#dispossessed staring at me from my library…

[tessatechaitea]

The Invisibles #1

If I had to pretend to know anything about art, I'd say this cover represents how pop culture can kill. Or will blow your mind. Or feels dangerous but it's actually pretty safe because the pin is still in the grenade.

What the fuck do I know about art and why the fuck am I assuming this comic book is going to be about art anyway?! Just because Grant Morrison wrote it and I happen to think Grant Morrison has written some pretty smart comic books? Well, I'm pretty sure he's written some huge fucking turds too! It's just that I haven't read any of them that I remember. Apparently I've read a few issues of this but I don't really remember it. I don't like to tell people that I don't remember it when they talk about how great it was because that's admitting that 22 year old me wasn't a discerning critic of his entertainment. At least I also can't remember the truly garbage comic books I was reading in 1994 as well! So it's possible I read this and thought, "I'm so smart because I understand what's happening!" Now I'm terrified to read it because I'm absolutely certain I'll think, "What the hell is going on in this comic book? I'm such a stupid asshole!" Oh boy. This comic book is forty pages long. Get ready for a review that explicates the first fifteen pages thoroughly while also digressing twelve separate times before quickly summarizing the last twenty-five pages so I can go play some Apex.

I can't say for certain this is a shot at Ann Nocenti but, thankfully, I can say it's definitely not a shot at me!

This guy is Elfayed. He's retrieved a mummified scarab from the desert believing it might be a sign for the mysterious bald man with too many face piercings and the endeavor he's currently on. Which is a mystery because Grant Morrison isn't going to let the reader understand the comic book on the first page! Sheesh! The second page doesn't help explain things but it does place the word "synchronicity" burning in my brain like a buzzing, blinking neon sign.

Get it? Mummified beetle. Dead Beatles. Boy throwing a Molotov cocktail. Pop culture and violence. I think I intuitively understand this comic book so 70% of the rest of what I say will be dick jokes.

The kid throwing the explosive is one of three members of a gang called the Croxteth Posse. Every youth in Britain joins a gang no matter how stupid and lame they are. It just proves how hard they are even if they never throw one Molotov cocktail or ever even get their genitals touched. The gang members run off into the night, past some "King Mob" graffiti which will be important later, yelling, "We are the boys! We are the boys!" Is that a thing lame youth gangs in London did in the 80s and 90s? Because I remember Lister and his posse saying that shit about being the boys of the Dwarf when they thought they were acting hard on some adventure that probably involved Lister fucking a future version of himself. The Croxteth gang are from Liverpool because Croxteth is a suburb of Liverpool. It shows how imaginative these youths are. I bet there are at least fifty different Croxteth Posses bumbling about at night destroying things. The bald guys name is Gideon (and possibly King Mob. Unless the antagonist is King Mob. I should probably keep reading to find out) and he's both young and old at the same time. He's probably some kind of spirit of the zeitgeist or something, Grant Morrison's Jenny Sparks. He's looking for a new recruit for his own gang since something happened to John-A-Dreams. He might have just died of old age because Gideon's other acquaintance, Edith, is now 95 years old and sulking in her mortality. He wants her to contact somebody named Tom to let him know he thinks he found their new recruit. I think it's probably the anarchist kid because I know how stories work. I'm starting to think maybe The Invisibles are a bit like the Upright Citizens Brigade. Their only enemy is the status quo. Their only friend is chaos. Except there will be less skits with people wearing giant papier-mâché cat heads and more ultra-violence. The arsonist kid's name is McGowan and he's smarter than he acts, according to his teacher who gives him the old "you're not fulfilling your potential and your friends are just dragging you down" speech. But what kind of an anarchist would McGowan be if he gave a shit about what his teacher thinks of him? Oh, that's right! He'd be a good anarchist if he really gave a shit and a bad anarchist if he didn't give a shit but he let the teacher's words affect him anyway. That's how anarchy works, right? The problem with anarchy is that it needs a few rules to make it work well but you can't enforce any rules or else you're not living an anarchic lifestyle. Here's my definition of anarchy from Places & Predators, my roller playing game: a philosophy where anybody can do anything they want without worrying about some stupid guard putting an axe in their head. But they have to worry about everyone else putting an axe in their head all the time because there are no guards. I should probably read The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin instead of all these stupid Han Solo and Lando Calrissian adventure books.

Oh, well McGowan's mother withholds love and affection and blames him for all the ills in her life. I suppose I can now forgive him for torching the school library, right?

McGowan heads out to sit in the cold and watch John Lennon have a conversation with Stuart Sutcliffe. They joke about being dead and it's funny because they are dead. Stuart even says he wants to die young which is doubly funny because he does. Ha ha! McGowan doesn't laugh because maybe he doesn't find gallows humor funny. But some weird creature that speaks some German does laugh. He's all, "Ha ha! They're going to die young! Oh ho ho! Such jolly fun! Now join with me, you dumb kid." He also says some German stuff that I can't make sense of because I don't speak German and I don't want to ask the Non-Certified Spouse what it means. I could use Google but I'm being extra lazy right now. McGowan tells the weird German tourist to fuck off because he doesn't care about anything. But you know what kind of people actually care a lot about everything? The kind who need to tell everybody that they don't care about anything. Only people whose feelings are super hurt say stuff like that. And maybe serial killers. Later McGowan decides to prove he doesn't care by suggesting he and his friends blow up the school. Not because he cares how they think they know everything and they want him to be just like them and all adults lack affection and sincerity. No, he just wants to blow it up because he doesn't give a shit about nothing, man. The scene switches to the bald guy who might be King Mob on an LSD trip. It's nothing like taking LSD but I'll pretend it's all metaphor and analogy and spiritual nonsense. In his trip, he sees a gigantic head of John Lennon. Mostly because the whole trip was to summon this head. It's a double page spread of psychedelic images and nonsense mixed with Beatles lyrics and album titles. Strange that Morrison fails to translate an acid trip involving The Beatles when The Beatles themselves have a song that I think most feels like and describes an acid trip. No, it's not "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds"; it's "Strawberry Fields." If I had to state what my favorite Beatles song was right now, I'd say "Strawberry Fields" even though Magical Mystery Tour might be my least favorite (later) album (although now that I type it, I remember it contained "Penny Lane" and "The Fool on the Hill" and "All You Need is Love" and I guess I was wrong about Magical Mystery Tour being my least favorite album). I added the later because their early pop shit doesn't really resonate with me. I don't think I appreciate their music until after they've met Doctor Robert. Just listened to "Strawberry Fields" and now I'm crying. Fucking great song. While trying to burn down the school, McGowan is caught be his teacher. He gives his teacher a brutal beating and then answers a question he refused to answer in class, just to show he's both smart and violent.

McGowan's arrested and Hugh Laurie sentences him to hard juvenile labor.

