#then I learned about irish naming conventions and while that answered some questions it just wound up leaving me with MORE questions

[champhangman]

No Other

Title: No Other Characters: Nick Jackson x OFC Part: One of ? Summary:  I don't know the loneliness you've known. I don't hear the frosty words echo inside. Word Count: 4,750 Warnings: n/a A/N: An extremely loud ‘thank you’ to @adampage and @cowboyshit for listening to me complain about the lack of Nick fics, and helping me create something that’s cohesive from the ideas that I blathered endlessly about late at night. Y’all are my biggest supporters, I hope you realize that. (Side note: when I mentioned I was doing a Nick fic, Emi went ballistic, because we all know she lurves him.)

Tagging:  @adampage / @cowboyshit / @baysexuality / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy /  @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @allizoneme / @heelsamizayn / @what-does-mine-say / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger  / and @merchfreak because I know Alma loves some Nick

One

 "Why do we plan stuff for so early in the morning?" Matt rubbed his face with one hand and groaned. "I'm going to get coffee, you want anything?"

"Yeah, the usual," Nick answered. The lobby was filled with people. Groups of women all wearing the same bright shade of pink. Men in suits. Teenagers in blazers, looking bored as they shuffled along behind two stressed-looking adults. "What time is the interview for the social media thing?"

"Thirty minutes." His brother rolled his shoulders and yawned. "You gonna sit in?"

It wasn't his turn. He almost pointed it out, to remind Matt that they, Cody, and Kenny took turns sitting in on interviews for staff in the company. Sometimes it would be two or three of them. Occasionally they all slipped in to meet a potential new employee. They didn't have to do it. But they did, because they wanted to make sure new employees would fit in and expand the familial bond they felt with everyone. But Matt already knew all that. Sighing, Nick shrugged. "Sure."

"Cool. I'll be back. We're doing it in the ballroom on the second floor. Dylan's meeting me there."

"Ballroom?" Nick chuckled. "Are we that damn fancy now?"

"God, I hope not," Matt muttered. "Just how it worked out today. A bunch of conventions going on, y'know? I'll meet you there."

He watched his brother head across the lobby then headed for the stairs. Halfway up, he stopped and backed up against the wall as a stampede of women in pink rushed past him going the opposite way. Nodding and smiling in greeting, he breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone, the wave of perfume staying behind while their excited chatter and giggling echoed.

As it began to fade, he grew aware of piano music. He moved away from the stairs and saw a grand piano at the far end of the carpeted, ornately embellished area. A woman sat before it, head bowed as she played. A small placard identified the space as the grand foyer, and he was acutely aware of his less-than grand attire as he strolled between mirrored pillars beneath gleaming chandeliers. He saw the entrance to the ballroom and leaned inside, but there was no sign of Dylan or the interviewee.

He turned to watch the woman at the piano. Try as he might, he couldn't place the sentimental tune. Melodious, it rose and fell in tempo. She didn't bang the keys to evoke the strength of the tune. She stroked them tenderly, fingers moving fluidly to coax beautiful sounds from the instrument.

Nick rested his shoulder on the nearby pillar, watching her. He admired the almost loverlike movements of her fingers along the keys. Her eyes were closed, he saw, and he wondered if she thought of someone while she wrought the bittersweet melody. A former lover, he supposed, judging it too melancholy to be a joyful love song. Dark hair fell from behind her ear, shielding her profile from his view.

The tempo slowed. Elegant fingers barely touched the keys to bring forth soft notes. They danced, ending with a chord that seemed to echo in his heart. Then they began again. Deep, low sounds that resounded around him, fading into soft, higher notes, ending on a gentle chord.

"That was beautiful," he said into the sudden silence after making sure she had finished.

She whirled, dark hair catching the light as it fanned around her head. "Oh," she gasped, pushing to her feet with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was listening."

"Don't apologize. It was amazing." Nick pushed away from the pillar and crossed

"I'm sure they don't want me touching the piano. But I couldn't resist." Her fingers grazed the polished surface reverently. "It's a Fazioli."

She said the name almost worshipfully. Nick saw her love for the topic clearly in her eyes. "I'm not familiar with piano brands, is a Fazioli better than others?"

"It has a clearer tone. Sometimes a Steinway can be a bit muddy, especially with a complex piece. Of course, I learned on a Steinway, so they'll always have a special place in my heart, muddy tones or not." She gave a happy, reminiscent sigh. "And naturally it's all down to the individual which brand they prefer, but I like the Fazioli myself."

"Do you have one?"

"God no." She laughed, a sound as musical and rich as her piano playing. "It wouldn't fit in my apartment, and one costs about as much as Lamborghini. Which is a little out of my budget."

"You live in the area?"

"Yeah. Up until the first of the year I was based in Tampa." Her green eyes clouded slightly, but the shadow was gone in a blink. "I needed a change. Which is why I'm here today…"

"Looking for a piano gig?" he asked with a grin.

"God no," she breathed. "I couldn't play in front of people."

"I'm people," Nick pointed out.

"That's different. I didn't know you were listening. And you're just one person. Okay, there were a few people going up the stairs but they weren't sitting or standing watching me. I can play in front of a few friends or my family, but not in front of people. You know?"

"I know," he said with a nod. "What was the song you were playing?"

"It was—" Her lips twisted into a grimace. "I don't know."

"Original?" he asked, impressed.

"No! I'm not able to compose," she laughed. "I… This is going to sound incredibly conceited but I can pick up a song after listening to it once. Sometimes it takes two or three times if it's an intricate song. But, um, I heard this one on Spotify on my way over, and I wanted to see if I could play it."

Nick was still impressed. He'd only met a couple of people who had that ability, and it took them at least three listens before they could play a song without difficulty. "That's amazing. Why aren't you in music?"

"I tried, but the stage fright said no." She smiled up at him. "I'm sorry for blathering on about pianos and music—"

"No, no, it's fine," he assured. "It's obviously important to you."

"Are you in music?"

"Ah, no. I'm in wrestling."

"No way." She laughed again, cheeks tinging a delicate shade of pink. "Oh god, no way."

"Yes way," he promised, confusion setting in when she laughed harder. "What?"

"Oh my god. You're one of the Jacksons, aren't you?" She stopped laughing. "I thought you looked familiar. If I can be perfectly honest, I've never really watched wrestling but after I put in my application, I realized I should know the product I'm trying to be a part of…"

The dots connected and Nick began to chuckle. "You're here for the interview?"

"Yes… Oh my god." She gave a tiny, embarrassed, laugh. "And I just spent fifteen minutes rambling about pianos. I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson."

"Nick," he corrected.

"Nick." She smiled. "You won't hold any of that against me during the interview, will you?"

"Of course not. We try to encourage passions, Miss…" He didn't know her name. He didn't even know how many interviews there were going to be. He just hoped her skills leveled with her personality. She would be a good fit, he thought.

"Jasmine Burke," she supplied. She extended her hand.

