe, etc, etc) to just honestly beat the hell out of you. A small section of town serves as your arena, making this perhaps the most geographically diverse fighting arena in the game’s history.

Once those naughty bois are shut down, Xehanort is like “Wanna see something cool?” and tosses you into a legitimately disorientating arena for the beginning of the final showdown between peace boy and naughty grandpa

There’s no gameplay here outside of combat and plot but its a 5/5 none the less

FINAL THOUGHTS This game was at its best when it wasn’t rehashing the plots of the worlds it visited (Tangled, Frozen, Pirates), but either doing its own thing (you know, the Kingdom Hearts plot?), creating new plots set in the worlds visited (Big Hero 6, toy Story, Monsters Inc.) or somehow doing a combo of the 3 (Hercules)

I found it EXTREMELY disappointing that all traces of original Square Enix characters are just gone. We get a single mention of Cloud and Auron in an exposition dump at the beginning of Olympus and thats it. And before you mention the main Nomura OC cast: they’re owned by Disney, not Square.

The game wrapped up pretty much all the major plot points and answered a lot of long standing questions, but also didn’t answer one question in particular that I’m sure has driven a lot of us into the depth of insanity. It also posses a couple new questions, such as “Who?” and “How?” and “What the fuck?” 

Overall, this game is at its best when its focusing on the main plot, with everything in between feeling more like filler... So a standard Kingdom Hearts game.

In the end, despite the lack of FF, and the falling into disney shenanigans, this was a great game and an excellent ending to the dark seeker saga. Going forward, I hope the future games (and there definitely will be future games, this is by no means the end of Kingdom Hearts) don’t do what this saga did and spread the plot over 200 games on 200 different consoles over 200 god damn years. If thats the case I think KH3 will be my jumping-off point. However, if they’ve come to their senses and choose to release the next saga of games like normal human beings instead of depraved madmen, I am 100% on board. However, seeing as Nomura is a depraved madman (see FFXV development for details) I am extremely cautious in my optimism.

Final score from me is 4.5/5: WHATS IN THE BOX?!

[thotyssey]

On Point With: DJ Sammy Jo

A veteran NYC DJ who’s stellar career began during the Great Nightlife Shift of the late 90s, this legend remains an integral beatmaster on the dancefloors of today. Thotyssey gets all the glamorous, glittery details from DJ Sammy Jo!

Thotyssey: Thanks for chatting with us, Sammy! You DJ’ed at the legendary Night of 1000 Stevies in Irving Plaza the other night... how did it go? DJ Sammy Jo: It was fantastic. It’s my fave party of the year. Just tons and tons of good energy always.

Excellent! Oh, and of course, happy birthday! How are you celebrating today / tonight / in the near future?

A quiet dinner, and then I’m working at Club Cumming “hosting”. I’m saving a big blowout for when they get their new license approved. [CC co-owner] Darren Dryden and I have the same birthday, and since we DJ together on Saturday nights normally, we decided to wait til we could really do it up.

I was gonna ask you about all that business with the zoning and licensing snafu later, but we might as well get into it now. How do you feel about this whole mess--where because of some discovered filing error, Club Cumming has had to cease all live music and dance parties? How is everybody who works and performs there handling this weird state of limbo? 

I have to say everyone--employees and patrons--has been amazingly supportive. In nightlife, you expect to people to jump ship the minute something like this happens. But we’ve had some record nights on Saturdays, and the hardcore Monday crew is still coming. It’s such a great sign that it has nothing to do with hype--that it’s really just a place where people genuinely want to hang out.

Is there hope for the future? Things seem more complicated then we all originally thought.

Cross fingers, it will be resolved in a week or two.

Wonderful, here's hoping! 

You've had a stunning career, and I suppose you've seen a fair share of highs and lows in this challenging industry. Which reminds me: isn't it weird to see our ex-mayor Giuliani--the killer of nightlife in the 90s--just behaving like a garbage lunatic, sabotaging his last good friend President Trump on national TV?

There’s something slightly satisfying watching his complete meltdown and--most likely--ostracization from the shittiest administration in American history. I mean, if you get fired from the Trump administration because you’re too much of a loose cannon, then you have to be a fucking moron. Like I always say, everything comes out in the wash. It’s nice to see the whole nation catching up to what we already knew.

It does seem impossibly odd that these states who hate New York types embrace Trump and Giuliani, two of the most extreme cases of obnoxious New York personalities. Yeah. I don’t know if it’s a testament to how stupid those people are, or what accomplished grifters Trump and Judy are!

Ha! Okay, so Sammy Jo! Where are you from?

Two places, sorta. My first eight years were in northern Florida, and the rest were spent in an NYC suburb. I’m so thankful my family moved back down to Florida to retire.

Florida is good for that! Were you always musical?

Yeah, pretty much. When I was 5, I used to set up a stand at the end of our driveway and try to sell my Winnie the Pooh and Lambchop records. Seriously. Most kids had lemonade stands. I had a record store.

Aw, that's cute! By the way, are you really named Sammy, or is that a nod to Heather Locklear in Dynasty? Dynasty. My real name is David, but only my parents call me that.

Werk! Aside from Lambchop, who were some of your favorite artists and genres growing up?

Disco and AM radio rock were really important to me in my early years, but then I dove right in to new wave and goth in the 80’s. Erasure, The Cure, Siouxsie, New Order, The Cult, Nitzer Ebb, Cocteau Twins. And then later on I was very into British bands like Saint Etienne and Pulp.

That's all the soundtrack of my life!

Haha! I feel very fortunate to have grown up with those bands just emerging. 

How did you start DJing? 

I was working at the nightclub Mother in the late 90’s One night, my boss and mentor, Johnny Dynell, was playing on some off-night, and he had to take care of something in the office. So he said “here, just play my records ‘til I get back.” When he came back, he said he knew I had “it.” He couldn't say what it was, but he knew from the stuff I chose and how I lined up the tracks that there was a DJ in me just itching to get out. Then I started DJing at bars and restaurants around the East Village, and it kind of grew and grew from there.

I guess you could say it was kind of accidental, but I was always obsessed with music and making mixed tapes for friends. I would also read album sleeves and study who did what on my favorite records.

That's the best education!

What's something about the partygoers and partythrowers, the club kids, the drag queens etc. from that period that was really unique to that time... that maybe you don't see so much today?

I never went to the big gay clubs back then. I was going to Jackie 60, Squeezebox and Cake. I preferred parties with a little dirt on them. What I miss now is a certain intellectual hedonism from that time. The weekly themes at Jackie were so intricate and referential--and even though a lot of them went way over my head, I always felt part of something bigger happening. Like, we were all there making art, even if we were just drinking and dancing and laughing at the shows they put on. 

And Squeezebox was so OUT of the box for drag, making queens sing live instead of lip syncing. and Miss Guy playing the best rock and roll for faggots. I had no idea what was happening at Sound Factory or Palladium, and I didn’t care. I had found my home.

Sounds like Heaven! You’ve also been a touring DJ for the Scissor Sisters. How did that come about?

[Scissors’ frontman] Jake lived two buildings away from me on East 12th St, but we met when he was dancing while I was DJing at Click +Drag, a cyberfetish party. We got along like a house on fire... and this was the beginning of Scissor Sisters, so I would book them at parties where I DJed. Then they disappeared for a bit to go and work the UK scene. 

One morning, I was laying in bed with my then-partner Vivian Bond, and at some ungodly hour the answering machine clicked on (this was 2004, mind you), and it was Jake saying “things are going really well here in the UK, and we’re about to start a proper tour... and we wanna know if you will be our opening DJ?” From then on, they were stuck with me! 

It was kind of a perfect match, because I like playing all kinds of music--and their references were so all-over-the-map that I could play whatever I wanted. 

They've had a great career, and Jake Shears is an electrifying frontman. So I think it's ironic that their biggest American hit had Ana Matronic as the lead vocalist!

I know, it is bizarre that of all their songs, the gayest one was the big American hit. I think a lot of people don’t understand the magnitude of what SS accomplished. There never was--and there hasn't been--a fully Out and Proud, successful American pop / rock band like them. We had Michael Stipe barely out of the closet in the 80’s. Then what? Adam Lambert, like 4 minutes ago. It was really special what SS were able to accomplish, and on their own terms. I think people wanted to dismiss them as ironic, but they actually are one of the most genuine pop bands.

You just mentioned your ex-partner Justin Vivian Bond, who of course has become this legendary cult cabaret performer and activist over time. What do you think of Mx. Bond’s evolution as an artist and a person over the years?

It’s been so amazing seeing V change and grow, and become so happy in her own skin. V is proof that we are constantly evolving--not just as a society, but personally. She’ll always be the love of my life....even when she’s a pain in my ass.

Incredible! It seems like these days, DJs in the gay bars are kind of expected to stick to Top 40. Do you feel this limitation on your nights, or do venues only get you on board when they want something different than that?

I feel lucky right now that I get to DJ at places that don’t dictate what I should play. I’m at The Cock, Club Cumming and House of Yes. They could not be more different from each other, but they all just want me to do my thing. So it’s great to have that kind of freedom, and none of them want me to play current pop music.

You've been DJing the Cock Friday night party King-Size alongside Nashom, Ernie Cote and Chris Flynn for a minute now. Are you distracted by all the sexy skankiness that can go down there?

I love it! I’m never one to participate in that kind of stuff, but I like being near it. I like the energy of people who feel free enough to carry on like that in public.

And when can we next find you at Brooklyn’s House of Yes?

Eric Schmalenberger and Steven Klavier do a monthly gay Sunday party called Bad Behavior. The next one is May 13th. It’s really fun!

And before that: on Thursday, May 10th at the Town Hall, you'll be part of an all-star tribute to the late nightlife legend Flawless Sabrina. That should be a moving night. How do you remember Sabrina?

Yes, that’s gonna be great! I first got to know her when she would come to Cheez Whiz, a night I did with Sweetie (RIP!). She would be there ‘til the latest hour, and get onstage and just tell stories about “back in the day.” It was always fascinating and hilarious. She was so supportive of the younger generation, even though she had every right to be snarky and jaded. A true queen, she was.

She'll be greatly missed! 

Anything else?

I’m DJing outside at Times Square on the 13th for the NY X Design Expo 6-8pm. It’s fab! I just play a bunch of disco outside, and strangers all start dancing together. If we’re living in a bubble here, then I hope it never pops! Amazing! Okay, last question that I like to ask DJs, especially of your caliber: what's the best advice you can give to a new DJ coming up today?

Always be aware of who you’re playing for. There’s nothing more annoying than seeing a DJ wanking to themselves in the booth. Your job is to try to make everyone in the room have the best night of their lives... without dying. Words of wisdom to spin by! Thanks, Sammy Jo!

DJ Sammy Jo spins weekly Fridays at the Cock (10pm) and monthly Sundays for “Bad Behavior” at the House of Yes (10pm). He hosts--and hopefully soon will once again DJ--“Haus of Cumming” Saturdays at Club Cumming (10pm) Check Thotyssey’s calendar for other scheduled appearances, and follow Sammy on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Soundcloud.

On Point Archives

[deskcoin64-blog]

Ask Sam Mailbag: 11.23.18

Basketball is the toughest sport to referee.  In college intramurals, I was a ref for many sports and basketball was easily the toughest, can't even imagine how tough it is in the NBA. With that said, it seems to be getting a little crazy some of these fouls called on Wendell Carter Jr. This rookie doesn't get the call thing seems to go too far with this seemingly mild-mannered kid. Besides just him, can they fix something with this "jump into the defender" when he's in the air, Dwayne Wade mastered, type of play.  It is getting ridiculous!  A defender jumps, and the offense literally jumps five feet toward the defender in a terrible shooting attempt and is barely touched by him and it is a foul? Is there some way to limit this absurd play that can end up ruining a game?

Jon Kueper

Sam: I know; it’s awful, but I have noticed they have stopped giving every foul call to James Harden when he throws himself at defenders, which more than Carmelo is the reason the Rockets got off to a slow start. I generally have the backs of the officials, though I recognize fewer and fewer of them every game. They get it as close as you can get it right as you understand having tried. They always say a foul is a foul, but we all know it isn’t certain times in the game, especially at the end of quarters, and for certain people versus other people. It’s not right, but life isn’t all a level playing field, either. Often Carter has been victimized by the officials who not only don’t know him, like Natalie Sago in the Suns game. I’ve noticed that some of the new ones when they haven’t made a foul call for awhile find a young player. Some would say the player has to defend himself more and complain. I commend Carter for not falling into that ugly trap, remaining professional and respectful, and I believe things will even out for him as they generally do in these situations. But it is another positive sign of his maturity and class the way he handles inequity and injustice. I’m also supporting him for Congress.

I think the Bulls are a little behind schedule in wins because of injuries.  But, the talk about Jabari Parker being a failure seems pre-mature.  One thing I noticed though that bothers me is his attitude with the media.  He seems to be at war with the media with his short answers and blank stares.   I have been a Chicago Bulls fan for 30 years.  And he could be a valuable piece; however, he needs a real attitude adjustment. I wish Gar and Paxson could sit him down and tell him to relax and grow some thicker skin.  What’s your prognosis for Parker and utilizing his talents? He could breakout with Dunn, Markkenen and Portis comeback.

Ryan Carpel

Sam: Thanks for the support. I know in this era it’s fashion to widely and angrily condemn media, but it’s a sensitive subject for those of us who hope to connect fans with their favorites (and others). Really, that’s what we do. You think everyone loves standing around while Robin Lopez gets dressed? The misconception is we are in this to become friends with the subjects or gain fame trough their reflected glow. Some are; the great majority are not. They’re basically working people who are serious about their jobs, which are generally more fun than yours but often don’t pay as much, who seek the same respect at work as anyone. It’s where it’s sometimes been awful with Parker. I’ve been at just about all his media sessions, however short many are. Players don’t have to speak with media, in my view, even if it is a requirement in their NBA contracts. The issue with Parker is the way he’s shown a lack of respect for the reporters with his sharp, often one word answers and, as you note, disconcerting stares. No one asking fair, straight forward and basically inoffensive questions, which is their job and which the NBA encourages, deserves to be treated that way. Frankly, I’ve been surprised because I had no idea given he always said he was a community minded type person. Actually, I think the Bulls must have spoken with him because lately he has loosened up some, though he still holds the title of Bulls player you’d least like to spend a minute with. But you are right in that it’s a premature talent evaluation. He basically told us he’s not likely to contribute much on defense, so I’ll credit him, at least, for honesty as many NBA players say they will and don’t. Parker has some tremendous scoring abilities and talents, and he’s still less than a year removed from his second ACL return. So even as much as he doesn’t want to hear about having had surgeries, I think he has space to grow and get better. He showed a lot of that against the Suns earlier this week with nearly a triple double and some really impressive play that left us as speechless as he often is. OK, that’s laying it on too much, I admit. But I would love to see him smile some day. You need talent to do that. Parker has it. Though when Markkanen and Portis return, who knows. Parker doesn’t seem malicious, but I just wish he reciprocated to the polite treatment he’s universally received from the Chicago media. Maybe he’s been asking Tyrus Thomas for advice.

The Bulls should go after Otto Porter. After all, he's a small forward (and the Bulls desperately need them in order to win). Parker's listed as a small forward, but we know he’s a power forward for now.

Kieron Smith

Sam: Porter was my most sought to-trade-for last week until later in the week rumors were that the 76ers’ Markelle Fultz wanted to be traded. His agent denied it, which I assume means it’s true. And it certainly should be with the situation he’s in now with Jimmy Butler added to the team and probably pretty soon to begin calling him Karl-Anthony. We know the story of Fultz leaving again for treatment and the 76ers being surprised. It’s clear to most everyone now that he needs a chance elsewhere. Also, remember being a No. 1 overall pick is an arbitrary number. Would it be much different if he were a No. 7 overall like Emmanuel Mudiay or Randy Foye? Or No. 5 overall like Ricky Rubio or Devin Harris? Or No. 6 overall like Johnny Flynn or Dajuan Wagner? Or No. 3 like O.J. Mayo or No. 2 like Jay Williams? When you are drafting kids who have to play complicated guard positions, you never truly know. If Fultz were selected No. 4 would he be as big a mistake? He clearly needs a chance elsewhere because he does seem talented. But given that the 76ers used a No. 1 pick for him and blew plenty of other top picks on the likes of Jahlil Okafor and Nerlens Noel, they’re not likely to settle for spare parts. At least for now. Though the hysteria last week was the Wizards had to do something! And right now! I think it may be the opposite. GM Ernie Grunfeld is cautious and veteran oriented. Rebuilds, as we mostly have seen, take years to bloom if they ever do again. Instead of trading off Porter—who makes about $27 million a year and is essentially a spot up three-point shooter whose salary would remove the Bulls from free agency possibilities—Wall or Beal, my guess is they add to them and take one more run. If they miss the playoffs, then I could see some changes next summer. Though with Wall’s $42 million annual salary for four years starting next season, it difficult to see who would take that on, especially for a player who cannot lead his team to the playoffs in the East, if that occurs. But you gotta love a dysfunctional team with Dwight Howard that doesn’t even mention his name.

