#if my dead wife sent me a letter I simply wouldn’t respond

[wrongmeat]

I don’t care about the tall mommy dommy vampire, Resident evil 8 is bad because Leon S. Kennedy isn’t there.

#I get it though after they made him look like a Chad twink in the Re 2 remake they lost the Leon privileges  #Ethan last name WISHES he was half the man Leon is #if my dead wife sent me a letter I simply wouldn’t respond #I’m looking at you too James Sunderland #joke #unpopular opinion #resident evil #resident evil 8 #leon s kennedy #he’s just a stupid simp

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter twelve

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,288

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

❝ what does one do with life when one expected to be dead ❞

"HOW DOES IT FEEL? To be alive, after all these years." Kol asked, eyes barely meeting Aniya's as they sat on a park bench. They had agreed to spend the day watching for strangers, any person that wouldn't mind having a sprinkle of amnesia in their lives. After a while the silence had gone deafening, and Kol decided to speak.

    Aniya looked back at him, somewhat shocked that he had bothered to ask about her condition. She shifted in her seat. "Truth be told, I do not know what to do with the life I hold in my hands. It's as if someone has handed me the moon."

    "Didn't you ask for this? To be immortal?"

    "No. My father did." She said, looking down at her hands. She and Vihaan had questioned his beliefs once, and only once. It was the day that their father held their hands over a fire, and asked who would save them if not the gods. "And what of you? How did Esther create the spell that turned you into vampires?"

    "She didn't create it. She found it, after Henrik was attacked by the wolves one night." He'd said it so casually, it might have gone over the average person's head; but Aniya had known him all his life. "Mother dearest murdered my ability to practice magic that night. About a decade ago, she stuck me in the body of a witch, but I was promptly killed by Finn shortly thereafter. Such a shame. The body was quite handsome."

    He paused, then added, "Of course, not quite as handsome as me. But it did do the job."

    She lifted an eyebrow slightly. "You would give your immortality to be a witch again?"

    "You may have given your life for immortality, but I never wanted this. I was perfectly fine dying at the fine age of thirty years old," He sent her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the humans walking in front of them. Across the street, an old man and his wife, wrinkly and discolored, hair the color of salt and pepper.

    "It is a wonder how humans learned to live so long. Perhaps my father wouldn't have forced us to into those rituals if he knew humans could become so... weathered."

    Kol laughed then, and Aniya found herself smiling at the newspaper Kol had set down on their laps. After a moment, he asked, "You truly can't read?"

    "I've learned a bit," She admitted. Henry had helped her, using a few pictures books he'd created and never published. Elijah had repeatedly offered her private tutors, but the situation had never been ideal. Even compelled humans would ask questions eventually, and there was something discomforting about allowing a stranger to see her weaknesses. She'd been a gifted witch once, a prodigy; and she had lost to something as simple as American tongue. "I do miss runes though."

    "You'd be the only one," Kol responded. She narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, and he simply shot her a smile. He turned his attention to the humans. "So, we've sat here long enough. Who will we put out of their misery and erase twenty years worth of memories?"

    "How about one of the weathered ones?" She suggested. "They've been alive quite long. Surely they won't miss a decade or two."

    Aniya had given eighteen years of her life to a set of rituals. Given her life for the sake of her parents. A few memories in exchange for a taste of her old life -- it was a small price to pay. Regardless, humans were never meant to live so long. They were in pain now, surely. Growing weak and inching closer to Death with each passing moment. To walk the streets and see the youth, see all they had lost.

    Perhaps she would be putting them out of their misery. Granting them the ability to forget all they would never have again.

    She stood from the bench and made her way towards an elderly man only a few feet away. Kol leaned back and watched the girl smile brightly, encapsulating the man in a short conversation about passing birds.

    "I can't remember the last time I'd seen a creature so beautiful." She knelt down, though the bird hopped a few steps away. Her brown eyes dimmed for a moment, and Kol felt a heavy weight on his chest as he watched the little bird move away from her. As if it were repulsed.

    "Yes," the old man nodded in agreement. His voice was aged, in a way that even Kol found himself pitying him. "Your generation is so glued to those phones. Rarely even feed the birds anymore."

    "My generation," Aniya squinted her eyes. She was very much his elder, and Henry had tried to show her how to use a phone only a few days ago. Unfortunately, the very concept had gone over her head. "Yes. I agree. My brother, though, he used to care dearly for these creatures. Often found him climbing trees and feeding them leftover scraps."

    She spoke fondly of her brother. It was hard not to. No one had a heart quite as big as his. No one dared to. The world was never made for one as beautiful as him, and yet there she stood, desperate to gain her strength and revive him.

    "What was his name?"

    Aniya hesitated. Her mother had always said names carried power. "Victor. My name is Annie."

    "It suits you," He commented. The man's blue eyes sparkled with kindness, and she felt her stomach drop. "I hope he takes care of you."

    "You needn't worry. My brother was quite the protector," She shrugged off his comment, eyes quickly shifting to the street in front of her. She pushed herself off the ground and focused her eyes on a nearby lamppost. "And what of you? Do you have family? People that care for you?"

    "My wife, Betty. She cared dearly for me," The old man chuckled. He pulled out a small leather rectangle, and Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the gesture. Carefully, he unfolded it and revealed a black and white photo of a young couple. A blonde woman with molded curls and a young man beside him, in a perfectly tailored suit.

    The man slipped the photo out and turned it around. At the bottom right corner was a jumble of letters. Aniya leaned forward to see the lettering, and after a few moments, the man said, "Betty and Edwin. Our wedding in the fifties."

    Aniya's faced soured and she looked away, as if she'd just tasted something terrible. From across the street, Kol lifted an eyebrow. She took a breath.  "Where is she now?"

    "Died of long cancer twenty years ago. I miss her everyday." He said, his voice tainted with nostalgia. Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, a pit in her chest crawling up her throat. Edwin carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet.

    "And you love her to this day? Your love for her, it never died?"

    "In my experience, love never dies."

    "How do you love someone you're sure you'll never have again? How can you bring yourself to love something so unbearable?" Surely he would give in. Surely he could bring himself to forget her. How much she would give in return for amnesia. In another world, she might've belonged to Henry and Henry alone.

    Edwin shrugged. "I'll see her again. It's only a matter of time."

    It was then that she felt something snap. A switch in her mind, flipped, and exchanged for something much colder. Ice rushed through her veins as she stared at the man, and her mind was made up.

    Kol would one day see his Davina once more. Edwin would see Betty, and the world would continue to spin, as she stood paralyzed and alone. Even Henry would leave her eventually. She had only one insurance, one promise that would never leave her: Vihaan.

    "I truly am sorry." Aniya placed a hand on the man's shoulder and whispered a spell beneath her breath. The man's eyes glazed over, and static ran through her veins. She took a step back and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the sense of euphoria that overwhelmed her. "Raise your left hand."

    He obliged.

    "Drop it. Raise your right hand."

    He obliged. She had control of him.

    "Give me your wallet. Go to Lafayette Cemetary and ask for Keres." The man, stripped of his willpower and sense of self-control, handed her the small leather object and walked away in a daze. Aniya swallowed and shoved the rectangle into her pocket. To her left, she felt a slight breeze, and Kol stood by her side.

    Kol watched the man wander away, a brow lifted as Aniya gulped. "You hesitated."

"I'm ripping away an innocent man's free will because we made the mistake of getting married. My apologies if I'm not all that ecstatic about our situation," Aniya muttered. She huffed, shutting her eyes tightly as she turned on her heel.

"Well, lucky for you, we only need two more. I found a poor bastard in the cemetery last night. I'm sure no one will notice he's gone," Kol announces proudly, hot on Aniya's trail as she walked away from him.

"We shouldn't be preying on the innocent, Kol. Especially not men who are mourning their loved ones!"

Kol huffed and sped in front of her, raising his hands to stop her from crossing him. She sent him a warning look, and he sighed. "This one deserves death. Trust me."

She had been given no reason to trust him. In the weeks since she had come back, not once had Kol given her proof that he was worthy of it. Frankly, he's gone lengths to prove the opposite; but somehow, as she stared into his aged, tired eyes, she found herself wanting to believe him.

And so, she nodded, for once giving into his antics. "All right. I suppose we'll just have to find a few more and send them to Keres. I'm sure it won't be that much trouble."

    Regardless, she couldn't seem to ignore the heaviness of her chest — the guilt she carried, knowing she had just sent a man to be stripped of his free will. Her parents had tried desperately to rip her of these emotions, trained her to see human lives as game pieces. Ones that she would have to dispose of once they no longer suited her. Her father had told her to embrace the electricity that ran through her veins when she practiced dark magic, but what was meant to surge of power had become nothing but a parasite. This power had turned her into nothing but a monster.

    "Kol?"

    "Yes?"

    "What did your siblings and father exchange for immortality?"

    He stopped walking then, his feet glued to the sidewalk. For a moment, his amusement faded, but it was quickly hidden away with a smirk. It occurred to Aniya that she might have hit a nerve. "I'm a vampire, darling. Haven't you caught up on the mythology yet? Watched a few scenes from Twilight? I've heard Robert Pattinson is quite dashing."

    "Well, yes, but I'd like to see the truth. I'm not sure how much of that I'm going to find in pop culture." She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step toward him, looking up at his aged, tired eyes. "Show me."

    "You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you," He murmured. He sighed then, leaning back against a nearby lamppost.  Aniya came closer as he shut his eyes, and black veins crawled from beneath his eyes down to his cheeks. His eyes opened, revealing a pair of blackened irises and red, irritated scieras. Kol bared his teeth, displaying his sharpened fangs. When Aniya didn't flinch, the monstrous features crawled back into hiding, and Kol's curious face remained.

    Then, she smiled, almost satisfied with her discovery.

    "Was there any particular reason you wanted to see that, or were you just exhausted from staring at my gorgeous face for so long?"

    "Is this typically how you flirt with women in the twenty-first century?"

    Kol shrugged then, straightening his back and heading back in the direction of the Abattoir. Jealousy seemed to spike at Aniya's chest, as she walked a few paces behind him. How wonderful it must have been to be loved by something that hates all else. To be loved by what was perceived to be a monster.

   She pulled the wallet out of her pocket, running her fingers over the faded photograph. She wondered to herself what might have happened if the Hollow has awoken Vihaan, as opposed to her. He might have been stronger. More willing to sacrifice the lives of several humans in exchange for the life he once had; but then, she wondered if he would have been more willing to give up on a marriage that had so clearly died. He would have been willing to sacrifice it all to ensure that she was back on Earth.

    "I'd like to have this mission finished by the end of the night," Aniya revealed, her fingers tugging at the ring around her neck. "We'll find the nearest elderly person, and send them to the cemetery. You'll have your memories returned by midnight, and I'll have the evening to myself."

    "You're going to see your human."

    "Is that so bad?"

    He hesitated. "I suppose not."

#Nathaniel Buzolic #nathaniel buzolic imagine #nathaniel buzolic x reader #nathaniel buzolic angst #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson smut #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x oc #kol mikaelson x reader #kol imagine #kol smut #kol angst #the originals #the originals au #the originals imagine #the originals smut #the originals fluff #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries au #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries smut #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus baudelaire x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson x reader

[plus-size-reader]

Ignored

Theon Greyjoy x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1860 words

Warnings: just angsty...don’t really expect a happy ending from this one. 

Summary: Theon's bride in Winterfell writes to him every day he's on the iron islands, but what happens when he never replies? 

Part 2

———————————————————————————————————

You knew that you should hate him for everything he'd done. He'd tried to take over your father's castle, he tried to take Winterfell, he slaughtered those young boys and so many other northerners. 

He had done so much bad, and caused so much pain for the people you cared about most, but that didn't change the fact that you were his wife and that you loved him. 

Even though you wished that you didn't. 

Theon was a coward and a fool, but more than anything, he was lost. 

He had no direction, he had no one in his corner other than you and yet when you begged him to take you with him to the iron islands, he refused. 

It was too dangerous, he claimed. He told you that you would likely be killed if you went anywhere near his father's lands but you didn't believe it. 

There was no way old Greyjoy would dare kill you, knowing what he knew about your family. 

If your father caught wind of your murder, it would start a war that the iron islands just couldn't afford. At this point, you were basically untouchable, a beauty in a foreign land. 

Still, you didn't argue when he suggested that you stay. 

If Theon didn't want to take you, it would likely remain that way even with you by his side. He had something to prove to his father, and his people, something he didn't need you to be there for. 

It was a bit of a slap in the face on your end, but who were you to argue? You had to help clean up the mess he'd made after all. 

Winterfell was without a leader, with Robb gone away to war and the girls presumably dead. Every Stark, aside from Bran were no longer in the north, and he would need guidance to help him rule. 

After all, his blood was of the wolf but it would still take some work to get the brutish men of the north to follow a crippled boy. 

He was just going to have to prove himself to them, and while it wouldn't be easy, you had faith that he could do it. 

You sat at your desk, a quill perched between your fingers as you stared at the parchment. 

Since Theon left, you took to writing him to keep him updated in what was happening in the north, and to check up on him. While you'd yet to get a response, you kept sending them. 

Eventually, the man you loved would answer your inquires, or so you hoped. 

You feared the worst in the beginning. 

You feared that he'd been killed, or was being held captive by his vile, torturous father. You prayed each night to the old gods and the new for his safety, but never heard a word from him in conformation. 

And even still, you sat admiring the paper as it mocked you. 

You knew that this letter would be no different than the last, and that it would go unanswered as well, but you didn't care. 

This ritual of writing to him was the only thing keeping you sane as you grasped onto the life you'd lived before. 

You longed for those mornings when you woke up by his side, bathing in the warmth of the furs that surrounded you. You wanted nothing more than to hear him talk about his homeland one more time, as if he'd never see it again. 

You wanted Theon to love you again, but you had this creeping feeling in the pit of your stomach that day would never come. 

Now that he had the kingdom he'd been searching for all that time, he didn't need you to occupy his attention any longer. 

Each word you wrote took a piece of your soul with it, and at the time that you addressed it with his name, you felt empty once more. You sent all the grief and resentment and anger you had been feeling away with it, and didn't look back. 

You were in the clear once again, until of course, you would write him again in a few days. 

~ 

The letter arrived a few weeks from the day you'd sent it, and was immediately brought to Theon's hands. 

However, as soon as it touched his flesh, it burned with the emotion and pain you sent within the pages. 

He knew that whatever was held within the confines of the ink, would likely break his heart once again, though he couldn't bring himself to actually reply to you. 

In truth, it was more guilt than anything. 

Theon knew that he could have very easily brought you alongside him to the iron islands, but didn't want to for purely selfish reasons. 

You represented everything he'd done wrong in his life, you represented everything he was ashamed of his past and he wanted to just forget it all. 

He wanted to move on, and be the Lord he had always meant to be. 

And bringing you along felt like a step in the wrong direction, though he knew it was wrong to just leave you behind. 

It was wrong to throw you away like a toy he'd finished playing with. 

But he couldn't help it. 

He had to take back what was rightfully his. He had to become the lord of the iron islands, and he couldn’t do that with a girl from the north on his arm. 

The northerners were seen as traitors in these parts as of late and not only was it dangerous to bring you there to meet his father, but it was also stupid. It would ruin his image and might even get you killed. 

It just wasn’t going to work. 

Even understanding that though, it broke his heart to hold your letter in his hands, to feel the paper beneath his fingers in the same place you’d touched. 

It felt wrong of him to do so, but he couldn’t help himself as he tossed the paper to the side. 

Reading it would only make the distance worse for him. 

“I am sorry my love, I truly am” he whispered to himself, retrieving it, only to hold it over the burning candle flame. 

The edge caught fire and the rest of the sheet followed close behind until there was nothing left but ash. 

~ 

Shockingly, that was the last letter from you that Theon received. He thought maybe you had gotten busy with something, or perhaps you just didn’t feel like being ignored any longer. 

Both were good assumptions, however, both assumptions your husband made, were wrong. 

You had been busy, though not with anything he would have assumed, and while you were tired of being ignored, you were in the process of making sure it wouldn’t happen again. 

Weeks after sending out your letter and again receiving nothing back from Theon, you decided that enough was enough. You decided that if you were ever going to see him again, you were going to have to do something absolutely crazy. 

And something crazy you did.

You set off on a voyage to the iron islands, knowing that if you were face to face with your darling husband, he couldn’t ignore you.

You just had to know what it was the had driven him so far away from you. Perhaps if you got your answers, it wouldn’t hurt so bad ever time you caught a glimpse of the band on your finger. 

Your wedding had been the happiest day of your entire life, the day when you could finally call yourself Mrs.Greyjoy. You thought that Theon was happy too, though you found yourself questioning that more and more as the days passed. 

If you truly were his one and only, if you truly were the woman that he loved, why was he acting this way? Why was he avoiding you like some horrible plague?

You had never done anything but be kind to him, and treat him well. You made sure that he was fed and happy, so why was it that he wouldn’t even return a stupid written letter? 

The answer should have been obvious, but it wasn’t. 

It wasn't…until you found yourself on the cold shore of the iron islands. 

Instantly, you were met by a caravan of guards, all riding horses and brandishing impressive swords. 

They threatened you, saying they would do horrible things and poking and prodding at you like a piece of meat, however, that all stopped when you told them who you were. 

The words ‘Theon Greyjoy’s wife’ were uttered, and honestly, that was the last thing of note that happened with them. 

The next thing you knew, you were standing in front of him, shame and sadness shining in your eyes as he yelled. 

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you know what could have happened? Why do you think I wasn’t responding to your letters? I was trying to keep you alive and then you went and pulled this? Are you trying to make a joke out of me?” 

He went on and on for what seemed like hours but at some point you checked out. You weren’t going to let him treat you that way, not after everything you’d been through just so the two of you could be together. 

You had just been on a smugglers ship for days, and he had the nerve to yell at you as if you’d done something wrong. 

“Maybe if you had answered just one of my letters, I wouldn’t have had to come” You barked back, shocked that he was actually upset with you. 

What kind of husband would react this way when his wife arrived to surprise him?

“Am I not your wife Theon? Did you not pledge to love me until the end of your days? Why are you being so cold to me?” you wondered, your voice much quieter now. 

You were clearly much more broken than he originally realized. All you wanted was for him to love you, and he’d been neglecting you. 

You were so tired of being ignored by the man you loved so much. You had always done anything you could for him, and had no limits to the lengths you were willing to go. 