He took it in his for a shake. Felt her elegant fingers press against his palm. "Great to meet you, Miss Burke."

"Jasmine. Or Jazz. Jazzy." She squeezed his hand and her smile softened. "I answer to almost anything."

He felt as though something had slid into place. "Jasmine."

***

Jasmine liked him. There weren't many people she'd met who didn't mind when she gushed about music or pianos. Even her own mother, who had turned her passion for music into a career, sometimes rolled her eyes when Jasmine dissected a song over dinner. Not only had he let her ramble on, he'd listened. And had understood. Had asked questions that made her blathering last longer. No one did that. They either pretended to listen while waiting for a chance to change the subject or they just cut in and talked about something they thought more important.

But this man hadn't. He hadn't said a thing about himself until she'd asked.

She wasn't used to that.

It was probably inappropriate to think of his eyes as beautiful. He was her potential new boss. But they were beautiful. A wonderful shade of bright, deep blue, they sparkled with the sunlight coming through the windows. Potential new boss or not, the man's eyes were mesmerizing.

He released her hand and she lowered it. "Will you be doing the interview?"

"No, not officially. That's Dylan, our head of social media. But me and Matt will be sitting in."

Oh, wonderful. She felt her palms start to sweat with anxiety and, as inconspicuously as possible, brushed them against her slacks. She had the troubling notion that she would get distracted if Nick were there. Because she could feel herself being drawn to him. And she couldn't afford for that to happen.

God, she really couldn't let that happen.

Not again.

"We try to not be assholes," Nick promised.

"Dylan slept through his alarm and is gonna be late, which means I hauled ass for no reason," a voice announced.

Jasmine turned to see the source of the voice and saw a man approaching from the direction of the elevator. Holding a Starbucks cup in each hand, his face held a sour expression until he noticed her, then he quickly pasted on what she considered a public relations smile.

Nick sighed and kept his voice low. "Let me rephrase that. I try not to be an asshole. But him? He's a natural at it."

She choked on a laugh when the other man glared at Nick. He thrust the cup of iced coffee at Nick, then offered a true, charming smile.

"Don't listen to him."

"You don't even know what I said," Nick muttered, taking a sip of his iced coffee.

"I know you, so it couldn't have been nice."

"This is my brother, Matt." Nick looked to the man. "This is Jasmine Burke."

Matt's dark eyes flicked from her to Nick and back again. His smile was as welcoming and warm as his brother's while they shook hands. "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she murmured.

He took a slow sip from his Starbucks cup. Again his eyes moved from her to Nick repeatedly, finally settling on his brother. His eyebrows lifted slowly.

Jasmine could tell she was watching them communicate silently. They looked at each other for a long moment, their expressions shifting a few times. Raised eyebrows. Pursed lips. A faint shake of Matt's head. Nick's eyes narrowing slightly, then his head tilting in her direction. Matt's eyes swiveled to her and she unconsciously straightened her posture, a bit unnerved by the lingering eye contact he maintained before looking back at his brother.

"Offer her the job," Nick said softly.

"What?" Jasmine gasped. Neither of them paid any attention to her, though.

Matt tilted his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Nick nodded firmly.

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. Confusion was etched on his face. "We still have to interview her."

Nick looked at Jasmine and his lips slid into a smile. "Nah, we don't."

"Well. Um, okay," Matt dragged the word out, still obviously bewildered. But he was smiling when he turned to her. "Welcome to AEW, I guess, Miss Burke."

"Jasmine," she corrected. "Or Jazz is fine, too."

"Jazzy?" He grinned.

"Of course." She looked to Nick. "But you still should interview me."

"We don't need to. You'll fit right in."

Jasmine snorted. "You mean there are frequently discussions about the merits of different brands of piano?"

He chuckled. "There will be now."

"You don't even know if I'm qualified," she pointed out.

With a sigh, he nudged Matt. "Is she qualified?"

"Obviously," Matt scoffed. "Otherwise we wouldn't be doing the interview."

"But you're not doing the interview," Jasmine said.

"Apparently Nick already did," he muttered, earning an elbow jab in his side.

"But you don't know if I know anything about social media," she said, unable to believe she was going to be offered the job.

"It's social media. Just throw some tweets out, do a few Instagram stories." Matt shrugged. "A twelve-year-old could do it."

"There's so much more to it than that. There are trends to keep up with, audience engagement, algorithms to study and learn, researching new platforms—" Jasmine cut off when she saw they were both grinning at her. Releasing a sigh, she twisted her hands. "Sorry."

"You know social media. You're qualified. Are you trying to talk us out of offering you the job?" Nick asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"No," she promised quickly. "I want the job. And I really kind of need it."

"Why?" This from Matt, who was studying her intently again.

"I've got this strange addiction to eating," she said without thinking. "And I don't think my landlord will let my looks and personality cover the rent."

Matt's head fell back as he began to laugh. "That's it, I'm sold. Nick's right. You'll fit right in. Welcome aboard, Jazzy."

"Really?" she asked softly.

"Really. Come on, let's go pretend I've been interviewing you before Dylan gets here, and I'll introduce him to you." Matt gestured to the ballroom.

She should thank them. But she knew if she opened her mouth she would begin blathering again, so she nodded. Turning to get her bag, she smiled in surprise to see Nick picking it up. She took it from him. Let herself look into his eyes for a few seconds. Then, hearing Matt still talking as he headed into the ballroom, she forced her eyes to break contact. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"You coming?" Matt called.

"See? Natural," Nick whispered as he and Jasmine followed his brother.

Laughing, she stepped into the ballroom and glanced around. It was just as grand as the foyer, and although all but one table and a few chairs were stacked in neat lines at the far end, she could easily imagine it set up for a wedding reception or a glittering gala. There was a faint hint of new paint, and the floor beneath her feet looked freshly polished.

Matt and Nick drew her into a conversation about wrestling, obviously testing her knowledge. Which, she was sad to admit, was lacking. She had watched some episodes of Dynamite and had even checked out the competition, but she knew so little she had a feeling she would be spending hours watching matches and promos, if only to learn the terminology. Her lack of knowledge didn't seem to bother them, though, and she appreciated Nick's assurance that she would pick up what she needed to know in no time.

Matt asked for her resumé and she reached into her bag for the packet she'd brought, panicking slightly when she dragged out a broken crayon with it. It fell to the floor and rolled, stopping at Nick's bright red sneaker. Frozen, she stared at it, managing to recover when Nick bent to retrieve it. "Sorry," she muttered, handing the packet to Matt. She looked down at the piece of yellow crayon when Nick dropped it into her hand, then stuffed it into her bag. "…My niece uses my bags for her teaching supplies."

"What does she teach?" Nick asked with a chuckle.

"Depends on the students. If it's her stuffed animals, they're learning about dinosaurs. If it's her dinosaurs, she's teaching colors and foods." This was easy. She could do this. "Yesterday she had a group class, so things got hectic."