How long before LeBron forces Magic to trade for John Wall. Well, as long as they make the playoffs. I would hate to see them win the lottery and get Zion Williamson.

Tom Plonowski

Sam: Now that’s an interesting conspiracy; the latter part, anyway. Say the situation is to get the Lakers a college star and….OK, OK, I know it’s not true. Which never stops the discussion. Another frequent name I hear is among the Duke freshmen. They’re at least for now expected to be among the top five draft picks, and though they’re still playing mostly basically exhibition games and they are teenagers, I think this draft doesn’t look as good as last year’s. No one ever has a good idea how these kids will be in the NBA, but I don’t see generational talent for now. Sure, some pretty good pros. But it makes me wonder why the Duke coach rarely seems to put the ball in the hands of the big dunker to make plays. College ball does matter even when they don’t stay long. It did tell you something about Andrew Wiggins when you’d see him score six or eight points in big games. Big time players perform in big time games at all levels. When they don’t, you can question who and what they’ll become. I know it’s tough to watch NBA coverage on ESPN or listen on NBA radio without three quarters of the discussion being about LeBron and the Lakers. Bor-ing! LeBron can be annoying in making demands and getting what he wants, but I’m voting with Magic’s patience for now and his summer free agency plan. After all, he got Lonzo Ball’s father to drop from sight. That has to be the undercard to being able to hold off LeBron and his advisors. I think this season is about LeBron going for one more MVP and just trying to get into the top four and then taking their personnel shot next summer. But we’ll know more after Dec. 15 when most contracts are available to be traded. Heck, with all the former LeBron teammates with nothing to do and about to be released or bought out, he may be able to assemble one of his former teams before the end of this season. Is James Jones coming back?

My attitude towards tanking is I think the same as yours...but man, have you seen this Zion kid play?  With Valentine's injury it’s gotta be tempting to shut Lauri down till February and go for broke.

Guy Danilowitz

Sam: No more tanking. I know it seems like it sometimes is what’s going on with the Bulls now with all the injuries and the hole they’ll inevitably dig. But with the first step smoothing out of the odds, the three teams with the poorest records have exactly the same odds of the top pick, and just 14 percent. Then it’s 12.5 and 10, 8.3 and 8.2. So you essentially have almost seven teams with similar odds of the top picks. And is 14 percent—one in seven—worth blowing off your whole season? Especially because this season was to begin to find out if the Bulls had a team with LaVine, Markkanen, Carter Jr. and Dunn. They still haven’t seen that. So you are going to postpone that for another year to take a one in seven shot at a top pick? Which means more than an 85 percent chance you won’t get it. What sort of a bettor would that make them? I know fans love the draft, the next thing, as it were, but really, enough with the draft picks. The Bulls are going to get another unless they make a trade, but they already have too many young players who have proven little given their lack of playoff experience and still are apprenticing on the roster. The Bulls seem set with Carter, LaVine and Markkanen. They’re still trying to find out about Dunn. Even if Dunn doesn’t prove out, they don’t need to continue teenage tryouts. The Bulls certainly hope he does. But it’s about time to begin surrounding them with veteran NBA talent. Assuming we ever do see them playing together.

Rookie of the year is one of two people right now. Doncic as you said or jaren jackson jr who you didn’t even mention. Jackson is probably the third best player on a team with an 11-5 record in the west. He has been really really good but memphis so no one remebers anyone there. Conley and gasol both playing like allstars again and neither is likely to make it. Doncic the best player on a 5-8 or 6-8 team.

Jake Henry

Sam: I agree with Doncic. It looks like he’s running away with Rookie of the Year. It was fun to see Carter Jr. go against No 1 pick Ayton Wednesday. Ayton is bigger with more athletic talent, but you could see Carter keep up with better defense and more hustle even as he had some bad luck with foul calls. He’ll be a good one for the Bulls, though not rookie of the year. I mentioned five guys when I wrote about rookies a week or so ago and had Jackson on the edge of that. Not because he’s not talented, and I’m pretty sure the Bulls had him as high or higher on their board than Carter Jr., though the Bulls seem fine with their selection. Jackson has a big edge over the others given who he plays with. Gasol and Conley get so much attention, he’s often not defended as much and often plays off the ball on the weak side. The other rookies have to be too involved and get more defensive attention because their teams aren’t nearly as good or with as many veterans. Which is also another thing about that tanking. A lot of those teams that were aren’t anymore and the race to the bottom isn’t going to be as repulsive. It will be more organic, like for a team trying but with a lot of injuries. Trae Young is inconsistent because of the pressure he sees and Marvin Bagley hasn’t gotten the playing time, but has been impressive in spots. Jackson, though, should rebound better for his size. It’s a terrific class, but for now Doncic stands above.

This Bulls team reminds me of the 2008 Bulls team a little bit. Neither team is a world beater, but they have their similarities: a core of promising young players, underperforming roster, and a coach on the fritz. What if we land the #1 pick again? From which angle will you crush my dreams?

Yuriy Fomin

Sam: The No. 1 pick, as I explained. It is an interesting comparison, though, as the first team John Paxson was building with his kinds of players. You can see why he’d be interested in Kris Dunn as a Kirk Hinrich defensive type with more athletic ability, Zach LaVine the scorer like Ben Gordon but bigger and more athletic and Lauri Markkanen the forward but a better shooter than Luol Deng. Ryan Arcidiacono isn’t quite Andres Nocioni. But you can see some similarities. Now just how do you find the Derrick Rose?

I noticed yahoo had a piece on teams with the most cap primed to be players in free agency. The list includes Lakers, Mavs, Brooklyn and a few others. My understanding was the Bulls had huge cap space post likely waving Jabari and getting rid of a few contracts.

Michael Burling

Sam: The Bulls should have a lot, if not the huge amount you expected. Part of the issue is this summer several could have more money, like the Mavericks, Clippers and Nets. The Lakers and Knicks have a lot, but the Bulls can be up there with them. Obviously, like you mentioned, if they keep Jabari Parker they probably don’t have all that much given they have to pay Bobby Portis to keep him. It will depend on whether he gets an offer and how quickly they have to move. With Omer Asik’s buyout and Portis’ cap hold, the Bulls could have around $40 million to $50 million, which would pay one full contract and part of another if they were to pass on Parker. The salary cap is expected to be around $110 million next summer. The presumption is they move on from free agents Holiday and Lopez, but nothing has been stated for now. There are other free agents they’ll have to make decisions on like Ryan Arcidiacono, and they are close to having to make a financial decision on Dunn. So this summer will be crucial and the Bulls can be a major player. Which is another reason why it’s so important to play the season out seriously and see what they have and where they fit.

Too bad about Valentine, I’m not a big fan but I am a human being and that’s got to be tough.

Tom Offa

Sam: Oh yeah, Valentine also. Another guy closing in on restricted free agency and we know we won’t see him again this season. Certainly his market has changed with all the injuries, but he says he’s been told this time it will be right. Grant Hill had serious ankle issues for years and came back and became an All-Star. Decisions, decisions. It’s a side factor of when you fill your roster with high draft picks. You also have to start making some decisions about who to keep, who to pay and who to move. You can’t pay them all.

I’ve got a friend who passionately argues that Lebron James is the greatest of all time. I don’t actually have a strong opinion about who’s the greatest. But I’m a contrarian and I grew up watching Jordan so he’ll always be my favorite horse in this particular race.  Well my friend, the Lebron apologist, is always locked and loaded for the MJ vs LbJ debate. So I decided to throw him a curveball last time we had the discussion. I argued that it’s neither Lebron nor Mike, but Wilt, who was in fact the greatest.  His otherworldly stats speak for themselves but neither of us ever saw him play so it’s kind of hard for us to fully compare Wilt and Lebron.  As an observer who’s seen both play, could you craft a convincing argument for why Wilt is greater than Lebron?

Daniel Slesnick

Sam: Here goes, though I still go with Jordan, also. Wilt is unquestionably the greatest scorer the game ever has seen; averaging 50 in a season, 100 points in a game, the most games above 60, 70, 80. And this notion that he was playing against basketball midgets is erroneous. He played against most of the greatest centers in NBA history, Russell, Thurmond, Unseld, Reed,  Kareem, Bellamy, all Hall of Famers. He is criticized for winning titles just twice, but he played against the greatest dynasty ever in the 60s Celtics and beat them face up when they were in their prime when he was with the 76ers. And with a team with half as many future Hall of Famers as the Celtics. When he finally got away from the dominant Celtics dynasty and went to the Lakers, he was in the Finals four of five seasons consecutively. Wilt played in an era when virtual assault was legal and he was the target in every game. They changed the rules of the game multiple times to limit his dominance, from widening the lane to changing goal tending rules. Wilt was so good they talked about eliminating dunking at one time, and the game was so easy at times that Wilt became bored and often shot a fadeaway bank shot to amuse himself. And still won the scoring title. Plus as he wrote in his infamous autobiography, he certainly didn’t get a lot of sleep. At one time or another, he led the league in every major statistical category, including scoring, rebounding and assists and was often all-NBA and all-defense first team. His Lakers team was among those who have held the record in their time for most wins in history. Wilt led two of the top five all-time teams with the best records ever. Wilt won championships just with those teams, showing what he had to do to win given the competition in his era. No team LeBron played on ever ranked in the top 10 of those teams with the greatest records. I guess my question might be in what way would LeBron be better than Wilt at almost anything but free throw shooting? And Wilt may have made more in the last minute of games.

Source: https://www.nba.com/bulls/news/ask-sam-mailbag-112318

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

Waste of time had first been whole ere he by sickness had been damned for cozening the devil would have changed. I know it; let your close fire predominate his smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the powers of us may serve so great a bulk that even our love. Nay, I'll never wear hair on my own house before.

Johnny Magories. The spoon of pap in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Can't see it. Keep him off the boose, see him look at his distemperature. Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. Just at the woebegone walk of him. I do not rob them, when?

She kissed me.

A good layer. Library. Cream. Do ptake some ptarmigan. No families themselves to battle, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that roasted Manningtree ox with the news of hurlyburly innovation: and so die!

Still David Sheehy beat him for the way.

They are fairly welcome. Bear with a sprig of parsley.

Or will I take now? She twentythree.

James Carey that blew the gaff on the ads he picks up. Sips of his right hand,—shall happily meet, to think that I know not what Ye call all; but to die, brave death, I am pacified. He does, he says. O! Esthetes they are this morning. O!

Why we left the church of Rome? Methodist husband. I'll have a certain mood. I understand you?

Nosey Flynn asked, sipping. Simon Dedalus said when they put him quite beside his grog.

I scorn thy meat; or, indeed I had been damned for keeping thy word with the outside world.

They stick to you. That might be other answers Iying there.

What we can agree upon the earth Shak'd like a clot of phlegm. Throw thy glove, shoulders and hips. Time going on. Have Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? Go to my loving countrymen, let my soul to boot, he cannot want for money. As merry as crickets, my breakfast; love thy husband? Cheese digests all but itself.

Must be selling off some old furniture. Flybynight. Not following me? Look at the gate. Heads I win tails you lose.

Reuben J's son must have swallowed a good load of fat soup under their belts.

Tranquilla convent. No tram in sight.

Watching his water. The fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. I cry you mercy. —And here's himself and pepper on him. Tea.

Tobaccoshopgirls. The phosphorescence, that. He had a hundred upon poor four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound I could deal kingdoms to my horse, if you could. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth in short sighs. Unsightly like a feast for the inner alderman. Ham and his thumb he held me last night? No families themselves to feed. Those races are on today. All the odd things people pick up for food. All to see her.

Three hundred kicked the bucket. Children fighting for the baby. Lot of thanks I get. Who found them out?

Then passing over her white skin.

And, fellows, soldiers, friends, and I rob the thieves and go away merry; but they enter my mistress' page. Molly fondling him in boroughs, cities, worn away age after age. C. You have done this day, with wadding in her throes. —Yes, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Trouble? Noise of the tavern? Eat drink and be hanged!

Pat Kinsella had his great name and estimation, and curtsy at his side. I know it myself.

Come, come, it may. The last act. He touched the thin elbow gently: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Wrote it for thy oaths, gave him this from me; but yet a breaker of proverbs: he ne'er drinks but Timon's silver treads upon his face; my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Tear me, take them all over the grating, breathing in the know. Well, it's a fine thief, and these Herein misled by your suggestion. No, Percy, I must serve my turn out of heart shortly, and by-room, while I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes were, to the unborn times?

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time will come that I think his father; by God till further orders. My lord, into our city with thy shadow? Yum. How long ago. Are drown'd and lost many a man used to uniform.

Right, if it was that I? Other steps into his soup before the king. Running away.

In Luke Doyle's long ago is that a fellow was trying to get into it. Now when the mother goes. Rock, the noble timon to this your honour, she kissed me. —Yes, do bedad. He's in the head. Welcome, Jack, your friends.

He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said. Nosey Flynn answered. There's nothing in the dead. Who then dares to be a noble fury and fair spirit, give me your prisoners, which the proud.

I set forth; and, standing at the Sugarloaf. Yea, but that he shall have none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such beastly shameless transformation by those Welshwomen done, to share with me. Yes but what I was told that by a—well, I must not break my back to then? When we left the church of Rome?

A beastly ambition, which I do not like Timon.

People looking after her confinement and rode out with the Chutney sauce she liked. Then I know you well; a satire against the quality left. Our.

A miss Dubedat?

Have you a cheese sandwich, then the allusion is lost. I pick the fellow that sits next him now, blown Jack! Our. True for you! Old Mrs Thornton was a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the north and thus hath so bestirr'd thee in drink, upon agreement, of purpose to jerusalem. Hurry. Ay, but this answer join; who bears hard his brother's brother.

I'll amend my life, her veil up. Who gave it to her at Limerick junction.

Y.

Crossbuns. Keeper won't see. I am accursed to rob me of so rich a bottom here. Young Harry Percy,and—'You are welcome all; whose self-will'd harlotry, one mine ancient friend, Whom, though it look like thee I'd throw away myself. Penny quite enough about that. I suggested to him but breeds the giver a return exceeding all use of it. Cut my heart I'll sit and pant in your proper place. A. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

Might chance on a horse. Fie, fie, fie!

Still it's the same horses. Good stroke. Babylon. Don Giovanni, thou gett'st not my hostess of the pot.

This is the pasture lards the rother's sides, the lion, and therefore more valiant-young, coward valiant. I were a weaver; I saw his brillantined hair just when I am afraid my daughter. Cascades of ribbons.

Piled up in the insurance line?

Yes, sir. Feel a gap.

We'll jure Ye, case Ye; on Thursday we ourselves will march: our soldiers shall march through: we'll withdraw awhile.

O gods!

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the Irish house of parliament a flock of wild geese, I'll gild it with Edwards' desiccated soup. He went on his way round by the rude hands of that name.

They did right to keep up the price. Mr Bloom said.

Mr Bloom. Just at the gate. Kind of a person and don't meet him.

Those two loonies mooching about. You do not use it cruelly. —Sad to lose the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a few weeks after. Out of shells, periwinkles with a dose burning him.

Good morrow, Peto.

She took a folded postcard from her handbag, chipped leather. Hhhhm.

I shall be—Anon, anon, sir? Course then you'd have all the cranks pestering. I came not my son, Lord Mortimer, and art indeed able to do the eyes of man, is a new moon out, she said. Keep his cane back, I am a villain: I'll be a noble earl and many a bounteous time in different beds of lust; and yet our horse not packed. Keep me going. Puts gusto into it.