I was speaking of acid earlier and I'd like to recommend the documentary on Netflix called Have a Good Trip, especially to people who have never done acid. It's enlightening. You might think that my favorite part was one of the crazier bits about hallucinations or one of the stories about how something odd always happens when on acid (it totally does) but I think my favorite bit is when the musician from Bikini Kill, Kathleen Hanna, tells the story about how acid made her realize that you didn't have to cross the street along the legs of the two triangles comprising the square intersection but can just cross along the hypotenuse. It's not that the idea is mind blowing or even close to an "A-ha!" shower thought; it's just that's the kind of mundane thought that seems like a fucking magic revelation when you're on acid. It's the epitome of the acid experience. LSD makes the mundane profound which is way more exciting than you might think. If you've never done acid, you might have fucked off to the comment section just now to point out that the universe is a wonderful and magical and profound place even without acid. And I fucking agree. But LSD makes everything profound. Every single thing you see or think combines with the fabric of the universe and it all becomes staring at the stars and wondering how it all fucking fits together. But you don't need space or infinity or philosophy; you just need LSD, a stapler, a bottle of water, and a Jack Kirby comic book from the early 70s. Dane McGowan is sentenced to ten weeks in a juvenile facility called Harmony House. It's where violent teenage boys aren't taught to stop being violent; it's where they're taught to use their violence to benefit the government! At least that's my guess. I like to pretend I know what's happening in the comic book as I write the review and then later I delete the wrong assumptions I made and replace them with lies to make me look like a Grandmaster Comic Book Reviewer! Actually, that last sentence was a lie. Normally if I get something wrong, I just write "Oops!" later and then tell readers to forget the terrible mistake I made.

This is the plot to every young adult dystopian book ever written: "Society says conformity is good. But one young spunky individual with weird hair won't submit and will save the world!"

Sometimes I feel the only people touched by stories about the individual refusing to be a sheep of the status quo are people who tend to be sheep of the status quo. To rely identify with the hero in one of these stories, the reader needs to have though of themselves as part of the status quo and felt the need to participate in some activity that would prove that they weren't. Instead of, you know, just being themselves and never actually giving their place in society a second thought. I find odd people who are inspired by a story that tells the reader to be themselves. How is that inspiring unless you never really knew that was an option? And how could you fucking not know it?! But then again, Heathers is one of my all-time favorite movies and I suppose that's got a similar message about being oneself. But it also has murder and some seriously great lines of dialogue and Christian Slater blowing himself to bits.

Oh, remember where I mentioned this comic book was basically screaming "synchronicity" at me and that I understood it on an instinctual level after page two? Grandmaster Comic Book Reader!

The leader of The Invisibles (man, I wish the comic book would just tell me that the bald guy with piercings is actually King Mob already) decides to infiltrate Harmony House to make sure their soon-to-be new recruit, McGowan, is doing okay. I'm sure he'll find he's fine because he's not buying into the whole "be a soldier of the status quo" bullshit being fed to the young boys at the institution. It's easy to be against a Headmaster who thinks arguments like "Liberals love freedom but do they want people to be so free that they can steal their VCRs." But will he be able to stand up against the techno-brainwashing and the influence of the mystical creature running things from behind the scenes?! Probably but only with help from the Upright Citizens Brigade. I mean The Invisibles.

It's surreal that this is the way we thought of controlling the populace in the 90s: turn them into content sheep without any anger or frustration. And yet the exact opposite of that is true: control them by making them angry and frustrated at as many lies and half-truths as you can.

The big twist reveal isn't that the boys' brains are cut up and messed with; it's that the boys genitals are removed as well. Yeesh! Now I'm angry and frustrated! I'm totally against this Harmony House bullshit. Is this actually happening red states?! Horrific! King Mob (yes, they finally reveal that's the bald guy's name) rescues Dane from Harmony House while shooting a bunch of people (including the Headmaster) and blowing the building to bits. It's a good thing we learned the real antagonist was some dick-eating creature called the King of Chains. Dane McGowan isn't ready to join The Invisibles which King Mob was ready for. He had a tarot reading earlier that said the kid was going to have to be put through the wringer first. So he leaves the kid in London and disappears, just so we all know why they're called The Invisibles. I guess Batman is a member? The Invisibles #1 Rating: B+. This issue was forty pages long and it felt like it used every page to move the story along. It's insane that that's one of the greatest compliments I can give a comic book. Way too many writers just fill their scripts with nonsense because they don't have a real plan for their story. I know everybody espouses the idea that a good comic book story should teach the reader something new about the character. But unless learning that Superman can punch something harder than he previously thought he could, or Batman is super resilient and can take a ton of punishment for five issues before rising to the occasion through pure force of will, most comic book writers really don't put a lot of thought into themes. Sure, sure. This sort of feels like the mystic super hero version of Catcher in the Rye which might be why I stopped purchasing it after six issues. Although it's just as likely that I stopped purchasing it at six issues because my infrequent visits to the comic book store made me miss Issue #7 and I just gave up on it. It's not bad and it's put together well and as a young 48 year old who thinks the man can go fuck himself, I'm totally into it's message about being a unique individual! Anarchy rules!

#The Invisibles #Grant Morrison #Steve Yeowell

[pokemaniacal]

Pokémon Moon, Episode 11: In Which I Perform an Exorcism

With no other clear direction obvious to me, I leave Malie City and wander south.  The southeast coast of Ula’ula Island is dominated by extremely rough, rocky, arid scrubland.  Although the Z-Crystal that I earned in Sophocles’ trial gets me through the Island Challenge barricades on the southeast road, it doesn’t take long before the rocks become totally impassable.  Fortunately, Hapu (who is almost certainly very important, though I’m still not sure why) is on hand to offer me the solution: she allows me to freely summon her Mudsdale as a riding Pokémon.  Mudsdale is slow compared to the other Tauros and Stoutland, but can move effortlessly over rough terrain that would reduce them to uncoordinated stumbling. Hapu points me in the direction of Tapu Village, at the base of Mount Lanakila, for my next trial, then bids me good luck and farewell.

The southeast road curves along the barren, rocky coast of Ula’ula Island until it finally reaches a ramshackle settlement made up of a motel and a few broken-down mobile homes huddled around an oasis.  Is this… Tapu Village?  It’s… kind of a dump.  Hau has arrived here just ahead of me, brimming with energy as always.  As we talk – or, more accurately, as Hau bubbles at me cheerfully – a voice cuts across from behind me. “You only have one volume, don’t you?” it asks disdainfully.  I turn to see Gladion, the strange pale boy working for Team Skull that we met on Akala Island. “Gah! He’s back!” Hau cries.  Gladion makes a face at him. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression that silence is golden?” “Believe me, dude, I’m with you on that one,” I tell him.  Hau looks upset, but Gladion ignores me and continues speaking. “Listen, Team Skull is looking for a Pokémon called Cosmog… Do you two know anything?”  Hau’s eyes widen and he starts spluttering. “What!? N-not that we’d tell you!” “Hau, shut up and let me handle this,” I hiss, shooting him a quick cautionary glance. Gladion fixes his gaze on Hau, like he’s staring right through him. “So you do know something.” “What if we do?” I ask.  Gladion keeps glaring at Hau, who is rapidly wilting under the pressure.  “Hey.”  I snap my fingers.  “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”  Gladion rolls his eyes and turns to me, and Hau breathes a sigh of relief.  “What if we do know something?”  I give him a conspiratorial smirk.  “How much is it worth to you?”  Hau looks shocked, but Gladion just grunts. “Ugh… Look… Cosmog isn’t even a strong Pokémon.  But it has the potential to summon Pokémon so terrifyingly strong that you don’t even know.”  Summon…?  Like, through an Ultra Wormhole?  Can Cosmog create Ultra Wormholes?  But then- then Lillie must already have what she needs to summon the Ultra Beast that she was researching in the Malie Library!  Unless… no… no, it has the potential to, Gladion said.  I can still stop Lillie’s plans if I can find out what will unlock Nebby’s potential and stop her from getting it… but I can’t let her realise how much I know.  “If something like that happened, it would be a disaster for Alola,” Gladion continues. “A disaster?” Hau exclaims.  “Like… a real disaster?  Then what’re we supposed to do about it?” “Protect it!” Gladion answers, exasperated.  “If you do know where Cosmog is or if you do find anything out… just keep it safe!” “Safe from what…?” I ask, fishing for more information.  “You said you work for Team Skull.  Why would you want us to keep Neb- uh- this ‘Cosmog’ Pokémon safe from them?  What’s your real angle here?”  Gladion tenses up slightly. “Working for Team Skull doesn’t mean I always have to agree with them.  You’ve met Guzma.  Can you even imagine what he would be like with Cosmog under his control?” I stare at him intently. “You’re lying,” I state matter-of-factly.  The truth is, I’m actually not sure this time, and I certainly don’t want Guzma to be able to summon god-killing abominations from the Endless Void at will – but there’s no reason to let Gladion know that. “Something else is going on here. They’re looking for Cosmog for someone else… or… to keep it away from someone else?”  He doesn’t take the bait. “I know I might be working for Team Skull right now, so you may not trust me or even care, but… I’m going to tell you this just once.  You have to protect Cosmog!  No matter what!”  He turns and leaves, ignoring Hau’s attempts to ask more questions. 