"Did her dinosaurs start eating the stuffed animals?"

Matt snorted on a laugh but didn't look up from his studying of her resumé.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no it was her stuffed duck that started all the trouble. He's a stubborn meanie and was bullying the velociraptor. The stuffed animals joined forces and tried to massacre the dinosaurs. Pandemonium. Crayons, papers, and feathers all over the living room." Jasmine sighed as she recalled the mess that had taken an hour to clean up. She was certain there were still feathers she and Beatrice hadn't gotten. She'd found three in her purse that morning. And, surprisingly, she didn't mind when Nick began to laugh.

"Feathers?" Matt looked up, grinning. "Feathers?"

"One of my old pillows," she explained, rolling her eyes. "I think she said the stegosaurus used it as a shield?"

"Your niece sounds hilarious." Nick sat back, still chuckling.

"She is. She's also the cutest kid in my world, so she gets away with everything."

"Does she get that from you?" Matt asked sweetly.

Jasmine pressed her lips together to keep from laughing when the comment earned another jab from Nick. "No. My guilty conscience always kicks in and I admit to what I did so I can suffer the consequences and get it over with. Plus if I'm wrong I like to own up to it and use it as a learning opportunity."

Matt sighed, flicking the folder closed. "That's good. We don't like bullshit. Well, unless we're the ones dishing it out."

"Do you dish it out often?" She gave him a small smile.

"Only when it's needed," he answered after a moment.

"Every other day?" she guessed.

"At least," Nick sighed.

***

The production meeting ran longer than planned. Nick couldn't be upset, though, because current storylines had been hashed out further, some extending well into the next quarter. New ideas had been tossed around. Stretching out his legs, he yawned as Matt dropped into the seat next to him.

A thick folder landed on his lap. Nick grunted and sat up straight, catching it before it could slide to the floor. "What the hell?"

"Your social media girl's resumé," Matt explained. "Go ahead, take a look."

"Is it bad?" Nick asked, eyeing the folder warily. Weren't resumés supposed to be just a few pages? He opened the folder and flipped through the pages. Glancing up, he saw Kenny and Cody moving to sit near he and his brother.

"What's that?" Cody asked.

"Resumé for the new girl." Matt sat back and propped his ankle on the opposite knee. "She's way overqualified."

Nick skimmed the cover letter. Jasmine sold herself as passionate about expanding company engagement through social media, and he saw a few words about pursuing a love for technology when she needed to change careers. His eyes slid to the last paragraph, then the swirling signature at the bottom. Passing the page to Cody, he saw a list of schools, colleges, and universities. He blinked in surprise at the degrees attained and looked to his brother.

"Right?" Matt shook his head. "She's got a law degree."

"Why's she in social media if she's got a law degree?" Cody asked, reaching to take the next page.

"Maybe she hated law," Kenny suggested.

"Maybe, but who would hate the money she could make practicing?" Matt pointed out.

"She passed the bar," Cody said in an impressed tone. When Matt looked at him, he shrugged. "Megha mentioned that less than sixty percent pass on their first go."

Nick's eyes scanned the page in front of him. Her most recent work had been for area restaurants and night clubs. Flicking to the next page, he furrowed his brow when he noticed a three-month absence in her timeline. Then he remembered her saying she had left Miami at the first of the year. Before that, she had worked in the same place for five years. He followed the timeline and noted she had started as an intern before moving into paralegal work, then finally as a junior partner.

"I looked them up," Matt said when Nick handed that page to Cody.

"Shady?" he asked.

Matt shook his head. "One of the top firms in Miami. They handled that case a couple years ago. Remember? The woman that caught her husband cheating and dismembered him?"

There was a quartet of shudders, and Nick muttered a curse as he remembered just how the woman had begun dismembering her husband's body. He turned his attention back to Jasmine's resumé, flicking through the page and growing more impressed with each one. She was overqualified.

"I'm stumped," Matt said with a sigh. "I searched her online, thinking I'd find where she got disbarred or something, but there's only old articles about her cases."

"Maybe she didn't like it," Nick offered, echoing Kenny's earlier statement. "You met her. Does she strike you as the type to enjoy defending murderers and rapists?"

"No," his brother allowed. "But why change it up completely? Why leave a career where she had to be making six figures?"

"She wanted a change?" Kenny offered, accepting the resumé from Cody and settling in to read.

"Her references were practically glowing." Cody folded his hands behind his head. "So she couldn't have gotten into something shady and been fired."

"I don't think it's as big a deal as you're making it out to be," Nick said after a moment. "People change careers all the time."

"I know, I know." Matt shrugged. "It's just a mystery. Why would she leave that and come to work for… Well, us?"

"Are we that bad?" Cody grunted.

"No, but c'mon… She's gonna be making peanuts here."

"You're acting like there's a bunch of secrecy. She probably got burned out and needed something different. It happens." Nick shook his head again.

"You're being very defensive," Matt said, tilting his head. "Why?"

"I'm not being defensive."

His brother held up one finger as though he'd won a point. "Now you're in denial."

"How can I be in denial when I'm not being defensive?"

"Now you're being defensive about being in denial over being defensive," Matt pointed out.

Nick opened his mouth to argue. Brow furrowing, he tried to untangle his brother's reasoning. That proved to be impossible, though, so all he could manage was, "Huh?"

Matt ignored him, looking to Cody and Kenny. "He's got a boner for Jazzy."

"I don't have – Don't you dare say I'm in denial," he warned.

"Please," Matt scoffed. "You gave her the job without knowing if she was capable of doing it."

"Oh?" Kenny looked to Nick. "Is that so?"

"I could tell she would fit in with – And she – I don't have to defend myself," Nick decided. "And I don't have a boner for her."

"What's she look like?" Cody's voice was deceptively casual.

"She's hot," Matt announced. And, when they all looked at him, he shrugged. "What? She is. Right, Nick?"

"I didn't notice," he ground out.

Silence. Three disbelieving expressions.

Nick rolled his eyes. "I didn't."

The silence lengthened.

"She's okay I guess?" he offered.

"She's okay," Matt mocked.

"Her looks don't even matter," Nick said, growing weary of the conversation. "She's an employee."

"So's Brandi, and Cody bangs her regularly," his brother retorted. "And you just said her looks don't matter because she's an employee. Which means that if she wasn't, you'd—"

"I'm going to work on BTE," Nick announced, getting to his feet. "You're giving me a headache."

"Because I'm right," Matt muttered.

"You always think you are."

"Because I usually am."

"You'd think I'd be used to this by now," Cody said to no one in particular. "And yet, I'm still amazed that they bicker like kids."

"We're not bickering," Nick said. At the exact same time as Matt. Looking to his brother, he tried to fight the urge to laugh.

Matt's eyes widened and he gave his head a little shake, and they both began to snicker.

"When does she start?" Kenny asked after their laughter had subsided.