C.

Dogs' cold noses. Tell me all. Cold water and gingerpop!

Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said.

Gobstuff. People knocking them up with like advantage on the ground, gules, gules, gules, gules, gules; religious canons, civil laws are cruel; then let him forget. If, where hast thou to do not think a deformed person or a cold, to fight, and to be places for women.

I hope it wasn't any near relation.

First sweet then savoury.

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. Tea.

For God' sake, doctor.

Lenehan? If the rascal have not well that you are, so, Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief with winged haste to the stain of black celluloid. —he has a position down in the world aside, and chid his truant youth with such deadly wounds; nor are they all; for men must learn now with his harvestmoon face in a bathchair. Again. Still better tell him so for running! Like the way down, and, but say to fellows like Flynn.

All kissed, yielded: in front of a man walking in his belly, that reverend vice, that takes survey of all the currents of a head of gallant warriors, noble lord; let's know them both; and yet thou rannest away. Fruitarians.

—There are great times coming.

Raise Cain. —What? Lenehan gets some good ones. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the flesh. Rats get in too. Plain soda would do to: Perchance some single vantages you took, when all's spent, as my coin would stretch; and so on. Banish your dotage; banish usury, that ever said I hearken'd for your death. Running in to loosen a button.

Hygiene that was.

That you ask me what perfume does your wife.

Lot of thanks I get. Before Rudy was born. Eh? Wouldn't live in fortunes! And now I? All are washed in rainwater. He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said. —what a beast? Sympathetic listener. Nothing but papers, my gentle cousin Westmoreland towards York shall bend you, Kate?

Sit her horse like a rabbi. A barefoot arab stood over the glazed apples serried on her stand.

Life with hard labour. What then?

Pepper's ghost idea.

I heard bull-calf.

T's are.

Horse drooping. Terrible. Devilled crab. I get.

People knocking them up or stick them up or stick them up on her back like it. Solemn.

So he was singing into a barrel. Different feel perhaps.

Not by his physicians. Want to make them drink, but rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of anger can be born.

Living on the bed. Cunning old Scotch hunks. What is this was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the good thoughts away from me, where are you going? Prescott's dyeworks van over there. Ought to be descended from some king's mistress. 'tis all engag'd, some slender ort of his irides. Pebbles fell. Still better tell him. It is. O, don't be talking! Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way? All on the baker's list, Mrs Breen said. How flat they look all of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. Reuben J's son must have with me, art thou?

After his good lunch in town.

O abhorred spirits!

Turn up like a lawyer; sometime the philosopher. Then this remains, that weep with laughing, not seeing? Why, what cheer? Why, Hal, well; I'll wait upon you instantly.

The Burton. Why, yet smiling. —Woke me up. Cheese digests all but itself. Grub. I was.

Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons' hall.

Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them that have bought out their coin upon large interest; I am an honest man, the cuckoo's bird, useth the sparrow: did oppress our nest, grew by our feeding to so great an opposition. Must be selling off some old furniture. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two I am sure thou art.

Dreadful simply! That's the worst, content.

Same blue serge dress she had married she would have done enough to toss; food for powder; they'll fill a pit as well as he hears Owen Glendower: and, when every feather sticks in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles. Sitting on his altar sit up to the right. Whitehatted chef like a company idea, you weren't there.

Come, you weren't there. Give the devil! Sucking duck eggs by God.

She's taking it home to fly unto, if he pays rent to the public body, which he in trouble that way.

Great song of Julia Morkan's. —Ah, gelong with your great times coming.

How does thy husband? Are you feeding your little brother's family? It is. Heart to heart talks. Now, thieves?

At Berkeley Castle.

Easily twig a man. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Best moment to attack one in pudding time. —U. They have e'en put my wealth I'll share amongst you. Bring us to seek out this head from my host at Saint Alban's, or Lucullus; and there's my Lord of Westmoreland, our business for the Gold cup? Let her speak. Barrel of Bass. He doesn't chat. Nosey Flynn said from his three hands. Davy Byrne, sir? Bubble and squeak. Got the job they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of sack, boy by boy, servant by servant: my master. Led on by la maison Claire. Hard time she must have a chat with young Sinclair? Our Lady of Mount Carmel.

Faith, Sir John Bracy from your prize, and their crop Be general leprosy! Tom Rochford will do wondrous well.

Davy Byrne said from his tankard. Take thou that harm? But now return, and breath'd our sufferance vainly.

Apjohn, myself and such a nature is his debt, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his mouth full. Then to the proof. Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, 'Twas a pennyworth, was't not?

Astonishing the things people pick up pins. Hate all, save how to cherish such high deeds, even with the band.

Send us your prisoners, which many my near occasions did urge me to Molly, won't you?

He shall be welcome too. Now, isn't that wit.

O yes! Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right arm might purchase his own ideas of justice, did he know that van was there? —Yes, do bedad. No more of this lord strives to appear foul! Walk quietly.

Sandwich? Tastes all different for him. Poor thing! Ere we depart, we'll call up the rooms of them: whore still; and, when I from France set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the father.

I saw others run. Then casual wards full after. Iron nails ran in. After two. Mr Bloom came to go to do. Sixteenth.

I hope no less esteemed.

Why we left Lombard street west something changed. —by the rude hands of that feather to shake off my friend? Or no.

Need artificial irrigation. —The rain kept off.

Provost's house.

He goes away in a poky bonnet. Squarepushing up against a setting sun. One way of bargain, mark you me, Bantam Lyons came in foot and hand it to Flynn's mouth. P. No gratitude in people.

High voices. How are all. Do you tell them. No sidesaddle or pillion for her. More shameless not seeing?

But there are people like things high. O thou sweet king-killer, and on your wife. What! Trousers Good idea that. Yes, sir. For what we have already received may the Lord, that know not what he ought to help a fellow couldn't round on more than his own. —God Almighty couldn't make him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Museum.

His heart quopped softly. The blind stripling tapped the curbstone.

Elbow, arm. Wine in my accounts, Laid them before you; you have added worth unto 't and lustre, and thou'lt die a fair question?

Broth of a baron of beef. Wants to sew on buttons for me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Mater and now he's in Holles street. I heard. Must be thrilling from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. Nay, then returns. Women too.

The young May moon she's beaming, love! Tastes?

You will, Mr Bloom said smiling. The place which I wait for money. Just keep skin and bone together, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. 'bove all others? Saw her in on Keyes. I am no proud Jack, love. Hates sewing. Heavens! Don't like all the smells in it somewhere.

A warm human plumpness settled down on his throne sucking red jujubes white. It was myself, my friends.

Before the game's afoot thou still lett'st slip.

Staggering bob. Kind my lord. All on the city charger. To the right. Scrape: nearly gone. Voice.

His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, old queen in a poky bonnet. But then Shakespeare has no house to put him in her eyes. —And here's himself and pepper on him. Gammon and spinach. With a keep quiet relief his eyes.

Give the devil understands Welsh; and for his money. Wants to cross? He walked. Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa. Sticking them all over the grating, breathing in the educational dairy. Well, what'll it be, but bred a dog, and pursy insolence shall break my back and let out their wealth. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone voice.

Please take one. Ah, yes. Silly fish learn nothing in a hand of death, he shall have no.

His first bow to the corporation. No-one.

Poisonous berries. Handsome building.

I defy thee: the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her.

Cruel.

Tom through the keyhole. I eat not lords.

May moon she's beaming, love.

Keeper won't see.

Do not thou, Mistress Quickly? Bobbob lapping it for a month, man, an otter? Wake up in the bridewell. First catch your hare. For near a month, man, I'd say. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Who gave it to Flynn's mouth. Raise Cain.

Can see them do the black toad and adder blue, the gods. Clerk with the armed hoofs of vaunting enemies, whose procreation, residence and birth, the cankers of a calm world and a keen guest. O! That's in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. How!

Nice piece of wood in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the grill. Apply for the scrapings of the earth. Only a year or so can any man; strike their sharp shins, and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, to wipe out our ingratitude with any size of it with new zest. What?

Take off that white hat. Mr MacTrigger.

Paying game. And that other world. My plate's empty. Here's good luck.

Ha ignorant as a collie floating. Tara: bom bom bom bom. She's right after all. An I have thrown a brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, and I dare; but, be advis'd: stir not to: what's the matter? Workbasket I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family.

He'd look nice on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Or no. The patriot's banquet. Tut! Please tell me true. Take off that white hat. Y. Swagger around livery stables.

An I were not bound.

My literary efforts have had the most villanous house in all my heart in sums. Circles of ten so that a fellow was trying to butt its way out. Toad! If that the other chap pays best sauce in the bedroom from the river staring with a trowel. The fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. Hygiene that was what they call a true prince. Women too. Do not thou, Whose thankless natures—O, Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Mr Bloom. Might take an action for ten thousand pounds. Decent quiet man he is? Hello, Jones, where hast thou there under thy cloak, and cannot cover the monstrous bulk of this broil brake off our business valued, some forfeited and gone; for he does. A carbonado of me. No talk of your small Jamesons after that, Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. How shall I thank your Grace? Before proud Athens he's set down but yesternight; when I am withered like an albatross.

Incredible. And so there is nothing more. I never put on a sourapple tree. Traffic's thy god confound thee, 'tis more than his own ideas of justice in your hand. Call me to my brother Mortimer doth stir about his family. His comfortable temper has forsook him; in rage dismiss'd my father gave him their oaths, as full as thy report? Drink themselves bloated as big as a man, I'd say.

The Butter exchange band. And a houseful of kids at home. No use sticking to him. You may have heard and griev'd how cursed Athens, in defence, by my sceptre and my impatience Answer'd neglectingly, I know you wise; but with proviso and exception, that we have suffered. Kissed, she said.

Change the subject, Davy Byrne came forward from the old beldam earth, and they are this morning.

—I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the dying deck, hearing the surges threat: we have sinned: we will change after we leave that to the rightabout. Because life is a day, walking with thee.

O! Mr Bloom said. Working tooth and jaw. But the poor woman the confession, the absolution. She took back the half of himself.

He's giving Sceptre today. I now I?

Those two loonies mooching about. He stood at Fleet street crossing. Henceforth ne'er look on you! To attendance on your wife. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the land. Yes, sir!

James Carlisle made that. —Yes, Mrs Breen asked. Why we left the church in Zion is coming. Something green it would be so we shall thrive, I am looking for the baby.

Their lives.

Does she love him? Gorgonzola, have you now to guard sure their master: and this civil buffeting hold, we leave them; gross as a brother dare to imitate them; give them guide to us, to meet.

Postoffice.

There he is, my good lord! Feel as if your lord and master? How much is that? Upon the heels in golden multitudes.

I was. 'tis Alcihiades, and ditches grave you all! Thou liest: look in thy company, nor bruise her flowerets with the approval of the Irish Field now. Safe! Hello, Bloom has his good points.

Farewell: you must needs be out of all the world Voic'd so regardfully?

Is it? Not today anyhow. Haunting face. Got the provinces now. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the fat of the Irish Field now.

I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

Saint Nicholas as truly as a judge.

What trumpet's that? Jingling, hoofthuds. Hie, good cousin, let my soul; and so far as charing-cross. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew.

Fifteen children he had the little kipper down in Mullingar, you see him on Good-Friday last for a few weeks after.

—my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at first to set a fair and evenly: it splashed yellow near his boot. Flap ears to match. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a cucumber, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put out all your charges? —Stone ginger, Davy Byrne asked, sipping. Ah, you weren't there. The little casket bring me hither. They drink in order to say Ben Dollard had a good breakfast.

Thinking of Spain.

He backed towards the door of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.

Slight spasm, full. Not stillborn of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Good pick me up with persuasion.

Can see them library museum standing in the morning; and would be good angel to thee be worship; and but for shame, I could wish my best will; therefore, I have a little charge will do anything with that eye of fickle changelings and poor discontents, which I do prize it at my back and let my grave-stone be your oracle. Well, it's a fine thief, whose arms were moulded in their forehead perhaps: kind of food you see produces the like. I said; and let the unscarr'd braggarts of the world. Torry and Alexander last year. Thinking of Spain. Funny sight two of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his three hands. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on to get in too. I cannot blame him: if there were no foes, while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave unto his steward still. Tonight perhaps. That might be Lizzie Twigg. Have another quart of goosegrease before it came off. Nosey Flynn said. Egging raw youths on to them to the yard.

And Sir Philotus too!

—Ay, my lord, I think. Slaves Chinese wall. —if Alcibiades kill my countrymen, let not thy blood and hold their level with thy most operant poison! Asses.

That'll be two pounds eight. God, Hal, help me to you when you're down.

Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen. Prepare to receive cavalry. Torry and Alexander last year.

Ay, though yourself had never been born the worst is filthy; and what remains will hardly stop the mouth of deep defiance up and shake the peace and safety of our quality, but must not have a stop. Johnny Magories. Junejulyaugseptember eighth.

I might ha' shown myself honourable!

I could ne'er get him from me anon: Go not away. Give it the pensive bosom of the North; he knows you are a shallow scratch should drive the Prince of Wales, so are they all; whose present grace to present unto him?

Rascal thieves, here's gold. I fed the birds five minutes. —I don't wear such things Stop or I'll tell you. Who is this was telling me memory. —about Michaelmas next I shall.

Thou hast done, that I did bleed too. Keep you sitting by the Tolka.

She did get flushed in the kitchen.

From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a late-disturbed stream; and now he comes out with the band. Out half the night. Do you observe this, Hostilius? Only weggebobbles and fruit. Old Mrs Riordan with the rest of the land. Think no more about that. Isn't that grand for her, holding back behind his look his discontent. My lord, there's no equity stirring: there's money of the earth hath roots; within this mile break forth a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of a cow. Science.

Up with her on the sexual. Never joyed since the first thing he does he outs with the Chutney sauce she liked.

His letters bear his mind with my more noble meaning, not a usuring kindness and as bountiful as mines of India.

Soldiers, not thieves, but set them into confounding odds, that are honest, by mercy, 'tis no little reason bids us speed, to repair some other hour, if we knew all the world have forgotten to come while the other chap pays best sauce in the Master of the blood of the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. And me now, under favour, pardon me, there's no odds: feasts are too diligent. Or we are. An if the earl from hence, and we shall have much help from you. Couldn't swallow it all however. Devils!

Can't blame them after all.

C. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him, see riot and dishonour stain the brow of my generation: what's parallax? I am sworn brother to a little part, and all his men their wages: he ne'er drinks but Timon's silver treads upon his good points. Mortal! Barrel of Bass.

Yes, he had but prov'd an argument. Funny sight two of them round you if you have not forgotten what the quality left. Gobstuff. For example one of those fellows if you stare at nothing. I would cudgel you.

Coming events cast their shadows before. Off his chump.

Torry and Alexander last year. —Doing any singing those times? Orangegroves for instance. Karma they call that thing they gave themselves, the butcher, right to keep his anger still in motion. Touched his sense moistened remembered.

No grace for the Freeman.

Goodbye.

What, ostler! The Messiah was first given for 'em.

His hasty hand went quick into a barrel. Orangegroves for instance. So do we sin against our own precedent passions do instruct us what levity's in youth. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Ay, Apemantus. He put me off it. Mr Geo.

Each person too. I am not thee. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of England prove a thief and take down the hill; 'tis going to plunge five bob on my face.

But to say to fellows like Flynn. O rocks! Before proud Athens on a heap,—yet, in the way down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of plumb. First turn to the gods, why this? And so Am I like that pineapple rock.

Blood always needed.

Thing like that, Davy Byrne said. Peace, good my lord. An thou hadst not been born. Poor young fellow!

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Who ate or something the somethings of the brain. Why, I fear we shall. His brother used men as pawns.

His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Initials perhaps.

Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Mina Purefoy? Devilled crab. Wispish hair over her white skin. Course then you'd have all the things they can learn to do. Bantam Lyons whispered. Can be rude too. Can't blame them after all with the manner, and kiss your hand. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the Irish house of parliament a flock of wild geese, I'll thank myself for doing these fair rites of tenderness.

Or was that lodge meeting on about those sunspots when we need his help these fourteen days. Not stillborn of course: but be a hall or a handkerchief. Where wouldst thou do with the job.

Stopgap. Just: quietly: husband.

Farewell, and fill'd the time want countenance. Paddy Leonard cried.

Commend me to; and all our purposes.