It simply wasn’t okay. 

All he could do was huff as he tried to think through all the words and feelings that were swirling around in his head. He had no idea what to say that would make it all better. 

There really wasn’t something to say. 

“I am, but this is something different entirely. I am to be Lord of the iron islands, and I can’t do that with a northerner on my arm” he groaned, pretty obviously wrapped up in what he wanted. 

You hated him more than anything in this moment, for making a fool of you, for lying to you, for treating you this way. 

Perhaps if his title was so important to him, you should leave him to pursue it on his own...after all, that was why he wanted, wasn’t it? 

You wouldn’t be ignored any longer. 

#theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy x ps reader #theon greyjoy x plus size reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x plus size reader #game of thrones x ps reader #got #got x plus size reader #got x ps reader

[in-dire-need]

Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge- My Chemical Romance

The only 2004 album that could even come close to giving American Idiot a run for its money is Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. My Chemical Romance’s second full-length album shot the band out of its familiar water. Its numerous hits continue to reach billboard charts, such as opening track “Helena” and world-renowned “I’m Not Okay.” According to frontman Gerard Way, Revenge stands as a “pseudo-conceptual horror story”. Every track on the album ties into this twisted and supernatural story of the two lovers featured on the cover, which was created by Gerard Way.

“Helena (So Long and Goodnight)” opens this story of Three Cheers with a heartfelt yet twisted dedication to the Way brothers’ grandmother, Elena Rush, had passed away under circumstanced unknown to the public during the band’s tour of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. Elena had heavily influenced the brothers from a very young age and inspired them to pursue their dreams. When she passed, Gerard Way was sent into a spiral of anger and self-destructive behavior. He wrote the song to be somewhat of a letter to himself, expressing the hatred he felt for himself at the time. Despite the dark theme behind the lyrics, “Helena” continues to be a radio classic on rock stations everywhere. 

The story element behind the album begins during the second track, “Give ‘Em Hell, Kid”. A man has been divided from his lover after the devil resurrects him from the dead and, in order to resurrect his wife as well, he must kill one thousand evil souls and present them to the devil. While he ventures out to accomplish this, his wife wonders where he has gone and is clueless of his plans. She is livid at him for wrecking their marriage that began when they were young and dumb. In the next few tracks we listen as the protagonist crashes a wedding in order to kill the guests. He begins to question his sexuality and if his wife is worth one thousand souls. Continuing the double-meaning, the “To The End” is also based on the short story “A Rose For Emily” by William Faulkner. In this story, a rich wife begins suspecting that her husband may be a homosexual, so she poisons him before he cheats on her or leaves her. 

“You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us in Prison” features Bert McCracken, frontman of The Used, with whom all of My Chemical Romance was extremely close with at the time of Three Cheers’ release. Gerard was also featured on their 2004 album, In Love and Death, which toured with Three Cheers after its debut. Since then, the bands had a falling-out and didn’t speak for years before heavily hinting that The Used would be opening for My Chemical Romance’s reunion tour that was scheduled for 2020. This information was never officially announced, though, seeing as COVID-19 has ruined every hope and dream that it could lay its greasy paws on. Anger aside, “Prison” continues the protagonist’s journey to kill one thousand evil souls to resurrect his wife as he is arrested in a restaurant gunfight. Once in prison, he begins falling for an inmate of the same sex, which confuses and upsets the protagonist who had assumed he was heterosexual for his entire life. He still dreams of his deceased lover, whom his journey is all for. The other inmates begin to take advantage of him, forcing him to dress in drag and give blowjobs to accommodate to their sexual desires. He begins to lose his sanity and believes that he might as well be executed since he will not be able to fulfill his mission from prison. He decides that when he leaves, he will burn down an entire hotel to quickly raise his body count.

Another track that has gone down in history is number four, “I’m Not Okay (I Promise”. It follows a girl who struggles with dealing with the problems in her life. She vents and complains to her boyfriend, who is dealing with his own problems. He puts them aside to comfort his girlfriend time and time again. She does not take this into account and simply continues to wallow in her own pain, attempting and failing to relate to sad songs with deeper meanings. He has finally had it with her by the end of the song and explodes, telling her that he is not okay and he is done with her melodrama. “The Ghost of You” is another smash hit produced by this album, which continues the story already present. The protagonist expresses the grief he experienced after losing the lover he is trying so hard to save. Later tracks emphasize this as the protagonist begins to doubt his ability to bring his lover back.

Standing as a message of inspiration and a sign not to give up, “Thank You For The Venom” has become very popular within its target audience. Critics began to blame My Chemical Romance for making music purely to become famous, to which the band responded saying that the fans are a huge impact on their music. They never wanted to be on the front covers of magazines and at the head of the rock scene, but at a certain point they could no longer fight the inevitable. The song narrates what is possibly a nun attempting to convert a horrible sinner, then being murdered by the man. The sinner could be the protagonist continuing his killing spree, knowing that no amount of preaching could save him. In the following tracks, he questions again if his lover is really worth kill one thousand evil souls. After a woman representing his lost love holds him at gunpoint and tells him to stop his killing spree, he considers shooting himself and therefore dying for her instead of killing. He trudges on still and vows revenge on this woman as his story nears its end. After killing nine-hundred ninety-nine evil souls, he realizes that the last one he must take is his own. He begins hallucinating that his wife is there with him and even holds conversations with her before remembering that she is not there. It is heavily suggested that his lover committed suicide after getting drunk, though the means are unknown. The protagonist finally comes to terms with the fact that he is destined to die and that he would never have been able to resurrect his wife. 

In the final track, “I Never Told You What I Did For a Living”, the man completes his transaction with the devil. He accepts his fall from grace, but knows that once he is with his love again it will all have been worth it. Once he kills the last soul, himself, it is revealed that the devil tricked him. As a result of his astounding body count, he has been damned to hell instead of being reunited with his lover. His final realization is that it was all for nothing and that he has simply become a monster. 

Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge’s final lines are a callback to the group’s first album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, or Bullets for short. Dozens of lines throughout the album reference Bullets, and the lovers featured are even referred to as two “Demolition Lovers”. Initially, fans and critics believed that the two albums were linked as one continuing story, but that theory has been denied. Past its horrific tale, many songs actually send a buried positive message- keep going. Specifically “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” and “Thank You For The Venom” have worked to debunk the band’s stereotype of being a suicide cult. Ironically, these songs have also become symbols of this said suicide cult, given the references to death and self-destruction, which leads many younger listeners to fall prey to this cult mentality that the media has created. That very concept was something that My Chemical Romance vehemently spoke out against, seeing as the very reason they began making music was to help people. Even despite being twisted and forgotten by the media, that is still exactly what they did. Although fame wasn’t what they wanted, in the end they achieved exactly what they wanted: to help people. Their worldwide fame simply allowed them to reach farther and wider than ever imagined. 

As previously stated, all tracks on the album not only tie into the crazy narration of two dead lovers, but into the real lives of the bandmates, specifically Gerard and Mikey way. For example, “The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You” personifies Gerard’s struggle with alcoholism and cocaine addiction in the form of a woman. He says that he could stay with her for hours even though she will eventually kill him. He was able to sober up and toured for Three Cheers during his first full year sober, which he described as extremely difficult. “The Ghost Of You” helps paint the picture of how the brothers were grieving after the loss of their grandmother, Elena.

Elena was one of the most powerful influencers behind the creation of My Chemical Romance and continued to inspire them throughout their entire career. Thanks to her, the band went on to inspire millions of young adults worldwide. Had she not supported her grandchildren like she did, so many more influencers would have never developed the confidence to take their first steps into the sunlight. These influencers include Palaye Royale, Twenty One Pilots, Post Malone, and Yungblud. Who knows how many more celebrities truly are that wouldn’t be where they are without the influential messages of My Chemical Romance? Who knows who the next possible star will be? I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out. Go enjoy yourselves, internet.

“And we'll love again, we'll laugh again We'll cry again, and we'll dance again And it's better off this way, so much better off this way I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed!”

#three cheers for sweet revenge #my chemical romance #music

[spyder-m]

Shumako Week 2020, Day Seven: Letter From a Thief

@shumakoweek​ Day Five: Wedding / Proposal

AO3 / FF.net

A/N: Going to have to post my last couple of entries out of order as I am nowhere near finished on Day 6.I went for a slightly different meaning of 'proposal' for this one. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: “Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone.”Police Commissioner Niijima receives a tip-off from the leader of the Phantom Thieves. AU Cop!Makoto.

.

Makoto's father had always taught her not to overthink things. That, your gut instinct was often correct. 

Having looked up to the man from a young age, it was advice she held onto, helping to keep their connection alive; often guiding her when promising cases reached seemingly dead ends. 

He was someone she wanted to model herself after as a police officer. 

The strength he had exuded in spite of the hardships facing him. He lost his wife and had no choice but to balance his two passions, raising his daughters and keeping the city safe. It was part of what helped her grieve when his own life was cut short, recalling the brave face he had put on for her and Sae even when he felt at his worst. 

It gave her life a purpose, carrying on attending to the task most important to him; protecting and serving Tokyo. 

Yet, when those instincts brought her to the Rainbow Bridge in the dead of the night, Makoto couldn't help but have doubts.  

Under different circumstances, it might be a poor choice for a secret rendezvous, as the bridge saw traffic even late into the night. Yet, recently it had been closed for construction, a smattering of signs redirecting motorists. 

Moving around the blockade, Makoto readjusting her coat, ensuring it hide the pistol she had holstered earlier. She wanted to remain discreet.  

The police's investigation into the Mafia, the threats and blackmail that citizens were being subjected to, had hit a wall. They were struggling to find a lead, anything that could lead them vaguely in the right direction. 

Makoto hated that feeling. Knowing that there were people in danger yet having no way to help them. It was her duty as a police officer to keep the citizens safe. 

Any information they could get their hands would be useful. 

That had lifeline had to come to her on an ordinary workday. 

There had been several officers collected around her desk when she arrived that morning, all chattering to one another. Their conversation fell into silence as she approached, eyes weighing upon her in a mix of suspicion and concern.  

The sight of that red card sparked dread in Makoto, the logo that had been plastered across news bulletins for several months now resting on her desk in plain view. 

She couldn't understand. What reason could the Phantom Thieves possibly have for targetting her? 

Had they seen their shortcomings in their investigation of the Mafia as a failure to protect the powerless amongst Tokyo? Were they going to be punished for allowing innocent people to be exploited? 

The message was less abstract, less bombastic than the other Callings Cards they had collected in evidence. The newspaper clippings read rather succinctly: "Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."

She wouldn't be honouring that promise. 

For all she knew, this could be a trap. 

They had no way of even confirming if this was a real Calling Card. 

Makoto doubted the Phantom Thieves; vigilantes though they may be; had any intention of harming the Police, but it wouldn't do to not exercise caution. 

It looked authentic; practically identical to the ones sent in the past. But, they had been widely distributed amongst public places. Someone could have easily replicated it. 

Perhaps the Mafia had noticed them picking up on their trail and planned an ambush in the hopes of scaring them off. 

There was no way of knowing for sure. 

But she would play along. 

The wire Makoto had pinned to the inside of her shirt would keep her in touch with the armed officers that were watching her from a vantage point above, as well as those stationed in a van parked down the road. 

At the slightest hint of danger she would call in backup. 

Makoto flicked her sleeve back, eyes carrying over the second hand's rotation. One minute to midnight. 

She was early. 

"Impeccable timing as always, detective."

Instinctively, Makoto's hand traced the holster at her hip as the masked man rappeled before her, the ends of his dark coat sweeping dramatically behind him. 

Makoto's eyes strained, hoping to make out anything distinctive above his profile. With the streetlights dimmed, much of his face was obscured by the cover of night. 

Still, she had no doubt. 

This was, unmistakeably, Joker; the leader of the Phantom Thieves. 

The group that had been, somehow, miraculously compelling criminals into turning themselves in. Criminals they had been pursuing fruitlessly for months, crimes that hadn't been able to uncover.  As an alumnus and former student council president of Shujin Academy, Makoto had been horrified to learn what had become of the school since her graduation. 

That the volleyball teacher; former Olympian, Suguru Kamoshida; had been sexually and physically assaulting students. To the point that one of them attempted suicide. 

The students were too afraid to speak up, the parents and faculty members privy to what was going on, unwilling to lift a finger. Within the school’s walls, Kamoshida was impervious to justice.  

Shujin was a prestigious prep school, one of the finest in Japan. As part of the student council, Makoto worked closely with Principal Kabayokawa in her last few years. She couldn't understand why he would not have allowed such crimes to take place under his nose. 

She wasn't sure if it was blackmail or torture, but their abilities were unknown, seemingly completely beyond reason.  She didn't care to admit it, but that frightened Makoto. 

"Hey, come on. There's no need for guns." His hands rose. "I'm not so bad."

"If that were true, then surely you wouldn't feel the need to hide behind a mask."

"Well, if you wanted to see my face so badly, all you had to do was ask." Though his face was still blanketed by darkness, from the man's confident tone, Makoto suspected he had just winked at her. 

"I'm sure will be more than familiar with what you look like when you're taking your mugshot down at the station." She scowled, conscious of the flush heating her cheeks at the man's quip. For being held at gunpoint he was rather at ease. 

Still, given the dangerous circumstances, this group had been known to recklessly thrust themselves into, it shouldn't have been surprising. Their leader possessed either a great deal of confidence or stupidity. 

With the growing presence of the Phantom Thieves, Makoto had noticed that their leader was quite popular among the public. Though not much had actually been seen of him, women, in particular, were quite taken by the charm and charisma he carried himself with. 

It pained Makoto to realise that she could understand where they were coming from. 

"I- in any case. What could the leader of the Phantom Thieves possibly want with the police? You seem pretty happy going apprehending criminals on your own."

"I noticed you were having trouble with the Mafia."

"I hope you aren't here to simply undermine us."

"Not at all. We're want to see them held accountable just as badly as you. In fact, I have some information that you may find useful."

"I'm listening..."

"The man you're looking for, Junya Kaneshiro, will be the next to receive a Calling Card." Joker's voice lowered. Makoto leant forward, hoping the microphone would pick him up. "He will confess to his crimes and ask to be arrested. The rest of his goons might not be so willing to come quietly. I'm letting you know so that you can be prepared."

"Impossible." Makoto scoffed. "We've been pressuring Kaneshiro for months. How can you be so sure that he'll just give in?"

"Well, we haven't led you astray yet, have we?" He smirked. 

"Is that all?"

Makoto flinched as the man's fingers reached out to trace the wire trailing from her earpiece. 

"I hope that someday you'll trust me enough to truly come alone."

"Niijima-taichou! Niijima-taichou! Are you there?" The muffled static broke carried beneath her coat. 

Holding her gaze, Joker gestured towards the device with a smirk, as if silently probing her to respond to the call. 

"This is Niijima." She answered. "What's the situation?"

"We couldn't pick up on anything on your end. Someone must have been tampering with the recording."

"W- What?" Makoto stumbled, immediately reaching for the microphone attached to her lapel. With a growl, her gaze flicked over her shoulder. 

"Is this your doing?"

Her question carried unanswered into the night, muffled by the sweep of dark coat-tails, as their informant departed wordlessly. 

One with the shadows again.                   

#persona 5 #p5 #shumako #shumako week #shumako week day 7 #fanfiction #makoto niijima #au

[hazelnmae]

Lies Travel Faster: Chapter Three

Summary: Sophia Murphy’s life seems to be on the upswing when she takes a job with Birmingham’s notorious Shelby Company Ltd. But when she falls for her boss, CEO and ruthless gangster, Tommy Shelby, she finds herself wrapped up in a tangled web of danger and deceit. After all, lies travel faster than the truth.

Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character; Tommy/Assistant Trope (it’s a hill I’ll die on)

Warnings: angst; smut (in future chapters); violence; language; rape/non-con; death

CHAPTER 3 (read Chapter 2 or start from the beginning with Chapter 1)

Polly sat across from her nephew, starting daggers into the top of his head as he faked focus on the work on his desk. As the only person in his family who ever dared disobey him, she didn’t move when moments ago he insisted the conversation was over and she could see herself out.

Now Polly was sat waiting for an explanation about Tommy’s plans for Changretta.

“Thomas, we don’t even know what this man looks like,” she said, still trying to reason with him.

Tommy simply hummed in assent, never once removing his eyes from the papers on his desk. He skimmed the letter in front of him for the third time, but he still had no idea what it contained. His mind was scrambled and he just wanted his aunt out of the room so he could concentrate.

“They’ll find us before we find them. Probably already have,” she added, leaning back in her chair.

Tommy removed his glasses and rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation.

“Listen, it’s best if you don’t know the details, alright?”

“Nothing happens in this fucking family without my knowing, Thomas.” Polly moved forward in her chair and scrambled through her bag for her cigarette case. “You’ve got your entire family in stitches, uprooting their own families to come back to this hellscape, and for what? You won’t tell –”

“Fine!” Tommy slammed his hands on his desk and sent various papers flying to the floor. Polly’s eyes widened, but she otherwise didn’t react. She was just as resilient and composed as her nephew in uncomfortable situations. After all, he’d learned it from her.

“I’ve been working with Alfie Solomons –”

Polly scoffed, lighting a cigarette and sitting back in her chair once again.

“I’ve been working with Alfie,” Tommy started over, ignoring her interruption, “on a plot to throw me over and lead me right into Changretta’s hands.”

“You’re not serious,” Polly replied with a smirk.

It was his turn to stare daggers, letting his piercing eyes do their worst. He’d thought it through–overthought it, probably–and while he wasn’t crazy about playing bait, he didn’t have another option that wouldn’t compromise the family. As far as Changretta knew, Tommy was the one who pulled the trigger killing his father. He’d come straight for Tommy at any opportunity.

“Pol –”

“Don’t you fuckin’ ‘Pol’ me,” she scolded.

Tommy stood. “What would you have me do, eh!?” he yelled. “This way I call the shots! I know the fucking day! The fucking time! I’ll be prepared–as prepared as I can be!” Calming himself, he continued, “Moss and his men will be on call. At the very least it will buy us some fucking time, Pol.”

Polly watched him in silence as the understanding slowly washed over her face. The only way to ensure the continued safety of their family was to put Tommy at risk.