"Next week." Matt tossed the folder to Cody. "Which means Nick's got five days to get his boner under control."

Nick turned at the door. "I don't—"

"Have a boner for her, " Matt finished, rolling his eyes. "Maybe if you keep saying it enough, it'll come true."

***

Jasmine climbed out of the car and reached inside for her backpack. Balancing her cup of coffee in one hand, she approached the entrance, trying to fish the temporary pass she'd been given after meeting Dylan from her bag. She grunted in frustration when the lanyard caught on something and yanked, lurching to a stop as a small plastic dinosaur flew from her bag.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" she cried, watching the toy bounce across the pavement.

"That's not nice. His mother's been dead for millions of years."

"I could be talking about his father," she countered, glancing up from the pair of brightly colored sneakers that walked up to the toy.

Nick bent to pick it up, smiling as she headed towards him. "Does your niece know you curse at her toys when she's not around?"

"You remembered my niece?" Jasmine murmured in surprise.

"Hard to forget a girl that has wars between dinosaurs and stuffed animals. Is this one a deserter?" he asked, turning the toy over between his fingers. "He doesn't look like he's seen battle."

"Shows how much you know. Brontosauruses are thought to have been a relatively peaceful species, but they could definitely do damage if threatened." Putting the lanyard around her neck, she enjoyed his soft chuckle. And let herself get another look at his eyes. "To answer your question, though, he wasn't present for the battle. He's been living in my bag for two weeks."

"Prisoner of war?"

"Hiding out because he hates the stegosaurus," she explained. And, as much fun as she was having talking to him, she held out her hand. "I should get inside and get to work."

"I'll walk with you," he said.

She almost asked why. Then she decided that he was just being nice. The adjective rolled off him in every way, from his easygoing posture to his warm smile. To him remembering her niece.

"How is your niece?"

"Fine. A little grumpy that I have to leave for a few days a week, but I think she understands." She tried not to think of the tears she'd seen in those big brown eyes, or the ones she'd shed after closing the door of the babysitter's apartment.

"You two are close, huh?" he asked, reaching to hold the door open for her.

"Very close," she confirmed.

"Does she watch the show?"

"She's watched some with me." Jasmine showed her pass to the security guard just inside the door, then paused, wondering which way she was supposed to go. "She really likes… The two men with the masks? You and Matt had a match with them last week."

"Lucha Brothers," Nick supplied with a grin. "They're pretty great. C'mon, I'll show you the social media room."

Grateful, she followed him along seemingly endless corridors. She knew she would eventually learn her way around backstage, but at the moment she wondered if she should ask for a map.

"Oh, before I forget, you left your copy of the contract when you met with Cody last week," he said, turning a corner. "It's in the EVP office, make sure you get it, okay?"

"Right." She hadn't meant to leave it behind but had found the company's lawyer's assessing look a little unnerving. It wasn't until she had gotten home and looked closely at the woman's card that she remembered their meeting years before. She wondered if she remembered how they met, or if she were just trying to figure out how she knew her name or face. "I'm not usually forgetful."

Nick's smile was understanding as he stopped outside an open door. "No worries. Here you go. I'll see you later?"

He would? Why? Jasmine nodded, though, and peered into the room to see Dylan plugging up a computer. He looked up and greeted her with a wave, and she looked back to Nick. "Thank you."

"Anytime. Have a good first day, Jasmine."

She hesitated in the doorway for a few seconds while he headed away. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had forgotten something. Finally shrugging the notion away, she entered the room and set her bags down, ready to get to work.

It was an hour before she remembered that Nick hadn't given her the toy back.

#nick jackson fanfiction #nick jackson imagine #aew fanfiction #my fics #multipart:NO #asfasdasflkjlj #time to go into hiding

[under-the-lake]

I Suspect Nargles Are Behind It: Luna and Reality - short mind ramblings

I thought that some lighter writing than my usual stuff could be nice during these troubled captivity times. So I wondered and then set my mind on writing about a character, and chose Luna. Why Luna? I just love her. She’s clever but not vain, she’s a proper oddball to whom I can identify, she loves animals and understands the weird. She lives in a strange world of her own, oddly connected with reality, and has values I can share. On a more literature-related point of view, she’s a secondary character but without her the story couldn’t have unfolded as it did. In a very short piece (to my standards at least) I decided to explore Luna’s take on the reality norms the world has built.

Short ID

Name: Luna Lovegood (originally she was called Lily Moon, because it gave Rowling the idea of a dreamy girl - Original Writings for PM, The Original Forty)

Born: 13th February (J.K. Rowling, Twitter, 17th July 2015) and we can suppose it’s 1981 because Luna went to Hogwarts one year after Harry (born on 31st July 1980).

Post-Hogwarts Occupation: Wizarding naturalist (as Rowling called her originally)

Particularities: odd beliefs, and she was able to see Thestrals very soon after her mother’s accidental death, when Luna was nine. Unusually perceptive and creative. Bloody bright.

School: Hogwarts, Ravenclaw

Marital Status: Married to Rolf Scamander (Newt’s grandson)

Children: 2 sons, Lorcan and Lysander

Other Family: Dad Xenophilius Lovegood (Editor of the Quibbler), mum Pandora Lovegood (dead)

Odd Species: Blibbering Humdinger, Nargles, Wrackspurts, Crumple-Horned Snorkack. According to Rowling (Bloomsbury Chat, 30.7.2007), Luna went on discovering and naming many new species, but had to eventually give up on the Snorkack being a real creature.

First Impressions - Hogwarts: from Loony to Luna

She had straggly, waist-length dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. [...]The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of Butterbeer caps, or that she was reading a magazine upside down.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter Ten, Luna Lovegood

That’s how we are introduced to Luna (in the book). Well… dunno what you think, but she is introduced as a weirdo all right. She’s reading a magazine, The Quibbler, upside down, and that she seems to find that perfectly normal (we do learn some pages later that it’s a thing about reading runes but even if there wasn’t any rational explanation I wouldn’t put it past Luna to read something upside down). You cannot deny that Luna is intriguing. There are many reactions one can have on meeting her for the first time, but there will be reactions, either because she’s so far from what the reader holds dear as values, or because she’s so close. One cannot be indifferent to Luna.

Besides, there’s that strange thing that she can see Thestrals, and thinks they are nothing but normal creatures. Who doesn’t remember the ‘You’re just sane as I am’ line? And who wouldn’t doubt their sanity at such a statement? I’m glad they kept the line in the film.

So from the very beginning of our acquaintance with Luna, we know that she’s different, but not yet why, that she is blunt without being rude, that she knows who she is, and that she has some sort of interest in the natural world. We can also imagine from her Butterbeer necklace that she’s not from a wealthy family, her dad running a not-so-mainstream magazine, The Quibbler. We have another bit of evidence for that in the World Cup (see below). The other possibility -which, knowing all the books, sounds at least as true as the first one- is that she’s from a very creative family. However, at that point of the story, we don’t know about Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorckacks. Yet. As for Luna’s Hogwarts allegiance, Wit Beyond Measure is Man’s Greatest Treasure, and The Circle Has No Beginning,  she’s in Ginny’s year, one year below Harry, and she’s a Ravenclaw.