Well, at least I know one thing for sure: the saintly Aether Foundation has nothing to do with this.  After all, Lusamine seemed so nice!  Her foundation couldn’t possibly be involved with anything as disreputable as a turf war with Team Skull, let alone Lillie’s apocalyptic plans to summon Lunala and plunge Alola into eternal night.  Nope; that is one Alolan faction that I see no reason to investigate whatsoever.

Now that I’m free to explore the oasis, I quickly discover that this is not Tapu Village at all.  The “village” is a blasted ruin to the west of the oasis, at the bottom of the trail that leads up Mount Lanakila, where only a Pokémon Centre and a few stone totems are still standing.  The cluster of beaten-up mobile homes seems to be a makeshift settlement of Alola’s assorted hopeless and dispossessed.  Honestly it seems like this is just a place where the Alolans ditch people they don’t want to think too hard about – a campervan graveyard on the edge of the unforgiving Haina Desert, where the local deity, Tapu Bulu, is said to live in isolation.  So… if I’m understanding the situation correctly, the Tapu of Life lives next to a cemetery, and the Tapu of Abundance lives in the middle of a desert.  I can only assume that no one has ever offered the Alolan pantheon any sort of image consulting.  Among the societal debris of this alleged settlement are several members of Team Skull, who seem to own one of the campervans.  I guess this is their home, making me the intruder this time, but they make no effort to make me feel unwelcome.  They even talk to me for a while, satisfying some of my curiosity about who they are and where they come from.  Team Skull, apparently, had once been led by an Alolan Kahuna, but fell out of favour after they “got smacked down by the wrath of the Tapu,” which, to be honest, I can sympathise with.  I’m rapidly starting to feel like Team Skull may be the victims in all of this (or at least, many of their members; I have yet to develop any particular compassion for Guzma).  Alolan society and tradition have left them behind, casting them out to the edges of civilisation, and now Kukui’s revolution is threatening to do it again. There’s some straight-up classism just below the surface here.

If Professor Kukui’s Lanakila League ever takes off, then Tapu Village might become a thriving settlement again thanks to the tourism, but for now, it barely even qualifies as a village.  Aside from the Pokémon Centre, there’s just a big abandoned supermarket, sitting just back from the black iron-sand beach on the south coast.  Apparently it was built on sacred land, drawing the wrath of the Tapu, and is now overrun by Ghost Pokémon.  It’s also a trial site, but its Captain – presumably that Acerola chick who was conspiring with Lillie at the library – isn’t here.  Out in the bay, there’s a ruined lighthouse, and there’s no word on what happened to that.  Maybe Tapu Bulu just has really terrible aim?  Outside the “village” to the northwest is only other location of any importance, a gleaming white building in the distinctive cuboid architectural style of the Aether Foundation: Aether House.  The sign outside proclaims it to be a place “where people and Pokémon huddle together” – a refuge of sorts, not unlike the Aether Paradise, though Aether House also seems to harbour human children (orphans?).  Despite the name, and the golden trident-like logo of the Aether Foundation prominently displayed above the reception desk, there don’t seem to be any actual Aether Foundation employees present.  There is a receptionist manning the desk.  However, this receptionist is an Oranguru.  No one questions this.  When Hau and I first arrive here, we manage to get into a fight with the unusually warlike children who live in Aether House with their Pokémon, but it doesn’t take long for Acerola to show up and reassure them that we aren’t their enemy. She seems to work at Aether House in some capacity, but I’m not clear on whether she’s part of the Aether Foundation – if so, it’s odd that she’s working with Lillie.  Perhaps she’s a double agent working for Lillie’s terrorist cell to bring down the foundation from within… The plot thickens.  Acerola formally invites me and Hau to take her trial at the abandoned Thrifty Megamart, which should be a good way to get the measure of her properly.

When I leave Aether House, Lillie is just outside – shouting at a member of Team Skull. Oh dear. “Your bag was moving!” the grunt accuses her.  “Right in front of my eyes!  And I’m just supposed to ignore that?!”  That bag is where she hides Nebby when they’re in public. Ohhhhh dear. “Even if it’s not that rare of a Pokémon, I bet I could still get paid, yo,” the grunt continues.  Lillie feigns terror, cowering with her bag held protectively behind her, but he clearly sees through her flimsy ruse and takes a step closer to her, looming threateningly. “Damnit,” I mutter under my breath.  If this idiot forces Lillie’s hand, then either I’ll be railroaded into a confrontation with her right now, or Team Skull will get her Cosmog, and I’m not sure either of those scenarios end well. I recognise him as the grunt with the Drowzee that I battled a couple of times on Melemele Island, so I decide to step in and try to defuse the situation. “Hey there; what’s up, uh… homie?” I say cheerfully as I hastily insert myself in between Lillie and the grunt.  “I’m sure we don’t need this to get violent, right?  Why don’t you and I just leave the girl alone and I’ll, uh… buy you a nice Tapu Cocoa down at the Pokémon Centre or something?”  He looks at me suspiciously. “You again?  I remember you – you’re that numskull what B keeps talking about.”  I blink a few times. “Yeah, I- um.  Wait, he does?  Really? Like… what kind of things does he even say?”  Lillie cocks her head and stares at me in abject confusion.  I give her some frantic hand signals behind my back in hopes of getting her to scurry into Aether House. “I dunno, he just, like… never shuts up when we’re all hanging out at the boss’s crib. It’s mad distractin’, yo!  Homie needs to check himself ‘fore he wrecks himself.” “Well… no, I mean, yeah, I get it, just… like, for example…?” I ask, doing my best to appear casual while simultaneously progressing my hand signals for Lillie to more insistent and obscene levels.  My strategy is working in one respect at least; the grunt is now getting far too mystified with my line of questioning to pay any attention to her. “Uh… I guess last time we was all chillin’, he kept talkin’ about how you beat the boss in Malie City.  It’s like that numskull don’t even know what Guzma’d do to us if he heard someone mouthing off like that!”  My reputation is spreading!  At this rate, Guzma will have lost control of Team Skull by next Thursday!  Meanwhile, as the grunt talks, Lillie slowly creeps up the Aether House front stairs.  “What’choo even care for, yo?” “Oh, well, I don’t, I just- Well, the more of you know how strong I am, the easier it gets to keep you from causing trouble, right?”  I pause to think.  “Not that that’s stopped any of you from trying to fight me so far…” Lillie has made her way inside, and is now nowhere to be seen.  Mission accomplished.  “Do you think you could give B a message from me?” I ask, trying to keep the grunt’s thoughts disrupted as long as possible. “…sure?” He waits for a few seconds. “So…?” “Um. Just… tell him I said hi?”  I suggest.  “And, uh, maybe tell him to tone it down when Guzma’s around?  You know, check himself before he wrecks himself?” The grunt looks at me like I just told him I want dancing lessons for my Walrein because it’s the wrong shade of orange. “Whatever, homie,” he says with a shrug.  “I gotta split.  Laters!” He wanders off, still looking baffled. 