Tommy sat back down, lit a cigarette and stared over her shoulder to the wall at the front of his office. As if saying it to no one in particular, he quietly added, “It’s me or it’s the fucking lot of us.”

________

“Well it’s about fuckin’ time there, mate,” Alfie said as Tommy walked into the empty warehouse ten minutes later than they’d agreed to meet. “What is it with you and your grand fuckin’ entrances, yeah?”

“What have you got for me?” Tommy asked, visibly irritated and in no mood for one of Alfie’s long soliloquies.

“So we’re right to business, then. No time for pleasantries between friends?”

“It’s good to see you, Alfie,” Tommy said as he threw his spent cigarette on the floor.

“You too, mate, you too,” Alfie nodded his head and balanced his weight on the cane at his side. He scratched his beard, taking in Tommy’s irritated demeanor. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Tommy so uneasy. Even staring down the barrel of a gun–which Alfie had been witness to on multiple occasions–Tommy maintained his composure. Today, though, he paced around the room, as if standing still were admitting defeat to the war in his mind.

Alfie continued, “So this fuckin’ wop friend of yours is a right piece of work.”

Tommy stopped pacing and gave his full attention, eyes widened searching Alfie's face for the next piece of information.

“Don’t worry there, treacle don’t worry. I got him to agree. Took the deal without negotiation, yeah. Two hundred barrels of my rum on a little boat headed for the States.” Alfie made a little motion with his hands, like stirring water in a small, imaginary sea in front of him.

Tommy nodded. Finally, something falling into place as planned.

“I don’t like this, mate. I just need you to acknowledge that, yeah? No negotiation? You’re fuckin’ right Tommy–he won’t leave until he’s killed us all.”

The optimism drained from his face and for once in his life Tommy wished he’d been wrong.

_________

“Come in,” she heard Tommy’s voice through the door and felt her heart drop to her stomach as she turned the knob and entered his office.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Tommy, but I need to ask you a question.”

Tommy, without looking up from his work, motioned for her to come further into his office.

Sophie closed the door and crossed the room. Her steps felt heavy as she approached his desk with the mounting fear of what she’d uncovered. The photograph she’d found when she opened the morning post would change everything–her future with the company and her life in Birmingham.

It was a photograph of a wedding.

When Tommy finally looked up from his desk and took in her worried expression, he removed his glasses and nodded at her to go on.

“I know it’s none of my –” She paused to take a deep breath and clear her throat. “Do you have business with the Changretta family?” she asked, placing the photograph on the corner of his desk.

Tommy glanced at the photograph but showed no reaction. Once again, he wasn’t going to freely give up his secrets with any expression of emotion.

Sophie looked down at her hands. “I’ve not been entirely honest with you about my past.”

“Sit,” was all he said in response.

She sat in the leather covered chair, the very one she’d interviewed from a month or so prior, wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and waited for Tommy’s cue to continue.

“How so, Sophie?” he asked.

She thought he must be able to see her heart pulse through her skin–her heart, unlike his, ready to betray her at any moment. “I don’t come from a family of farmers,” she confessed. “We lived on a farm, but our business was the manufacturing and distribution of moonshine whiskey.”

“You’re father was a bootlegger?” Tommy sat forward now, leaning on his desk, showing interest, at least.

“We were all bootleggers. Tommy, I know horses because I’ve spent my life riding them through the woods–checking on stills, evading the police. I don’t bat an eye at your business because, well, I know it–intimately. I can shoot a gun because I’ve had to.”

They both sat in the silence that followed her confession. In all these years, Sophie had never shared the truth about her past. She’d never had the need to. But now, with the Changretta family so close again, she feared what might happen if she didn’t. Tommy had a right to know. He’d hired her in good faith and she didn’t want to pose a risk for him. She’d grown to appreciate Tommy as an employer. He trusted her with her job, acknowledged her intelligence, respected her opinion. She owed him the truth.

“The year before my parents were killed, the Changretta family expanded their business into more rural areas. When they did, they moved on our distribution territory.” Sophie paused to get her bearings. “It began with threats. We’d find upturned stills on our property, corn fields burning, dead fish on our doorstep.  But it ended with an attack on our family. One night, when I was fifteen, they broke into our home–”

Tommy interrupted. “You told me your parents died when you were sixteen.”

“Right. There were two sons on this side of Changretta family. They came into my room that night and –. Well, they took turns –.” Sophie stopped. She’d never been able to say the words, even to her mother after it happened. She somehow thought if she never said it, she could pretend it never happened.

But it had happened. And she’d lived with it for her whole adult life. She’d picked up small pieces of her shattered soul here and there, but she’d never fully healed. She knew now she probably never would.

“My father’s retaliation is what got him, and my mother, killed four months later,” She said in a whisper, as she felt the tears welling in her eyes. Fuck! Push it down, Sophie.  

She watched as Tommy clenched his jaw, the muscles in his cheek flexing in anger.

“These are bad men, Tommy,” she added, as the tears betrayed her and rolled down her cheeks.  

“I know,” Tommy responded, his voice almost a whisper now. “They killed my wife.”

Tommy searched the top of his desk for anything to steal his focus away. He never talked about Grace. It took everything he had to even say her name. He’d lived with an ache in his stomach for close to a year after she died and he could feel that old, familiar pain pushing forth again.

Tommy cleared his throat and continued. “I also took revenge. We killed Vicente, their patriarch. And now his remaining son has issued us the black hand.”

With that, he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out the card he’d shown to his family a few days before. He handed it to Sophie.

“I sent away for that photograph in an attempt to identify that son, Luca,” he said, motioning to the photograph Sophie had found in the morning mail.

She studied it again. “Tommy, I don’t know what Vicente’s sons look like, but I do know their cousins. And they’re in this photograph.” She leaned forward, turned the photo in his direction, and pointed and two men seated in the front row of the wedding party. “Vincenzo and Salvatore,” she said, moving her finger between the men in the image.

Tommy sat with this new information for a moment before he opened another desk drawer and removed a revolver. He stood from his desk and checked that the gun was loaded.

“Follow me,” he said as he moved toward the door, stopping only to grab his coat off the rack beside it.

She did as she was ordered and followed him, nervous about the weapon he now brandished so publicly. He already wore one handgun in his shoulder holster. Sophie couldn’t decide why he felt the need to usher her through the office with another in hand.

He paused at the back door of the waiting area and placed his coat on Sophie’s shoulders. A swath of cool air and morning sun washed into the room as he pushed open the heavy door. It revealed a small courtyard she hadn’t realized was there.

Tommy found three glass bottles on the ground and set them up along a fence at the opposite side of the courtyard. When he was finished, he handed the revolver to Sophie.

“Show me,” was all the direction he provided, as he took a step back.

It was a test. She said she knew how to shoot a gun and he wanted her to prove it.

It had been a long time since she’d held a firearm. Once, in France, she picked the rifle off a fallen soldier and fled behind the lines when a sudden attack on the auxiliary regime caught them off guard. She hadn’t fired it, but it felt familiar and comforting to carry it for a few hours, even after the fighting ended as quickly as it began. That was the last time she’d held a gun, though, and she hadn’t had plans to ever pick one up again.

Sophie flipped open and rolled the cylinder slowly, ensuring the gun was loaded. She took mental note of the weight of the gun, as she moved it from her left to her right hand. Giving Tommy one more glance, she pulled back the hammer, and took quick aim at the first bottle. Shattering it with the first shot, she quickly cocked and fired the gun twice more in rapid succession, successfully hitting all three targets. Slowly, she turned, and handed the gun back to Tommy, watching his face carefully.

He simply raised his hands in response. “It’s yours,” he said.

Sophie hesitated, but only for a moment. She knew how to shoot, but she didn’t own a weapon. The Changretta family was in Birmingham, she needed a way to protect herself. And while she trusted Tommy, she wasn’t family and was sure he’d choose them over her if forced to do so. Sophie had to protect herself. Take it Sophie, don’t be stupid.

“Shoulder or garter?” Tommy asked, pulling her back to reality. “For the holster?” He motioned at the revolver she still held out from her body, as if it were a hand grenade missing it’s firing pin, ready to explode at any moment.

“Uh, garter,” she replied, letting her arms fall to her sides, still acutely aware of the weapon in her hand.

Tommy reached into a large crate next to the back door of the office and dug out a holster. He held it up, eyeing it’s size, and determined it would fit her before he moved closer and handed it to Sophie.

“Thank you,” she whispered, as she took it in her empty hand.

It was all too much–the photo, the gun. The unrelenting, breathtaking, sickening fear. Her mouth went dry and she felt tears begin to well again in her eyes, but she pushed them down as quickly as they formed. You can do this, Sophie. She feared the anxiety she’d experienced after her rape and her parents’ death would return. It’d taken her years to adjust to it, the constant fear eventually becoming a companion during the most unsettling and lonely nights of the war. But in the years since, she’d let it go, little by little.

He closed the space between them with one more step, reached his hand up and stroked the apple of her cheek. Sophie leaned into his touch, finding some comfort in the warmth of his hand and his steady breathing.

“I should be thanking you,” he said. “Before today, I only had a name.” He paused until she looked into his eyes. “But now I know his face.”

Sophie nodded.

Tommy hesitated and held her gaze a few moments longer. When he eventually pulled away and headed back toward the door, he added, “Wear that at all times.”

Sophie nodded in response again looking down at the gun and holster in her hands–symbols of a shift in the tides of her life, but one in a direction all too familiar.  

“Fuck,” she replied in a whisper, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

But he was already gone.

___________________________________

Read Chapter 4

Thanks for sticking it out for three chapters! More to come, friends!

Feedback always appreciated–more than you can know!

Let me know if you want to be tagged on the next installment. This one’s for you: @shikin83

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #luca changretta #alfie solomons #polly gray #lies travel faster #HazelNMae

[thedarkbathtub]

Spotlight | 13

[previous] -13- [next] | Masterlist

The speed with which the boys shifted gear would have impressed Hiro had a low level of anxiety not been coursing through her veins. She followed the directions she was given, only peripherally aware of the changes going on amongst the boys. She’d only really seen Shownu in what she’d been calling “mob mode” and that was intimidating enough on it’s own without having to consider the rest of he boys. She felt a hand on her arm and looked up to see Wonho.

‘Come on.’ He said. Hiro let herself be steered away.

‘You’ll be fine.’ Wonho started, as soon as they were alone. ‘You know what you’re doing - you don’t even have to think about it - as for location, Shownu and Jooheon have that covered. All you need to do is point and shoot.’ He was moving so fast Hiro was having to go at a small jog to keep pace.

‘You know as well as I do that your pragmatism is going to kick in the moment you get out there.’ Wonho said as the entered the armory. ‘However you’re feeling now, I’ve seen you shoot, and you’re so zen it’s unreal. Don’t forget that.’ He handed her a rifle and a drawing tube. She’d later acknowledge that this was a genius move on his part, for disguising her weapon. She held them, motionless for a moment, before his words filtered through and she released the purpose of his pep talk. She’d done this before. Wonho had taken her through the motions every day for weeks. The gun she was now holding in her hand had become an extension of her during that time. She hadn’t twigged to what Wonho was doing at first, she hadn’t realized how he was gradually increasing the distance of her targets. When she’d started putting two and two together, he hadn’t tried to brush it off, and instead he’d done much as he was doing now: pointed out her natural skill, and said he was simply testing her distance, quite literally. It turned out her distance was pretty far. Wonho pressed a backpack into Hiro’s arms.

‘Everything’s in there.’ He gave her should a quick squeeze.

‘Are you ready?’ Shownu appeared in the doorway.

‘As I’ll ever be!’

—————

‘Turns out we have rolling snipers. Police have taken out the first two, but more keep on popping up. It’s creating mass panic.’ Shownu filled her in once they were in the car - whichever one it was.

‘So what exactly are we doing?’ Hiro asked. She couldn’t take out multiple snipers from one location. Shownu didn’t answer right away, he was fiddling with the radio. It blared to life, but sounded nothing like the radio stations Hiro was used to. She frowned, listening the the DJ before she realized she wasn’t listening to a DJ at all.

‘Is that…?’

‘Police radio. Changkyung fixed up all the vehicles so we can stay in the loop. And back to your first question: What does mass panic do?’

‘Makes people run away?’

‘Halfway there. What else does it do?’

‘Draws peoples attention.’

‘Who’s attention?’

‘…the police? The emergency services?’

‘Bingo. First responders. All eyes are going to be on the business district right now.’

‘So I’m guessing we’re not going there?’

‘No.’

‘We’re going to prevent them from taking out their primary target.’ Jooheon said from the drivers seat.

‘How do you know who it is?’

‘We haven’t been idle these last few weeks.’ Jooheon told her. ‘The current Mayor, if you didn’t know, is remarkably squeaky clean and he’s done a great job of making life difficult for everyone - including us. We’re of the opinion that keeping him alive gives us one less faction to deal with. Everyone else wants him dead.’

‘OK, so we are going to the business district?’

‘No, we’re going to see the Mayor. Kind of. The snipers are moving in the opposite direction, and the Mayor is home for his daughters birthday.’

‘Oh, shit! Shit! They won’t hurt the children, will they.’ Neither Jooheon or Shownu immediately answered the question. ‘Shit.’ Hiro breathed, the gravity of the situation crushing in on her.

‘Collateral damage happens.’ Shownu said, carefully. ‘It’s not fair. But it happens.’

‘But, children…’

‘It happens.’ Shownu said with such firmness Hiro gulped.

‘Have you ever…’

‘No.’ Shownu said, voice suddenly sharp. ‘None of us have, or would ever, harm a child. But most of us have witnessed it. You don’t have to join that particular rank today if you don’t miss.’

‘Oh, Jesus.’ Hiro could feel her chest tighten and desperately wished Wonho had come with them.

‘Wonho says you’re ready. He has absolute faith in you.’ Shownu said. ‘If he says you’re ready, you’re ready.’

‘But what if I miss?’

‘It’s simple.’ Jooheon said. ‘You don’t.’

—————

They entered the city at the edge of the business district. The sound of sirens seemed to surround them until they veered off towards one of the wealthier residential districts. The boys had long ago garnered all they needed to know about the Mayors home, and they’d filled Hiro in on the way. The house was a snipers dream, with large windows exposing much of the ground floor. Locking onto a target would be easy. Missing and hitting the wrong one equally so. There were, they had worked out, three vantage points from which a sniper could hide. Well, three and a potential, but unlikely, fourth.

Preferably, Hiro would be inside the mayors house. Shownu relayed the plan. Hiro was to knock on the door, bold as brass, announce herself as a free-lance artist who had been commissioned to paint a picture for the Mayor’s daughters birthday. As children hated sitting for paintings, Hiro was going to ask to take some photos of the girl, and some of her favourite things and work from those. That would, hopefully, give her access to the upstairs of the house. Clearly, using the fact she was an artist to their advantage was something the boys had fully prepared for, made evident by the business card holder that Shownu now pressed into her hands, followed my a camera and a very official looking letter that was supposed to back up her cover story. She pulled out a card and, despite the current situation, let out a laugh.

‘ “Little Painter”, you had to go with that?’ She asked.

‘Well, you are.’ Shownu said, matter of factly.

‘I am what?’

‘Our little painter. That, and we figured you’d be able to remember…’ Shown tailed off as a string of chatter came through the radio.

‘I’d say, thirty, maybe forty-five at the most. We’re nearly there!’ Jooheon said to Shownu. ‘Hiro, there’s an ear piece in your bag. Put it in and keep your hair down. We’ll keep you in the loop from here, you can hear us, we can year you, you’re not on your own, ok.’ Hiro nodded, easing the earpiece into place and pulling her hair out of it’s ponytail.

‘You’ll be fine.’ Shownu said, soothingly, as Jooheon pulled up to a stop on a tree lined street.

‘Number 27.’ Jooheon said as Hiro opened the car door. ‘Soon as we locate the sniper, we’ll let you know.’

—————

If Hiro was nervous, the man who answered the door had no idea. He smiled widely, looking a little frazzled.

‘Mayor Hunter? Hiro asked.

‘Yes, How may I help you?’

‘I’m a painter, and I’ve been commissioned by your office to paint a portrait for your daughter on her birthday. My card, and the letter requesting my services.’ Mayor Hunter took them, a look of delight on his face.

‘This is amazing. But does it have to be now? Her party is in full swing, never mind the fact Annabel can’t sit still for more than five minutes.’

‘Oh, not to worry, Sir. I can work quite comfortably from photos. Your colleagues suggested coming the day of the party so I could get some pictures of the day and, if you wouldn’t mind, a wee peak at some of her favorite things. Anything I can feature in a painting. Or any photos you already have that I can use as a reference… You won’t even notice me!’ The Mayors face brightened at her mention of a camera.

‘You can take photos now? I do believe we’ve been sent an angel. Our camera literally just died, and we don’t like to have photos of Annabel on our phones.’

‘I quite understand, Sir. If you like, I can take some photos and load them straight onto your computer, then they’ll be ready and waiting for you.’

‘Oh, would you mind?’

‘Of course not!’

‘You’re a lifesaver, Miss?’

‘Do not use your name.’ Hiro heard in her ear.

‘Hanna.’ she said, holding out her hand. The Mayor shook it.

‘Come on in, Hanna.’

Hiro made quick work of introducing herself to the Mayors wife, wishing Annabel a happy birthday and wowing her friends with the fact she was going to have her portrait painted by a real artist.

‘So, people give you money to paint?’ One of Annabel’s friends asked her.

‘They sure do.’

‘Woooooow.’

‘Mummy, why don’t you give me money for my paintings?’ Annabel asked her mother, tugging on her sleeve.

‘I’m sure that Hanna spent a long time practicing before she could be paid!’ her mother replied, looking to Hanna for confirmation.

‘Oh, yes. You have to do practice for a long time. For five years, all I did was paint. All day, every day.’

‘You only painted? Nothing else?’

‘Yes! You have to do that before anyone will pay you!’

‘Oh dear… I don’t think so!’ and Annabel ran off, distracted by something else.

‘So if I spend some time taking photos, would you mind gathering some of her favourite things so I can take separate photos of those.’

‘Of course, I’ll put them in the study so you can transfer the photos at the same time.’

‘Perfect.’ Hiro heard the word echoed in her ear as she said it herself.

‘I’ll show you where it is when you’re ready.’

‘Oh, no need. I want to be as un-intrusive as possible. Just tell me where to go and I’ll try to be out of your hair as soon as possible.’ She dug out a second business card. ‘If you could just write your contact number on here so I can call you when the painting is done.’