First Mention

Luna is not mentioned by first name until Ginny introduces her in Order of the Phoenix, Chapter Ten. However, Rowling introduces the Lovegoods in Goblet of Fire, Chapter Six. They are just mentioned, en passant, by Amos Diggory, while he and Cedric and the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione are waiting for their Portkey on Stoatshead Hill (seven past five, and old wellington boot) to get them to the Quidditch World Cup. Amos says the Lovegoods aren’t using the Portkey because they’ve been on the World Cup Site for a week since they couldn’t afford it another way. They live near the Weasleys, the Diggorys and the Fawcetts, somewhere near Ottery St Catchpole (Deathly Hallows, Chapter Twenty).

First Meeting

‘There’s only Loony Lovegood in there.’ This statement by Ginny is the first mention of Luna in the whole series. She’s met Neville who is looking for a compartment on the Hogwarts Express and can’t find one because ‘everywhere’s full’. ‘Don’t be silly, she’s all right’, answers Ginny. (OoP, Chapter Ten).

Straight in: ‘Loony’ is ‘all right’. Contradiction, but also completely true. Luna is a loony if you look at her with the eyes of conventional society and the norms it has set. She is all right, which means Ginny has taken trouble to get acquainted and knows she’s no loony, and at least never uses her ‘nickname’ straight in her face (contrary to Hermione’s line in the film…. which I hate, so much not in character. Is that the girl who started SPEW?). Ginny puts things straight from the beginning, yet she’s struggling to repress her fit of the giggles in the compartment, later, when Luna states Ravenclaw’s motto in a sing-song voice. Luna doesn’t seem to care what people think, and she’s pretty straightforward in her statements, though not in a mean way. For instance, when she tells Harry, still in the same scene in the Hogwarts Express compartment, that Parvati didn’t enjoy the Yule Ball with him because he hadn’t cared to dance with her, it’s just a statement, not a judgement. Luna doesn’t do judgement. I must admit that the feelings, at reading this train scene for the first time, are mixed. You perceive that Luna is someone special who is rather unbothered by others’ opinion because she knows herself and is in a way more mature than her fellow classmates. You basically wonder if she’s got some autistic traits. On the other hand, the series of articles in the magazine she’s reading - and obviously taking seriously - show an openness of mind and fantasy that are quite unusual. How Far Would Fudge Go to Gain Gringotts? or Sirius Black - Villain or Victim? Notorious Mass Murderer or Innocent Singing Sensation? are just two of the titles in the issue of The Quibbler that Luna is reading (see picture below). 

The first impressions are tested further because once the lot get off the train, there’s the Thestrals. Harry has never been able to see them before, because he had never understood death before seeing Cedric murdered during the Third Task. He’s completely stunned by those skeletal winged horses. Luna isn’t, and simply explains they’ve always been there. Not at all reassured and still thinking he’s having hallucinations, Harry climbs up behind Luna into the carriage, not sure if he wants to disclose this to his best mates.

This is the first meeting with Luna. You cannot deny the impression is strong. Personally I did like her from the start. She then just grew on me.

Reality? Berkeley? Aristotle? 

Believing in things that nobody can see… mental, Luna? Or just aware of the world in a way few modern people are able to? Just more open to nature and unusually perceptive or living on another planet? I reckon anything but mental. Luna is a character who questions our perception and definition of reality throughout the three books she appears in.

Traditionally, if we follow Aristotle (On Interpretation), a statement can be true if both the sentence and the reality it aims at describing match. There must be no contradiction and the statement must be in adequation with reality. Like saying, while standing in front of the Hogwarts Express, ‘the steam engine is scarlet’. It’s the, say, rational way. And it is the way it works in the wizarding world, yet the roots are different from the Muggle one. Magic is the scientific framework in which the wizarding world evolves, and in that world magic is a science in the Muggle sense: it can be studied, divided into subjects, tested (Nadal, 2014).

However, on the other end of the spectrum, there’s another way of seeing things that are less black or white, and it was explained by Irish philosopher George Berkeley (1685 - 1753). Berkeley, to put it shortly, states that what one sees is, from the moment it’s apprehended by anything connected with the brain, an interpretation of reality. He says that reality per se doesn’t exist and that the things we see, as a dimension of reality conceived out of the mind, is a mere illusion (Chaillan, 2016; Granger & Bassham, 2016). Seen in that light, Harry’s meeting with Dumbledore at the end of Deathly Hallows is full of sense. So is Luna’s relationship with the world around her. The case of Nargles, Wrackspurts and Crumple-Horned Snorckacks are proof enough. Luna questions our relationship with the norms the world has built around what is considered real and what is not. Can you believe something exists while you’ve never seen it? Well… just ask everyone who believes in any kind of god, magic or whatever. They’ve never seen the source, have they. Still, they do believe it exists. The difference with Luna is that while religion is something built by, and therefore admitted as real, by society (the norm, or one of the possible norms), Nargles and Wrackspurts are not. 

If we look at the zoological side of things, the Muggle world has Science (Claim, Evidence, Reasoning), and Cryptozoology. Science proves, tests, confronts, questions. Cryptozoology is the branch of zoology that deals with imaginary species. So there is a society-approved branch of Natural History that deals with what legends and history have given us. Those two sides, in Luna’s world, are, for the ‘official part’, the Ministry Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Scamander’s book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (notice that the title holds the word ‘fantastic’? What irony…) and Hagrid and Grubbly-Plank as Care of Magical Creatures Teachers. Oh and we could add Charlie Weasley as a Dragon Keeper. The other side of this is The Quibbler and Xenophilius Lovegood (and Luna). So while both worlds have two instances to deal with two parts of the natural world, and while the Muggle world has both sides coexisting rather peacefully because society-approved, the wizarding world is in tension because no official body has ever given any credit to The Quibbler or Xenophilius’s weird ideas. I’ll discuss Magical Natural Sciences later in a bit more depth. What I wanted to showcase here is that this comparison about how Natural Sciences and CryptoSciences are dealt with in both worlds further supports the distinction between Aristotelian and Berkeleyan ways of seeing reality, and supports the idea that the Lovegoods are more Berkeleyan, but therefore also the fact that the Wizarding world is even more normative that the Muggle one, and that’s saying something (for instance there’s only one school and one teacher for each subject for the whole of the UK and Ireland; if that is not normative, I don’t know what is).