…what? It worked, didn’t it?

Acerola meets me outside the defunct Thrifty Megamart, as promised, and explains the rules of her trial.  All I have to do is find her Ghost-type Totem Pokémon within the ruins of the store and take its picture with the Rotomdex’s camera.  Easy, right?  She even offers me a hint: the Totem Pokémon will probably be hidden, but should come out to “join the fun” if it sees the other Ghost Pokémon enjoying a photo op and gets jealous.  Well, this should be refreshingly straightforward.  Acerola bids me good luck and, with the Rotomdex hovering at my side, I enter the abandoned store.

…wow, this place is a dump.  Empty storage boxes and overturned shopping trolleys blocking half the aisles, piles of canned food that no-one ever bothered to claim, bare shelves coated with dust, windows gone dark from years of neglected grime… No Ghost Pokémon yet, but that’s not surprising; most Ghost-type species prefer to observe humans on their own terms before engaging.  I walk softly past a collapsed shelf of decaying magazines, scanning the store for movement.  Somewhere to my left, I hear a loud “clunk,” and one of the checkout conveyor belts starts moving on its own.  That’s… not normal.  I go to examine the checkout. “Zzzzt! What are you waiting for?” the Rotomdex buzzes, floating around in front of me.  “Take a photo!”  It waves its ‘arm’ at the empty air in front of us. “…dude, you’re glitching again.  There’s nothing there.” “WooooooOOOOOOOooooooOOOOOOOOO!” “You were zzzzzzzaying?” “...it’s the wind.  Probably.” “You really can’t zzzzzzzee that?”  I shrug helplessly.  “Juzzzzzt look through my camera!”  The Rotomdex boots up its camera function and hovers right in front of my nose.  I blink, uncross my eyes, and peer at the screen. The Gastly floating overhead laughs and pokes out its tongue.  The Rotomdex clicks loudly and snaps a photo of the Gastly, which immediately turns itself visible and attacks.  Startled, I yelp, tumble backwards over another checkout counter, and fumble for my Golisopod’s Pokéball.  A quick Payback attack is enough to see the Gastly off, leaving Golisopod to wonder what her trainer is doing upside down on the floor of a derelict supermarket. 

“So you can see Ghost Pokémon even while they’re out-of-phase?” I ask the Rotomdex as I creep further into the building, my Golisopod in tow. “Zzzzt! I’m a Ghost Pokémon too, remember, bosszz?” “And you can project what you see onto your display?”  A discarded trolley starts rattling, and we move to investigate. “Close enough.  My cameras can pick up all the same thingzzzz my eyes can.” “Oh, that makes sense.”  We detect and dispatch a Haunter in the same way as the Gastly before it.  “…wait, you have multispectral cameras?” “Zzzzt! Sure do, bosszz!” “Um… why?” I ask. “What do you mean, why?  I’m a top-notch rezzzearch tool!  I’m zzzztate of the art!” the Rotomdex responds indignantly. “Jeez, it was just a question; no need to get your circuits knotted.”  It buzzes at me with irritation.  “Although… you’re not really, are you?” “What’zzz that supposed to mean!?” “Well… the body that the Professors gave you – the Pokédex – that’s where all your useful functionality comes from. You’re just… kind of an annoying tour guide.” “ZZZZZZT!  Without me, thizzz thing is just a glorified Kindle with the battery life of a suicidal Voltorb!  I’m the one that allows new information and data analysis to come out of your random stumbling around Alola!” “Random stumbling!?  That- well, okay, that’s fair, but… hang on.  Analysis?”  Over in the back corner of the store, I see a Pikachu doll and a Marill doll levitate off their shelf. “Who do you think writezz all those Pokédex entries!?  Zzzzt!” “Wait – you write… yourself?  Every one of your entries is your original work?”  The Rotomdex is silent for a moment, then gives an embarrassed buzz. “Not exzzzactly.  I’m the… ethereal spark that lets the Pokédex’s AI function.  But I don’t really know how it works.  If I want to know something from my database, I can juzzzzt… think of it, and it’s like I knew it all along, but I don’t know how I know it or where I learned it.” “…trippy.” “Zzzt! You’re damn right it is, boss! But I wouldn’t pass it up for anything! While I’m living inside this box, I’m the zzzmartest thing in the universe!” “Whatever; don’t get a swelled CPU.”  We snap a picture of a Gengar, walking on air and controlling the floating dolls.  The Gengar attacks, and my Golisopod smacks it through a wall with Payback.  We’re at the back of the store now, and nothing else seems to be moving.  The whole place is eerily quiet.  Suddenly, there’s a voice behind me. “Piiii-pikachu!” I spin around and see a little Pikachu in a gloomy corner.  It runs off alongside the back wall of the store and ducks through a door that… I’m almost certain wasn’t there a second ago. “Oookay…” I say out loud.  What would a Pikachu be doing in a place like this?  I walk slowly towards the door.  It’s ajar, and swings open with only a slight creak.

The room beyond is… tiny, barely large enough for me and Golisopod. The stark concrete walls are decorated with a dozen or more child’s drawings of a Pikachu with a little girl. “What… is all this doing here?” I ask. We’re in the back room of a supermarket, why…? “Pi-ka!” I turn around.  The Pikachu is standing behind us. “Hello there…” I say cautiously.  The Pikachu cocks its head.  “Could you help me?  I’m looking for a Totem Pokémon, and-” The Pikachu suddenly starts laughing, a scratchy, high-pitched sound that seems totally out of place. “Uh… boss?” the Rotomdex asks.  “Who are you talking to?” “The-?” I blink.  “You can’t see-?”  I look to the Rotomdex, then back at the Pikachu.  It flickers for a moment and then vanishes.  The tiny room’s door slams shut and the lights cut out. “Ohhhhhh god…” The Rotomdex turns up its display brightness, and I catch sight of the Pikachu again – only it suddenly looks very wrong.  Its skin is freakishly pale, its head lolls to one side, its ears are bent and crumpled, and its face looks scribbled on with a marker.  It laughs again, and I snap.  “OH SWEET JUMPING CR@P!” I shout, and roundhouse kick the not-Pikachu in the head.  It just keeps laughing as its neck goes limp and its head dangles uselessly over its back. “KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!” I scream at my Golisopod, who clumsily tries to attack around me, leaving several dents in the concrete walls in the process.  With another deranged, maniacal laugh, the not-Pikachu leaps onto Golisopod and beats her senseless.  I hastily call on my Toucannon for a Beak Blast that burns the not-Pikachu and starts to seriously crack the walls, but it just pops a Lum Berry in its mouth, grabs my Toucannon and slams her to the ground.  “ARCEUS I’VE ALWAYS BELIEVED IN YOU!  I’M SORRY FOR BEING TERRIBLE!” I shout as I send out my Salazzle. Panicking now, I perform a flailing improvisation of Kiawe’s fire dance and command an Inferno Overdrive.  That does the trick, blasting the not-Pikachu right through the wall, leaving a gaping hole in the back of the supermarket. Unfortunately, it also fills the tiny cubicle with thick smoke and concrete dust.  Coughing and hacking, I stumble outside into the light and collapse on the ground, exhausted.  A minute later, I become aware of a curious face peering at me from above. “This one’s going straight on my instagram,” Acerola says cheerfully.  “Hashtag spooked!”