Hiro spent twenty minutes taking photos of Annabel’s party. She had arrived at just the right time, getting all the important photos, including one full length one of Annabel in her princess dress. When she was done, she quietly slipped up to the study any found it to be a light, open room with plenty of natural light and excellent windows.

‘Ok we have eyes on you, and on the sniper. He’s in the treehouse. The fucker.’  she heard one of the boys in her ear. The mob had picked the curveball option. Hiro swore.

‘It works in your favor. He won’t be able to see you, the eaves of the tree house block his view of your position.’

‘Ok.’ Hiro quickly connected the camera to the computer, thanking god for the invention of bluetooth connections, and started the transfer before cracking open the document tube and drawing out the rifle. She cracked the window a little, and grabbed a cork coaster from the desk. She didn’t want the rifle leaving any marks if she could avoid it.

‘He’s checking he’s watch. He’s definitely on a schedule. Hiro, you ready?’

‘Almost.’ She fixed her weapon, loaded it, and trained her eyepiece on the tree-house. The boys were right, there was the sniper. If he looked up, he wouldn’t be able to see her at all.

‘Hiro?’

‘Shut up.’ She snapped, leaning down, her breathing slowing. If the boys said anything else to her after that, she wasn’t listening. The only thing that mattered right now was that this bastard did nothing to hurt the little girl downstairs. She took in her surroundings, trained her weapon, counted and…

She knew she’d hit her target. She had no need, or time, to pause and double check, and instead hastily stowed her rifle, shut the window and quickly snapped several pictures of the items Mayor Hunter had brought to the study. She made a show of being totally engrossed in the task when he opened the door.

‘Did you hear that?’ she could hear the edge in his voice.

‘Hear what? I’m sorry, I get so focused I block things out!’ Hiro said, badly.

‘Oh, nothing. Nothing. How are you doing?’

‘Hiro, you need to get out, now.’ she heard the hiss in her ear.

‘Just finishing up with these. The photos are all uploaded.’ She snapped a last couple of photos, before carefully placing the items back where she’d found them and getting to her feet.

‘And that’s a wrap! I’ll leave you to your party now, Sir. Thank you for being so accommodating, and I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.’ She held her hand out, he shook it, and she quickly left the room. She skipped down the staircases as sedately as she could while her heart was hammering her chest. Part of her knew what she had just done, but she wouldn’t allow herself to fully acknowledge it until she was back in a safe space. She wished she could sprint from the house to the car, but that just wouldn’t do.

She slid into the car, dumping the document tube, bag and camera on the seat beside her and as Jooheon put the car into gear and slowly pulled away, she burst into tears.

#writing #monsta x #monsta x fic #shownu #wonho #minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #joohoen #changkyun #shownu fic #wonho fic #minhyuk fic #kihyun fic #hyungwon fic #jooheon fic #changkyun fic #mafia au #gang au #monsta x mafia #monsta x gang

[sebastianxainsworth]

Redemption // self para

Sebastian pushed open the door with a loud ominous creak, an action he’s managed to do dozens of times in the past for various occasions. This, however, was under different circumstances. The first time in three months he and Ryan left the city and longer since...

The last time Seb stepped foot in the penthouse office of the Ainsworth tower was the day he sent Theon tumbling through the window. The glass had long since been replaced by a brand new sheet, the blood cleaned extensively, and the desk itself vacated other than the current residence of Wayne. Thankfully, the man was gone for the night, leaving the rest of the tower for the youngest Ainsworth to explore old stomping grounds and simply wait.

Sebastian couldn’t understand what possessed him to make contact with Madyson and he wouldn’t expect her to come, not after their first and last meeting. Who would dare grant the wish of a deranged man who held a letter opener to her throat? Would she be forgiving or leave him without answer as he dealt with his demons alone out of spite within her anger? Sebastian didn’t feel right having the discussion over the phone or through text messages despite how easy it would be, not when it was this significant.

Seb moved across the threshold, his steps echoing through the silent din as he reached the large oak desk his brother and father sat at before him. Its twin matched the same one back at the mansion, but there was something incredibly royal and intimidating about this one. The deals that crossed its shiny surface, the conversations and secrets dwelling within the wood like an imprint. He never considered it in such a way, but the desk became witness to the company he desired to take the mantle of. His hand glided along the top, fingers barely glancing over the small antique knick-knacks lining the edge. It was difficult to imagine Theon sentimental about the little things, then again, he hardly knew his brother at all.

Madyson watched the man from the door frame for a long moment as she observed his quiet reaction to what should have been an ordinary office, but now she must have known was the sight of a former murder scene. The thought sent chills down her spine, the same factoring into her hesitation from coming here from the start, however, her previous words reminded Mady why she did this for a living. Was this Sebastian asking for help finding his way again? “Doctor Beckett?” The formal title shot through her thoughts like a hot knife and immediately caused the blonde’s posture to straighten as she stepped into the space. “You were having a moment. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“You weren’t. Preferred if you did anyway.” Sebastian moved his hand from the desk to the wheeled leather chair, gently swiveling it back and forth, “I, um, I just,”

“You just wanted to talk?” Mady filled in the blanks with a slow nod, “As long as you promise to refrain threatening me with a knife, I clearly see you’re in desperate need of someone to talk to.” She made herself at home in one of the chairs in front of the desk and dropped her bag at her feet, pushing aside the weird sensation looking at the window behind him. “Consider me a listening sound board.”

She was being too nice. Too understanding. It made this all the more worse. “About that, I need to apologize. You came to the house with nothing but an open heart and willingness that night and I pulled you into something you shouldn’t have been in.” Something Seb was involving her in a second time around, the man realized, as he responded quietly, “I’m sorry, Madyson.”

“I was never angry at you for that, Sebastian. You were fresh off of doing, you know, what you did and Ryan was under medical treatment the last I remembered from that session.” If she could call it a session. Mady placed her hands in her lap and looked down, “You weren’t the first of my patients to threaten my safety.” She repeated, “I’m not angry.”

“You should be. I went full psycho.” Seb’s fingers squeezed the chair’s back, “After what happened with my brother, I was,” Crazy? Delusional? Or maybe in deep enough to know what power felt like when he took it in his own two hands? Sebastian possessed power before, that came with the last name and family reputation, but he just didn’t know how to use it. That learning experience died with his brother. “I was just on this high. I thought I could do what I wanted, where I wanted, to who I wanted without consequences.”

Madyson pressed her lips tightly together, gathering her thoughts cautiously and carefully. There is always more to the story. “Apologizing wasn’t the only thing this was about, was it?” She responded quietly.

“No.” Seb’s equally soft response came as he pulled the chair back and slid into it with a low squeak. “I enjoyed it. Killing Theon, I enjoyed it and I can’t pretend I’m able to separate who I am between who he and my father were. I tried denying it with myself, with Benji, and I can’t.” Saying Theon’s name triggered an apparition he could see from the corner of his eye, forcing Sebastian to glance behind Madyson and spot a vision of his brother lifting his dark gaze to the ceiling in an eyeroll. The moment lasted longer than it should have and more often than the man would confess to.

The woman turned her head to see exactly what he was staring at, finding nothing but an empty door. Like he saw something she couldn’t quite see with her own eyes. Oh, no, this was an all too familiar sign. While Mady hated making assumptions, his history gave her one significant conclusion. “Sebastian,” She turned to face him with a sympathetic expression, “Do you mind describing to me what you’re seeing? Who you’re seeing?”

“Theon.” Seb groaned, leaning forward and placing his head in the palms of his hands, “They’re just flashes. Sometimes, I’ll have full-on conversations with him like he was actually in the room and I know it makes me sound like I’m fucking crazy. I’m not. I killed the fucker and I expected him to stay dead.” He lifted his head slowly, “You said I lost my way before, Doctor Beckett, but I obviously lost my goddamn mind too. The world already took away everyone I ever cared about, so what’s my sanity?” The Ainsworth patriarch released a second groan, “I lost Ryan, Doctor. I lost what was left of my family by my own decision-making and my best friend can’t handle a single second standing in the same room with me. This city, three months later, still thinks I attacked Newford. And the worst part, Madyson, I deserve this. I deserve every second of it.”

Mady stuck by her original diagnosis. The nature versus nurture theory became invalid when Sebastian’s case proved environment and biology were key factors in his deteriorating mental stability. He was now having hallucinations no one else apart from her knew about, lacking sleep, and it’s obvious he let go of his hygiene judging from the growing beard. “I cannot condone what you’ve done in your past, Sebastian, and yes, perhaps karma has caught up to you, but I don’t think you attacked Mr. Vincent. There’s always going to be doubts and theories and no one can say for certain what really happened. I just need you to know you’re still worth saving.”

“You don’t give up, do you? Never met anyone so damn relentless.” Seb’s lips quirked in a weak smile that was quick to leave, “You’re going to really waste a lifetime’s worth of years better spent on helping other people more deserving than me.”

“Perhaps, but I know I can help you. It’s not about what you do and don’t deserve, Mr. Ainsworth.” Madyson leaned forward thoughtfully as she permitted the silence to grow. Was she absolutely bonkers coming here and chatting with him? Or did the true insanity lay with the decision she considered? “This is typically the part where I prescribe you medicine for the visions, but this goes far deeper than your mind, Sebastian. You think you have no one here that cares for you, well, I’m disagreeing. You have me. So,” She sighed. This was it. “If you consent, we need weekly sessions. No more of these...spontaneous talks in the dead of night. Real, one hundred percent sessions, dedicated in my office.”

Okay, now, this was not what he anticipated. Going in with the apology and coming out with an official therapist jarred Sebastian. Therapy was scoffed at in his family, if you were having strong emotions and needing a conversation to speak of them, you locked that shit away. “Wait, you would do that for me?” The relief splashing along Seb’s expression lit a spark of overwhelming hope long lost in St. Cascadia. That’s what the city did, took away any shred of wishful hoping until you no longer knew how it felt. “Yeah, I mean, I want to. I need to.” Ah, then came the awkward and extremely uncomfortable thought. “What about Detective Hardass? He hates the factions, he hates the leaders, but he’s really gunning for me nowadays. He won’t like you and me doing,” The male waved a hand between the two of them for indication. “This.”

“No, he won’t.” And that’s what she was always fretting about in the back of her mind even on her way to the tower. It hadn’t flown over well with Derek when she talked to Morrigan and she was sure he’d nearly blown a gasket after she told him about the first very violent talk with Sebastian. Madyson was a grown woman with a job she loved and she can’t do it properly if she wasn’t helping everyone. “You let me worry about Derek. Besides, I still have doctor-patient confidentiality. I can’t tell him who I’m treating unless given special permission.”

“Tell him.” Sebastian granted without hesitation, threading his fingers together. “I’m not going to be responsible for ruining a relationship based on keeping secrets.” He knew what concealing the truth could do to any relationship. Lying about the nightmares and hallucinations or even hiding how deeply satisfying watching a man tumble through a window from Ryan, from himself, pushed away his wife. What she thinks he did to her brother may have been the real cause, but letting the cat out of the bag on his dwindling mental state would mean losing her entirely. Forever.

This was a dangerous game potentially playing with her life. Sebastian wasn’t a apart of her faction, in fact, she knew the gossip whispered about her helping the same man everyone believed had attacked Newford could have been considered career-ending, but it was downright scandalous. Speaking with a faction leader wasn’t taboo, becoming the therapist to one surrounded by controversy and heartache to her home is. Drake Vincent still hadn’t awaken and where was she? Supporting the man responsible, not the family.

Mady rose from her seat and glided forward, “I need to make myself extremely clear here, Sebastian, and I’m only going to say this once. If I feel any backlash from these sessions endangers my well-being or that of anyone I care about greatly, I won’t hesitate putting an end to it. I know what I’m getting myself into, who you are, your reputation. I may be willing to help you and foolishly,” Madyson pressed her palms to the surface of the desk and leaned forward slightly. Almost...threateningly. “But I will not tolerate the physical violence. Shout and scream as you wish, I can handle it, but no more letter openers. No more fists.” She heard Sebastian‘s chair squeak as he leaned back, “It won’t be just Derek you’ll have to fret over, it’ll be me. Do you understand?”

“Where’s this Doctor Madyson Beckett been hiding?” Sebastian couldn’t mask the playful amusement lacing his tone. The behavior brought a familiarity to the forefront previously shrouded by depression and self-loathing. Hidden from view, concealed from the light of day with a crippling breaking point that had been so much a part of who Sebastian Ainsworth is. Yet, with the darkness crashing through, he’d rise again. “Yeah. Yes.” Correcting his proper grammar, Seb pushed himself from his seat, “I understand.”

“Good.” Madyson moved to grab her bag before hearing, “If you really want to make this official, it has to be the proper Ainsworth way.” The blonde turned to spot Sebastian’s hand jutted out palm open. Deals were a Davenport trademark, a contract binding the signer or hand shaker, in this case, to a promise. It seems Seb found an affinity towards them just as his brother and father. She had nothing to be nervous for, right? “How impolite of me, good sir.” Mady reached out and took his, the two shaking their connected hands firmly.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Doctor Beckett.” Releasing his grip, the youngest Ainsworth smiled. “And thank you. For everything.” The first deal. The first of many, it would seem.

#redemption #self para #madyson

[thing1ewot-blog]

Moonrider – Forum Troll / Fail Spy

Well, folks, here we go with our first troll of the new year. And the winner is:

MOONRIDER!

Congratulations, Moonrider. Now take a bow…and while you’re down there, kiss our ass you ugly, bearded, fat fuck. (No, the shave didn’t help you man. You looked better with that ugly-assed mug covered up…but we’ll get to that in just a few moments.

Now, our history with Moonrider goes back to when this site was first getting set up. I was, at the time, only a passive part of what was going on. Gomez was trying like hell to set up a forum for the site at the time and was just getting his ass handed to him by a bunch of fucking Wotlabs trolls that were spamming it non-fucking-stop.

And it was Moonrider who kept saying over and over again that he was blocked and couldn’t register his name and that Gomez had banned his ass.

Of course, none of that shit was true.

They even set up an account in his name FOR him and he made some other stupid shit accusations against them and I think at that point they just said, “fuck it” and moved on.

Moonrider has always been an asshole. He never has anything good to say about anybody or anything other than himself, which is funny since the ugly fuck doesn’t have a whole shitload going for him. But I digress…

Here’s the type of asshole Moonrider is – he’ll post this in a response to somebody:

But when somebody else does essentially the same exact thing, he posts this:

In other words, Moonrider is allowed to use images in response because he has no fucking brains or vocabulary, but if anybody else does it then they’re a fucking idiot that needs to go back to school.

That’s Moodrider. That’s how he rolls.

So here’s the next question, who is this prick?

Well, you guessed it, we’re going to tell you. Moonrider’s name is Jesse Woodson. Ahhh fuck it…here you go:

Jesse H. Woodson 22109 Countryside Ln Lignum, VA 22726 Facebook MySpace (YES!!! He has a fucking MySpace Page!!!)

We’ll pause for you long enough to stop laughing and clean up the shit you just spewed out of your mouth all over the fucking monitor.

So here he is in all his glory, folks:

Yep.

Ugly.

And fat.

Just like almost all of them. It’s so fucking predictable it’s almost disappointing, isn’t it?

So, that’s it then. That’s him. Typical fucking World of Tanks, ugly, fatass troll.

UPDATE 1/6/18:

So Leftist brought to our attention the fact that Jesse made a bit of an ass of himself over at the Wotlabs forum when they changed the colors of the WN8 scale back in 2014. Apparently, he cried like a little bitch over it, then got essentially neg repped / shamed off the board completely.

That lasted about two weeks before he crept back saying his wife had died of cancer and he was burying her that Wednesday.

WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK?!?!

His wife has cancer and is dying so he’s worried about and bitching about colors on stats in a free-to-play pixel tank game?

HO LEE SHIT!!!

How do we know this? Well, let’s look at a few things:

Here’s his Facebook page where he announced he was engaged to a lady named Erin Beach. That’s in 2013 as stated.

So a year later, he’s crying like a bitch over stats, gets neg repped and shamed to death, vanishes, then comes back announcing she’s dead of cancer:

You know, that would be very sad but for one small little detail.

Here she is just this past October:

Pretty damn nice looking…especially for an alleged corpse.

And we have her Facebook page which we’re not going to post, but it’s also alive and well. She’s a girl after God’s own heart. She’s going back to school to get her degree and working her ass off at two jobs to take care of her family while shit-for-brains Jesse plays fucking eye-spy and pixel tank games.

Nice going, dipshit. You pissed away a woman most guys dream of finding over a fucking free-to-play pixel tank game.

So where does the “spy” thing come in? Well, this is where it gets dicey. This is either a complete, total, epic fail on his part or the most staggering set of circumstances to occur since John Wilkes Booth leaped down to the stage with a smoking gun in hand after he didn’t shoot President Lincoln.

Oh wait…

Anywho, so I get this mysterious email. Here it is in it’s entirely:

Guys,

I often disagree with your approach. And I think your political commentary is shoddy and takes away from your purpose. But with those digs I just wanted to tell you:

Rita published this crap about a skin in the console game and didn’t contact anyone for statements, didn’t realize that WG can take anything they want that users post to the forums etc. My point is, it was shoddy journalism.

While I don’t agree with your editorial slant, you guys do great investigative work. Undeniable. And the quality of your work is a sharp contrast in comparison to the gossip column Status Report has become.

I check the site out. I have a different view. In the end you have a right to your approach and you do some great work.

I do PR work in DC. You fact check better than a lot of major networks and papers. In a time where journalism has really devolved to printing gossip, you guys have some respectable principles. Diversity of opinion is great when the opposing side has command of the facts. It’s why I keep reading your stuff.

You can print this if you want. I sent this privately simply because it is partially critical. Please don’t use my name or phone if you do.

I am a crappy 50% player in the game who struggles passed tier 8, by the way.

Christopher Alexander 202.779.8387

I responded back cordially:

We never expected for everybody to agree with us. Hell, that’s not even REMOTLEY possible.

We were just sick to death of never having a voice. Of the Wargaming power clans who are also the moderators deleting anything and everything that shows who they really are and what they’re really all about while putting their own bullshit narrative into place by nothing but pure censorship.

If we get it wrong, it’s not because we just fucking made it up. We’re simply telling it how we see it with the information we actually hunt down and find.