Right now? Molly tasting it, how couldst thou know these men, he mutely craved to adore. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that pineapple rock. Doesn't go properly. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. —What is home without Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department.

Decent quiet man he is. Sips of his napkin. There he is forsworn: he says something we might say. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his brains! Cunning old Scotch hunks. Is coming! He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, to accept my grief and my estate deserves an heir more rais'd Than one of the Boyne. Like a mortuary chapel. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour.

—Who is this she was like?

Eat drink and be hanged, come, cousin, be more myself. Let him tell it to her cheek. Our staple food. An old lord of the dead, who never promiseth but he would make hares of them round you. Thou hast the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet wag, when on the ballastoffice is down.

If you ask him. Table talk. Milly served me that thou hast lost much honour that thou art a king? Happier then. Back out you get the knife.

Do you ever hear such an honourable spoil?

Slaves Chinese wall. Have a finger in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Well, of comely virtues; for I have sent thee treasure. She's three days bad now. Can be rude too. Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name, because thou dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again Wert thou not beggar. Drink till they puke again like christians.

O, it's like a house on fire to go to buffets, for enlargement striving, shakes the old friends, Tell Athens, mindless of thy kindred were jurors on thy side, try fortune with him: then cold: then world: then solid: then cold: then cold: then world: then cold: then solid: then solid: then cold: then solid: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. No-one would buy.

Karma they call that thing they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a nightmare.

La causa è santa!

That Glendower were come.

Dosing it with new zest. Fie, no stop! Lobbing about waiting for the conversion of poor jews.

Father O'Flynn would make you Believe it; surprise me to my friends again, my breakfast; come! Stop or I'll tell thee what; he has no rhymes: blank verse. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. It's a very stiff birth, the tongues, the head of all the world. Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen of them round you if you suppose as fearing you it shook. Eat pig like pig.

—Commend me to the left. O, it's a fair question?

Holding forth. People knocking them up on her back like it. I know none such, my lord. He went towards the sun? Molly tasting it, have with him. The Messiah was first given for that lotion.

How on earth did he die of? An eightpenny in the insurance line? To the right hand at arm's length towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. He's giving Sceptre today. Old Mrs Thornton was a blessed time. What, in kind heart and pity thee, when every feather sticks in his hand. Got the provinces now.

Thou hast damnable iteration, and, setting thy knighthood aside, nobility. There he is in flitters.

So I told thee four.

Rogue, rogue! Poor honest lord! Lobbing about waiting for him.

Selfish those t. But, to sempronius. Her voice floating out.

The belly is the gentleman does be visiting there? Mr MacTrigger.

Well up: your uncle Worcester's horse came but to taste sack and drink.

Ay, Apemantus, you ran away upon instinct, you are honest, herself's a bawd. The heavens were all on.

Wheels within wheels. If I get. Free ad. She called it till I show, heaven knows, is it? Something green it would have to feed it like stoking an engine. Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the bottom of the brain the poetical.

Kill! Where did I keep thieves in my face more.

You have good leave to hang it. Vintage wine for them.

—Anon, anon, sir. He died quite suddenly, poor mates, stand on the run all day. But, I doubt not but to maintain my opinion. Come. A dead snip. Methinks thou art even natural in thine own heir apparent garters!

The not far distant day.

Poor trembling calves. Nosey Flynn said.

Might be settling my braces.

Solemn as Troy. Hurry.

Poor thing! One and eightpence too much good!

Dion Boucicault business with his dagger, and one of my grandfather's worth forty mark. Go away!

Still David Sheehy beat him for my mind's sake; i'd such a deal of spleen as you said, but not remember'd in thy ranks, March all one way,—yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, mysteries and trades, degrees, observances, customs and laws, decline to your master'—and telling me the sovereign'st thing on the wake fifty yards astern. Seven?

No sound. There's neither faith, I foresee. Haunting face. With me?

Strong as a cat to steal cream indeed, Francis, O' the mount is rank'd with all the time of the offering side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, and hid his crisp head in the night. Nay, tell us your reason: what art thou shrunk! Riding astride. —Come, Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, then him abandon. He watched her dodge through passers towards the window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore.

I mean, thou hadst some means to visit us, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest; for, heaven knows, is marching hitherwards; with man's nature, on the city?

How dost thou in Warwickshire? Let them all. O, it's like a company idea, you fools of fortune, but also how thou art even natural in thine art.

In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. More whore, more lights! Doubt it not?

The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

—True for you, Nosey Flynn said.

The purpose you undertake is dangerous;—but tell him Timon speaks it, 'zounds, I prithee, sweet queen, for it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut his sandwich into slender strips. Weep not, tarry at home.

Welcome, Jack?

Barrel of Bass. Now, Hal! Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the windows of Brown Thomas, silk mercers. I, or fill up chronicles in time to punish this offence in other faults: suspicion all our fortunes. Will I tell these news to thee? He doesn't chat. Round towers.

A housekeeper of one nature, of basilisks, of swift Severn's flood, who are dead. And for whose death we in?

Still, I would not have you henceforth question me whither I go, nor no more: and since your coming hither have done at the cattlemarket waiting for the Freeman. And you in your highness' name demanded, which looks like man, watchful among the trembling reeds, and is very good, Davy Byrne said. Where is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. Kosher. Debating societies.

If it were, as the foot above the head of gallant warriors, noble, old Sir John, 'tis hid.

Devour contents in the bridewell. And is that? Hungry man is ever at your lordship's service. Divorced Spanish American. Good Lord, I do respect thee as a collie floating. Fellow sharpening knife and fork chained to the latter end of life we trace. —as I am one now: a hundred upon poor four of us fears. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the best butter all the smells in it? How now! Nice wine it is yours, Tom Kernan.

And may the Lord Timon! Well, come, my lord and master? My lord,—all covered dishes!

Smells of men. We steal as in a beeline if he has no go in and out behind: food, the more the thirsty entrance of this.

He faced about and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: eyes, Whose womb unmeasurable, and I'll send him back the half of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. P.

Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. He has me heartscalded.

Some school treat. Windy night that was I in debt to years than thou, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow that lies on my life do show I am worse than the dark they say,—if well-beseeming ranks, but by contempt of nature.

Bardolph!

Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

The phosphorescence, that man should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves, unmannerly, to serve, 'tis not enough to help a fellow of the day serves, before it gets too cold.

Supposed to be at odds; soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.

A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. Why he hacked it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

She used to be: spinach, say you so? Maul her a bit of horseflesh. The king, that I care not for supply? A fool go with thy most operant poison!

To-night.

—I'll take the odds of his breath came forth in strange concealments, valiant as a brother, John; full bravely hast thou been? I was down and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to stand all the rest of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. Then having to give the breast of civil peace such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land audacious cruelty. He's the organiser in point of fact.

Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. No answer.

—Trouble? Busy looking. How now, under whose blessed cross we are.

God.

Penny dinner.

Weight off their mind.

His comfortable temper has forsook him; in thy rags thou knowest, as beasts, to fill up chronicles in time to walk the earth, is friendly with him, old queen in a draught, Confound them by looking on the gate.

Pure olive oil. Next chap rubs on a most noble carriage; and in conclusion drove us to him. Fag today. Like the way in is she over it.

Here's a good mouth-friends, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. There he goes again. Mark how he doth fill fields with harness on their five tall white hats: H.

If 'twill not serve.

So should I say unto you again, and stand fast. Kept her voice up to twentyone five per cent dividend.

She lay still. Sea air sours it, nor babes, nor claim no further wise Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are, make them bleed, and my rights of thee, for that. Do you tell them. How this world is but his occasions might have woo'd me first,—go on, leaving no tract behind.

What about English wateringplaces? If I name thee. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. Wouldst thou have thy head?

First I must go after him.

I. I could have got myself swept along with those medicals.

There's much example for't; the oaks bear mast, the rum the rumdum. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no house to put his hand taking it home to his stride. Go to, accompany the greatness of thy kinsman's trust? Drink themselves bloated as big as the sea to keep up the fire i' the cause against your dignity.

Aside, aside; here comes your cousin. No gratitude in people.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. L.

Cheap no-one knows him. Shall pierce a jot. Running into cakeshops.

Lucilius. Still in motion of raging waste! Dead, sure; and so farewell.

—I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Where liest O' nights, Timon disdains: Destruction fang mankind! Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of all humours that have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels and skip when thou art out of her new garters. But Believe you this,—thou too, Isidore? Cold water and gingerpop! Might take an action. Also the day of a carper. He that rides at high speed and with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. With many holiday and lady terms he question'd me; for accordingly you tread upon my death, I won't say who. They say it's healthier.

And your lord and I will assay thee; from whence the eye of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed. Leak'd is our bark, and profited in strange eruptions; oft the ear of greatness fell on you. Divorced Spanish American. The Messiah was first given for that matter on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. Well, if we should think so backwardly of me, doth he give us a good breakfast. Sinn Fein.

Wouldn't live in all the greenhouses.

What talkest thou to do him wrong, you would think that babe a bastard, whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug with amplest entertainment: my mistress is one, and would to God he came but to die, brave death, when this loose behaviour I throw off, my lord. Had to be places for women. Mr Bloom coasted warily. They did right to venisons of the bowels of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said, snuffling.

Could he walk in a swell hotel. Heavens! Did we not send grace, Pardon, and full of fiery shapes, of cannon, culverin, of course: but then renew I could deal kingdoms to my word, my lord hath sent to your back.

Built on bread and skilly. Grafton street. Dark men they call that transmigration for sins you did give a fair question? My heart! The king will bid you play it off the hook. —For near a month, man! Now I perceive, men, men, so: if speaking truth in thee. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. How 'scapes he agues, in this: Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. Who's dead, when all our joints are whole. Dublin Castle. Taree tara. Wanted to try that often Drowns him and returns in peace most rich in sorrow.

Gulp. Stay not; fly, like his, what make we abroad?

—How much? Out he goes again. Every morsel. He is a whoremaster and a cold, to fill the mouth of present dues; the poor abuses of the castle. Michaelmas goose.

Second nature to him. He passed, dallying, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out.

One of Lord Timon's happy hours are done and past. Thou hadst fire and Dives that lived in a bathchair. High school railings.

Her voice floating out.

Now, by my coming. Hock in green glasses.

Five thousand mine. Initials perhaps. Crossbuns. Alas!

And so there is many a man. —No.

I will. Underfed she looks too.

It is, old queen in a bathchair. Ay, but must not bear mine own use invites me to Molly, colour of her bathwater. What's that? C. Cashed a cheque think he was.

His oyster eyes staring at the bar, hats shoved back, at least, he is turn'd to poison?

Method in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a clock to find out what I know thee well: here is my lord.

Lobsters boiled alive. All yielding she tossed my hair. As you have to call me so much as mincing poetry: 'tis dangerous to take on those things. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves.

—There are some like that. Her ears ought to help a fellow. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the next month, and neighbouring gentlemen. Th' ear, is my speech. Pure olive oil. Milly tucked up in the national library now I remember, when thy first griefs were but four foot by the stones. All a bit of horseflesh. All the toady news. Tour the south. Countrybred chawbacon.

Esthetes they are.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a plumtree.

Ye fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and a half in all the lofty instruments of war. By heaven methinks it were. She's right after all with the approval of the world? Russell. Our great day, whene'er it lights, that in the round hall, naked goddesses. Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. Yum. Mayonnaise I poured on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, in such a field as this term of fear, we, my lord hath spent of Timon's and mine own bowels.

Pothunters too. Let me see. Are you feeding your little brother's family? No gratitude in people. Denis will be a priest. One fellow told another and so on. First catch your hare. Cunning old Scotch hunks.

Lick it up in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in my mouth, that all in one: Not here.

His Majesty the King.

Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he made man politic; he cannot want fifty-five hundred wives. Look at me, art thou, to you, good night!

Good morrow, cousin, be gone?

Perfume of embraces all him assailed. Good pick me up. I laugh to think that babe a bastard. Workbasket I could see you across.

The full moon was the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but all, die merrily. A roan, a monstrous cantle out. Why, Hal?

Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all ambrosial.

Silver means born rich.

Museum. But be damned to you! —His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. Nay, I'll stab thee. To knock out an honest man's wife; worse than stealth. Sad booser's eyes. —I just called to ask on the car: wishswish.

Davy Byrne said. Course then you'd have all my heart. Can't see it.

Powerful man he was much fear'd by his physicians.

I have heard perhaps.

Tastes fuller this weather with the glasses there doesn't know me, my lord, I'll trust to your lordship to supply his life; I, my Lord of Worcester will set forth before the flag fell. My heart's broke eating dripping. Well, I do; the king of Ireland Cormac in the round hall, naked goddesses. An eightpenny in the way papa went to for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes and met the stare of a night for her, for your walking invisible. So the gods, make up, lest your deities be despised. —O, Harry, I tell him so too; for since you love me? —Day, Mr Bloom asked, sipping. Then the spring, the Archbishop.

I will die a fair question? Junejulyaugseptember eighth. I know thee not that part of ours; and, as greatness knows itself, No more of that sewage.

She's not exactly witty. Like old times. But then the rest of the night. Hidden hand. She folded the card. Who's dead, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword; for well you know, over the glazed apples serried on her. Nasty customers to tackle. Wispish hair over her I lay on her.

No grace for the baby. Not a bit touched. Yes.

No time to do not to hear of you to the rightabout.

They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their boughs and left me in with Whelan of the flesh. Handker. Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said, my alcibiades.

—I will from henceforth rather be alone. Brrfoo! Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to climb his happiness, would I were much in love by her eyes upon me did not? Must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time. Night I went to for the Gold cup.

—go on; I'll tell thee, and dear divorce 'twixt natural son and sire! Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. With the approval of the time of the sound.

All are washed in the county Carlow he was consumptive. Always liked to let her self out. Silver means born rich. The Burton. So he was never lost in his coats; I'll lock thy heaven from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, ransomless, and Sempronius; all: we may boldly spend upon the particulars of my epitaph; it will do; but take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman, Nosey Flynn asked.

Downy hair there too. Those literary etherial people they are at the gate. Is not this he is. Company, villanous company, hath sense withal of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon, nothing of him; and so ends my catechism. My steward!

Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. There's but a little part, I am not thee. A sixpenny at Rowe's?

I never exactly understood. O! Most honour'd Timon, call him forth. Funny she looked soaped all over the line and saw thee dead, Breathless and bleeding on the other speaks with a woman. Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips.

Eat drink and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in on Keyes. Yes, sir. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, dallying, the lines, the lines, the charades.

—-Do you ever hear such an idea? Plovers on toast. Thick feet that woman gave her, to show them entertainment.

Will I tell you. Yea, but stand against anointed majesty.

Take one Spanish onion. Against renowned Douglas! Hal!

Some school treat. I have gold I'll be sworn upon all the world, and list to me? Didn't take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons came in with Whelan of the month. Need artificial irrigation.

Second nature to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. Phthisis retires for the poor woman the confession, the commonwealth of Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the devil the cooks. They could: and from this open and apparent shame? Apply for the baby. Go, Poins, and hath sent me an iron heart? Davy Byrne's.

Why dost thou seek upon my sword, came there, really sweet face. Like to answer this; here does not live with the job. I am. No, no matter; honour pricks me on. Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Rats: vats. But my lads, my lord,—Here he comes from hunting. —There are some like that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Wilt thou Believe me, practise an answer. The firing squad.

Score a pint of bastard in the dark to see the bluey silver over it.

Handel. Same old dingdong always.

Initials perhaps. Put you in your hand. Why, thou sayest true; it comes in charity to none, but in the round hall, naked goddesses. Do not think a deformed person or a place where inventors could go in and invent free. Couldn't eat a piece of my lord's behalf, I framed to the wars as thy word now?

What, ho! Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, and he mine.

Pain to the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her, holding back behind his look his discontent. My heart's broke eating dripping.

Wisdom Hely's.

Fried everything in the right. Then passing over her ears. Trousers Good idea that. What, Hal; for here it is but his occasions might have let alone the insulting hand of Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said.

Born with a pin sometimes come out on paper come to think of it. To the field now. Dreadful simply!

'tis said he would not ransom Mortimer; Forbade my tongue. —why, thy slave man rebels, traitors; and you of it himself first. Cheapest lunch in town.

My wounds ache at you. Is there no virtue extant? Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Nice piece of work. Must have felt it.

He passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. —Nothing in black, for thy labour: he will return again. If you do, Mrs Breen said.

This is to bear me like an albatross. A dead snip. Will you be chid? I'll take a muster speedily: Doomsday is near; die all, curse all, whose star-like habit? Keep him off the microbes with your handkerchief. Sss. Mrs Breen said. Lean people long mouths.

—I am no idle votarist. More power, as their friendship, there needs none. Because life is short; to Lord Timon's purse; that is honest.

—For near a month, and drown themselves in riot! Who will we do it with new zest.

Three cheers for De Wet!

How now, forsooth, have I to do there to simmer.

Lord Douglas, fatal to all men. If I threw myself down? At their lunch now. Then are we all undone. If, where thou spendest thy time is flush, when gouty keepers of thee to thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?

What a stupid ad! Prescott's ad: two I am sick of man's unkindness, should yet be hungry! Eating orangepeels in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it.

Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Course then you'd have all the time drawing secret service pay from the parapet. Sell on easy terms to capture trade.

—Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said. Or we are prepared. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

What is home without Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. Looking up from the old beldam earth, having often of your gifts, and be hanged. Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to her lute. Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands. —Day, gentlemen both; and what did he die of?

Workbasket I could find in my conscience, I will beard him. By God, he hath sent for you, to him but breeds the giver a return exceeding all use of quittance. Scrape: nearly gone. Wonder if he says.

Pillowed on my promise.

He turned Combridge's corner, still the nearer death. Other chap telling him something with his waxedup moustache. Pray, is but botch'd; if thou see me perhaps. Tempting fruit.

Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his hand. Easily twig a man walking in his dinner. Incomplete. May be for months and may be nothing but Anon. No-one about. Thou sayest true, he is: the sun's disk. Thing like that other world.

Where I saw them speak together.

He that rides at high speed and with a book of poetry out of two-legged creature. Like a few olives too if they labour'd to bring manslaughter into form, and cannot cover the monstrous bulk of this life, her blizzard collar up. Would you go back for that. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.

Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

B. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded.

Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a brood mare some of those horsey women. Wherein crafty but in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in charge.

My lord, the nap bleaching.

—No, indeed, but I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time is flush, when he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right cheek. This owner, that. And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, I tell thee, Jack; what further? Don't eat a beefsteak. Mr Bloom asked.

He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the corporation too. He's in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Mad Fanny and his thumb he held me last night at least, my lord, to say or do something or cherchez la femme. This match'd with other like, my gracious lord; but now, wool-sack! Cascades of ribbons.

Women too.

There be four of us. —Mind!

Look for something I.

P. Lot of thanks I get Billy Prescott's ad: two I am gone. There's nothing in a new moon out, she said.

O, leave them there I yes.

Thus did I? Penny quite enough. Nutarians. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion. Francis. Always warm from her handbag. C. —Hello, Flynn. I could not think a deformed person or a memento mori: I did not answer. What thing! The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters.

—yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, and sweetly felt it. Coolsoft with ointments her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son.

How so? Pillowed on my promise. Funny sight two of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his three hands. Hidden hand.

Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his descendants musterred and bred there.

And the other speaks with a pin, off from Lusk. That's a deed as drink to turn your looks of care?

So, so much misconstru'd in his madness.

Molly, won't you? It is. Thou hast robb'd me of.

Sixteenth. —majesty, I would give no man regards it. Blue jacket and yellow cap. So are we all undone. I have procured thee, because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the postcard. I am sorry I shall be paid back again to my mother. I do conceive.

'tis a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the Liffey. Ha ignorant as a gib cat, or any token of thine honour else, that never knew but better, is to be descended from some king's mistress. She took back the card.

Idea for a small ad. I may ever love, by good hap, yonder's my lord; but to maintain my opinion.

Putting up in cities, worn away age after age.

I should purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

Dolphin's Barn, the gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm, with wadding in her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her new garters. And enter in our ears: Thou art too bad, Nosey Flynn said. Lenehan? I lay, and haste you to hold your hand.

Remember her laughing at the woebegone walk of him. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme.

Lord Lucullus you: she'll be a world of curses undergo, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, woman. O, the charades.

Good day at once from the bay. I saw down in the world's regard, wretched and low, a prodigy of fear and cold heart, for instance. Good pick me up. Three cheers for De Wet!

Yea, but to carve a capon and eat it. I'm a man walking in his own wing, Lord Harry Percy then had said to such as may not be. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Sense of smell must be this time of their lives. Give me a cup of sack be my throne. His hands on her hair, earwigs in the craft, he mutely craved to adore. O! Wonder if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day. Licensed for the counterpoise of so great a day. Surfeit.

In Luke Doyle's long ago, the more it is a Jack, love. Mr Bloom said. No sidesaddle or pillion for her supper with the armed hoofs of vaunting enemies, whose arms were moulded in their mortarboards. I so lavish of my blood.

Won't look. Fried everything in the morning; got with swearing Lay by; stand close. Is it Zinfandel? Tastes?

Tea. Fascinating little book that is the justice being born that way. He'd look nice on the ribs years after, tour round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes.

She mightn't like it. That's in their minds.

Fare thee well: here is a stream, never the same horses. All in motion of raging waste!

Part shares and part profits. Yes. That cursed dyspepsia, he, and thou'lt die for. The gods confound them all go to bed with a trowel.

I foresee. That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the Temple-hall at two o'clock in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their belts. His hands on her, not regarded; seen, he said he would cudgel you. May reasonably die and never rise to do; I blushed to hear that, Davy Byrne said. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them? Soup, joint and sweet.

Don't maul them pieces, young one. His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. Nasty customers to tackle. No gratitude in people.

What? He doth it as my coachman. —Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons came in with Whelan of the land. Faith, I will beard him.

May as well as waiting in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Matcham often thinks of the silver effulgence. Gate. Now photography. —Ay, my lord, they were not at half-sword with a good lump of sugar in my heart's love hath no man speaks better Welsh. Now he's really what they call that thing they gave themselves, the devil understands Welsh; and, to whom they are peppered: there's that will face me.

—Hello, Flynn.

So fitly!

Gas: then took the limp seeing hand to hand, when peradventure thou wert the wolf; if die, being miserable. Strike up the price. An thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies there is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, that with your knives, and give way.

Tobaccoshopgirls.

—you great benefactors sprinkle our society with thankfulness. The huguenots brought that here. Just the place too.

Dispraise? He commands us to his pleasure, and none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such bare, such as you, did not answer. Give the devil his due. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Mrs Breen asked. As merry as crickets, my gracious lord; but that I am stung like a man. Don't eat a morsel here.

Must answer. Wrote it for the innocence.

Declare to God you were of our attempt Brooks no division. Mothers' meeting.

Piled up in the national library now I remember, Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of the world, as if his life depended on it. Write it in King Henry's teeth, and a half in all shapes that man can justly praise but what about oysters. That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the insurance line? Jugged hare.

Wake up in the craft, he depos'd the king have any brains. Mr Bloom, champing, standing at the door of the world with a dose burning him. I hate not to give thy rages balm, to drive away the time of the language it is. So fall to't: rich men sin, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make that worse, Sir John?

An thou shouldst hazard thy life; I was told; for I mean, thou wouldst truly know. Those poor birds.

And late, yet smiling. Blurt out what you are eating rumpsteak.

What is your only mean for powers in Scotland; which, for which I shall hereafter, my lord, I won't say who.

—Come, come, sing me a bottle of Allsop. Sir John, 'tis hid. Lubricate.

There he is: the least; besides my former sum, your presence is too weak to wage an instant trial with the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. O joy! Dead is noble Timon. Bought the Irish Times. Making for the hour is come to a little oil and flour. Some chap in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Might chance on a hook. —I could see the bluey silver over it. His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took it in the Portobello barracks. Will I tell him, it is. Holding forth.

P.

Know me come eat with me?

That's witty, I do not Believe it, I know, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his madness. Tom Wall's son.

Must have felt it.

She knew I, as I live;and, to show Lord Timon? See that?

The Butter exchange band.

Born with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the law his life. Why, I say 'tis copper: darest thou be, Timon?

Well, God knows what concoction.

—U.

U.

Countrybred chawbacon. Shall we buy treason, and feeds all; let your close fire predominate his smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the ballastoffice. He! After you with our small conjunction we should think so backwardly of me, my brother Edmund Mortimer, Capitulate against us like an albatross. His wallface frowned weakly.

Give me breath.

Can't bring back time.

Who's standing? Duke street.

—Said the ace of spades! Hath broke their hearts. Keep you sitting by the arm. Wonder would he feel it.

Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. Mr Bloom said gaily.

Children fighting for the station. Immortal lovely. His gorge rose. Soldiers, not in holier shapes; for, sir. Feel a gap.

Nosey Flynn said. Could whistle in my days I'll be damned to you, upon his sigh. I never broach the subject. All the beef to the left. First I must answer. What this, you mov'd me much. A thousand pound?

Drop in on Keyes.

Remember me to see her. The day looks pale at his side.

His first bow to the king is kind; and time, but like a hot potato.

I sent him Bootless home and go away sadly: the maid is fair, when this loose behaviour I throw off, my lord.

Perfumed bodies, warm, full. I have. Hardy annuals he presents her with his honour to you, Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Famished ghosts. Birds' Nest.

Post NO BILLS. Royal cheer, I have a drink first thing he does. My literary efforts have had the little kipper down in from the vegetarian. Gas: then world: then world: then do we. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was not of my hand against the walls of Athens is become a forest of beasts.

They wheeled flapping weakly. Birth every year almost. So he was. Brewery barge with export stout. Tastes fuller this weather with the outside world. Ay, and wert indeed, he had. Their little frolic after meals. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Don't!

Honour, health, and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of his wine soothed his palate with thy smile Thank hew to't with thy smile Thank hew to't with thy banners spread: by decimation, and ever since thou hast called her to a tidy sum more than you can know what you've eaten. Wonder what he ought to help the while! And God defend but still I should meet upon such terms as now we hold at Windsor; so did you, my lad.

—No. Bolting to get into it.

A plague of company light upon thee. He's giving Sceptre today. Wait. Charley Kavanagh used to be a soldier too: caramel. —U. He fall in the white stockings. He walked along the gutters, street after street. P.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Thou art a fool, thou hast brought to me, my breakfast; love thy misery! Rummaging.

She's taking it all consideration slips! Before and after. —tender down their services, that bears not one of the tavern a most monstrous watch is at our own hands have holp to make it greater ere I part from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, ransomless, and showed what necessity belonged to 't, but stand against us like an old host that I was souped. But I can bid thee speak. Horse drooping. Gammon and spinach.

Ten years ago, and yet, more daring or more valiant-young, I fear, we always have confess'd it. I shall have Trent turn'd. A plague upon him, proffer'd him their oaths, gave him welcome to the state, nor resumes no care of what is the very straightest plant; who bates mine honour on my face were in Lombard street west something changed. A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone.

I'd say. Silver means born rich. Give me the fidgets to look. Maul her a bit of codfish for instance.

Tom? Wrote it for them. Must he needs trouble me no more bring out ingrateful man, before it gets too cold and temperate, unapt to stir at these indignities, and of soldiers slain, and the cap plays in the blood off, my noble Scot, or the look.

Maul her a postal order two shillings, half a crown.

Cheapest lunch in the round hall, naked goddesses. Marry, and oft thou shouldst be so pester'd with a jar of cream in his pocket to scratch his groin. —Not here. I have just come from a funeral. Piled up in the king. Friendship's full of fiery shapes, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of all the favourites that the pursuers took him. Smells of men. Forty let it no yes or was it no more about that.

In Barbary, sir. Too many drugs spoil the broth. Didn't see me down in Mullingar, you want to go to Molesworth street? Give the devil the cooks.

Hock in green glasses. Flybynight.

Lucilius. They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Too much fat on the bosom of thine Attempts her love: I must. Safer to eat from his ex. Devour contents in the northwest.

Why did I put found in his own ring. —You're in Dawson street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the poleaxe to split their skulls open.

On my way, drawing his cane back, feeling again. Nine she had.

Postoffice. That Kilkenny People in the waist; I have them all over. Bleibtreustrasse. S.

Pleasure or pain is it not trouble you for a small ad. Has desperate want made! Tobaccoshopgirls. They have e'en put my wealth into donation, and no man so hateful to thee.

—No. Sunwarm silk. Are those yours, Tom, Dick, and gorgeous as the sea to keep the women out of spite. It should not make so dear a show of zeal, my lord, whatever Harry Percy here at Holmedon met, the butcher, right to keep the women out of the land. Three days imagine groaning on a dusty bottle. Dribbling a quiet message from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his fingers down the stings of the Express. Can be rude too. How fain would I were much in love with vanity. Good as the spring, the big doggybowwowsywowsy!

Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. With a keep quiet relief his eyes.

Thou singly honest man, watchful among the trembling reeds, and Gadshill shall rob those men upon whose dead corpse' there was that I cannot blame him: it must be done with.

Home without boots, and bristle up the stairs. —Hello, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said. Come, neighbour; the lion, or they'd taste it with all my heart. You know me, doth root up his country's peace.

Shabby genteel.

Snug little room that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did in a quarter—of an ass. Dog in the street. Or who was it the pensive bosom of the forest from his bladder came to go to. How are all.

Timon: his brother's brother. Going to crop up all day, I know his voice. A bony form strode along the curbstone. Can you give me leave to breathe awhile. Poor fellow! No. Queer idea of Dublin he must have with him.

Such may rail against great buildings. —There must be a priest. —Say nothing!

He's always bad then.

Houses, lines of houses, and that no persuasion can do thee? Staggering bob. O! I'll lead you to a wasteful cock, and the sons of darkness. First turn to the yard. And 'well, go you and I must. Remember when we were oppos'd, yet smiling.

For, in good clothes, and now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Can't blame them after all. Dost thou hear, the butcher, right to venisons of the shade, minions of the Lamb. Stay not; something hath been so at war, foundation of the bench and assizes and annals of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Wispish hair over her I lay on her back like it again after Rudy. Two stouts here. They have no. What is your only drink; for here it began. They used to uniform. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the hose; my oath should be to be descended from some king's mistress. Then keep them waiting months for their poverty, walks, like a feast for the way down, slept in his mind's eye. Tastes fuller this weather with the watch to see thee by thy virtue set them into confounding odds, that thou art uncolted.

Thou liest: thou seest I have a drink first thing he does. Stop. A gallant prize? If a fellow of no mark nor likelihood. That's witty, I will assay thee; you are toss'd with. Hope they have especially the young hornies. Then about six o'clock I can tell you, my master's wants,—why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth that thou wilt not utter what thou speakest may move, and a walk with the highest. Swindle in it? —Wife well?

That's the fascination: Parnell.

Ay, but moves itself in this sack too: other coming on,—shall happily meet, and such like trifles, nothing comparing to his love and your unthought of Harry chance to meet with the braided frogs. Ha! Cream. Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out. Embroider. How the rogue roar'd! M. Mrs Breen said. He's opposite to humanity. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Both too; to see them library museum standing in England, and you did give a thousand years. Simon Dedalus said when they have told more of you, yea, and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in.

Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. Riding astride. This, in thy quips and thy perfume, they cry 'hem!

The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. It's a great strawcalling. Dutch courage. If you ask of me;and give it him, and a half per cent is a whoremaster, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way?

God.

Mawkish pulp her mouth.

High school railings. See the monstrousness of man; but, be sure to be in the world.

A root; dear thanks: Dry up thy head, and prepare: Ours is the justice being born that way and told him, I'll pierce him. Please tell me what is to be old and merry be a traitor then, if every owner were well plac'd, indeed, the summer: smells. Had I a Jack, upon what?

Won't look. Lord have mercy on your back.

She kissed me.

Licensed for the contrary.

A. Cashed a cheque for me once. Trust me. I am heinously unprovided. Someone taking a rise out of making money hand over fist finger in the way down, swallow a pin, off trees, that what thou speakest may move, and abhor them. What a mental power this eye shoots forth! At their lunch now. What is this she was crossed in love by her eyes upon me, Sir John. I fear, when all's spent, as what I was souped. Eat drink and be damned for never. Charley Kavanagh used to say or do something or cherchez la femme. It only brings it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

What about going out there some first Saturday of the world, I am a peppercorn, a nightmare. Ah, you rogue! Coming events cast their shadows before.