Ridiculous quote log: 

“I want to do business with Pokémon.  For example, I could use the pincers of Crabrawler, which grow back constantly.” Wait, use them for what?  Are you going to torture Pokémon to produce an endless supply of crab meat?

“Lana put her soul into the fishing rod she made.  Er, don’t you think that the rod is Lana herself?” Um. Well, I didn’t until now, but you’re saying that with such conviction that I’m not sure anymore… and I’m going to start watching what I say around my fishing rod… 

The team:

Tane the Decidueye Male, Timid nature, Overgrow ability Level 35 Steel Wing, Razor Leaf, Synthesis, Spirit Shackle

Rhea the Toucannon Female, Lax nature, Keen Eye ability Level 34 Screech, Roost, Beak Blast, Brick Break 

Ashley the Psychu Female, Timid nature, Surge Surfer ability Level 34 Discharge, Hidden Power (Ice), Nasty Plot, Psychic

Hypatia the Slowpoke Female, Hardy nature, Own Tempo ability Level 34 Psychic, Yawn, Façade, Scald

Joanna the Salazzle Female, Timid nature, Corrosion ability Level 35 Flame Burst, Nasty Plot, Dragon Rage, Toxic

Sigourney the Golisopod Female, Careful nature, Emergency Exit ability Level 33 Brick Break, Payback, First Impression, Leech Life

#pokemon #pokemon moon playthrough #alola #hapu #gladion #hau #lillie #acerola #tapu village #togedemaru #golisopod #decidueye #bruxish #team skull #rotomdex #mimikyu

[ulyssesredux]

Proteus

Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Wrist through the slits of his shovel hat: veil of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Couch a hogshead with me, won't you? #Trump2016 This was a fellow I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I see you. Under the leadership of Obama and our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our great country again united as Americans in common purpose and common searches and a writ of Duces Tecum. I would have benefitted. Looking for something lost in a curve. O yes, that's all right. —He has nothing to sit down on, sir. Omnis caro ad te veniet.

A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media does not say anything wrong. All talk, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris. He threw it. Who to clear it? Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? We gave them a pass!

President Obama's brother, the bark of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit. Crazy Bernie Sanders was right from the crested tide, that was Ted Cruz got booed off the phone with the selection of Kaine for V.P., is a purely religious threat, which is why mystic monks. Many on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. Where? —C'est le pigeon, Joseph. Un demi setier! Peachy cheeks, a stride at a calf's gallop. He laps. Old hag with the U.S., health care and tax bills are being removed! In light of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72. Touch me. #GOPConvention Looking forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Crooked Hillary wants to flood our country, in order to elect Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say it will sell our country.

Her mind is shot-resign! Wild sea money. Media rigging election! A tide westering, moondrawn, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore's tempting flood. Keen glance you gave her. Who's behind me? We have him. It is impossible for him now. Somewhere to someone else, Stevie: a flame of vengeance hurl them upward in the most natural tone: when I was young. Proudly walking. VERY united. That's why she won't. Paff! Open your eyes now. Bringing his host down and go to D.C.?

Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? The froeken, bonne a tout faire, she draws a toil of waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks. Staying at a Holiday Inn Express-new poll numbers-and the US Constitution. I bringing her beyond the veil of the most natural tone: when I was young. Old Deasy's letter. On International Women's Day, the Republican party—and I mean real monsters! She has done little to help!

The Great State of Colorado where over one million people watched the Inauguration, 11 million more than the popular vote-they would be near, far, flat I see, east, back. Arena was packed with great pros-WIN! Unfit to serve as President I have self funded my winning primary campaign with an unlimited budget, jobs are coming, waves. Broken hoops on the ground, moves to one great goal. Focus on tax reform, healthcare and so badly they just got off the stage, didn't lie about his brave service in Vietnam when he said.

Il est irlandais. Language no whit worse than his. —Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position? Crooked Hillary just can't close the deal with North Korea so, I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. Peekaboo. I will be watching from North Carolina.

Broken hoops on the ground, moves to one great goal.

Does nothing. Get down, baldpoll! Today on Earth Day, join me in the stagnant bay of Marsh's library where you read his F? A very short space of time through very short space of time through very short space of time through very short times of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. He comes, pale vampire, through storm his eyes. Let Stephen in. Moving through the worst in American political history Oregon is voting for me. Noon slumbers. Encore deux minutes. Raw facebones under his peep of day boy's hat. All kings' sons. My tablets. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the tide flowing quickly in on all fours, again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning.

We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Wisconsin ad talking about the election. Did Hillary Clinton does not say is that Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren and her corrupt globalism. Where? Will lead to special results for our veterans has already been distributed, with rushes of the air, scraped up the word BRAINWASHED. Couch a hogshead with me in the basin at Clongowes. Wow, Ted Cruz! Pico della Mirandola like. I taught him to bloody bits with a fury of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. Staying at a calf's gallop. #Debate Basically nothing Hillary has only gotten bigger! He stared at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls.

The protesters in California were thugs and paid for by lobbyists! Dominie Deasy kens them a'. We will both be working and fighting very hard to determine who was doing at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. Drop out LYIN' Ted. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain. Unacceptable! Hillary not happy. Always support kids! I taught him to my events. Of lost leaders, the worst instincts in our chippendale chair. You prayed to the footpace descende!

A corpse rising saltwhite from the suck and turned back by the voters Biggest story in politics than Bill Clinton is being treated very badly. #ChagSameach So sad. We have him. Spurned lover. My economic policy speech. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master Shapland Tandy, by the sun's flaming sword, to be V.P. Based on her lemon streets.

Do you see. The dysfunctional system is totally unfit to lead the country. The cold domed room of the poor.

Wombed in sin darkness I was, faith. Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. Touch, touch me soon, now. Such a dishonest person-remain true to himself and his strength, I didn't.

What has she in the Drug Industry. With him together down … I could not save her. Great Britain, with clotted hinderparts. We should tell China that a person who is self-funding. I inherited a MESS and am for ever in the army. So proud of you marching—but they are doing, they sigh.

None of your medieval abstrusiosities. To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes our common cause.

All or not? Thank you. Aleph, alpha: nought, one. Who's behind me? The election is close at 47-43! Big advantage in Electoral College & lost! I feel. There are no sources, the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Can't function under pressure-not very bright Vice President, to Gettysburg!

We are TRYING to fight ISIS, OCare, etc-but they know that it is only getting worse. Peachy cheeks, a brother soul: Wilde's Requiescat. A shefiend's whiteness under her rancid rags. Books you were someone else, Stevie: a dispossessed. Sit tight. Touch, touch me soon, now losing Ford and many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night the big jobs push back into our country without extraordinary screening. Beauty is not a strong and doing a great time in Cleveland. In.

—Morrow, nephew. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. Thank you to my surprise, and very vigilant.

Why, I was, faith. We cannot admit people into our country! I would try. I actually picked up additional votes! Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen.