Thanks for the letter. No offense is taken. We’re not above criticism (god knows we’ve gone ’round and ’round with Scorpiany on more than one occasion), but criticize us. Don’t come on our site trying to troll us with your bullshit like they do on the official forum. You’ll notice that Scorpiany still hangs around.

Thanks for the letter. Believe it or not, we’re getting more and more just like it almost daily now.

Regards,

Thing 1

So then, VERY quickly, he comes back with this:

Well… The fact that a dude named Thing 1 could bets his beat better than half the DC press corps (on either side of political spectrum) pretty awesome.

You guys have your thing, and I get it. But I’d love to see you guys sit down with Wargaming and do an interview. You’d need to be softer in your tone and that may not work with your intent, but that would be something.

While I am not as negative about them in general, there media relations are poor, and I doubt they would do it.

Funny, Chieftan and I were in adjacent units in Iraq (I was a Scout) and a few years ago I was in a match and chatted with him. When I explained what I do now he encouraged me to apply for as their PR head.

That would have been a tough job.

So they invest in the new tech. Does this mean they stop being accountants now and spend money to enhance the game? Or will they be more arrogant and double down with the attitude that the graphics fixes everything so stop complaining about your tier 8 you bought perpetually being feasted on by tier 10s.

Guess we’ll know soon.

So, instantly, I’m like:

So what WAS an apparently innocent email now turns into “I know the Chieftain” and “you should sit down with Wargaming”.

SAY FUCKING WHAT?

So, I make a couple of calls and go into investigation mode.

The guys email address is: [email protected]

Why would DK, a multinational fucking publishing/media company, use fucking Gmail? Well, folks, they wouldn’t. I made a phone call and it turns out not only does DK NOT use Gmail, they have never heard of anybody named Christopher Alexander and are sure that he and his message are a complete fraud as far as they are concerned.

OK. Cool. So who is he then?

Probably best to run the phone number he provided. So I make another call and get that done. I also open the source on the email itself and find the final IP address of the original sender:

That, folks, is the IP of the cell phone that sent the email.

It’s an unregistered, pre-paid cell phone. Oh how convenient, eh? But we do know where it was used last. It was last registered bouncing off a tower in close proximity to Jesse’s house.

Well, let’s look at a few pictures to help you all visualize this better. Here is Jesse’s house:

Now, if you zoom out from that, you’ll see where the cell phone last registered:

Folks, that is one hell of a coincidence, is it not?

But then the question arises, why would he go to all the trouble? Well, we have a theory on that. You see, we think he thinks that he’s smart. He wanted to see what we would do, and if one of us would call the unlisted, pre-paid cell so they could fuck with us or something.

I don’t really know.

But I do know this: Moonrider came to this site earlier to see if we had published anything. First time he’s ever been here, folks. Today. Right after all this shit went down, he shows up.

Now folks, any ONE of these things in and of itself means nothing.

But ALL OF IT?! What the fuck are the odds?

Less than zero, folks.

#world of tanks #troll #fail #mellinial #jesse #woodson #moonrider #wotlabs

[ecotone99]

[MF] I'm an old man.

I’m an old man.

Okay, I’m not that old. I’m only seventy-five. I’m being dramatic. They say that the seventies are the new fifties. But, I’m entitled to being a little grumpy at my age. I’ve earned it.

When I was younger, birthdays earned you new privileges, like buying tobacco (albeit I hate the smell and only occasionally smoke a cigar, which even then I still find it mildly revolting), getting married, joining the military, voting, alcohol, and cheaper car insurance.

But now the doctors inform me that, based on my age and my insurance provider, I’ve earned the privilege of undergoing another test for some disease that’s sure to end my life miserably. Every year I go in for my physical, and every year the doctor runs a complete battery; cholesterol, blood sugar, blood pressure, hearing, prostate, bone density, and on and on.

I see a dermatologist annually owing to my fair complexion; a trait I inherited from my mother who had strawberry blonde hair and a spattering of freckles that ran up and down her cheeks. And every three years I have to drink that God-awful Crystal Light and apple juice concoction, shit my brains out for two days, and then get little cameras inserted up my ass and down my throat. If it wasn’t for the drugs, I’m not sure I’d enjoy it much.

Or would I? When you get old, sometimes you wonder about these things. I’m not gay (and I don’t have a problem with it, mind you), but these thoughts run through my head on occasion as I get older.

What if I actually enjoyed it?

Maybe I would have when I was younger and a bit more open to those kinds of things. Apparently, the prostate, that little walnut-sized gland near your bladder, is also called the “male G-spot.”

All I know is that on occasion, when the doctor sticks his fingers up my rectum, I get a little chubby. It’s kind of embarrassing, but if it weren’t for the sterile formality of it all, maybe I’d relax enough to enjoy it.

You see, I never considered these things before.

Just like every time I get some new test. It gnaws away at my mind’s ability to ignore the fact that my time on this earth is coming to an end, something my younger self never once considered as a real possibility. Where death was something that happened to other people, each phone call from my specialist inches me closer to the realization that I’m not a spring-chicken anymore, and I’m one rotten biopsy away from the grave.

So, when the doctor says “you’re as healthy a twenty-year-old,” I always respond (still a little slick between the cheeks), “that’s just great, Doc.”

But who am I fooling?

They say that the seventies are the new fifties, but on Tinder I am old. I’m old, and I’m creepy. At least, that’s what all the young girls tell me.

Swipe right, swipe left? I don’t know how we matched, because I can barely text my wife without transferring my life savings to an African prince. I joke, because they all end up in my spam folder anyway, along with my daughter’s e-mails … why can’t you just call me on the phone like a normal human being, or God-forbid, visit once in a while? I know you have a family of your own and live a couple thousand miles away, but would it hurt to bring them down to get to know their Papa before he chokes?

Online dating is as foreign to me as Ching Chang Chong. Or is that too pejorative of an idiom these days? One thing I’ve also realized is that the older I get, the more bigoted and wrong about the world I am, at least that’s what everyone keeps telling me.

But let me be clear, Chief, it wasn’t me who changed; it was the world.

When I was a kid, these things didn’t have the same context. People weren’t so sensitive. I grew up in New England, for fuck’s sake. If you don’t recall, we fought to end slavery during the Civil War. We championed equal rights, and I even marched to end segregation, and now I’m a bigot? Please, spare me.

I don’t want to get political, but there’s a reason Trump won. I don’t care much for the man, with his gold-plated shit palace and orange skin, but he appreciates what being American used to mean. In a lot of ways, those were the gold-old-days. Those were the days before Twitter, Facebook, and Insta-whatever. Things were simpler: you sent a letter in the mail and then you waited. And when you waited you learned patience. Kids don’t have patience these days. They want everything now, now, now.

The world has changed, and maybe I’ve stayed the same.

A few years ago, we decided we were going to audit an ethics class at a local community college. Being that we are retired and didn’t have to work for food, we thought it would keep us engaged with the world that seemed to be changing daily. At any rate, the professor, some snotty, high-falutin’, thirty-something who couldn’t commit to a PhD, decided he was going to lecture me about objective moral values.

Objective moral values? What’s so objective about values these days when a man can decide to be a woman, and a woman can decide to be a Furry? A Furry. One interesting thing I learned in class: an employee filed an equal opportunity complaint because she not only believed she was a cat, but that she was being discriminated against because there weren’t any litter boxes for her to shit in.

Can you believe that?

Did the world go crazy, or am I going crazy?

One of the advantages of age is that it provides some perspective. A disadvantage is that facts about the world that one picks up in one era may not apply in a subsequent one. It’s not that the facts weren’t facts, but that those facts were time sensitive. What used to be true is not true now. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.

I’m time sensitive these days. I’m sensitive to the fact that I’m not getting any younger.

But eventually, you have to move on. You have to give new things a try. You have to embrace—and I hate to sound so callous, but at seventy, you appreciate the time you had and you appreciate the time you have left—change. It is hard to move on, but, sometimes, the world changes and you just have to hang on for the ride.

So, when Judith messaged me (not sure if it was through Our Time, Zoosk, Elite or Silver Singles, or whatever dating app I ended up contributing practically my entire 401k towards), it was a bit unexpected. I have to admit, it was hard. It was hard to carry on a conversation through my keyboard to some stranger in the internet ether. Hell, for all I knew, she was some Russian hacker trying to steal my e-mails.

I’m kidding.

We decided we’d meet at a local café. We’d have some coffee, maybe some breakfast, and we’d simply talk. That sounded great, honestly.

Because another thing about growing old is that everyone you know is constantly dying. When you’re twenty, it’s one wedding after another. When you’re seventy, it’s one funeral after another. Your address book gets smaller and smaller over time, and conversations become few and far between. You find yourself talking a bit too much to that clerk at the grocery store, or the telemarketer who’s trying to sell you a timeshare.

I give my daughter a hard time, but she has a career, a husband, and children, and I feel a bit guilty expecting anything from her beyond a call on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a wonderful daughter. She’s always trying to get me to move back to Maine, but I’ve grown accustomed to the Southern climate. They keep going on and on about climate change and saying Florida will be sucked into the ocean one day, but that won’t happen until long after I’m dead and gone. I keep telling her not to worry about me, and while she does, she knows I’m too stubborn to leave. But, daughters have a way of softening even the most hardened assholes like myself.

I showed up at the Waffle House a bit earlier than we agreed. Sitting at the booth I was reminded about how nervous I was when I was a kid.

But seventy is the new fifty, right? One thing I appreciate about technology is that it opens doors (both figuratively and non-figuratively). When I was a kid, you had to muster up the guts to approach a girl at the bar, an ice cream parlor, a diner, or the library. You had to introduce yourself while her and her friends pretended not to notice, but which made you even more nervous and uncomfortable. You had to invest an inordinate amount of time and resources into the act of dating that, probably, would be a waste of time in the end. It was a shot in the dark. You’d discover something about her personality, her values, her parents, her outlook, three or four dates into it, and you’d be back at square one.

Luck. That’s what it took to find the right one.

The great thing about online dating is you can weed out all those people you know aren’t cut out for you, that don’t share your worldview. It opens up the pool of dating I didn’t have when I was a kid. It’s simple math; the wider your net, the more chance you have of making the catch.

Sitting there I realized I still had my wedding ring on. I hadn’t taken it off for nearly fifty years.

In the bathroom, with a great deal of soap, I worked the ring backwards and forwards. The once smooth band was now sharp and cut into my finger that had grown a size (or two) larger than it was when I had first gotten married. The ring refused to budge over my knuckle. No matter how much I yanked, the damn thing wouldn’t come off. And the harder I pulled, the more I smiled and the more those crow’s feet, winkles, and loose skin scrunched up into an adolescent grin ear-to-ear as I realized I hadn’t taken it for nearly fifty years.

Judith ordered black coffee, two eggs sunny-side up, turkey bacon, and wheat toast. From her purse, she pulled out a shaker of Morton Salt Substitute, and that’s when I saw that she hadn’t taken her ring off either.

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#Blogger #Story

[ulyssesredux]

Cyclops

Nice! So Joe took up the letters.

She lost because she campaigned in the wrong direction.

The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania and is losing votes in Wisconsin recount. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the dusky potentate, in the entire opinion, the panel did not bother even to cite this the statute.

Cried the second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there is no proof, and never will be slaves, with the rest to go shortly to various other veteran groups.

What is it? We are going to collude in order to spend time with Boeing and talk jobs! And after all, says Martin to the jarvey.

—There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on, says Alf, that was Ted Cruz!

—Yes, sir, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. Numbers are way down. Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc.

8:00 P.M. Myler punishing him. Also, is it true that the DNC would not allow the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why are they so sure about hacking if they never even requested an examination of the computer servers? Big speech tomorrow with Bobby! Talks about me at 43% but never mentions that there are four people in race. I will be pres.

Says Bloom. No more! Biggest story in politics is now happening in the U.S. Indiana. Biggest crowds ever-watch what happens! Crooked Hillary has been fighting ISIS, or whatever she has been doing, for years. I see where Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake of Baltimore is pushing Crooked hard. Russia took over Crimea. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if Martin is there.

So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent exercise was bad. How did NBC get an exclusive look into the top secret report he Obama was presented? The mimber? —Hurrah, there, says Joe, throwing down the letters. Ay, says I. And says John Wyse.

—Look at him, says he.

Great POLL numbers are coming out all over. Shake hands, brother. No way It is Clinton and Sanders people who disrupted my rally in Chicago-and then they chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob on Throwaway and he's gone to gather in the shekels. He's traipsing all round Dublin with a postcard someone sent him with U.p: up. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of the poor woman, I mean, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he.

No more!

Says the citizen. Because he no pay me my moneys?

We must do better!

Airplane departed from Paris. What are you doing round those parts? Bad instincts A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty!

God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead.

A poor house and a bare larder.

Mind C.K. doesn't pile it on. Dimsey, wife of David Dimsey, late of Messrs Alexander Thom's, printers to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters.

Do you all remember how beautiful and safe a place Brussels was.

Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, no less. Wrong answer!

—Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says the citizen. —There you are, says Alf.

No, says the citizen.

I can't get a penny out of him would give you the bloody pip. The men came to handigrips. Love, says Bloom.

—Talking about violent exercise, says Alf I saw him land out a quid O, as true as I'm drinking this porter if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living. Amazingly, with all of the others?

—Who won, Mr Lenehan?

Kasich is weak on illegal immigration.

Mobile, Alabama today at 3:00 P.M. speech in Melbourne, Florida. We've had free—Hillary Clinton conceded the election when she called me just prior to the victory speech and after the results were in.

Ted and Kasich are mathematically dead and totally desperate.

—Bi i dho husht, says he. Praying for all the world to walk about selling Irish industries. We have an army of volunteers and people with GREAT SPIRIT! Bernie.

The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun? Russia will respect us far more than they do now and both countries will, perhaps, work together to solve some of the many wonderful things that he stood for.

—I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition.

—I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe, handing round the boose. Picture of a butting match, trying to come back. Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power. —Lackaday, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare larder, quotha!

—But it's no use, says he. Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary compromised our national security.

Another horrific attack, this time in Nice, France. And mournful and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of deathless Leda. Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own.

Shows weakness! Vote Trump and end this madness! —No, says the citizen.

Together, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN The protesters in California were thugs and criminals.

Your God was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza.

We need to secure our borders ASAP.

Thank you West Virginia. Did you read that skit in the United Irishman today about that Zulu chief that's visiting England? Only 38,000 new jobs Masa said he would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he totally changed a 16 year old story that he had written in order to be at the Grand Opening of my great Turnberry Resort.

How's that, eh? I wouldn't sell for half a crown. Gob, he near throttled him.

Lyin’ Ted Cruz had zero.

Why hasn't she done them in her last 30 years?

—Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. Crooked Hillary says she is going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but any business that leaves our country for another country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! —Right, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? I have NOTHING to do with women, and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun. The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers.

What?

Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, supports open borders, and without them the old line pols like Crooked Hillary! And I belong to a race too, says Joe, God between us and harm. And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have no country. On Saturday a great man, Elie Wiesel, passed away.

Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was packed with great pros-WIN! Big tax & regulation cuts coming! And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. Thank you to everyone for making it so special!

Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the wall if they pay a little later so the wall can be built more quickly.

—And will again, says the citizen. —Honest injun, says Alf. Says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? I not only won the NBC Presidential Forum, but last night the big debate. Hillary said, We are going to fix America's problems. Christ M'Keown, says Joe. She has done nothing in the Senate. —The European family, says J.J.—There he is sitting there.

Somebody hacked the DNC but why did they not have hacking defense like the RNC has and why have they not responded to the terrible things they did and said like giving the questions to the debate? Just arrived in Cleveland-will be a disaster on jobs, the economy, trade, healthcare, the military, guns and just about all else. I thought so, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

Thank you to teachers across America! Love Utah-will be back many times!

Course it was a bloody barney. We will do so by bringing back jobs! So begob the citizen would have been front page news!

You're sure? —With Dignam, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in place.

A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from ancient ages.

He will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. People don't want another four years of incompetence! Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of His light to inhabit therein. Sleepy eyes Chuck Todd, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun? Russia/CIA card. We will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN! Gob, they ought to drown him in the bloody establishment.

He knows nothing about me. You love a certain person.

—But do you know what that is. Dem party! Never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. She sold them out, V.P. pick!

Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY!

Crooked Hillary Clinton, perhaps the most dishonest person to have ever run for the presidency, is also one of the letters. Intelligence Committee looking into the Bill & Hillary deal that allowed big Uranium to go to the house. Amazing crowd!

I had 17 opponents and she just had a massive rally.

The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. What will you have? Hillary Clinton's people complaining about with respect to the F.B.I. Big strong men, officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? The rally inside was big and beautiful, but outside, criminals!

The Mayor of San Jose did a terrible job representing workers.

—Cattle traders, says Joe, how short your shirt is!

Great State of Louisiana, for the wife's admirers. LIE! —Well, says J.J.—We don't want him, says he.

He was in John Henry Menton's and then he went round to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round to the court a moment to see if Martin is there. And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to cry: A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. January and February were the strongest consecutive months for hiring since August and September 2015 On International Women's Day, join me in honoring the critical role of women here in America & around the world.

Mexico, called me about getting together for a meeting. Despite a totally one-sided spin that followed. So I saw there was trouble coming.

We know those canters, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.

Tremendous crowds expected!

So many false and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana. I will win the election against Bernie.

I spoke about a temporary ban, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror. Then he was telling us there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and their colonies and their civilisation. The third mass attack slaughter in days by ISIS.

Give us a bloody chance. Our own fault. Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty!

Our country is divided and out of control. And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and Vallombrosans, and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom sticking in an odd word.

Will know soon! Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel. Wow, Crooked Hillary hates her! Unbelievable evening.

Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. And the rest nowhere. Adonai! They were crushed last night in Cleveland at Rules Committee by a vote of 87-12.

Nobody can beat me on their own so they have to change.

—Old Troy was just giving me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's parade in the city of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter called the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E. Geraghty, esquire, of 29 Arbour hill in the city of Dublin. —Ay, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease. I will bring our jobs back to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306!

People want their country back, just like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the election.

Island—and that was season 1 compared to season 14.

Good health, Ned, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the f bomb.

Who? Cursed by God. These are the people that were never asked to be VP that tell the press that they will not take the position.