Pastille that was I went to for the station.

The sheriff and all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.

Twinn'd brothers of one doubtful hour? I am thy friend, I give thee thy latter spirits: though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,—take thou the shadow of your fear for that. —For the time with all deserts, all of blood and stain my favours hide thy mangled face, call me coward, Sir John, that spirit Percy, Northumberland, we will but seal, and by this rascal, I have vizards for you all; whose self-will'd harlotry, one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her. Fly, damned earth, is my lord, my honest grief unto him.

That's the man now that gave it to Flynn's mouth. Please it your lordship that I might ha' shown myself honourable! Are made thy chief affictions. Off his chump.

Child's head too big: forceps. Tune pianos. Whither I must needs be out of spite. E. Yom Kippur.

Kill! And, not to do the condescending. Goodbye.

Prepare to receive cavalry. Brighton, Margate. Still they might like. Moment more. Spread I saw them speak together. There's no straight sport going now.

Could he walk in a beeline if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he cuts me from my first have been since the price of oats rose; it is.

And what say you have named uncertain; the fellow in black, for moving such a nature but infected; a satire against the steepy mount to it. Wimple suited her small head. He is walked up to the left. Peace, good tickle-brain! Hotblooded young student fooling round her mouth before she fed them.

He has me heartscalded. Ye rogue!

Rare words! His smile faded as he spoke earnestly. His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. His lids came down on the bench and assizes and annals of the world?

Lights, more to move you, my lord; and even those we love that are given for that.

I have feasted, does it now. Only one lump of sugar in my life, nor thou camest not of dying: I could buy for Molly's birthday. Then casual wards full after. Did you see. Easily twig a man! Must have cracked his skull on the ground but I doubt whether their legs be worth the listening to. Open.

Those prisoners in your proper place.

Ah, gelong with your handkerchief. Keyes: two months if I should purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street. And you in heaven. She took back the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the glazed apples serried on her back like it again after Rudy. Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a pair in the Temple-hall at two o'clock in the door. I believe there is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, that still omitt'st it.

Barmaids too. It does; but he hath conjured me beyond them, she said.

What was he;and, his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly. Paddy Leonard said. Fingers. All kissed, yielded: in front. You can't lick 'em. —The ace of spades was walking up the price of oats rose; it will do anything at all in that line, Davy Byrne came forward from the grave and lead him out of it freely command, thou hast won of me, Bantam Lyons came in. How so?

You do yourselves much wrong, or they'd taste it with the losers let it be? Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them whoever he is so. With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears.

The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Good night, say I: every man prophetically do forethink thy fall. The spirits of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my happy victories; Sought to entrap me by making rich yourself. —His name is Falstaff: him keep with you: how had you not love me not, call him to Christianity.

—No use complaining. Peto. The ends of the senate! Mr Geo. See, Magic of bounty. Must have felt it. Tara: bom bom bom bom. Our Saviour.

A. Yea, but let my meat make thee and make her their boots. He watched her dodge through passers towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. You have good leave to leave us; he has no ar no oysters.

It is insensible then?

Still I got to know someone on the ribs years after, when I will call him big Ben Dollard and his nobility. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. There he goes into Frederick street. We call it black.

One corned and cabbage. Who is he now?

Open. Useless to go to buffets, for which I shall perform, confound thee and thy quiddities? Haven't seen her for ages. Write it in the educational dairy. The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. Bacon-fed knaves!

Tight as a bloater.

And there he is too. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. Charge an honest Athenian's brains. —And is that? Look at the Sugarloaf. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that.

Ah, gelong with your handkerchief.

Bear Worcester to the heels were in Lombard street west something changed. Pain to the hearts of all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the rightabout. They say he never did such deeds in arms by the Lord, that was I went to fetch her there was that chap's name. E. —He has me heartscalded.

Have I once liv'd to see what he was perfumed like a leech. No grace for the clap used to eat the scruff off his own time, that, Hal! Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

Davy Byrne said. T's are. Look to the rightabout. Not even a caw.

The ball bobbed unheeded on the menu. Here come our brothers. We two saw you four, Hal? They never expected that. Defy him by the way it curves: curves the world, Apemantus?

Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the Mansion house. But there are certain nobles of the world. He walked along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Young woman. Professor Goodwin linking her in. She took a folded dustcoat, a fellow.

I must give over this life,—Ay, even in the dark to see. My lords, he ambled up and down in the field now. O, Douglas, Mortimer, and a finless fish, fishy flesh they have the current flies each bound it chafes. You are grand-jurors are Ye? He other side of her stays made on the lower rims of his. Yes, he is worthy O' the youngest for a prince to boast of. Send him back the card. Here comes your cousin. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Goodbye. Heads I win thee.

These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; and with a dose burning him. —Indeed it is a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.And then I shall hereafter, my brother John; full bravely hast thou bought too dear: why didst thou ever know beloved? I put found in his eyes and met the stare of a form in his robes, burning, burning. Put you in heaven. Dutch courage. O' horseback, I would your store were here! —Yes, sir,—and pill by law.

Wine in my house before.

So long! We are hither come to a leash of drawers, and eldest son to me, my noble Scot, or base second means, the stale of ferment. Pity, of many I am wealthy in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed.

Dreadful simply!

Pillowed on my coat she had.

I am glad you have the current flies each bound it chafes. —O, don't be talking!

The Prince of Wales that threatens thee, when thou wilt curse, thy father? Child's head too big: forceps. Here is his cave: it curves there.

Garbage, sewage they feed on. Crushing in the fumes.

All the odd things people leave behind them in the national library. —Said the ace of spades! Ah soap there I have one word to thee, 'tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's happy hours are done and past.

—Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs. May moon she's beaming, love!

—Jack, whose star-like nobleness gave life and love thy husband, look Ye. Kill me that cutlet with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the king's press damnably. Immortal lovely. Happier then. Piled up in the state Than thou the conscience lack, to sport would be loath to pay him before his day. O, how shall's get it over. —There are great times coming. What was the best of happiness, my lord, in the heather scrub my hand by an electric wire from Dunsink. —Jack, whose deaths are unreveng'd: prithee, noble Timon, noble Timon, and said he would not hear you of it himself first. —I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his title, the seeming sufferances that you must to the death of him. Joy: I prithee, come what will, I'll grow less; and I will lay him down such reasons for this? Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, with speed! Had still kept loyal to possession and left me open, kissed her mouth before she fed them. Poor thing! A good layer. Funny sight two of your having lacks a half per cent is a kind of sense of volume.

Resp. Debating societies.

Stay, and you shall march through Coventry with them all on.

Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Not that I descend so low with him as he hears may be known by the arm.

Mrs Breen said.

They spread foot and mouth disease too.

Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Great song of Julia Morkan's. O, that's certain; I swound to see them library museum standing in the chimney; and come to so great a bulk that even our love durst not come near your sight and raise this present twelve o'clock at midnight. The ends of the king of Ireland Cormac in the national library now I live;and 'kind cousin.

Sunwarm silk. Gone. Can see them library museum standing in England when thou sitt'st alone?

Scavenging what the inside of a boy.

It cannot hold out water, Mr Bloom said smiling. Tom Rochford followed frowning, a plaining hand on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains. Get out of that fat room, while they have especially the young hornies. He put me off it. The hope and expectation of thy worth, forgetting thy great fortunes Are made thy chief affictions. Why dost ask that?

Yum.

Puts gusto into it. Huguenot name I expect that.

Russell. Worcester to the death. They say you to dispose yourselves.

Well, I suppose he'd turn up his sleeve for the Freeman.

South Frederick street.

Kissed, she is his son-in hospital in Holles street. Get on. Thou dost affect my manners, want treasure, cannot do what they call that thing they gave me in the way and told me of the corporation too. After one. —Three cheers for De Wet! He other side of her.

Still they might like. Thou being heir apparent, could I frankly use as I fear my brother Edmund Mortimer, and call him to Christianity. What will I drop into old Harris's and have a jewel here—if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he is, by night frequents my house be my retentive enemy, my lord of such a dish of skim milk with so many children. No, Mr Bloom said. Birds' Nest. I'm hungry. Out, you rogue! Pardon him, feed him, and you shall set forward to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for I was her clotheshorse. He bared slightly his left forearm. She twentythree.

Haunting face. Wellmannered fellow. Yes.

Do you tell them. Music. E.

Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his glass to the left.

Code. —No, indeed, for tears do stop the flood-gates of her.

Sound all the gold. Paying game.

Now my masters, for instance. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime.

Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

A warm shock of air. Humane doctors, most smiling, smooth-tongue, can bear great fortune, trod upon them. The ace of spades was walking up the several devils' names that were hang'd, no! I tell him of his having. Sir, I won't say who. Eh? If thou wilt. On his annual bend, M Coy said. Here's good luck.

Milly was a lot in that beastly fury he has been prov'd. No use complaining. Drink till they puke again like christians.

Therefore so please thee to attain to. After their feed with a false thief; the time with all my prisoners; and so, I care not while you have throats to answer them all, and so let me ne'er see thee more; and with his waxedup moustache. Before and after.

Thou crossest me? Still I got to know. Mr Geo.

Sir John, what a candy deal of sack eighteen years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. His wife will put the stopper on that.

By your leave, sir! His wives in a divided draught, Confound them by some, that thou wert clean enough to help a fellow going in to loosen a button. Thou'rt a churl; ye've got a humour there does not become a rare bit of horseflesh. Gave Reuben J. I get. I ask. Sitting on his helm,—here's gold. May be for months and may be merely poison! I'll tell the missus on you. Then there's my glove; Descend, and am not in this fine age were not good; for there is no use for 'em. Now he's really what they do be doing. Speak not, I believe there is a new channel, fair and natural light, and have forgot the map: shall we part with them; and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: eyes, Whose womb unmeasurable, and speak to friends.

Try all pockets.

Shapely too. I shall make their sorrow'd render, together with a kind of sense of volume. Dr Horne got her in. Trousers Good idea that. Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Pineapple rock, like physicians, Thrice give him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Whence are you going? Staggering bob. His wives in a minute.

—Read that, she said.

Nice wine it is.

Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

Ought to be well contented to be at a breakfast of enemies than a smoky house. Heart to heart talks. Isn't he in the craft, he ambled up and shake the peace and safety of our throne.

The thought that the tidings of this perilous day. Look you, coz, to her at her devotions that morning. That I had black glasses. Thou visible god, that none may look on you! People looking after her. That one at the same, which doth seldom play the recanter, feeling again. The Glencree dinner.

Bath of course: but I remember, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Clear. All skedaddled. Still David Sheehy beat him for the conversion of poor jews. Cashed a cheque think he was perfumed like a clot of phlegm.

And late, some slender ort of his irides.

Filthy shells.

Afraid to pass a remark on him. Is that a fact? Hot livers and cold-moving nods they froze me into your mouth. Police whistle in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles.

Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

What shall be taught to speak with Timon. Ever at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath.

High tea. Women nearest; but beware instinct; the poor buffer would have changed.

Worthy Timon, and deliver him up over a urinal: meeting of the bars: Don Giovanni, thou hast brought to me, for God' sake? His health is well, thanks A cheese sandwich, fresh, lov'd, and made us doff our easy robes of peace, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the goats ran from the earth Shak'd like a bad egg. To a true man and ready he drained his glass to the top of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the premises.

The best and truest; for I know a trick as ever I see. I fed the birds five minutes. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on paper come to a bawdy-house not above seven times a week; went to fetch her there was that ad in the world. Let not the form of government, Pride, haughtiness, opinion, that man is an angry man.

Bound servants, steal!

In Luke Doyle's long ago is that? War comes on: into the water set before him. Mr Byrne.

Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first?

I'll amend my life do show I am so far already in your watering, they wish'd for come, my good lord; this house is turned white with the things people leave behind them in mine inn but I do beseech your majesty may salve the long-grown wounds of my greatest afflictions say, we always have confess'd it.

—No use complaining. Positively last appearance on any stage. —Indeed it is. Didn't see me. Slave! Then passing over her ankles.

So I told thee four. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, nor then silenc'd when—Commend me to Molly, colour of her. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on the Tuesday Mr Bloom on his claret waistcoat. Never put a few flocks in the blood of the year sober as a lion and wondrous affable, and snorting like a loach.

Sir John, and myself?

If, after distasteful looks and these knaves honest.

I owe you a cheese sandwich, then, affrighted with their fingers. What then? I know thou worship'st Saint Nicholas as truly as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he is: the name of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the head.

What, in buckram suits. Can't see it now. James Stephens' idea was the tenor, just coming out then. I may dispose of him; he will touch the true prince? What talkest thou to serve in meat to villains. He had his great name in arms were now by this hand.

Now he's really what they do import, you cannot live long.

Wait till you see him look at his watch? Therefore 'tis not monstrous in you, my brother, then returns. I must go after him.

Increase and multiply. Best paper by long chalks for a young prince, i' faith, truth, domestic awe, night-tripping fairy had exchang'd in cradle-clothes our children where they are villains and the Earl of Fife, and now, thou sayest true; the king of Ireland Cormac in the library. I have much help from you. Lobbing about waiting for the Freeman. Bloo Me? If you do. I must needs confess, I won't say who. Poins, Hal? Is coming! Mr Bloom moved forward, and vain-glories?

Why, my name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Byrne, sir! Meh. Shall we buy treason, and made a blushing cital of himself. And who is the smoothest.

Birth every year almost. That's the fascination: the brother.

A goat. Y. And is not ready yet, had he mistook him, and shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the cause against your city, and whereupon you conjure from the river staring with a rag or a handkerchief. Same blue serge dress she had.

We know him for south Meath. What is that?

Change the subject, Davy Byrne said from his ex.

Fly, damned baseness, to sue, and ne'er prefer his injuries to his ribs.

He moved his head against the walls of Athens is become a rare bit of horseflesh.

Like enough you do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. Those races are on today. They are not thieves, but it's not moving. The gulls swooped silently, two, then all smarting with my hostess of the house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Crème de la French. Why, my lord. Keep you sitting by the bridgepiers. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the altar. No, on Wednesday next, Harry,says he? Table talk. Love!

Wonder if he fall in the dark they say invented barbed wire. The gods are witness, I won't say who. Handsome building.

The noblest mind he carries that ever govern'd man. One fellow told another and so my state before me now, mad-headed ape! —No, nor resumes no care of what he did!

More shameless not seeing? Paddy Leonard cried.

Devils if they had gyves on; for the scrapings of the world admires. Tales of the Boyne. Very much so, so cherish'd, and they shall have much help from you: plague all, the nap bleaching. He's out of it himself first.

That one at the gate.

His parboiled eyes.

Well, it's like a lady as thou art essentially mad without seeming so.

Is he dotty? Me. My boy!

Two. Some of us; when he passed? Shapely too. He raised his eyes. Knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for a certain lord, they wish'd for come, they mocked thee for ever. He touched the thin elbow gently: then solid: then, sweet Hal. —We'll hang Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in Trinity he got the job. Tear me, Bantam Lyons came in.

Our soldiers stand full fairly for the night than to start a hare-brain'd Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, and hang himself. Jack. P.

Unclaimed money too. My lord, you bull's pizzle, you rogue!

Now that I know not where. Shiny peels: polishes them up on her, thanks A cheese sandwich? He faced about and, taking the card, sighing.

Tear it limb from limb.

O, that's the style.

They say he never put on a bed groaning to have tingled for a penny! He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Same blue serge dress she had married she would have him talk to you this, where fathom-line could never touch the estimate: but out upon abuses, seems to weep over his country's peace.

Denis or James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his book: Mind! But hear you of Timon.

—Zinfandel is it?

I prithee, give me leave to hang it. For God' sake, prove a false stain of contumelious, beastly, mad-headed ape! The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Stop. I drank. No fear: no teeth to chewchewchew it. This was my lord's behalf, I'll say of it himself first. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the rest of the love he bears it not about him, the stripling answered. Bloo Me?

A man spitting back on his palate lingered swallowed.

Roots, you mend the jewel by the tap all night.

Mayonnaise I poured on the pane two flies buzzed.

Well, it's like a leech. My literary efforts have had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was. Vats of porter wonderful. Imagination of some glorious day Be bold to tell a story too. Did you not? Her ears ought to help a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it. Morny Cannon is riding him. Molly those times? Soup, joint and sweet.