Give the public is stupid! Talk that to someone else, Stevie: a dispossessed. See you soon. He has the key. Polls close, but any business that leaves our country. She thought you were going to tear it up? —Me!

We are asking law enforcement officers! God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Don't reward Mitt Romney, the panthersahib and his strolling mort. Falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope. Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, brown eyes saltblue. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Già. A garland of grey hair on his comminated head see him me clambering down to our mighty mother.

And and and tell us, Stephen, how is uncle Si? People will be the press shop for Hillary Clinton wants to take on China, NOT WOMEN! Crush, crack, crick, crick, crick, crick. They laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead! There all the world, including Never Trump, all over the rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pyx. James Mad Dog Mattis, who has just stated that Donald Trump is one of the jobs I am getting great credit for the wonderful reviews of my campaign. BREXIT 100% wrong along with that money like a dog all over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a white field. Lyin' Ted! Sad! The media refuses to mention. Job killer! Thanks you for fifty years, trying to walk like? Will be in Evansville, Indiana in a Clinton ad. Then from the bed of his legs, nebeneinander. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. Just landed in New Hampshire and Maine. The man that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock. Russia and the beat down of a silent ship. Galleys of the cathedral close. Galleys of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses.

That one is going crazy.

Papa's little bedpal. It is not qualified to be back! The boys of Kilkenny … Weak wasting hand on mine.

Where are your wits? His shadow lay over the dial floor. Respect his liberty. Full fathom five thy father lies. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. Mitt Romney's historic loss, is he going to attack me? Bald he was and a very dishonest to supporters to do wonders, what offence laid fire to their brains?

Crooked Hillary Clinton should have been so amazing. The world was gloomy before I won-there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that is the ineluctable modality of the gone. Paysayenn. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the eyes of master Goff and master Shapland Tandy, by Christ! But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. My consubstantial father's voice. Shouldering their bags and, stooping, soused their bags and, rising, heard now I am not mandated to do with the victims, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. All kings' sons. Things are going to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much lower rates! Going to Charleston, South Carolina, in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds.

Illstarred heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. For Growth, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror.

Not so anymore! Talk about apple dumplings, piuttosto.

Cancel order! If I can’t tell the press refuses to expose! Lent it to the footpace descende! Not fit! Nor in the Presidential Primaries, no problem in doing so! He has washed the upper moiety. Paper. Behind her lord, his bat sails bloodying the sea, mouth to her mouth's kiss.

Pain is far.

I am not a virtue. Hillary Clinton campaign-and they like Trump on trade, jobs are leaving. Paper. —C'est tordant, vous savez ah, oui. They clasped and sundered, did the coupler's will. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! You prayed to the election against Bernie! Nancy Pelosi and Fake Tears Chuck Schumer. Would still beat Hillary Club For Growth tried to shake me down for the Cuban/American people.

Gross negligence by the RNC.

Crazy Megyn anymore. It is a gate, if they pay a disproportionate share of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. You should focus on our country during that week. So totally dishonest! What has she in the world!

On the top, DWS. Senate committees to investigate top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to Election! Of Ireland, the other's gamp poked in the gros lots. Sir Lout's toys. New York and for years-disaster!

Isn’t it funny when a woman named Barbara Res does not feel 'great already' to the wood of madness, his mane foaming in the cakey sand dough. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled.

Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? We will Make America Great Again. Melania and I thought I was young. Language no whit worse than his. Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary. His shadow lay over the sharp rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pyx. He halted.

Belluomo rises from the wet street. THE SWAMP was no-one saw: tell no-one. Ah, poor dogsbody! 2:30 P.M. I have my stick. Faces of Paris men go by, their mouths yellowed with the yellow teeth. Remembering thee, O, my obelisk valise, porter threepence, across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. Couch a hogshead with me on women. Many of his wife's lover's wife, Melania. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! She has bad judgement.

Clinton conceded the election results from Trump Tower concerning the menace of North Korea just stated that there are four people in the Trump U? When I put my face. Would you or would you not think?

The cold domed room of the thugs that attacked the peaceful Trump supporters in Wisconsin, we can never beat Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even less stamina. He turned his face over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the air, scraped up the sand again with a heavy focus on jobs, safety and protection for those in need. Better buy one.

We've had free—and the Dems, who tried so hard and personally in the beach. Seems not. I am not walking out to the F.B.I. —Morrow, nephew. By the way next when is it Tuesday will be going to write with letters for titles. President Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech two hours early but let him: thy quarrons dainty is. Here. Sir Lout's toys.

Hard to believe that the small groups of protesters last night endorsed me. Flutier. Whusky! Something he buried there, the panthersahib and his supporters. Spend more time taking care of our country has the key. I'll tell you the reason why.

Coloured on a flat: yes, W. The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Un demi setier!

O yes, that's all right. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. And these, the worst voting record in the army.

She lives in Leeson park with a wedding reception. Driving before it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore.

These are people who did the coupler's will. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand quickly, quickly! Omnis caro ad te veniet. The media is trying to come back. The dog's bark ran towards him, nipping and eager airs. O, that's right. Here. Patrice that. Dringdring! Only a question on her major upset victory in Florida! ObamaCare is imploding and will be remembered as the flowers in May. See what I meant, see now! His hindpaws then scattered the sand again with another Clinton scandal, and yet he now wants to get poor Pat a job one time.

Proudly walking. Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, rising, flowing. My ashplant will float away. As I have been so weak, and Lambert Simnel, with that money like a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. This will be to deport the drug lords and then they are totally embarrassed! Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. He trotted forward and, rising, heard now I am not walking out to the rain: Naked women! Very dangerous! Justice. The Democrats want to. Stephen, how is uncle Si? My Latin quarter hat. Feefawfum. See media—asking for a big problem! Fang, I used to. She should spend more time on balancing the budget, jobs and will campaign tomorrow. O, O. O, O, O, O the boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. Missionary to Europe after fiery Columbanus. Hide gold there. Republicans are actually, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars. He climbed over the dial floor. About the nature of women he read in Michelet.

The sun is there, his and, lifting them again, finely shaded, with a grief and kickshaws, a woman to her moomb. I throw this ended shadow from me, spoke. Respect his liberty. Signatures of all things I am not walking out to be VP that tell the truth. Jobs! Congrats to the wood of madness, his and all others, have returned to the debate. Say NO The weak illegal immigration, take the oil, they would run him out of this? Did China ask us if it wants to sit down on his path. Great level of confidence and optimism-even before taking office, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. She had no navel. In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. Mrs Florence MacCabe, deeply lamented, of hopes, conspiracies, of Arthur Griffith now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men. Only the crooked media makes this a big rally in Chicago and our economy. Mon pere, oui! Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their pockets. As I am almosting it. They come at you from all sides. China decides to help, that I want the drone they stole back. If you can put your five fingers through it howsomever. Some FAKE NEWS media is so great being in Tampa this afternoon. The Obama Administration agreed to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Lent it to his own cheek. Day by day beside a livid sea, unbeheld, in borrowed sandals, by God's will we will strengthen up voting procedures! Highly respectable gondoliers! Put me on to Edenville. Supreme Court has embarrassed all by making it so special! I am. People are pouring into Washington in record numbers.

See now. Where is poor dear Arius to try and deflect the horror and stupidity of the diaphane.

Thought it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why have they not responded to the great State of Indiana to vote for Hillary Clinton. I was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to call it back.

In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. Wait. You prayed to the strand there.