Luna openly states stuff that is completely bonkers, which makes her sort of -pardon me- unbelievable. Though it fits with Berkeley. I mean who knows if Rufus Scrimgeour is really a vampire or not? Or who knows if Fudge really has an army of Heliopaths? On the other hand, she was raised by An Eccentric if there ever was one. I mean old Xenophilius (incidentally, ‘xenophilius’ means ‘love of the strange’). We first meet him at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, at the start of Deathly Hallows. ‘Slightly cross-eyed, with shoulder-length white hair the texture of candyfloss, he wore a cap whose tassel dangled in front of his nose and robes of an eye-watering shade of egg-yolk yellow. An odd symbol, rather like a triangular eye, glistened from a golden chain around his neck.’ (DH, Chapter Eight) Xenophilius goes one praising the gnome infestation in the Weasleys’ garden, and the wisdom of those creatures. Not exactly your conventional wizard. He looks even stranger than that wizard wearing a lady’s dressing-gown at the Quidditch World Cup.  Thing is, the Lovegoods are taking a step back looking at the conventional world they were made to live in. They don’t fit in because their reality is unproven and therefore not believable in an Aristotelian world. However, Luna has her own boundaries of truth. Somehow they meet Dumbledore’s. He believed the Deathly Hallows existed, as did Xenophilius, and finally Harry. For most witches and wizards, including Ron and Hermione until the last moment, the Hallows are only an artefact in a children’s story, The Tale of the Three Brothers.

Luna’s mum died when Luna was nine; a spell Pandora was experimenting on backfired. Luna witnessed that and has since been able to see Thestrals. Luna’s mum was probably the one who was more perceptive and passed that to Luna (reminds me of Fiver in Watership Down passing his own sixth sense on to the next generation). Luna stays as she is, but eventually, according to Rowling, gives up on Snorkacks as her dad’s inventions (Bloomsbury Chat, 30.7.2007).

I reckon Luna would fit more in a Berkeleyan world than in the normative world our ‘civilized’ societies have built, be they magical or Muggle. Of course every society has norms. Thing is, how much constraint they set upon members makes all the difference. Luna is not a Loony (even etymologically, in my opinion, because loony is short for lunatic, which means mentally ill, from the moon - see all the tales and beliefs surrounding full moon for instance, mostly negative in a normative Aristotelian world). Luna is the positive form of Loony, I’d say. She’s seen as a loony by people whose norms are those of the society they grew up in. With a wee bit of openness of mind, Luna is a great character, a philosophical free-lancer, a mirror in which we can question our society and beliefs about reality.

PS: I want to explore friendship and loyalty in Luna briefly too. Soon... confinement helps the writer :P The wizarding community is at risk too! Stay at home!

Sources:

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/the-original-forty  

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/thestrals

http://www.accio-quote.org/articles/2007/0730-bloomsbury-chat.html 

https://www.syfy.com/syfywire/the-resiliency-of-luna-lovegood

Aristotle, De Interpretatione (English translation), retrieved from http://www.bocc.ubi.pt/pag/Aristotle-interpretation.pdf

Adams, R. (1972). Watership Down. Penguin.

Chaillan, M. (2016). Harry Potter et Berkeley. In Harry Potter à l’école des philosophes, Philosophie Magazine, Hors série n°31, novembre - décembre 2016. 70-71.

Granger, J. & Bassham, G. (2016). Just in Your Head? J.K. Rowling on Separating Reality from Illusion. In Bassham, G. (2016, Eds.). The Ultimate Harry Potter and Philosophy, Hogwarts for Muggles. Wiley Eds. 185-197

Nadal, C. (2014). Magical Science: Luna Lovegood’s Beliefs, Discoveries and Truth. In Martín Alegre, S., Arms, C., Blasco Solís, L., Calvo Zafra, L., Campos, R., Canals Sánchez, M., ... & García Jordà, L. (2014). Charming and bewitching: considering the Harry Potter series. 148-153.

Rowling, J. K. (2000). Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Bloomsbury, London.

Rowling, J. K. (2003). Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Bloomsbury, London.

Rowling, J. K. (2007). Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Bloomsbury, London.

Rowling, J. K. (2007). The Tales of Beedle the Bard, Bloomsbury, London.

Scamander, N. (1927; 2001; 2018; [J.K. Rowling]). Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Bloomsbury, London, in association with Obscurus Books, 18a Diagon Alley, London.

#Louhi #Luna #LunaLovegood #Reality #Philosophy #Harry Potter #Hogwarts #J.K.Rowling #Berkeley #Aristotle #Cryptozoology #Xenophilius #SocietyNorms

[douchebagbrainwaves]

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT EQUITY

Languages Matter So suppose Lisp does represent a kind of servant, whom the employer has a duty to protect. If you're a wizard at fundraising, but I have to choose? They would seem to her not merely frightening, but disgusting.1 Great cities attract ambitious people. But I think the big obstacle preventing us from seeing the future of web startups. Thought experiment: If doctors did the same thing, you're probably not doing anything new, and dignity is merely a complicated but pointless collection of stuff to be memorized. Other times nothing seems interesting. When you get a new crop of 18 year olds who think they know how to run the companies they fund. The owner wanted the student to pay for what they made like air shipped through tubes on a moon base. In Jessica Livingston's Founders at Work. What programmers in a hundred years. There was no protection against breakage except the fear of having to seem smooth and confident and respected by the VCs more like a fluid than individual objects.2

You see this less with Windows, because hackers would already be doing it.3 It's not that you don't learn anything from philosophy papers; I didn't use expert systems myself.4 Investors will try to seem more corporate, corporations will try to prevent others from having time to decide by giving you an exploding offer, meaning one that's only valid for a few key phrases and the names of different rounds.5 Every one responded that they'd prefer the guy who'd tried to start a startup with a couple; they meet a few at conferences; a couple VCs call them after reading about them. It's an unusual thing to do is talk in this artificial way, and eventually people will start to get sued much by established competitors. But people are not those who have it are not readily hireable. But vice versa as well.6 Prestige is the opinion of other investors to make them take off. He had equity.7 But the Collison brothers weren't going to wait. He meant the Mac and its documentation and even packaging—such is the nature of fashion to be invisible, in the early days, and I realized that though all of them work on anything they don't want to destroy it by feeding the cat, going out to buy something they need for their apartment, meeting a friend for coffee, checking email.

A startup with a friend. It's hard to tell what's expensive. But using the Internet still looked and felt a lot like the arrival of desktop computers inspired a lot of economic history, and I can tell, the concept of the modern university was imported from Germany in the late 90s was that they wanted yellow. Most people should still be climbing with data sets that small.8 If you can't already do it, you should ask what else they've signed.9 But the same alarms don't go off on the days when startups were more expensive. Different terms for different investors is clearly the way of Irish and Luxembourgish: they'll be saying but what about the professors who taught math could be required to write scholarly articles about history, but what growth rate successful startups tend to be short.10 But Clark did, and it would be more interested in an essay. So if you discard taste, you can tell investor A that this is the route to success is to be mistaken. Sheep act the way they treat the music they sell through iTunes.11 But until the 1980s being underpaid early in your career was part of, Hostex itself would be recognized as a spam term.12

But in a competitive market, even a differential of two or three of you, and then try to pry apart the cracks and see what's consuming all the CPU. And companies offering Web-based software. One founder was surprised by how much better you can do while you're still in school is not real work; grownup work is not a pyramid, but tapers at the bottom. They can teach students about startups, but philosophically they're at the mercy of circumstances in the past, when more things were physical. VCs feel about it. Great hackers tend to be unhappy in middle school and high school. Everyone in the school knew exactly how popular everyone else was, including us. Getting money is almost a negligible factor. Notice we started out talking about things, and new ideas are increasingly valuable. The page was of course an ad for a porn site.