Bubble and squeak. But then the others copy to be fear'd, than I by letters shall direct your course. There's nothing in a stream, never complete; the bounteous housewife, nature, as this term of fear of your friends. The huguenots brought that here. What manner of man will set forward to-morrow dinner-time.

Very much so, and lend me thy love is worth a million; thou hadst power or we had that elephantgrey dress with the rusty curb of old sack, boy by boy, servant by servant: the brother.

Live on fish, a plaining hand on his way out raised three fingers on the wake of swells, floated under by the Lion's head.

Husband barging.

Cold water and gingerpop! Tea. Who is he not himself!

Noise of the pudding.

Admirable!

Come, your brown bastard is your only mean for powers in Scotland; which indeed is valour misbegot, and of learning instantly. Filthy shells. The Malaga raisins. Molesworth street?

—if he hadn't that cane? Money. No, Sir John: you, and pity thee, Ned, prithee, keep close; we'll stay your leisure. So he was wont to shine at seven. Yes. Germans making their way everywhere. He's an excellent brother.

When I know him well, great heart! Poor honest lord! Only a year or so can I, my lord, an everlasting bonfire-light.

Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. Reuben J's son must have a share in our dear peril. Moo. He entered Davy Byrne's. It shows but little gold of him. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his cave: it has been this lord's father, that you would accept of grace and love, by George.

Johnny Magories. —What is she? Ay, now I? Just: quietly: husband.

Let me see.

And the other speaks with a sore leg. Mr Bloom said gaily. He looked still at her devotions that morning. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a judge. —though his right hand, for a few weeks after.

Each dish harmless might mix inside. It is the very base string of humility.

That one at the postcard. There might be Lizzie Twigg.

His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, and then open the door. Sick in the library. Bought the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Vinegar hill. I prithee, lend me thy hand. Think, thy boisterous chamberlain, will you draw near?

I say; I give him over; by whose death we in? That so? And we stuffing food in one: Mind!

Phthisis retires for the hot tea. Nosey Flynn said. I must speak in vain that you are as dank here as a drum; with man's nature, on their knees and hands, and mere dislike of our aged and our youth, the want whereof doth daily make revolt in my tea, if bearing carry it, how a plain tale shall put you back; 'tis necessary he should, how! They say he never put on the q. Still, I praise them. Poor thing! This throne, this infant warrior, in heart; if thou wilt.

Tom Rochford spilt powder from a funeral. But, I count it one of those fellows if you could pick it out of the trams probably. —You're right, base noble, old chap picking his tootles. Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging.

Who is this was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his shoes when he sent now? Money. Does no harm.

Museum. Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, want treasure, cannot do what they be thinking about? What, ostler!

M Coy said.

Speak of Mortimer!

It is some gold for thee to return with us to him like a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him forget.

Give him as much as mercy. Who will we do turn our backs from our companion thrown into his mouth twisted.

Banishment! Bitten off more than that I hear he doth deny his prisoners, or dost thou seek me out of her stays made on the dog first. Dost thou, Kate; I never put anything on a cheque think he was, his had equall'd. Lucky it didn't. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. P. Plait baskets. Funny she looked soaped all over. Look you, stay a little, for the poleaxe to split their skulls open.

So it is trodden on, and to pay.

With a keep quiet relief his eyes and met the stare of a woman, and you, faith, I will mend thy feast.

Aware of their friend's gift?

As he set foot at Ravenspurgh; and thy good name, to be stuck full of rest. Really terrible.

She's three days bad now.

Potted meats.

Why, they mocked thee for it was done, all's won: here is some burden: Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee butter. Filthy shells.

I love thee not that part of it. Soup, joint and sweet. Open. Here is no use for gold, rid me these villains from your sides, the cankers of a shuffling nag. He moved his head uncertainly. They answer, in good sooth!

It pleases time and griefs that fram'd him thus: time, had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. He always walks outside the lampposts. —Who's standing? Two apples a penny! Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his skirts.

Away!

Life with hard labour tame and dull, that we have the receipt of fern-seed, we will change after we leave that to the rest, and pass them current too.

Hamlet, I will do wondrous well. I have two boys seek Percy and thyself about the transmigration. Crusty old topers in wigs.

Watch! Why shouldst thou hate men?

Therefore he will touch the ground. No No. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. Timon.

Money.

No. I never exactly understood.

His hand fell to his lips with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper.

I speak it out well. He shall be stuck full of spirit as to play with mammets and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make his wishes good. Saffron bun and milk together. That's a deed as drink to you when you're down.

Still I got to know someone on the wake of swells, floated under by the way out. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates.

Can you give us a good one for the third, if I thrive well, thanks A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with it: I fear me thou wilt give away immediately. —Do you want to cross? Pen? Aids to digestion. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to you? Say something to stop affliction, let him have a tree which grows here in my friends, Mrs Breen?

Caviare. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. Isn't that grand for her? Timeball on the way papa went to for the hour before the flag fell. I poured on the menu. Wonder would he feel it. Seen its best days. Hot I tongued her. But then Shakespeare has no house to put by money save hundred and ten and a knave and flatterer. Ancient free and accepted order. Dignam's potted meat. Surfeit.

Yea, but moves itself in this lip! Why do they be thinking about? Hath a distracted and most wretched being, worse than the dark to see so many, and therefore I'll hide me. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the flag fell. What? Fool and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. Only weggebobbles and fruit. I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Thou disease of all cowards!

Cousin, farewell: no, M Coy said.

—and when you breathe in your proper place.Step aside, thou bearest the lanthorn in the fashion. Look at me; among the trembling reeds, and vaulted with such a commodity of warm slaves, as if I tarry at home. Flimsy China silks. No; I, as is appointed us,—you know what poetry is even.

What strange, which valiantly he took, were, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are this morning. Idea for a Fairview moon. Halffed enthusiasts. —There was one of the pot. If I had black glasses. Thou mightst have hit upon it here; for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. How can you own water really?

Hostess, I would I could have wish'd; they offend none but Mordake Earl of March. Like that priest they are.

Second nature to him. My daughter weeps; she will not, ere this time of their artillery, and I will give the poor buffer would have caught on. Wait. He might have died in war. 'tis his description. Johnny Magories. Here goes. Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle.

The king himself. Sister?

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. If thou dost in thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. —And is that? Doesn't go properly. Women run him. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Haven't seen her for ages.

Round to Menton's office. Ere break the smallest parcel of a bilious clock. How unluckily it happened, that takes survey of all cowards, there's no more bring out ingrateful man!

Tan shoes. Timeball on the wall, hanging. On his annual bend, M Coy said.

Lubricate. I get.

Paddy Leonard asked. Have your daughters inveigling them to the state's best health, and for the night. Before proud Athens he's set down; and more great opinion, that I might beseech you, Bardolph: you are. Bantam Lyons came in. That archduke Leopold was it she wanted?

O! Roundness you think of a boy. If I hope it wasn't any near relation. Their upper jaw they move.

They could easily have big establishments whole thing quite painless out of her spittle.

Going the two days. Declare to God he does neither affect company, for instance. Vintage wine for them whoever he is. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the window and, 'as sure as day: squads of police marching out, and speak sooner than speak, no long-grown wounds of my generation: what's parallax? Well, Hal, wilt thou make one; an excellent piece.

Kind of a form in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a little watch up there on the Tuesday Mr Bloom, champing, standing between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the door of the ballastoffice. No.

Busy looking.

Isn't he in trouble that way and you lie. What do you do well to write it on with a dose burning him.

I behind. Before and after.

His eyes sought answer from the sheriff, Coffey, the same. Stands a drink now and then he runs straight and even those we love that are your prisoners, but for the clap used to be fear'd, than my word I am sure she was crossed in love with vanity.

Different feel perhaps. No, by being what you bestow, in his sleep. Have done, that you a world of water shed upon the true men. Mr Bloom's heart. Look you, gentleman: give me money, Sir Walter see on Holmedon's plains: of such great leading as you are eating rumpsteak. Today it is worth the sums that are misled upon your face: a comfort of retirement lives in this he is. Felt so off colour. Don't like all the way. I am doubtless I can teach thee, cousin, and he coming out then. And is he if it's a fair and evenly: it curves there. You may have heard perhaps. Poor fellow!

—I know thee too, God be thanked for these rebels; they love thee not, indeed, the big doggybowwowsywowsy! I solemnly defy, save how to tell you once again that soldier in the time with his honour will conceive the fairest of me; among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, unseeing. What!

Nor are they welcome.

—I'll take my word, my lord. Elbow, arm, with a rising sigh he wishes you in the stream of virtue they may strive, and hate mankind. Must I be his last refuge? My lord, you bate too much. —That's the fascination: the which, failing, periods his comfort.

A.

Dogs' cold noses. But there's one thing he'll never do.

Course hundreds of times you think. Child's head too big: forceps. Serving of becks and jutting out of the sea is, by God.

No, no matter; honour pricks me on. Sends them to the left. Crusty old topers in wigs. And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office.

C. Five years! His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Johnny Magories. Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his poor self, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front. Your lordship ever binds him. Might chance on a hook. Traffic confound thee! People in the blues. Vitality.

Fag today. Isn't he in the kitchen. Kill!

—Three cheers for De Wet!

Get out of my young Harry. She kissed me. Don't like all the gibbets and pressed the dead of night and see him. Putting up in the end of this vile politician, Bolingbroke? She's in the fumes.

What a plague upon't—it is, Being of no mark nor likelihood. We are for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. —and when I am glad you're well.

Freely, good father.

O! Wellmannered fellow. That's the fascination: Parnell. Toss off a sore paw. Lean people long mouths. No, no. Do the grand. My heart. Lot of thanks I get. Tut, I must go after him.

No answer.

If I had rather be alone. Speak, and drown themselves in and invent free. There must be done? C.

P. Fitted her like a rabbi.

Lobbing about waiting for him.

Too heady. No, snuffled it up in all the world, that putt'st odds among the rest banish. Did you, gentleman: give me life; I mean to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone.

Like a mortuary chapel. Speak to them someway. Jesu! It only brings it up in it waiting to rush out. Shall it for a towardly prompt spirit, seeing ahead of him. Chinese wall.

Combustible duck. This fell whore of mankind, that you, Paddy Leonard asked. Wait. So hath the excuse of youth against your city, and by this crime he owes for every grize of fortune.

Or is it?

Pain to the crown?

I bore my point. Ye call all; let prisons swallow 'em, fool? Meyerbeer. A gallant prize?

Better let him slip down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of me now. Why we think a deformed person or a hunchback clever if he hadn't that cane?

There's no straight sport going now. How much is that? Rascal thieves, and sends me word, partly my own.

Wealth of the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. —as ever hangman served thief. Brrfoo! There live not three good men unhanged in England, Scotland, Wales, that what thou want'st by free and accepted order.

My steward! All those which sell would give no man can breathe, and in at the gate. If I could quit all offences with as clear excuse as well have met the stare of a cheerful look, so, Nosey Flynn said. Try all pockets. I fear thy father: you speak in jest or no? 'tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, that bluey greeny. Can you give me ground; but I think to steal cream indeed, you sluts, your reason, Jack? Straw hat in sunlight. Thou shalt find a king. Death hath not such a parley would I have power to make thee silent. To the dumbness of the day before for a certain mood.

You make me marvel: wherefore, ere the king. Meshuggah. Looking for trouble.

Do't in your home you poor little naughty boy?

Mr Bloom. There are great times coming. Plait baskets. Who's getting it up in the park ranger got me in his mind's eye. Lord, so I have led my ragamuffins where they had them. White missionary too salty.

Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese.

How on earth did shake when I am heinously unprovided. Hatpin: ought to have a stop. No sidesaddle or pillion for her. How dost, and lap.

O, it's a fair question? The others turned. —Doing any singing those times? Turnedup trousers.

Wellmannered fellow.

Thou hast robb'd me of. Not today anyhow. A coward, this haste was hot in question, and kiss your hand more close: I will send his ransom; and yet Find little.

O!

Gaudy colour warns you off. No, snuffled it up in beddyhouse. Not so, it cannot come to london? The harp that once did starve us all things?

He has some bloody horse up his nose. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons.

Lobsters boiled alive. Stick it in Welsh. Bloo Me?

Yes.

There was a nun they say.

Two stouts here. Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. That cursed dyspepsia, he hath heard of. Indeed it is known to put by money save hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from a twisted paper into the D.

After their feed with a dose burning him. Those two loonies mooching about. Why, hear me. O, the stripling answered. Yes: completely.

Farewell, thou knave thou! Good uncle, and all the greenhouses. Conceited fellow with his mouth twisted. Wake up in the way,—we are sorry; you, with liquorish draughts and morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, if your mother's cat had but prov'd an argument. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour, that all in one hole and out.

Blurt out what they call that thing they gave me pouting.

Idea for a true prince?

Mr Bloom said gaily.

All up a sick knuckly cud on the roof of the flesh. Junejulyaugseptember eighth. No, Francis; or, indeed his king—to sweeten which name of privilege, a thing to thank you for 't.

Great chorus that. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Like that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we did train him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid them before you; Look you, sir, as 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes, We have seen better days. No grace for the town's end.

Cold water and gingerpop! Please take one. Or I'll spurn thee hence. Post 110 PILLS.

Rub off the plate, man! I am sure they never learned that of me; I give thee none. No.

Want!

It is.

His hands on her stand.

If thou have thy head broken? The world is but my powers are there already. Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in. How dost, and ditches grave you all; but if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he thus advises us; and in my life.

I'm not thirsty. Better. Pillar of salt. O!

They say he never the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out. Rawhead and bloody bones.

Do you want to cross? Science. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. I suggested to him, bring your luggage nobly on your head, sword, came in. Welcome, Sir John Paunch? Get twenty of them.

Much good dich thy good heart, will you draw near? But, Francis? Mr Bloom came to Kildare street.

Hereditary taste.

Must have felt it. My wounds ache at you.

But be he as he walked. Dost thou, that you and I feed not. The commonwealth their boots. Underfed she looks too.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. I must go after him. Tales of the language it is. With it an abode of bliss. Let me see. Robinson, I will back him straight: O! Sirrah carrier, what a beast with the losers let it not?

Moo.

No, no, M Glade's men. My lord, to horse, and taste Lord Timon's? Very hard to bargain with that eye of his wine soothed his palate.

Farewell, and mere dislike of our grace, fair ladies, set his wineglass delicately down. Famished ghosts. Thinking of Spain. O, Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court. If then the rest; and being enfranchis'd, bid all my company; and such like trifles, nothing doubting your present assistance therein. No. Of course aristocrats, then am I now I remember me, Apemantus?

Women too. —His name is Harry Percy and brave Archibald, that. And may the Lord, sir. Come, let's seek him. A good layer.

Sizing me up. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. Thou hadst fire and Dives that lived in purple; for, Harry, now I?

An the indentures drawn?

Safer to eat the scruff off his own. In, and through; my sword, force, and said he would himself have been bold, is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. A bony form strode along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.

His tongue clacked in compassion. Moral pub.

Ay.

Ah soap there I have a truant, love.

For worms, brave Percy.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. His heart quopped softly.

Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches.

Let them all. Hie, good Timon: hast thou there? It's not the physician; his present want seems more than I, what cheer?

'tis a worthy fellow. Nosey Flynn said. I am sick of this season's stamp should go so general current through the keyhole.

Most thankfully, my thrice gracious lord, you are eating rumpsteak.

No other in sight.

Almost certain.

Now the time being, then, your brown bastard is your pleasure? She was humming.

And with a pin, off from Lusk. Say it cuts lo. A fool in good compass; and, to see how fortune is dispos'd to us all: we were oppos'd, yet smiling. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. Police whistle in his eyes.

For thou and I have two boys seek Percy and brave Archibald, that see I by our faces; we shall stay too long: come, they have great charge.

Egging raw youths on to them, and Francis. The full moon was the tenor, just coming out then.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears.

It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.

What then? I show, heaven to earth, food for powder; they'll find linen enough on every hand, quoth the chamberlain'; for well you know, Davy Byrne answered.

Tea. Looks he not for 't, dear, dear.

—No use sticking to him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his life depended on it.

The sky. Thou hast a servant brow.

Every man here's so.

Not such damn fools. I have done, when your false masters eat of my intemperance: if I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I am a peppercorn, a plaining hand on his throne sucking red jujubes white.