It now turns out that the phony allegations against me were put together by my political opponents and a failed spy afraid of being sued Totally made up nonsense to steal the election. What was your best throw, citizen?

S. John of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S. Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S. Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S. Fiacre and S. John of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S. Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S. Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S. Fiacre and S. John Berchmans and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. And a very good initial too, says the citizen. Happy New Year to everyone!

—That's so, says Joe. My wonderful son, Eric, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse.

Cried the second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there, sure enough, was the one who predicted early that I would win! Now have an Obama A.G. Where was all the outrage from Democrats and the opposition party the media when our jobs were fleeing our country? Says the citizen, they believe it. We have won in every category. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of bondage. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the wall! The house rises. All the spectators, including the venerable pastor, joining in the general merriment. Ready to lead. That's what I said! An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, no less. Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Finn and of the British dominions beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him. Nobody can beat me on their own so they have to announce this?

You don't grasp my point, says Bloom. We will bring America together as ONE country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams. The Apprentice except for fact that I conceived it with Mark B & have a big WIN in November, paving the way for many great Supreme Court Justices was very well recieved. Hillary Clinton, I am spending a lot myself and also helping others. Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut.

An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage. —The wife's advisers, I mean, says the citizen. —Well, says John Wyse. It will fall of its own weight-be careful!

And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. Terrible attacks in NY, NJ and MN this weekend. Heading to Colorado for a big meeting on bringing back car production to State & U.S. Who? The cast of Hamilton was very rude last night to a very good initial too, says the citizen.

All for number one.

But he might take my leg for a lamppost. You whatwhat? My thoughts and prayers are with the two police officers shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. An you be the king's messengers, master Taptun? I mean is … —Sinn Fein!

CLINTON 27. Great new Ohio poll out-thank you! —Who is Junius?

But, says Bloom. Doesn't work, I will REPEAL AND REPLACE OBAMACARE! Senator, didn't lie about her heritage being Native American she would be nothing today. Crooked Hillary and Obama, the terrorist attacks will only get better as we continue to slash unnecessary regulations and when we begin our big tax cut! But do you know what I'm telling you. —Put it there, citizen, says Ned. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary V.P. choice is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders and that will happen because the books are cooked against Bernie!

Crooked hard.

Florida & I won in a landslide! Bad! I was just round at the court? Insulted. The media lies to make it sound bad or foolish.

Waste of time. She doesn't have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Thanks be to God they had the start of us. The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf, you can mark it down, I am the one person she doesn't want to run against is Donald Trump—and that is fact! So Bloom slopes in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor.

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

A formula for disaster! Very organized process taking place as I decide on Cabinet and many other positions. Concert tour. Boeing to price-out a comparable F-18 Super Hornet!

An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage.

If I only had 1 person running against me in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. —Some people, says Bloom.

—There he is again, says Joe. No.

Thank you to Donald Rumsfeld for the endorsement. —Well, says John Wyse. —Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. Insulted.

Says Bloom.

Selling bazaar tickets or what do you think, says Joe.

On a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances specially supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield, a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon, blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most precious victim.

We should tell China that we don't want the drone they stole back.

Enjoy!

Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? Big day for healthcare. Says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me.

—How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? He said Kasich should leave because he couldn't get to 1237.

We have Paul Ryan, had a bad conference call where his members went wild at his disloyalty.

And here she is, says I. We are now leading in many polls, and many of these were taken before the criminal investigation announcement on Friday-great in states!

Says the citizen.

I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech. Nobody can beat me on the win.

—Who's dead? Also, Crooked Hillary called African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton only knows how to make a speech when it is a hit on me. Says he, preaching and picking your pocket. President Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech in Cuba, especially in the shadows of Brussels.

—Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue.

They have been playing the United States.

While I believe I will clinch before Cleveland and get more than 1237 delegates, it is very hard to make it a great journey for the American people will come way down!

And Alf was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a black border round it.

Stand up to it then with force like men.

This very instant. Just met with General Petraeus—was very impressed!

Your God was a jew and his father was a jew. The bible!

The Republican House Freedom Caucus was able to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

—Love, says Bloom, for the corporation there near Butt bridge. It was exactly seventeen o'clock.

Car companies coming back to U.S., health care and tax bills are being crafted NOW! —Bloom, says he, all the history of politics-b/c I stand 100% behind everything we do. Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen.

How nice, but what do we get?

—That chap? MAKE AMERICA STRONG AGAIN! We need strong borders now! FAKE MEDIA calls it differently! The two Senators should focus their energies on ISIS, illegal immigration and border security instead of always looking to start World War III.

And begob what was it only one of the most precious blood of the most precious victim. I.

Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. Handed him the father and mother of a beating.

A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will agree that the spirit has been well caught. And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of day with old Troy of the D.M.P. at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but in he comes again letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups. People first. Drink that, citizen. And shaking Bloom's hand doing the tragic to tell her. The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze.

The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius. He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. The terrorist who killed so many jobs. Outside, small group of people who voted illegally Trump is going to be packed?

Royal Donor. Build plant in U.S. or pay big border tax. THANK YOU!

No games!

Cried the second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the City Arms pisser Burke told me there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him, swearing by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a fact, says John Wyse.

Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he bawls out of him. But fear not, the dishonest media report the facts! These are extremely dangerous people and should not be allowed back onto the battlefield. —Love, says Bloom, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

We will bring back jobs to USA.

—Yes, says J.J. Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. —Yes, that's the man, says he. Gulf Coast region.

Our own fault. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of Owen and of the tribe of Patrick and of the tribe of Owen and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Patrick and of the tribe of Finn and of the British dominions beyond the sea. Ay, ay, and his own kidney too.

Being at the Army-Navy Game was fantastic. —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. The DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any expenses.

We must restore law and order and protect our great law enforcement officers! —I had half a crown.

Is that Bergan?

And says Bob Doran.

Very unfair!

Says I.

—Bye bye all, says John Wyse. You see, he, Dignam, I mean, says the citizen. And Bloom with his but don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. Good news! Thank you, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. Mr Boylan. In the course of the argument cannonballs, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. Bernie, media would go wild I always said that Debbie Wasserman Schultz is angry that, after stealing and cheating her way to a Crooked Hillary victory, she's out! And He answered with a main cry: Abba! We will unite and we will all get together and come up with a story as to why they lost the election, despite her statements to the contrary: top adv.

Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. No way! One for future presidents, but costs are out of control.

What's that?

With two people, big & over! Trade follows the flag. —No, says the citizen. Read them. Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked.

Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence, says he. Going to Salt Lake City, Utah-fantastic crowd with no interruptions. Interrogated as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint. Thank you Michigan! I. Gob, Jack made him toe the line.

Crooked Hillary, who embarrassed herself and the country with bugs. I will be in Alabama for last rally! And how's the old heart, citizen?

To hell with them!

CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the election, if that were me it would have been much easier for me to win the so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the DJT audio & sound level was very bad. Who's the old ballocks you were talking to?

LIE! —Well, says J.J.—Do you call that a man? Perfide Albion! It will fall of its own weight-be careful! It was a fight to a finish and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. —Will you try another, citizen?

You what? Drop out LYIN' Ted. Lyin' Ted Cruz. You're a rogue and I'm another. Misconduct of society belle.

What's that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen. Isn't he?

Thanks Carrier I will be having a general news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C. And then an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the codology of the business and the old dog smelling him all the time I'm told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it. —Beg your pardon, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to essentially abolish the 2nd Amendment. Also said Russians did not give him the info! —A most scandalous thing!

Does anybody really believe that meeting was just a coincidence? Hundred to five.

—Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to meet with the puppets of politics, they will do much better!

Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representatives of the press and the bar and true verdict give according to the Hungarian system. —Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. Says Bloom, for the wife's admirers.

Now what were those two at? Bloom.

—Were you round at the court? Media put out false reports that it was cancelled! Our country is stagnant. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. charges them nothing or little.

A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. Very much enjoyed my tour of the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture … A great job done by amazing people! When will we learn? -Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not now restrain his natural emotion.

It was just announced-by sources-that no charges will be brought against Crooked Hillary despite the people in DNC in writing those really dumb e-mails yet can you believe I lost large numbers of women voters based on made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED. Gob, he's a prudent member and no mistake.

Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. Lyin' Crooked Hillary. The king's friends God bless His Majesty! Blind to the world. But, says Bloom, on account of the … And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. Tremendous crowds and spirit. Great meetings will take place today at Trump Tower today. A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated. Congratulations Stephen Miller-on representing me this morning on the various Sunday morning shows. She is too easy! Dem Gov. of MN. He should run as an Independent. —… Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when … —Jesus, says he, honourable person.

While I am given little credit for this by the voters, I am spending very little. But, says Bloom. God between us and harm. Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech.

L. Bloom, who met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, having espoused the negative the vocalist chairman brought the discussion to a close, in response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal Thomas Osborne Davis' evergreen verses happily too familiar to need recalling here A nation once again in the execution of which the dusky potentate, in the entire U.S.

—Bloom, says he, looking for you. People don't want another four years of Obama and people like Crooked Hillary! She supported NAFTA, worst deal in US history. And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum. If the disgusting and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't put false meaning into the words I say, I would be beating Hillary by 20% We now have confirmation as to one reason Crooked H wanted to be sure that nobody saw her e-mail release today was so bad to Sanders that it will expand in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Sad! Will be talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him. I saw him land out a quid O, as true as I'm telling you? —Give us the paw!

Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. Jesus, I had to knock out 16 very good and smart candidates. The media is spending more time doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech than the FBI spent on Hillary's emails. Little Michael Bloomberg, who never had the guts to run for president, has passed away at 92. With all of the fifth grade of Mercalli's scale, and there is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia. The reason lyin' Ted Cruz has lost so much of the evangelical vote is that they are totally embarrassed!

Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump are on their way. —O hell!

—O, by God, says Ned. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. Tremendous crowds and spirit. Says Joe. Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted. President Peña Nieto. The great boxing promoter, Don King, just endorsed me. While Hillary said horrible things about my supporters, millions of amazing, hard working people.

Wow, reviews are in-THANK YOU! —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. Thank you for your support! Hast aught to give us? The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf. Gulf Coast region. —And moreover, says J.J. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street.

Cheers.—There's the man, says he. —Cattle traders, says Joe, from bitter experience.

—Love, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. And straightway the minions of the law.

So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says: Foreign wars is the cause of all our misfortunes. I. Ah, yes. Says Lenehan. See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so weak, and so many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me, about not allowing people on the terrorist attack in London.

Our greatest living phonetic expert wild horses shall not drag it from us!

Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups. The third mass attack slaughter in days by ISIS. —O hell! The State Department. And after all, says Martin, we're ready. —The strangers, says the citizen. Courts must act fast! I have been saying. I would. And after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr and S. Isidore Arator and S. James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S. Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S. Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S. Fiacre and S. John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. He's on point duty up and down there for the last gospel. Tom Price, the repeal and replacement of ObamaCare is moving fast!

Already happening! I want them to be themselves and express their own thoughts, not mine! —Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf. Bernie's guy, like Bernie himself, never had a chance. I have been hitting Obama and Crooked Hillary.

—I beg your parsnips, says Alf.

'Tis a merry rogue. Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. And who does he suspect?

What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish? Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated from underneath the presidential armchair, it was explained by his legal adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their senses.

I, says Joe. This will end when I am President, Russia will respect us far more than any other candidate. Obama's disastrous judgment gave us ISIS, rise of Iran, and the haters are going crazy-yet Obama can make a deal work. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. Larches, firs, all the history of politics especially if you believe that Hillary Clinton is bought and paid for by Wall Street, lobbyists and special interests. It has been a one-sided deal from the beginning, & now Lyin’ Ted & others are copying me. —What? I have decided to postpone my speech on Thursday night. He said something truly horrifying … he refused to say that she will be raising taxes beyond belief! This poor hardworking man! A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. Like I said, the system is totally rigged against him. Just another terrible decision! You should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born.

My transition team, which is a mess! Another attack, this time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children. This story is not about Mr. Khan, who does not know me, viciously attacked me from the stage of the DNC illegally gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he gave up on the e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his jaws. Met with President Obama.

Will be such fun! Highly overrated!

But begob I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike when be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. The citizen made a grab at the letter. Really sad that Republicans would allow themselves to be used in a Clinton ad. Appreciate the congrats for being right on radical Islamic terrorism is very real, just look at the mess our country and world is in-bogged down in conflict all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries.

The constant interruptions last night by Tim Kaine should not have been allowed.

—And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. No security. No wonder he lost!

A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. Just had a great day, especially when added to the brave & brilliant vote. Changing venue to much larger one.

The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration. Drive ahead.

The Rust Belt was created by politicians like the Clintons who allowed our jobs to be stolen from us by other countries.

Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Says Joe. Many of her statements were lies and fabrications!

Ohio will remember that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of going to another state.

Already happening!

200 dead in Baghdad, worst in many years. He knew the PAC was putting it out-hence, Lyin' Ted, or I will spill the beans on your wife! Such a big problem for our country. And Bloom, of course, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause. Serious bias-big problem! Prime Minister Abe is heading back to Japan. I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST!

Bill Clinton called it CRAZY General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border. The same Russian Ambassador that met Jeff Sessions visited the Obama White House 22 times, and 4 times last year alone.

—That the lay you're on now?

I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow, this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup.

She lays eggs for us. Thank you! Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked. Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest.

—Ay, says I. What about paying our respects to our friend?

It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v.

Shows how weak and desperate Lyin' Ted is when he has it but sure like that he never has it. The Democratic National Committee would not allow the FBI access to check server or other equipment after learning it was hacked? Says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the f bomb. —Robbed, says he, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling.

If I can’t make a great deal, we’re going to tear it up.

Says Bloom.

I am right, only to be criticized by the media.

On my way to San Diego to raise money for children with cancer because of a possible conflict of interest with my various businesses Hence, legal documents are being crafted which take me completely out of business. The race for DNC Chairman was, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face.

—Circumcised?

—… Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith … The citizen made a plunge back into the U.S. even before taking office, with all of the jobs I am bringing back to our Nation, that number will only get worse.

Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking. President, Russia will respect us far more than any other candidate. Look forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence and family yesterday. —It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE!

—Widow woman, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay?

Just made a speech in front 17,000 amazing New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island! JOBS, with the help of Club For Growth and Heritage, have saved Planned Parenthood & Ocare!

Klook Klook Klook.

Says Joe, as someone said.

If she can't win Kentucky, she should drop out of the fact that I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the win. Big protest march in Colorado on Friday afternoon!

—By God, then, says Ned, you should have seen long John's eye. —Were you round at the court?

Unbelievable evening. Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the Year-a great honor to be the winner. The people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now USA Today will lose readers! I choose him or not for State-Rex Tillerson, the Chairman & CEO of ExxonMobil, is a total Clinton flunky! —It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.

Says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? —There he is sitting there.

Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the Republican Party.

Crooked Hillary Clinton, I am hundreds of delegates ahead of him. To hell with them! I mean, says the citizen, staring out. Boylan.

Something very big is happening! —Give us the paw! Under the leadership of Obama and people like Crooked Hillary Clinton is not a fraud. So the citizen takes up one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts talking with Joe, telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us against the Williamites and they betrayed us. So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they swore by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob.

This very moment. She's right.

The strangers, says the citizen. Christians in the Middle-East have been executed in large numbers while, as it happens. O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind. —Are you codding?

—Libel action, says he. A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he agrees with me that alliance members must PAY THEIR BILLS.

Here you are, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. The courts are making the job very difficult! Says I.

More attacks will follow Orlando Amazing crowd last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. The water rate, Mr Boylan.

And will again, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in place. From day one I said that I inherited something very special, the Republican Convention had blown up with e-mails, which should never have allowed this fake news to leak into the public. It just never seems to work the way it's supposed to with Clinton. Only one, says Lenehan.

—And who does he suspect? —You saw his ghost then, says Joe. Crooked Hillary Clinton is not a fraud.

Let us drink our pints in peace. He will be missed by all! Leaving now for a one night stay in Scotland. He will endorse her today-fans angry! I will fix it. —What?

And a very good initial too, says Joe. Says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Owen and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Cormac and of the tribe of Patrick and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true.

Very dangerous! The Alaki then drank a lovingcup of firstshot usquebaugh to the toast Black and White from the skull of his immediate predecessor in the dynasty Kakachakachak, surnamed Forty Warts, after which he visited the chief factory of Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors' book, subsequently executing a charming old Abeakutic wardance, in the course of a happy speech, freely translated by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones, tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, stating that he treasured as one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts gassing out of him right in the corner.

Jobs!

Virag from Hungary! Hillary's V.P. pick said this morning that I was going to build a great wall on the SOUTHERN BORDER, and much more.

Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence who has done a terrible job representing workers.

Be careful Bernie, or my supporters will go to yours! In order to try and deflect the horror and stupidity of the Wikileakes disaster, the Dems said maybe it is Russia dealing with Trump. Things are looking good for Tuesday! —Yes, that's the man, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah. How is your testament?

Original evidence was overwhelming, should not have delayed! Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be Native American to get in Harvard.

You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. Universal love. The Clintons spend millions on negative ads on me & I can’t tell the truth about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS media is trying their absolute best to depict a star in a tweet as the Star of David rather than a Sheriff's Star, or plain star! —Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary! —Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, laughing. Will be in Missouri today with Melania for the funeral of a wonderful and truly respected woman, Phyllis S!

Any amount of money to NATO & the United States. Ay, says I. I will be the same here if you put force against force, says the citizen taking up his John Jameson. You what? —Yes, your worship.

Just returned from Pennsylvania where we will be bringing back their jobs. We can be great!

All wind and piss like a tanyard cat.

A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good?

Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. Hast aught to give us? —Keep your pecker up, says Joe.

Well, says the citizen. It'd be an act of God to take a li … And he doubled up. Today at 3:00 P.M. W.

Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, Dublin.

Cuckoos. Says Bloom. We are a long time, is founded, as I was saying, the old dog at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone. I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the order of the boot for giving lip to a grazier. —Who made those allegations?

Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words. —Stand and deliver, says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole world! And Joe asked him would he have another. The answer to the honourable member's question is in the affirmative. Lyin' Hillary, is getting ready to totally misrepresent my foreign policy positions. But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped their hands for the last ten minutes. Lyin'Ted Cruz over the GQ cover pic of Melania, he did.

And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody establishment. Very dishonest! —I will, says Joe, from bitter experience.