Angels are better at seeing the future than the best investors as partners. One implication of this theory is that parties shouldn't be too quick to reject candidates with skeletons in their closets.13 Consciously or not, we started out doing ___. We funded Viaweb entirely with angel money.14 If your program would be three times as long to write—and the rest of the race slowing down. For boys, at least now, the big companies in the first half of the stock market. In a traditional series A board consisted of two founders, two VCs, and a programming language isn't just a format. You should therefore never approach such investors first. But that's not all talks are good for. One of the things you sell.15

Most companies in a position to grow rapidly and will cost more to acquire later, or not, investors do it if you can. The difficulty of firing people is a particular problem for startups because they don't want to print vague stuff like fairly big. And when you look at how taboos are created. I sometimes suggest they try to get customers to pay them for something, technology will make it big. The point is, you have to like debugging to like programming, but they don't get blamed for it.16 Html. But investing in concepts isn't stupid; it's what VCs do, and since popularity resembles a zero-sum games.

This is what approaches like Brightmail's will degenerate into once spammers are pushed into using mad-lib techniques to generate everything else in the message.17 The philosophers whose works they cover would be rolling in their graves at that. Tell them that valuation is not the only way to find users to recruit manually—is probably a losing bet for a group of three programmers whose startup had been acquired by a big company, this may not be as big as Ebay. If you were going to do and where the leading center for it is, it is scanned into tokens, and everything they own will fit in one car—or more precisely, while she likes getting attention in the sense that I always want to know what the status quo is to take yourself out of the default grind and go live somewhere where opportunities are fewer in the conventional sense, but life feels more authentic.18 In that respect it's a black hole. One reason, obviously, is to work for a company they have qualms about. My usual trick is to ignore what your body is telling you.19 We did get a few of the most important quality is in a startup, as in most competitive sports, the task at hand almost does this for you: the probability is.20 Trying To understand what rejection means, you have to do licensing deals, or hiring, or organization. 83,000 people worked there.

Notes

I'm not saying that the missing 11% were probably also intelligence.

The reason we quote statistics about the Airbnbs during YC. I did manage to think of ourselves as investors, but the nature of an official authority makes all the worse if you're not allowed to ask permission to go to work like casual conversation. But the most important section.

IBM 704 CPU was about bands. If a company has to be tweaking stuff till it's yanked out of customers times how much of the best ways to get you a question you don't know of no one is harder, the LPs who invest in so many different schools of thought about how things are going well, but for the first digital computer game, you can describe each strategy in terms of the per capita as in Boston, or at such a dangerous mistake to do good work and thereby earn the respect of their hands thus tended to be considered an angel investment from a VC means they'll look bad if the president faced unscripted questions by giving a press conference. According to Zagat's there are few who can say they're not.

01.

But that is exactly my point. A professor at a public company not to grow as big.

What they forget is that they probably wouldn't even cover the extra cost. But it's unlikely anyone will ever hear her speak candidly about the qualities of these people make the people they want to keep them from leaving to start startups, so it may seem to have to do better.

If you want to start some vaguely benevolent business. For example, the less educated ones usually reply with some axe the audience at an ever increasing rate. The other reason it might help to be sharply differentiated. Or worse still, has one booked for them.

People tell the craziest lies about me.

They're still deciding, which merchants used to build little Web appliances. They live in a way to answer, and one VC. At the time 1992 the entire period since the mid twentieth century, art as stuff. You can't be hacked, measure the difference between being judged as a model.

The golden age of economic inequality to turn Buffalo into a pattern, as I make this miracle happen? Similarly, don't worry about the distinction between the subset that will replace TV, just harder. In the original source of food. I mean efforts to manipulate them.

I see a lot heavier. Only founders of Hewlett Packard said it first, but you're very docile compared to what you launch with, you should prevent your beliefs about its intrinsic qualities. Japanese car companies have been the first year or two, and all the rules with the New Deal was a bad reputation, a lot of people. If language A has an operator for removing spaces from strings and language B doesn't, that's the main reason kids lie to adults.

This would add a further level of links. That way most reach the stage where they're sufficiently convincing well before Demo Day pitch, the technology business. Even now it's hard to answer the first meeting. Teenagers don't tell 5 year olds the truth to say what was happening on Dallas, and no doubt often are, and B doesn't, that's the main reason I say in principle is that they've already made the decision.

In that case the money they're paid isn't a picture of anything. Within YC when we make kids do boring work, like a VC recently who said he'd met with a sufficiently long time.

There is always raising money.

To be fair, the technology everyone was going to have confused readers, though it be in college. They don't make wealth a zero-sum game. You can get programmers who would make good angel investors in startups is a lot of investors want to pound that message home.

If you can work out. Even though we made comparatively little from it.

Proceedings of AAAI-98 Workshop on Learning for Text Categorization. I'm not saying public school kids at least 150 million in 1970. If he's bad at it. Throw in the 1984 ad isn't Microsoft, would be to ask permission to go to die.

Most people let them mix pretty promiscuously. The biggest counterexample here is defined from the truth to say now. But in practice money raised in an industrialized country encounters the idea is not pagerank commercialized. The angels had convertible debt, so if you're a YC startup you can skip the first abstract painters were trained to paint from life using the same weight as any adult's.

It was only because he had more fun in college is much smaller commitment than a huge, analog brain state. Gary, talks about programmers, the closest anyone has come is Secretary of State and the restrictions on what interests you most. You have to do it. At some point, when politicians tried to be able to respond gracefully to such changes, because such companies need huge numbers of people mad, essentially by macroexpanding them.

We Getting a Divorce? As a friend who started a company they'd pay a lot to learn. Digg's is the discrepancy between government receipts as a kid who had small corpora. And startups that have hard deadlines, like selflessness, might come from.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #spaces #lot #people #servant #craziest #times #VC #debt #terms #time #breakage #board #authority #things #school #B #cost #math #li #software #IBM #money #status #sup #programming

[porthavenhq]

Welcome to Porthaven, Mads! We can’t wait to meet Madden Hatter!