Based on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the usher. Dan Occam thought of that, you mongrel! Horrific incident in FL. And no more, thought through my eyes. Famine, plague and slaughters. Cleanchested. Toothless Kinch, the superman. That's why she won't.

Staunch friend, a woman stands up to goofy Elizabeth Warren, a stride at a cur's yelping. We thought you were someone else, Stevie: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Whusky! Five people killed in the Ninth Circuit, which will be far more difficult & sophisticated than the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of always looking to start thinking rationally. The media has deceived the public and country at risk? So in the final debate and it is just a few thousand years, a pard, a winedark sea. Dan Occam thought of that, I used to. Very nice! A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. Just like I have never liked dopey Robert Gates. You seem to have enjoyed yourself. Close in polls! 7 months. I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to. And and and tell us, Stephen, you mongrel! 8 MILLION. Sure? Working hard! Tremendous crowds and spirit.

Coloured on a ledge of rock, resting his ashplant, lunging with it softly, dallying still. Media put out such false and unsubstantiated charges, pushed strongly by law enforcement community has my complete and total support. I would NEVER mock disabled. A porterbottle stood up, I wonder, with that money like a whale.

You're your father's son. Who gave them a pass! Cousin Stephen, tell mother. Really bad shooting in Orlando, Florida, where jobs have been so many great Supreme Court pick on Friday-great numbers on November 8th! I have my stick.

Get down, baldpoll! Something he buried there, the largest numbers in the bar MacMahon. Full fathom five thy father lies. Turn back. Will you be as gods? Bad Instincts. The grainy sand had gone from under a midden of man's ashes. None of your artist brother Stephen lately? Hillary was a strapping young gossoon at that time, is at one with one who once … The grainy sand had gone from under a midden of man's ashes. And and and tell us, Stephen, in order to mask the big jobs push back into the U.S. toward businesses and 50,000,000 jobs added. Who? We must do better! Doesn't see me. High water at Dublin bar. Fiacre and Scotus on their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their pockets. No black clouds anywhere, are now at 1001 delegates.

Remember. Nor in the house but backache pills. Will be there soon! P.C.N., you will never be a saint. Suddenly he made off like a bite of something? The sun is there, awake, to Gettysburg! Why isn't President Obama ever discuss the fact that I inherited something very special! #MAGA We will bring jobs back! Rupert Murdoch is a disaster for Ohio, after a few thousand years, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a serious emergency belongs! Soft soft soft hand. I pull the wheezy bell of their applause? Listen.

You prayed to the west, trekking to evening lands.

Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? White House, as well as some of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as stated by Bernie S, she. Come.

De boys up in de hayloft. Suddenly he made off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, strandentwining cable of all free people's, and now may not will me away or ever. I'm sure he would do a hit on me. —Blind bodies, the things I married into! His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayaway. The simple pleasures of the moon. One moment. They think the voters, I feel. Yes, I bet. Keen glance you gave her. We need strong borders now! Moi faire, she, she, she said, Tous les messieurs. Spoke to U.K. A tide westering, moondrawn, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars. My Latin quarter hat. Hook it quick. I have postponed tomorrow's news conference in 179 days.

Tap with it softly, dallying still.

I am truly enjoying myself while running for the swearing in.

From farther away, walking shoreward across from the library counter. Of what in the silted sand. —Tatters! Berkeley does not win. So in the near future to discuss the fact that the election. I … With him together down … I could feel the electricity in thr air. No, uncle Richie … —Sit down or by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. We will all come together and piece together a great pioneer of air: mouth to her mouth's kiss. Kasich & Marco Rubio, and so many great and brave man-thank you! O, touch me.

Perhaps there is large scale voter fraud in Virginia. —Mother dying come home father. Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted.

Un demi setier! Un coche ensablé Louis Veuillot called Gautier's prose. Famine, plague and slaughters.

Stuart Stevens, the superman. If I had $35M of negative and phony media quoting people who disrupted my rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight. Lawn Tennyson, gentleman journalist.

Thank you for all of his sept, under the law Harry I'll knock you down.

Behind her lord, his fists bigdrumming on his comminated head see him me clambering down to the Trump U civil case, Gonzalo Curiel, who rubs male nakedness in the Republican party—you have heard from the telepromter!

Euge! I am committed to keeping our promises-on representing me this morning, at least that if we do.

Shouldering their bags they trudged, the economy when he says his disruptors aren't told to go to a table of rock and from under a midden of man's ashes. Will you be as gods? I hear. O, weeping God, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a pard, a lady of letters. God, the cornet player. A quiver of minnows, fat with the victims, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a ledge of rock, resting his ashplant, lunging with it: they do. Rupert Murdoch is a primary reason that President Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the loss!

Hillary Clinton is soft on Russia and the weakness of our country-I will be asking for a big federal lawsuit similar in certain ways to the victory. Dringdring! His arm: Cranly's arm. The speech was a big mistake, change your vote in six states. Found drowned. His snout lifted barked at the same game with Georgia-BAD! Books you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their wellpleased pleasers, curled conquistadores. Dan Occam thought of that, do nothing to make a statement, they will do much better! #ChagSameach So sad! Mouth to her kiss.

Pretenders: live their lives.

Hollandais? I am not. Pico della Mirandola like. Lyin' Ted Cruz is weak & losing big, a stride at a time.

No? Would you or would you not think? The danger is massive. Goes like this. Very exciting! A 60% increase in almost twenty years. Former President Vicente Fox, who have watched my standing ovation speech in Cuba, a woman to her lover clinging, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a stride at a calf's gallop. A NEW LOW! Who to clear it? Shame. Jobs! Seven people shot and killed yesterday in Chicago, have saved Planned Parenthood, allows P.P. to continue if they arrested you for the country. Trade deficits hurt the entire Republican agenda if they want to report that on the various positions necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! NO! The drone of his calls. That's twice I forgot to take slips from the beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of women he read in Michelet. My handkerchief. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? O, that's right. And and and and tell us, Stephen, sir. Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris.

I don't think so! There is great unity in my thoughts and prayers are with you in all debates, especially the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave them this report and why does Obama get a spoiler, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any expenses.

Hillary should be allowed in it's death & destruction!

Wrist through the nebeneinander ineluctably! Abbas father, no less! Please be forewarned prior to the election results from Trump Tower in Manhattan.

Hook it quick.

Great State of Kentucky for their release. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary can't even find the leakers. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his aunt Sally? In gay Paree he hides, Egan of Paris men go by, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a stool of rock, carefully. Smiled: creamfruit smell.

Feefawfum. Saint Ambrose heard it, sniffling rapidly like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack.

Rhythm begins, you mongrel! Into the ineluctable visuality. Bill is not there.

Did, faith. All or not? But he adds: in bodies. So terrible that Crooked Hillary in that chap, will you? Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary, NOTHING. The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a dispossessed. Isle of saints. Noon slumbers. He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. She trusts me, spoke. She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the various Sunday morning shows. Sad! Pols made big mistakes, Crooked Hillary Clinton will be necessary to fund Crooked Hillary Clinton will be handing over my Twitter account to my son, Eric, did the White House wait so long, just released my financial disclosure forms, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the vote! We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Shake hands. And at the ends of his green fairy as Patrice his white. Original evidence was overwhelming, should not be master of others or their slave. Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday in the most natural tone: when I am quiet here alone. Tremendous support except for some Republican leadership.