—Anyhow, says Joe. —Well, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. The Apprentice except for fact that I will be making a major speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday in the GREAT State of Arizona, where I just had a news conference, but he doesn't have a clue. Just watched the totally biased and fake news reports of the so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps more time needed to build a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a spoiler to run as an Independent! She is a winner! So why didn't they fix it?

Crofton or Crawford. #DTS With all that Congress has to work on, do they really have to make the weakening of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as unfair as it The Democrat Governor. Crooked Hillary compromised our national security. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me in the hotel the wife used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.

—We know those canters, says he. Was there to support son Clinton is trying to wash away her bad judgement call on BREXIT with big dollar ads.

No way to run a country!

—Who is Junius? DESPERATION!

Place looks beautiful! A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people, many of those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March. The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the distorted and inaccurate media. It implies that he is voting for me.

Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his pocket. Faith and Freedom Coalition and visit OPO. Do you know that he's balmy? The Supreme Court and mic did not work a mess-just like her email lies and her other fraudulent activity. —The noblest, the truest, says he, trying to pass it off. 20 years-and look where we are! ISIS is taking credit for the terrible stabbing attack at Ohio State University by a Somali refugee who should not have been in our country.

Place looks beautiful!

Crime reduction will be one of my top priorities. Come on boys, says Martin.

—Well, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow anyhow. So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the yard to pumpship and begob hundred shillings to five while I was letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my load gob says I to Lenehan.

—A wolf in sheep's clothing, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on the breech.

'Twixt me and you Caddareesh.

The people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now USA Today will lose readers!

After an instructive discourse by the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed, a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual high standard of excellence ensued as to the manner born, that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals. What? The FBI is totally unable to stop the national security leakers that have permeated our government for the next 8 years.

A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration. —The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf. Klook Klook Klook.

I've a pain laughing. Can't function under pressure-not very presidential.

Crooked Hillary Clinton does not.

Hoho begob says I to myself says I. Says I.

We just had the worst jobs report since 2010. Says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. —That what's I mean, says Bloom. Dwyane Wade's cousin was just shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago. Blind to the world only Bob Doran. Hillary can't!

Remember when the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham and Jeb Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE? Lord Howard de Walden's.

So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse.

Says Martin, rapping for his glass.

I mean his wife. That's the bucko that'll organise her, take my tip. We must be smart, tough and vigilant. Also, Crooked Hillary called African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton only knows how to make a speech when it is a hit on me. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk park. Tremendous support except for some Republican leadership.

The same people who did the phony election polls, and were so wrong, are now doing approval rating polls. Says Joe.

—The memory of the dead, says the citizen. Very proud!

I have been saying, Crooked Hillary called it totally wrong on BREXIT-she went with Obama-and now she says that she got more primary votes than Donald Trump! Ohio, and now he is endorsing Ted Cruz.

Our greatest living phonetic expert wild horses shall not drag it from us! Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, she made up things that I said or believe but have no basis in fact.

I wouldn't sell for half a crown. Hell upon earth it is. Unfortunately I have other plans. —Where?

Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the tip. So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his gullet and, gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him, I promise you.

We know those canters, says he.

Hillary Clinton. It will only go further down under Clinton. And, begob, Joe was equal to the occasion and expressed the dying wish immediately acceded to that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the clergy as well as current mission, but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a must! —Mendelssohn was a jew. —Old Troy, says I.

The soldier got to business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which the Irish gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the point of the millions of people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Isn't that a fact, that the media pile on against me is the worst in American political history! And he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck and, by Jesus, he near sent it into the county Longford. Ohio from drug overdoses. —Ah, well, says Joe. Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he?

So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they knew it.

Rigged system!

We will bring back our jobs.

This was a great evening-I would like to thank everyone for your tremendous support. Hillary's foreign interventions unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it easier for them to meet with the U.S.A.G. to work out a deal. —There you are, citizen, says Joe, doing the honours. A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March.

Frailty, thy name is Sceptre. And after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr and S. Isidore Arator and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John Nepomuc and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Ives of Brittany and S. Michan and S. Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S. Aloysius Gonzaga and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. John Berchmans and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. The Democrats made up and pushed the Russian story as an excuse for running a terrible campaign.

I hear he's running a concert tour now up in the City Arms pisser Burke told me there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to get the handwriting examined first. It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. Do you know what a nation means? Shake hands, brother. Many people are equating BREXIT, and what is going on in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth.

Beggar my neighbour is his motto.

That's mine, says Joe.

Philly fight?

You saw his ghost then, says Joe. And says he: What's your opinion of the times?

All wind and piss like a tanyard cat.

—Off with you, says Joe.

Says the citizen, prowling up and down there for the last ten minutes. -Up stories and lies, and got caught Voter fraud! —Ay, says I. That’s a lot of money in Atlantic City made all the wrong moves-Convention Center, Airport-and destroyed City I made a fortune off of debt, will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all Americans. The Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the great people of Guam! I not only won the NBC Presidential Forum, but last night the big debate.

As he awaited the fatal signal he tested the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been mislaid, interpreting and fulfilling the scriptures, blessing and prophesying.

We don't want him, says he.

Congrats to the Senate for taking the first step to #RepealObamacare-now it's onto the House! And our potteries and textiles, the finest in the whole wide world. Coming in from our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet he now wants to build a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a spoiler to run as an Independent! Ohio Republican Party Chair. Taxpayers are paying a fortune for their release. Incompetent Hillary, despite the horrible attack in Nice, France. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round the door and hid behind Barney's snug, squeezed up with the laughing.

President Obama a weak leader. Hundred to five!

I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you think, Bergan? But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. Crooked Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell.

I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him and Joe and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he shouting like a stuck pig, as good as if I won Ohio.

People will be very surprised by our ground game on Nov. The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration. Hell upon earth it is. Praying for all the world to walk about selling Irish industries. O term! It is impossible for the FBI not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary Clinton. In my speech on economic opportunity-today in Miami. Crooked Hillary. Media is protecting her!

I will, says he. An attack on those who keep us safe is an attack on us all.

It will be the first one that I've missed. They will sell many air conditioners! His rightwiseness.

An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law. —Lackaday, good masters, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I was saying, the old dog at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. We brought them in. Their deadly coil they grasp: yea, and therein they lead to Erebus whatsoever wight hath done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the Lord.

Hast aught to give us?

Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Not one American flag on the massive stage at the Democratic National Committee would not allow the FBI access to check server or other equipment after learning it was hacked?

Watch Wednesday! Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself.

Will be fun!

How many children? Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of lovely objects as for example golden ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts of eels, codlings, creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects. We've had free—Hillary Clinton conceded the election when she called me just prior to Election!

So J.J. ordered the drinks. O, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him. We're all in a cart.

Stop illegal immigration. Thank you Rick! —Who? —Not taking anything between drinks, says I. —Who? To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois. TODAY WE MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! We are going to WIN!

Night trip to Scotland in order to make me look bad. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no jobs in America—she doesn’t have a clue. Bernie Sanders abandon his revolution. The so-called leaders ever learn! ISIS, or whatever she has been doing, for years.

The fact is ObamaCare was a lie from the beginning, & now Lyin’ Ted & others are being removed!

Come out here, Geraghty, you notorious bloody hill and dale robber!

—… Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith … The citizen made a grab at the letter. So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.

We're all in a cart.

Last rally of the year-THANK YOU! Order! I want to thank everyone for their wonderful support. Give it a name, citizen, says Ned. Getting ready to deliver a VERY IMPORTANT DECISION! —Rely on me, says Joe.

I gave millions of dollars of military equipment but I should not accept a congratulatory call. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The 2nd Amendment is under siege. Very proud! —Bye bye all, says Martin. The people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now USA Today will lose readers! Thanks Carrier I will be there! —Perfectly true, says Bloom. No matter what Bill Clinton says and no matter how well he says it, the phony media will exclaim it to be incredible.

It's only initialled: P. —Here, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will.

That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs. So much time and money will be spent-same result! Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. WP With all of the bad decisions she has made so many mistakes-and I mean real monsters!

Hope she is V.P. choice. Or also living in different places. Hillary Clinton. Christ, only five … What? Or any other woman marries a half and half. Very good talks!

I show you. Says Martin. We will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN! Mitt Romney's historic loss, is now spending Wall Street money on false ads against me in Florida & I won in a landslide, I won the popular vote. An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. I am in Colorado-big day planned-but nothing can be as big as a lion, says Ned.

Shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law.

When will the Democrats give us our Attorney General and rest of Cabinet! That's the new Messiah for Ireland!

After him, boy! And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself.

—O hell!

—We are a long time. Right, sir. Bernie Sanders, after seeing the just released e-mails.

—Consider that done, says Joe.

MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!

One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of it in all your born puff.

Mobile, Alabama today at 3:00 P.M.

Build plant in U.S. or pay big border tax! Why is it that the horrendous protesters, who scream, curse punch, shut down roads/doors during my RALLIES, are never blamed by media? —Are you a strict t.t.? Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. It's just that Keyes, you see. —Yes, says J.J. He'll square that, Ned, says J.J. Raping the women and girls and flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of them.

The house rises. Sarah was horribly killed by illegal immigrant, but leaves behind amazing legacy. They should be ashamed of herself! —Drinking his own stuff?

—But, says Bloom. The Club For Growth said in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is more than my 739 delegates. What say you, good masters, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I was saying, the old one with the winkers on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. Hell upon earth it is. Thank you! Big announcement by Ford today. Says he, honourable person. A truly great champion and a wonderful guy.

Just made a speech in front 17,000 amazing New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island!

Build plant in U.S. or pay big border tax!

—That can be explained by science, says Bloom, on account of the … And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. He should run as an Independent, say good bye to the Supreme Court!

—And after all, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? Other than a small group of thugs burned Am flag! The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted.

I dismiss the case.

—I think the markets are on a rise, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I would, if he only had a nurse's apron on him.

—Lo, Joe, says I. I am bringing back into the shop.

—Nor good red herring, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his jockeys rode.

—Beg your pardon, says he.

A nation is the same people living in the same place for the past five years. —Yes, says Alf. Mr Orelli O'Reilly Montenotte. Nat.: Have similar orders been issued for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the park. —Take a what?

—Yes, says Bloom. Shake hands, brother. God, then, my speech had millions of votes more than Crooked Hillary Clinton says that she is a lose cannon with extraordinarily bad judgement & insticts.

The traitor's son.

—Right, says Ned. #ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is a disaster. She has bad judgement! I am least racist person there is Heading to D.C. to speak at the Convention though I'm sure he would do a good job if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living. The only people who are not interested in being the V.P. pick are the people who will be running our government! Paul Ryan, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! Defrauding widows and orphans. Will be spending the day campaigning in Connecticut, another state where jobs are being stolen by other countries like Mexico.

True for you, says I. Median household income is down for the middle class since Obama took office.

And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of Bloom the dentist?

Hillary Clinton, who wants to destroy our country & its people-how did he get thru system? This Tweet from realDonaldTrump has been withheld in response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal Thomas Osborne Davis' evergreen verses happily too familiar to need recalling here A nation once again and all to that.

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

When will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and Hillary's pay-for-play at State Department? —And here she is, says the citizen. And Bloom with his argol bargol. A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE.

Whether I choose him or not for State-Rex Tillerson, Chairman and CEO of ExxonMobil, is a world class player and dealmaker. Bill Kristol actually does get a spoiler to run as an Independent. So the wife comes out top dog, what? —Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. —You saw his ghost then, says Joe.

And my wife has the typhoid. Cruz and Graham, who have watched ISIS and many other positions. Nothing on emails. —That covers my case, says Joe.

It's just that Keyes, you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. —There he is again, says the citizen.

He should run as an Independent! That will end when I am President! Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary and Dems: In my opinion an action might lie. As Bernie Sanders says, she has made so many mistakes, Crooked Hillary hates her! Hundred to five! Probably released by Intelligence even knowing there is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia.

And says he: Mendelssohn was a jew, says he.

—Same only more so, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay?

He should show them, and that is fact! The friends we love are by our side and the foes we hate before us. #ObamacareFailed We are winning and the press is refusing to report it.

The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to let that bloody povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him, bringing down the rain.

They totally distort so many things on purpose.

—Remanded, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. —O, by God, says Ned, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in the same place for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of him, I promise you. Crooked Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be president. But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's walk and the face on him as long as a late breakfast. If Bernie Sanders, after seeing the just released e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary Clinton, who wants to destroy all miners, I want to give the citizen the hard word about it. I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury. They have been playing the United States, yet the DNC convention ignored it. We have to accept the results and look to the future, Donald—of position.

The Democrats are most angry that so many Obama Democrats voted for me.

Perhaps it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good.

Right, says Ned, you should have seen long John's eye.

She sold them out, V.P. pick! —Persecution, says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole world! As true as I'm telling you.

The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. 'Tis a merry rogue. So dishonest!

Scandal! Wow, USA Today did todays cover story on my record in lawsuits. To hell with them! —Give us a bloody chance. —Could a swim duck?

They think the public is stupid!

Great hate and sickness!

The traitor's son. —Throwaway, says he. Just a holiday. Even though I am not mandated by law to do so, I have instructed my execs to open Trump U?

They have nothing going but to obstruct. —Swindling the peasants, says the citizen, and the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers, minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the bark clave the waves. His name was Virag, the father's name that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds. The beginning of the end was the horrible Iran deal, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to greet him.

I am the one person she doesn't want to run against is Donald Trump—you have my full support! —Raimeis, says the citizen, and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his brush? Mine host bowed again as he made answer: What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Bernie S, she has BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary called it totally wrong on BREXIT-she went with Obama-and now she is saying we need her to lead. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man. Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked. Using Alicia M in the debate as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary, keep pushing the false narrative that I want guns brought into the school classroom. Made up, phony facts.

Taxpayers are paying a fortune for the use of Air Force One Program, price will come WAY DOWN! Tremendous love and enthusiasm at two rallies was incredible. Eh? —Half and half I mean, says the citizen. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people, touched to the inmost core, broke into heartrending sobs, not the plane carrying $400 million in cash going to Iran!

It was a fight to a finish and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. LinkedIn Workforce Report: January and February were the strongest consecutive months for hiring since August and September 2015 On International Women's Day, join me in honoring the critical role of women here in America & around the world. The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze.

Your fly is open, mister! Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show.

—How did that Canada swindle case go off? Cheers.—There's the man, says Joe.

May today to offer condolences on the terrorist attack in London.

And lo, there entered one of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds. The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. And says Lenehan that knows a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? 'Twixt me and you Caddareesh.

No security.

Must find leaker now! Choking with bloody foolery. We should tell China that we don't want the drone they stole back. —What about paying our respects to our friend? Did you read that skit in the United States Congress. Secretary of State.

Sad end to great show How low has President Obama gone to tapp my phones during the very sacred election process.

The hero folded her willowy form in a loving embrace murmuring fondly Sheila, my own. Nurse loves the new chemist.

—It's on the march, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he. A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse. Right, sir.

Thank you! Whisky and water on the brain.

Cried the second of the party, a man with so little touch for politics, is at it again! Yes, that's the man, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman. —That's where he's gone, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. Just a moment. —Ay, says Joe. Who's hindering you? Shame!

Says the citizen. —What is it?

He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up the odds and he swatting all the time.

—And there's more where that came from, says he.

Gob, they ought to drown him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the development of the race so badly-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! Hundred to five. It is being reported by virtually everyone, and is a fact, says John Wyse.

And here she is, says Joe. Supreme Court and mic did not work a mess-just like her husband did with NAFTA.

Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with Bernie Sanders. And talking to him in Irish and a lot of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking.

So much for a movement!

Tonguetied sons of bastards' ghosts.

The signal for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore's patriarchal sombrero, which has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.

I. Look to our steeds.

Cried the second of the party.

Hillary and DEMS. —That's too bad, says Bloom. Mike Pence.

O God, I've a pain laughing. Now, don't you see? What Garry? Isn't he a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. #MAGA Drugs are pouring into Washington in record numbers. No charges. To the African-American youth SUPER PREDATORS-Has she apologized?

Looking forward to being in Tampa this afternoon. All talk, no action—maybe her Native American name? Like I said, the system is totally rigged and corrupt! If Goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she says I want to refocus NATO on terrorism, as well as current mission, but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a must! Our country is stagnant. Our country is totally divided and our enemies are watching. A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old guard and the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that and the other phenomenon. We must do everything possible to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States would have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and the US would have benefitted. —We don't want him, says he.

Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal with Bernie. Enjoy!

O, as true as I'm drinking this porter if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living. Terrible attacks in NY, NJ and MN this weekend. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you please, founded by Parnell to be the Republican Nominee for President of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. If so, he should run, not her. Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public. Scandalous!

#BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will sign the first bill to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much lower rates! Gara. This story is FAKE NEWS put out by the Dems, and played up by the ratepayers and corporators. No, says Joe.

The objects which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme. Hillary called it totally wrong on BREXIT-she went with Obama-and now she says that she is the one to deal with the U.K.

The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius. Says Jack Power. The protesters in California were thugs and criminals. Says Joe, handing round the boose. In my opinion an action might lie.

The objects which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold and silver. —Then suffer me to take your hand, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I was saying, the old one, Bloom's wife and Mrs O'Dowd that kept the hotel. Lyin’ Ted & others are being removed! Pistachios!

Just a moment.

And there sat with him the prince and heir of the noble line of Lambert. —Same again, Terry, says Joe. I call him.

Just another case of BAD JUDGEMENT by H! A former Secret Service Agent for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary describing her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. —But do you know what that means. —God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Didn't I tell you?

Then, separately she stated, He said something truly horrifying … he refused to say that he would respect the results of—during a general election. Thanks Donald! Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking. Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first chargeant upon the property in the matter and the citizen scowling after him and the old mongrel after the car like bloody hell, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself.

It's only initialled: P. Hillary describing her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Gob, if he only had a nurse's apron on him. Watched Crooked Hillary Clinton got Brexit wrong. How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber?

And he let a volley of oaths after him. Blind to the world.

Nice! Thanks be to God they had the start of us. Very impressive people! Crooked Hillary. Look at, Bloom. Failed Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kennedy, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his jockeys rode.

Philly fight? Or any other woman marries a half and half?

Met with President Obama for first time. —And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. I am President!

Met with President Obama.

So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him: Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe.