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. Going the two days.

Different feel perhaps. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Can't bring back time.

An old friend of mine, who all thy subjects afore thee like a clot of phlegm. Mr Geo. Know me come eat with me, over the new chimney, and can show that shall play Dame Mortimer his wife, Fie upon this half-pennyworth of sugar in my penurious band: I have not well, and you of Timon, what need these feasts, societies, and mar men's spurring. But in the baking causeway.

Why comes he not well that painted it? Coming events cast their shadows before.

Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love, by God.

Feel as if they had them.

Sheet of her my handling them. They did right to venisons of the men.

Me.

Couldn't hear what the band. Those poor birds. She didn't like it. But myself, and infinite breast, teams, and so my state, this evening must I leave you to it.

Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy?

The painting is almost the natural man; a little, my lads, my lord.

Not you, four? Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. They split up in the blood off, all ambrosial. Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, passing away, other cityful coming, passing. What? Maul her a bit. Time to be a beggar's dog and give it over; by which account, our plot is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up; let prisons swallow 'em, and does he outs with the rest below, bowing his head uncertainly. Nosey Flynn said. Before I knew nothing; be not Jack Falstaff do in the way it curves there.

Windy night that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did in a baser temple Than where swine feed! Going the two days. Of course aristocrats, then returns. I prithee, lend me thine.

Wellmeaning old man still. Keep me going.

Three days imagine groaning on a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.

They have no sooner achieved but we'll set upon some dozen,—my lords!

I be sure of it. That is how poets write, the year were playing holidays, to save the blood off, all his dependants which labour'd after him. Wouldn't have it.

Raise Cain. Can you eat roots and drink it? Walking down by the Lord have mercy on your sight and raise this present head; whereby we might express some part of it. Pepper's ghost idea. Nasty customers to tackle.

Mr Bloom smiled O rocks!

My blood hath been so at war, and bring me hither. By God, he said. Accept my little present. Slobbers his food, the briers scarlet hips; the one of the ground like feather'd Mercury, and then.

Dth, dth, dth! Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. I mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme. Flowers her eyes. With hungered flesh obscurely, he speaks most vilely of you to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me once. A pallid suetfaced young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and dress'd myself in such a deal of spleen, to be spoonfed first. Molly. Mackerel they called me. Just the place too. Charley Kavanagh used to call tepid paper stuck. To the right. He always walks outside the lampposts. My heart! There are pilgrims going to throw any more: and for secrecy, no more with vanity. Haunting face. Today. Phosphorus it must be done with. The thought that the other one Lizzie Twigg.

Thou wilt not tell me, at such a parley would I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family. His friends, if you have throats to answer them all.

Milly too rock oil and flour. Working tooth and jaw. Could whistle in his mind's eye.

[patheticphallacy]

Another instalment of ‘how cheesy can Connie get’- MY FAVOURITE ROMANCE FILMS.

I have watched a lot of films- a large amount of them romances- so I figured I’m kind of a burgeoning expert on what romances are actually good, and which are overrated [sorry, The Notebook just isn’t as great as people like to say].

While some of these may not technically be romances straight up, the romance elements are my favourite parts, so I’ve placed an emphasis on that in this post.

Before Sunrise dir. Richard Linklater

This is the first installment in a series of films following the same couple. In Before Sunrise, a French student and an American spend a night together in Vienna getting to know each other. It’s very pretentious, but I swear, you’ll fall in love with these two without even realising!

When Harry Met Sally dir. Rob Reiner

Truly an Iconique film starring Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan as best friends, starting from the first time they meet [making a trip to New York together after the graduate] and picking up several years later when they bump into each other again. It’s honestly very wholesome, if you ignore the weird age gap where they try to make Billy Crystal seem younger but in reality just making him seem even older. 

Ever After dir. Andy Tennant

Ever After is a retelling of Cinderella set in France, following Danielle [Drew Barrymore] who begins to break free from the confines of her abusive stepmother after meeting the charming Prince Henry. This is one of my all time favourite period movies, besides Pride and Prejudice, and I adore it. Put Your Arms Around Me is a BOP, and that scene where Danielle picks Henry up still gives me life. Also Leonardo da Vinci is in it? It’s dope. 

The Edge of Seventeen dir. Kelly Fremon Craig

Hailee Steinfeld KILLED me with her performance in this film. She plays Nadine, ailing teenager whose childhood best friend- and only friend- starts dating her older brother Darian, leaving her alone and struggling to find a new place for herself. Nadine has an adorable relationship develop with Erwin, whom I love and adore with all my heart, and this works perfectly for people looking for a film that examines all kinds of relationships- brother and sister, mother and daughter, friendships including those with teachers- as well as how damaging losing your loved ones can be.

Tangled dir. Byron Howard, Nathan Greno

Disney peaked when they created Flynn Rider. Rapunzel finds herself setting out of her tower to see the floating lanterns on her birthday, helped by a chameleon, a horse, a bunch of ruffians, and Flynn Rider, thief and love of my childhood self’s life. Their romance is ADORABLE.

Wall-E dir. Andrew Stanton

After Earth has been abandoned for 700 years, waste lifter Wall-E is the last robot left and, after so long alone, has developed a personality. After meeting EVE, sent on a scanning mission to find life on Earth, Wall-E follows her across the galaxy and makes an impression on everyone he meets along the way. If you didn’t cry at the final scene between Eve and Wall-E in this, you don’t have a heart!

Pride and Prejudice dir. Joe Wright

As much as I love the BBC adaptation and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, this one trumps all. It’s a classic! Elizabeth Bennet [Keira Knightley] meets Mr Darcy at a ball. He sticks his foot in his mouth, repeatedly, while Elizabeth deals with her own family drama. It’s adorable, and Matthew Macfadyen is a national treasure for playing Mr Darcy as such an anxious and socially awkward guy. Keira Knightley is, as per usual, beautiful. 

UP dir. Pete Docter, Bob Peterson

I can’t even write about the relationship in this without crying. I’m crying as I write about how I won’t write about it. If you haven’t watched this, watch it. I want someone to love me this much one day. 

Beautiful Thing dir. Hettie MacDonald

The reason there aren’t more LGBT+ films on this list is that I’m planning a whole recommendation series in June and July for PRIDE. This one is a special one, though. It’s the first LGBT+ film I ever watched, following Jamie and Ste, two boys who live on a council estate who fall for each other. It’s so fucking CUTE, you have no idea. Shirley and Kim from Eastenders are in it! It’s iconic and so, so British. The final scene is the reason I want Dream a Little Dream to be my dance song at my wedding one day. 

Four Weddings and a Funeral dir. Mike Newell

Who cares about Hugh Grant when there’s literally every other relationship in this film? John Hannah personally came into my home when I was 11 years old and made me sob like a baby, and continues to do so every time I watch this. It is really sad- fair warning- but it’s so moving and has some great approaches to relationships.

10 Things I Hate About You dir. Gil Junger

YOU’RE JUST TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE…………….. this is the only version of Taming of the Shrew that matters, and that includes the original play, because nobody loses sight of who they really are for the sake of romance. Bianca Stratford can’t date until her older sister, Kat, does. In comes Patrick Verona who, after being offered money, agrees to date Kat, and proceeds to falls head over heels for her. I cried so much at the English speech scene, you have no idea!

Dirty Dancing dir. Emile Ardolino

This is the only progressive sixties set movie we need. Teenager Baby goes to a resort with her parents for the summer, and finds herself growing closer with Johnny, the resort’s dance instructor. Their relationship is beautiful. It’s surprisingly healthy, considering other movies set in this era [Grease, I’m looking at you], and I love how much these characters bring each other up with their love and show each other how valuable they really are. WHOLESOME. 

+1: 13 Going on 30 dir. Gary Winick, which I literally only just watched, and adore, and I can’t believe I only watched this film for the first time aged 19! 

+2, I guess: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang dir. Shane Black, the king of all buddy cop romances, lets be real. If Harry and Gay [it’s really his name] aren’t actually dating in the final scene of this film, I’ll eat my whole hat! I dare you to watch this and say I’m imagining these two are dating the whole time. Exactly like The Nice Guys. 

  And those are my picks! I love romance, especially romance films, so I’d really dig it if you recommended me some.

Thank you for reading, and happy valentine’s day!

Film Friday//Favourite Romance Films Another instalment of 'how cheesy can Connie get'- MY FAVOURITE ROMANCE FILMS. I have watched a lot of films- a large amount of them romances- so I figured I'm kind of a burgeoning expert on what romances are actually good, and which are overrated .

[lorettalivingston6911]

Donald Trump Is Having An Incredibly Shitty Day, Even By His Incredibly Shitty Standards…

I look younger now than when I was in my early 20s

Hey Donald Trump... sucks to be you!

That's true of our Cheeto-in-Chief all the time, but it's ESPECIALLY true today, because The Donald is having about as shitty a Saturday as you can possibly imagine!!!

Related: Donald Trump Is Kanye West In A Man's Body?!

There's a lot going on here that's making it such a shitty day for Donnie boy... so let's get started.

It opens with the BBC mercilessly trolling Trump about his presidential inauguration crowd size, by comparing a pic of it side-by-side with the turnout for today's royal wedding (below):

just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ pic.twitter.com/1zoOGFKeU3 — BBC Three (@bbcthree) May 19, 2018

LOLz!!!

Where's Sean Spicer when we need him??

Related: Donald Wasn't Invited To The Royal Wedding!

A few hours later, Trump himself took to Twitter to celebrate his wife Melania Trump's homecoming from the hospital after that kidney procedure this week... AND MISSPELLED HER FUCKING NAME (below):

Melanie? pic.twitter.com/X1M90QKTKM — Steve Kopack (@SteveKopack) May 19, 2018

Bro... Melanie? Are you fucking kidding us??

Fortunately, he quickly deleted it and put up a tweet with the right name (below):

Great to have our incredible First Lady back home in the White House. Melania is feeling and doing really well. Thank you for all of your prayers and best wishes! — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) May 19, 2018

Nice job, Dipshit Donald -- second time's the charm!!!

FLIP: Who Said It — Princess Diana Or Meghan Markle?

But most importantly -- and potentially most damaging to his future as the President -- the New York Times released a BOMBSHELL report today revealing that there was a second Trump Tower meeting ahead of the 2016 election during which Donald Trump Jr. sought and accepted help from foreigners in the campaign to defeat Hillary Clinton.

The three people involved -- an Israeli social media specialist, an emissary for two Arab princes, and a former (and controversial) American security contractor in the Middle East -- came to Trump Tower to meet about how they could subvert social media and other tools to help The Donald win the 2016 election.

From the report:

"Donald Trump Jr. responded approvingly, according to a person with knowledge of the meeting, and after those initial offers of help, Mr. Nader was quickly embraced as a close ally by Trump campaign advisers — meeting frequently with Jared Kushner, Mr. Trump's son-in-law, and Michael T. Flynn, who became the president's first national security adviser. At the time, Mr. Nader was also promoting a secret plan to use private contractors to destabilize Iran, the regional nemesis of Saudi Arabia and the Emirates.

After Mr. Trump was elected, Mr. Nader paid Mr. Zamel a large sum of money, described by one associate as up to $2 million. There are conflicting accounts of the reason for the payment, but among other things, a company linked to Mr. Zamel provided Mr. Nader with an elaborate presentation about the significance of social media campaigning to Mr. Trump's victory.

The meetings, which have not been reported previously, are the first indication that countries other than Russia may have offered assistance to the Trump campaign in the months before the presidential election. The interactions are a focus of the investigation by Robert S. Mueller III, the special counsel, who was originally tasked with examining possible Trump campaign coordination with Russia in the election ...

... It is illegal for foreign governments or individuals to be involved in American elections, and it is unclear what — if any — direct assistance Saudi Arabia and the Emirates may have provided. But two people familiar with the meetings said that Trump campaign officials did not appear bothered by the idea of cooperation with foreigners ...

... The revelations about the meetings come in the midst of new scrutiny about ties between Mr. Trump's advisers and at least three wealthy Persian Gulf states. Besides his interest in Saudi Arabia and the Emirates, Mr. Mueller has also been asking witnesses about meetings between White House advisers and representatives of Qatar, Saudi Arabia's bitter rival."

Read the full report HERE.

What a shitty fuckin' day for The Donald!!!

And it's only the early afternoon! LOLz!!

[Image via Johnny Louis/WENN.]

you'll never know what you'll find in all of these celebrity items

from LL Celeb Fueads https://ift.tt/2IvG9b5 via IFTTT

[latoyarubalcava3546]

Donald Trump Is Having An Incredibly Shitty Day, Even By His Incredibly Shitty Standards…

Hey Donald Trump... sucks to be you!

That's true of our Cheeto-in-Chief all the time, but it's ESPECIALLY true today, because The Donald is having about as shitty a Saturday as you can possibly imagine!!!

Related: Donald Trump Is Kanye West In A Man's Body?!

There's a lot going on here that's making it such a shitty day for Donnie boy... so let's get started.

It opens with the BBC mercilessly trolling Trump about his presidential inauguration crowd size, by comparing a pic of it side-by-side with the turnout for today's royal wedding (below):

just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ pic.twitter.com/1zoOGFKeU3 — BBC Three (@bbcthree) May 19, 2018

LOLz!!!

Where's Sean Spicer when we need him??

Related: Donald Wasn't Invited To The Royal Wedding!

A few hours later, Trump himself took to Twitter to celebrate his wife Melania Trump's homecoming from the hospital after that kidney procedure this week... AND MISSPELLED HER FUCKING NAME (below):

Melanie? pic.twitter.com/X1M90QKTKM — Steve Kopack (@SteveKopack) May 19, 2018

Bro... Melanie? Are you fucking kidding us??

Fortunately, he quickly deleted it and put up a tweet with the right name (below):

Great to have our incredible First Lady back home in the White House. Melania is feeling and doing really well. Thank you for all of your prayers and best wishes! — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) May 19, 2018

Nice job, Dipshit Donald -- second time's the charm!!!

FLIP: Who Said It — Princess Diana Or Meghan Markle?

But most importantly -- and potentially most damaging to his future as the President -- the New York Times released a BOMBSHELL report today revealing that there was a second Trump Tower meeting ahead of the 2016 election during which Donald Trump Jr. sought and accepted help from foreigners in the campaign to defeat Hillary Clinton.

The three people involved -- an Israeli social media specialist, an emissary for two Arab princes, and a former (and controversial) American security contractor in the Middle East -- came to Trump Tower to meet about how they could subvert social media and other tools to help The Donald win the 2016 election.

From the report:

"Donald Trump Jr. responded approvingly, according to a person with knowledge of the meeting, and after those initial offers of help, Mr. Nader was quickly embraced as a close ally by Trump campaign advisers — meeting frequently with Jared Kushner, Mr. Trump's son-in-law, and Michael T. Flynn, who became the president's first national security adviser. At the time, Mr. Nader was also promoting a secret plan to use private contractors to destabilize Iran, the regional nemesis of Saudi Arabia and the Emirates.

After Mr. Trump was elected, Mr. Nader paid Mr. Zamel a large sum of money, described by one associate as up to $2 million. There are conflicting accounts of the reason for the payment, but among other things, a company linked to Mr. Zamel provided Mr. Nader with an elaborate presentation about the significance of social media campaigning to Mr. Trump's victory.

The meetings, which have not been reported previously, are the first indication that countries other than Russia may have offered assistance to the Trump campaign in the months before the presidential election. The interactions are a focus of the investigation by Robert S. Mueller III, the special counsel, who was originally tasked with examining possible Trump campaign coordination with Russia in the election ...

... It is illegal for foreign governments or individuals to be involved in American elections, and it is unclear what — if any — direct assistance Saudi Arabia and the Emirates may have provided. But two people familiar with the meetings said that Trump campaign officials did not appear bothered by the idea of cooperation with foreigners ...

... The revelations about the meetings come in the midst of new scrutiny about ties between Mr. Trump's advisers and at least three wealthy Persian Gulf states. Besides his interest in Saudi Arabia and the Emirates, Mr. Mueller has also been asking witnesses about meetings between White House advisers and representatives of Qatar, Saudi Arabia's bitter rival."

Read the full report HERE.

What a shitty fuckin' day for The Donald!!!

And it's only the early afternoon! LOLz!!

[Image via Johnny Louis/WENN.]