The two maries. Come. Spurned lover. Heavy of the post office slammed in your flutiest voice. He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse. Just landed in New Mexico were thugs who were ambushed this morning. Tourists were locked down. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night.

The rallies in Utah and Arizona, where on the ballot in various places in Florida. 8% of the DNC and is a borderless world where working people have been written stupid, because of a spongy titbit, flash through the worst jobs report just reported.

Pan's hour, the betrayed, wild escapes. Wild sea money. No-one saw: tell no-one saw: tell no-one: none to me. —Tatters!

Lump of love. U.S.A. I explained to the footpace descende! As Bernie Sanders, after a few thousand years, a silent ship. Thoughts and prayers with the fat of a big mistake, change your vote!

Tiens, quel petit pied!

Yes, I won the election. Suddenly he made off like a good time. They will be watching from North Carolina, in the African-Americans and Hispanics have to announce this? This wind is sweeter. —Blind bodies, the more. Wombed in sin darkness I was going to border wall. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the past. Love Utah-will be the least effective Senators in the U.S.

Media desperate to distract from Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get wages up. Peachy cheeks, a mahamanvantara. China Sea?

Ask the Democrat pols in Atlantic City and left 7 years ago! They don't look presidential to me. Why? Shattered glass and toppling masonry. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who have watched ISIS and wrecked the economy, trade, healthcare and premiums will start tumbling down. So much time left. Bad! Cocklepickers. Bridebed, childbed, bed of his kind ran from them to meet with the pus of flan breton. Our law enforcement!

Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, brown eyes saltblue. Whom were you trying to destroy our country After today, also invited me when he apologized for using the woman’s card like her email lies and her team were extremely careless in their pockets.

Deux irlandais, nous, Irlande, vous savez. I think both should get out and vote on me & 53% said strong leader.

Peaceful protests are a hallmark of our vets! Kevin Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Is it true the DNC convention ignored it. Bald he was aware of them and their borders. You told the Clongowes gentry you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the near future to discuss the business, so much more difficult & sophisticated than the FBI itself. Much bigger win than anticipated!

Senator, didn't lie about her, blood not mine! I want wages to go shortly to various other veteran groups. Crime reduction will be holding a major news conference in 179 days. How? Remembering thee, O Sion.

Dishonest media is unrelenting.

Isle of saints. Pricing for the swearing-in … he refused to say that large scale voter fraud happening on and before election? The simple pleasures of the tide flowing quickly in on the Nore.

Then here's a health to Mulligan's aunt and I'll tell you that I would win with the pus of flan breton. I wonder why, then John Kasich is weak on immigration. Green eyes, I feel it is currently focused on!

Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. I'm the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my children, Don King, has left the Republican Party what to do wonders, what? We don't want money from regimes that horribly oppress women and the Clinton campaign, perhaps the most natural tone: when I am almosting it. The media is so after me on the shore south, his three taverns, the red Egyptians. China ask us if it were not for State-Rex Tillerson is that he wants the people and support our people if we don't have foreign policy from me, more still!

Books you were someone else.

Hauled stark over the dial floor. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the loss of Nykea Aldridge.

That's why she won't. Thank you to Eli Lake of The Bloomberg View-The FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! JOBS, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat.

Our hero Ryan died on a flat: yes, but W is wonderful. Please be forewarned prior to me would rather run against. Kevin Egan, not mine, his feet beginning to sink slowly in new sockets. Condolences to all the Bernie voters. No, agallop: deline the mare.

Making his day's stations, the red Egyptians. The DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never had the biggest budget increase in almost twenty years. I going to deliver a prepackaged speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the enduring fight for justice, equality and opportunity. $50 million for my steppingstones. I must. Will soon be history! Fang, I still number one!

He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. I thirst. I have no border, we just officially won the NBC Presidential Forum, but whether our government! Here, I had a real wage increase in the bag? #Debate Bernie Sanders endorsing Crooked Hillary after the election despite all of the Howth tram alone crying to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now USA Today did todays cover story on NBC and ABC. More tell me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother.

It is only getting worse. Of Ireland, the froggreen wormwood, her hand gentle, the drug situation will NEVER be able to solve the North Korean problem, they will pass on, sir. Mr. Khan at the Grand Opening of my first primary victory, to buy guns. Come. Dan Occam thought of that, after returning from Ohio and Arizona were great. That one is at one with one who once … The grainy sand had gone from under a cocked hindleg pissed against it. The two maries. If they don't get one bang on the ground, moves to one great goal. The media is really on a flat: yes, but I prefer Q. Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Business Council of Washington. Billions of dollars in gifts while Governor of Virginia-dealing with the ban case and now. Gaze. Must be two of em. Joe Biden, just misrepresented me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary after the election! Exactly: and down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and no wonder, with clotted hinderparts. Biggest crowds ever-watch what happens! Their blood is in pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man's ashes. The hundredheaded rabble of the air high spars of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Hope this is finally your chance for a one week notice, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a stride at a time. A misbirth with a wedding reception. Too bad! Soft eyes. Very proud of you marching—and elections-go down! Today is the only one that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock. I see, then his forepaws dabbled and delved. My Latin quarter hat. I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous offal from all dead. Out quickly, shellcocoacoloured? Into the ineluctable modality of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that, eh?

Bring in our politics … and is only the people of Guam!

Just got a call from my friend Bill Ford, who has been there for you. Why in? Son of the moon, his bat sails bloodying the sea and wet sand slapped his boots. Aha. Non fromage. If Mayor can't do it. Like me, manshape ineluctable, call it back. Tap with it: other me. Bring in our country from certain pundits because I have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and the Prime Minister of Canada asking to renegotiate, and so much of the March on Washington-today in Miami. The grandest number, Stephen, sir. Hope you like my 5 victories. Why doesn't the media. Touch, touch me soon, now. They are coming, waves. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. Always support kids! Papa's little bedpal. Hillary, who is self-funding his campaign. Come.

Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand?

It is only getting worse. Già. I go to sleep? Just say in the silted sand. That's why she won't. It just never seems to work on, and now may not will me away or ever. What has happened in Orlando. Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: Obamacare is no proof, and what a total disaster. Crooked Hillary Clinton just lost every Republican she ever had, including those registered to vote who are fully armed.

His gaze brooded on his eyes, I would love to call Lyin' Hillary Clinton failure.

No wonder companies flee country! No. We need SCOTUS judges who will. Goes like this. 6%. Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their creepystools in heaven spilt from their pintpots, loudlatinlaughing: Euge! Alo! I see you. Then he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. France. The last person that Hillary or Bernie want to refocus NATO on terrorism, I have changed my position on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. That one is going to attack me? They took their country back, strandentwining cable of all deaths known to man. That is why mystic monks.

Great Depression!

Of what in the Syria attack. Looking forward to it! In sleep the wet street. I … With him together down … I could not have a red nose. Media put out a Wisconsin ad talking about trade? They serpented towards his feet up from the beginning. In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. Exactly: and down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their wellpleased pleasers, curled conquistadores. I zmellz de bloodz odz an Iridzman. Isn't that what you have heard from the suck and turned back by Mexico later! We need strong borders now! Me sits there with his augur's rod of ash, in her own effort Thank you Cleveland. You find my words dark. It is so pathetic that the person in her courts, she has done in Senate? No black clouds anywhere, are protesting.

Today, all over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock and scribbled words. Looking for something lost in a tweet as the flowers in May. Un coche ensablé Louis Veuillot called Gautier's prose.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Proteus #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Twitter #Donald Trump #2016 #2017