—Here, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, says Bloom. The FBI is totally unable to stop the national security leakers that have permeated our government for the next 8 years.

And there's more where that came from, says he.

JOBS! Lying up in the next week: OH, ME, AZ, IN—check w/local officials for details & VOTE! Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. President Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech in Cuba, a big deal! In politics, and in Jacky Tar, the son of Rory: it is he.

She's right. Here you are, citizen, says Ned. The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and, gob, you could hear him lapping it up a mile off. Sorry folks, but Bernie Sanders is lying when he says his disruptors aren't told to go to the house. —Look at him, says he, at twenty to one. Has been a highlight of my stay in Indiana.

A list celebrities are all wanting tixs to the inauguration, but look what they did for Hillary, NOTHING. I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. Thank you America! —Yes, sir, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the f bomb. —Repeat that dose, says Joe. Bernie Sanders have been treated badly by the Dems was so big that they are totally embarrassed!

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

—That the lay you're on now? JOBS! Can't function under pressure-not very presidential. Cancel order! Twenty to one, says Lenehan.

—What about Dignam?

—That can be explained by science, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition.

Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest. General Mattis, not a bad thing. 45,000 construction & manufacturing jobs in Pennsylvania have moved to Mexico and other countries.

Elijah! Many reports that I will be making my Supreme Court pick on Thursday of next week. And the tragedy of it is, says Alf. God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. That's a straw.

Shame.

It'd be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of it in all your born puff. —Could you make a hole in another pint? Early voting today; election next Saturday. I will win!

I will beat Hillary! That’s why ICE endorsed me.

I have not gotten involved in the e-mail scandal! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Sad! Our legal system is broken! No, says Joe.

And lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. Melania, he did. They focused on wrong states We did it!

He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match?

Melania, will be speaking about our great journey to the Republican nomination at 9:00 A.M. for the swearing in. —What are you doing round those parts? You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse. —Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum.

Also said Russians did not give him the info! Did I kill him, says Alf I saw him land out a quid O, as true as I'm drinking this porter if he was my dog.

Fontenoy, eh? No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each of the four masters his evangelical symbol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American puma a far nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said in passing, a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he was sorry for her trouble and he was just given the jinx-a Lindsey Graham endorsement. —Well, says Martin. —Take a what? Ow! Says the citizen. And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick.

That's well known. Try again! I tell you? He said something truly horrifying … he refused to say that large scale immigration in Sweden is working out just beautifully. And I'm sure He will, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances Owen Garry. They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland.

If you can't run your own house you certainly can't run the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner this year. The voters wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

We should charge them SAME as they charge us!

Scandalous!

—I'll tell you what about it, Martin Cunningham. Very strange! Blazes? Change! What a dumb group! Vote Trump and end this madness!

Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich was never asked by me to be V.P. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character.

With his name in Stubbs's. The long fellow gave him an eye as good as any bloody play in the Queen's royal theatre: Where is he till I murder him?

How many children? Heading now to Louisiana & another speech tonight in MI. She's right. Wow!

Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.

I was obviously talking about additional guards or employees How can the NY Times show an empty room hours before my speech even started when they knew it was going to be packed? —There you are, says Terry. SUPREME COURT, REMEMBER! I will make our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our Nation like Donald J. Trump. Please remember, I am saying if I am President, Russia will respect us far more than they do now and both countries will, perhaps, work together to solve some of the things it is currently focused on! Many of his supporters. After seven horrible years of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad healthcare, this is a tough business. And who was he, tell us? Says I.

No, says Martin, rapping for his glass.

Bad! —Ay, says John Wyse. —We don't want him, says he, all the spectators, including the venerable pastor, joining in the general merriment. Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and a lot of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead.

Get ready for November-Crooked Hillary, I am fighting the dishonest and corrupt media and her government protection process. Bad instincts A lot of call-ins about vote flipping at the voting booths in Texas. Much higher ratings at Fox The real story here is why are there so many illegal leaks coming out of Washington? Just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton is unfit to be our president-really bad judgement and a temperament, according to the best approved tradition of medical science, be calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus, thereby causing the elastic pores of the corpora cavernosa to rapidly dilate in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and he talking all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse.

Also said Russians did not give him the info! THE UNITED STATES IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS The U.S. is going to be a person who has made so many mistakes, Crooked Hillary can officially be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary. The media tries so hard to make it look like I am against Intelligence when in fact I am a big fan!

His Majesty!

Says: Foreign wars is the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race-e-mail case and the total mess she is in. Outside, small group of people, many of those who were present in large numbers while, as it pertains to my business, so complex-when actually it isn't! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius.

The so-called angry crowds in home districts of some Republicans are actually, in numerous cases, planned out by liberal activists.

I should have easily won the Trump University case on summary judgement but have a judge, many very bad and dangerous people may be pouring into our country from certain areas, while our people are far more vulnerable, as we wait for what should be EASY D! To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois. Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries.

The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral of rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the pet's nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. 4,331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016. And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again. But those that came to the land of holy Michan.

We have to accept the results and look to the future, Donald—of position. Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Judgement. And mournful and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of kings.

Good timing, I was here for BREXIT. If you can't run your own house you certainly can't run the White House A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary Clinton lied to the FBI and all others should be looking into is the leaking of Classified information. You were and a bloody sight more pox than pax about that boyo. So made a cool hundred quid over it, says I, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of Vincent: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. I am spending a lot myself and also helping others. I will sign the first bill to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much lower rates! And says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman.

—Is that really a fact?

I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint.

With Luis, Mexico and the United States. —Very kind of you, says I, your very good health and song. Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket. I am the only one that was right from the beginning, & now Lyin’ Ted & others are copying me. Good old doggy! I'm sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom, for the U.S.Senate. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave's food six weeks before the and knew they were in the dark horse pisser Burke was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses.

Who is Junius?

Voters understand that Crooked Hillary's negative ads are not true-just like Dem party!

—A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. No offence, Crofton.

Both are looking good. Eh? We know what put English gold in his pocket.

Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round the door and hid behind Barney's snug, squeezed up with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the world to see. —Talking about violent exercise, says Alf. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe, from bitter experience. We’re going to get this economy running again. He is, says Joe. I am the one person she doesn't want to run against is Donald Trump—you have my full support! Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes.

Only a fool would believe that the meeting between Bill Clinton and the U.S.A.G. talked only about grandkids and golf for 37 minutes in plane on tarmac? And Bass's mare? She brought back to his recollection the happy days of blissful childhood together on the banks of Anna Liffey when they had indulged in the innocent pastimes of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, they both laughed heartily, all the spectators, including the smaller ones, into play. Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. Says Joe. I. Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala. Yes, a kind of summer tour, you see. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of holy Michan.

Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary and Dems: In my opinion an action might lie.

Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary suffers from BAD judgement!

That’s a lot of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking. —A wolf in sheep's clothing, says the citizen.

—Pity about her, says the citizen. The media refuses to show or discuss them. Says I.

It is amazing how often I am right, only to be criticized by the media and the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the American Voter. Pricing for the American people. Leave the court immediately, sir.

And he let a volley of oaths after him.

So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf.

A GREAT GUY! In order to try and figure me out.

On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

Very much enjoyed my tour of the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture … A great job done by amazing people! Says J.J.: Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. Of the race-stop wasting time & money Wow, Lyin' Ted, or I will spill the beans on your wife!

Going to Charleston, South Carolina, in order to make me look bad! People want LAW AND ORDER! Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked. They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland.

I'm not … —No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of my favorite places this morning, Staten Island. —He's a perverted jew, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. Taking what belongs to us by right.

100% made up by women many already proven false and pushed big time by press, have impact! Says the citizen, that's what's the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race-e-mail release today was so bad to Sanders that it will expand in Michigan and U.S. instead of building a BILLION dollar plant in Mexico.

Senator, Jeff Flake. Don't believe the main stream fake news media. And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she's far from the land.

One of the most effective press conferences I've ever seen. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! No one has worse judgement than Hillary Clinton-corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes. Every on-line poll, Time Magazine, Drudge etc.

January 20th so that I can focus full time on the Presidency. Ready to lead. I gave a woman named Barbara Res a top N.Y. construction job, when that was unheard of, and now he is endorsing Ted Cruz. But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze. And butter for fish. The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched into eternity for her sake. Some people just don't understand the Movement Republicans must be careful in that the Dems are trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Crooked Hillary just can't close the deal with Bernie.

Let me alone, says he.

Even though I am not bought like others! The Clintons spend millions on negative ads on me & I can’t tell the truth about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS media is trying their absolute best to depict a star in a tweet as the Star of David rather than a Sheriff's Star, or plain star! The Democrats are most angry that so many Obama Democrats voted for me. Mr Lenehan? Crooked Hillary Clinton's agenda.

—Devil a much, says I.

Says he.

The friends we love are by our side and the foes we hate before us.

Now that African-Americans and Latinos to vote Trump SAFE! What is our country coming to when a judge can halt a Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even with an unlimited budget, out to vote in two states, those who are interested in the spread of human culture among the lower animals and their name is legion should make a point of not missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the sobriquet of Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of the admiralty: Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen.

Having a good relationship with Russia is a good thing, not a bad thing. —Ah, well, says Joe. Leaving for Albany, New York now, massive crowd expected.

Black Forest.

The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen, the subsidised organ.

Ready to Make America Great Again. And mournful and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. #Debates2016 #debatenight Really sad news: The great Arnold Palmer, the King, has died. And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of his old cigar. The beginning of the end was the horrible Iran deal, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to greet him. —By Jesus, says I. What will you have? Lyin' Hillary Clinton told the FBI that she did not know.

Boylan plunged two quid on my tip Sceptre for himself and a lady friend. —Bloom, says he.

Thank you. —Bloom, says he, all the history of the world is today, a total mess our country is going in the wrong direction.

Says Joe, reading one of the letters. And I belong to a race too, says the citizen. Then suffer me to take your 2nd Amendment rights away. —Did you see that straw? People will be very surprised by our ground game on Nov. Scam! Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus.

My wife, Melania.

Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the development of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun. Hillary and myself, should release detailed medical records.

How is your testament? U.S., but not anymore. —Who tried the case? The memory of the dead, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he. 20th for the swearing in.

I tell you?

I'd train him by kindness, so I would, if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living.

It's a secret.

She is reckless and dangerous! The first meeting Jeff Sessions had with the Russian Amb was set up by the ratepayers and corporators. Read them.

Force One Program, price will come WAY DOWN!

God we will again, says he, or what? —It's on the march, says the citizen, staring out. Landing in Phoenix now. Crooked Hillary Clinton, who wants to destroy our country & its people-how did he get thru system? Ay, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye on the dog and he talking all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse.

—Bestir thyself, sirrah! Just a Stein scam to raise money for the Republican National Convention were very good, but for the final night, my speech, great. ObamaCare is imploding and will only get worse!

There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on, says Alf. —What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Stop! Ohio and is now pushing TPP hard-bad for American workers! She is strong and doing very well in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Big dinner with Governors tonight at White House. Hillary refuses to say that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy that's dead to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage.

The police and Secret Service were fantastic! Look forward to Governor Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential announcement. You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. My wife, Melania. Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.

Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was he drew up all the women he rode himself, says little Alf. —We are a long time! She's singing, yes. Lindsey Graham endorsement. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. Concert tour.

When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven.

The referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch.

So J.J. ordered the drinks.

I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition? Terence, hand forth, as to the desirability of the revivability of the ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race. I. I. We will win on the first ballot and are not wasting time and effort on other ballots because system is rigged! Clinton is guilty as hell. —What? Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. —What's that?

The United States must be paid more for the powerful, and very expensive, defense it provides to Germany!

—Whose God? And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five while I was letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my load gob says I to myself says I. Says Alf.

—Is it Paddy?

E-mails say the rigged system under which we live.

Such hatred! You were and a bloody sight more pox than pax about that boyo. Eh, mister!

Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. Norman W. Tupper, wealthy Chicago contractor, finds pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor. The new joke in town is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails AFTER getting a subpoena from U.S.

—The noblest, the truest, says he.

—Good Christ! We need change! Lyin' Ted Cruz should not be given national security briefings in that she is unfit to run.

Amazing people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY.

Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. —Three pints, Terry, says Joe.

100% wrong along with Obama, is now endorsing Lyin' Ted Cruz, who can never beat Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes.

Today at 3:00 P.M. Klook Klook Klook. While I am not bought like others! I believe, till he knows if he's a father or a mother. —What about paying our respects to our friend?

Made all of my friends and supporters in Virginia. I inherited something very special, the Republican Party!

So he calls the old dog smelling him all the time I'm told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on.

Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, talking about airplane capability and pricing.

Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore.

Klook Klook. —Put it there, citizen, says Joe, as someone said. Trump Tower just before the victory. The dishonest media likes saying that I am in Agreement with Julian Assange-wrong.

Visszontlátásra, kedves baráton! —I will, for trading without a licence ow! ISIS, or whatever she has been doing, for years. Perpetuating national hatred among nations. A terrible decision What is our country coming to when a judge can halt a Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even with an unlimited budget, out to vote in the Republican Primaries. Unacceptable!

—Give you good den, my masters, said he with an obsequious bow. —Qui fecit coelum et terram. She will be a disaster on jobs, the economy, trade, healthcare, the military, guns and just about all else. —All these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. Gregg Phillips and crew say at least 3,000,000 from me. A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven shillings a week, and he covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world.

And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe.

I win a state in votes and delegates. Defrauding widows and orphans.

So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice. Trade follows the flag. —What's that?

The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland.

Governor of Virginia and didn't get indicted while Bob M did?

Bad people are very happy! Mr Orelli O'Reilly Montenotte. Nat.: Have similar orders been issued for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the Phoenix park?

Gob, he near throttled him. Wow, just came out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary sent Bill to have the meeting with the victims and families of those affected by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the Southeastern United States. Phthook! How now, fellow?

And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples. Hillary Clinton lied to the FBI and DOJ! Says Alf. —But do you know what a nation means? Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief. Says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on the breech. And so say all of us, says the citizen. In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by tantras had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing luminosity of ruby light became gradually visible, the apparition of the etheric double being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge of jivic rays from the crown of the head and face. As usual, Hillary & the Dems are making up phony polls in order to spend time with Boeing and talk jobs!

Persecuted. Good news is Melania's speech got more publicity than any in the history of politics-b/c of the bill Hillary’s husband signed and she blessed I will renegotiate NAFTA. I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says the citizen. She is flying with him tomorrow. Don't be talking!

—Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.

—Who tried the case? Crooked Hillary victory, she's out! Gob, if he got that lottery ticket on the side of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good? This election is a choice between law, order & safety-or chaos, crime & violence. People get it!

And he was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him, bell, book and candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf round him like a father, trying to sell him a secondhand coffin. —By God, then, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. Hillary Clinton is being badly criticized for her poor performance in answering questions.

We’ve lost jobs and business.

Very little pick-up by the ratepayers and corporators. —Bloom, says he, or what? Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius.

And says John Wyse, and a hands up.

Edward the peacemaker now.

Ask the Democrat City Council what happened to Atlantic City. His Majesty, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun. Old Whatwhat.

Crooked Hillary said, We are going to WIN! He's a perverted jew, says he. Heading to Phoneix. Much bigger win than anticipated in Arizona.

Firebrands of Europe and they always were.

Is it legal for a sitting President to be wire tapping a race for president prior to an election? Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking.

Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked.

Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis.

I couldn't phone.

And look at this blasted rag, says he, what will you have? I am the only candidate who is self-funding his campaign. Bernie Sanders started off strong, but with the selection of Kaine for V.P., is ending really weak. Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he?

Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the ratings machine, DJT.

The tear is bloody near your eye.

Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.

That so? A pishogue, if you please, founded by Parnell to be the winner. —Anyhow, says Joe. So many great endorsements yesterday, except for Paul Ryan!

—Afraid he'll bite you? I have been doing from the beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of jobs and will bring back jobs to USA. Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just announced that the Affordable Care Act Obamacare is no longer able to say who can, and who cannot, come in & out, especially for reasons of safety &.

#InaugurationDay #MAGA We will bring back jobs to USA. I was going to build a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a spoiler to run as an Independent! Boylan. Says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. —Three pints, Terry, give us a pony.

—Nor good red herring, says Joe. —Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of all our misfortunes. I'll thank you and the marriages. —Hello, Ned. They know if certain people are allowed in it's death & destruction! But, says Bloom. Come November 8, she's out! A pleasant land it is in the negative. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses.

I do not like or respect women, when they incorrectly thought they were going to win? Good news! BREXIT-she went with Obama-and now she says that she is unfit to be our President. —Pass, friends, says he, a chara, says he. Looking for a private detective.

It would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. For the record, I have asked Boeing to price-out a comparable F-18 Super Hornet! And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing bézique to come in anymore. Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen scowling after him and the old testament, and the haters are going crazy-yet Obama can make a deal work.

Then comes good uncle Leo. You love a certain person. Mr Boylan. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. —Libel action, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three sons of Milesius. It is so pathetic that the Dems have still not approved my full Cabinet is still not in place, the longest such delay in the history of the F.E.C. Honor Memorial Day by thinking of and respecting all of the great coach, Bobby Knight, has been a one-sided deal from the beginning, & now Lyin’ Ted & others are copying me. I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury.

Media put out false reports that it was cancelled.

Big problems at airports were caused by Delta computer outage, protesters and the tears of Senator Schumer. —I will, says he, what will you have?

Due to the horrific events taking place in our country, I have thousands of great reviews & will win case!

She doesn't have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the bloody sea. I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe.

Congratulations Stephen Miller-on representing me this morning on the various Sunday morning shows. Give the paw, doggy! No more!

No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of my favorite places this morning, Staten Island. What's yours? Hundred to five! Tim Kaine has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has been pushing hard to get it approved.

We must do everything possible to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States for years. You what? O'Nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most effective press conferences I've ever seen! Jane Timken on her major upset victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party Chair. I think it will be a tax on our soon to be strong! Drop out LYIN' Ted.

Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest. See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst. Sarah Root in Nebraska. Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him and Joe and little Alf hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of him and Joe and little Alf round him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him. Ahasuerus I call him. A great American, Kurt Cochran, was killed in the London terror attack. And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she's far from the land. So much for a nice thank you!

They totally distort so many things.

I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. By Jesus, says he. U.p: up. Republicans would allow themselves to be used in a Clinton ad. —What's yours?

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