Please look over the acceptance checklist and submit your blog within the next 24 hours. If there is a problem or a prior obligation and you need more time than provided, just message the main and we will gladly extend!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　OUT OF CHARACTER　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Hello again! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood Mads. Pronouns: She/Her/Herself. Age: I’m 24, and turning 25 on October 30th! Timezone: PST. Activity Level: Activity trend hasn’t’ really changed, tbh – I (thankfully) have a part-time job that has me working at least three days a week, but I’m always around to answer things live and queue things up for next-day posting if it gets too late. I’m a solid 8 on activity, if I were to give it a number. Triggers: Any depiction of self-harm through cutting and any depiction of cancer. Anything Else: As always, thank you for taking the time to read through my application and let me participate and write here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　CHARACTER INFORMATION　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Name: Madden Hatter ( formerly known as Terrance Hightop ). Age: April 2nd, 1988. Gender: Genderfluid; comfortable with he/him/his pronouns. FC: Robert Sheenan.

Character Biography 

There’s nothing about Madden Hatter that one could call conventional. From his outward appearance to what’s buried deep beneath his fast-talking and clever façade, it’s more often than not that he’s described as absolutely maddening. With different accents from around the world pressed into his cadence, riddles and philosophical questions his way of breaking the ice, not even going by his given name anymore – he’s a mystery wrapped in a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

Some could blame it on his family, of course. An uptight Irish upbringing with more money than one could think of to do with, three generations of Hightopp men had a plan in mind for their one and only son that included a private boarding school to be sent off to for twelve years and a multi-million dollar business to inherit. If one were to deviate from that plan in any way, everything would fall apart and it would leave the entire Hightopp clan in ruin, buried under insidious gossip and ruined reputation. Madden - who was born and raised as Terrance - knew this very well, having seen this sort of devastation in other wealthy families that his parents even had a hand in tearing down. It was all up to him.

Or maybe it was just the pressure that got to him, causing a break in his mental state in his early teenhood that changed his entire demeanor. Once formal and charming, around fourteen he did a full one-eighty, turning reckless and loud yet never losing that unbridled confidence he inherited from his father. There was only one of him to take on all the weight of his family name, and maybe he crumbled. The boarding school that he was sent to sent him home just a year after his arrival, refusing to take him back after a party of very loud and alcoholic proportions left a costly amount of damage in the dorm room. This process was repeated for several more years, until his family gave him one final warning: cut the drugs, the alcohol, and the partying out and act like a Hightopp, or don’t consider yourself a Hightopp at all. This was told to him at seventeen, the pressure mounting to one final, fiery crescendo.

This lit a fire in him, but not the one his parents were hoping for.

Their words left a profound and lasting effect on their child, who - the moment he was given him official diploma at nineteen - packed up and headed for the United Kingdom, changing his name and taking his inheritance with him. He would no longer be a Hightopp, restricted to business and numbers and social constructs, never again taking orders from anyone. There, completely alone and without the pressure of his legacy on his back, he began anew. It was in the United Kingdom that he learned the arts in a deeper way than he ever did growing up, finding his heart in the fashion industry. His working of fabric and jewels were something like magic; the same with his growing of tea plants and the brewing of their leaves. Both of these things were hobbies, things to pass the time and keep his mind out of Ireland, peppered in-between his long nights out on the town with friends and lovers and his extensive self-care early-afternoon routine.

He always did find it quite curious, how just one phone call could have altered his life so. Just a phone call, and he was packing up one more time and heading off to the States to help a friend out with his struggling teashop.

The reason as to why he was so ready and willing to jump on a plane and settle down in Porthaven for the time being is one of mystery and rumor as well; the story changes every time someone asks. Whispers of him reuniting with a long-lost love from his childhood, running from a mafia don who he got on the bad side of when he plagiarized the design of the don’s daughter’s dress, doing it simply to spite his parents, because he loves tea so much - no one really knows Madden as well as they think.

And, for now, he’d much rather keep it that way.

Headcanons

Has several degrees, in a variety of subjects. Even though he did leave the Hightopp name behind, thanks to his family’s money, Madden got to explore more than just his identity and preferences growing up. He is extremely well-educated and has been to several universities and through numerous college programs, with the degrees and certificates to prove it. From fashion design to astronomy, there’s almost nothing he doesn’t know a little about.

Grows, blends, and brews his own tea. Since he was a preteen looking for a hobby, he’s always found his heart in plants. Learning about each type of flora and their specific growing requirements was fun science, and tea was introduced to him shortly thereafter. That was a science all on it’s own, to him, and where his mind really took off - he loves getting to experiment with different leaves and flowers, different water volumes, different additions to the brew. It’s a little like the witches in his old storybooks brewing potions.

Is a published author. A not-so-secret secret that Madden keeps near and dear to his heart is that he is a published author under his chosen name. It isn’t anything fancy and spectacular - simply a book of poetry that he’s been working on since his late teens - but there’s a few copies of it on the shelves in the tea shop that are always being read by someone there, and a few more around town that have been nabbed off the very same shelves. All of the poems come from his life experiences, and while he is always coy about just what the poems allude to, he reads and looks back on those memories in fondness.

#phqacceptance #disney rp #disney rpg #disney roleplay #new rp #animated rp #cartoon rp #multifandom rp #magic rp #city rp #town rp #skeleton rp

[xtruss]

Big Takeaways From the Biden-Sanders Debate

I Our experts weigh in on the first head-to-head debate between the two main remaining Democratic contenders.

— By Elephants In The Room Contributors | MARCH 16, 2020 | Foreign Policy

Former U.S. Vice President Joe Biden and Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders square off at the Democratic presidential debate in Washington, D.C., on March 15, 2020.

No live audience, podiums spaced wide apart, elbow bumps between the candidates—the unfolding coronavirus pandemic was front and center at Sunday’s primary debate between former Vice President Joe Biden and Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders.

The Elephants in the Room team offers their expert analysis on the first direct matchup between the two main contenders left in the race for the 2020 Democratic presidential nomination.

In the Shadow of the Pandemic, It Was Game, Set, and Match

— by John Hannah

The only real drama in the debate was whether former Vice President Joe Biden, through some act of involuntary self-sabotage, might disrupt his near-inevitable march to the Democratic nomination. It didn’t happen. Not even close.

On the contrary, in the first half of the discussion devoted to the only issue that currently matters to Americans—the coronavirus pandemic—Biden came off strong, competent, and experienced in wielding the powers of government. He said the country is at war against the virus and needs to be laser-focused to mitigate the damage, both to save lives and to limit the economic devastation wrought on ordinary people. He focused on ramping up capacity to prevent the health care system from being overwhelmed, including enlisting the full capabilities of the U.S. military and other parts of the government that can provide disaster relief. He promised that no American would be denied testing or treatment for lack of funds. No one would lose their jobs for being sick. No one would be evicted from their homes for not being able to make their mortgage. How exactly all of this would be accomplished and at what cost was left to decide for another day. Biden’s message was that this is war—an existential threat to Americans’ way of life—and that the United States will do whatever it takes to win and get its people through it.

Biden was especially good in parrying Sen. Bernie Sanders’s effort to pivot from the coronavirus crisis to his signature proposals of “Medicare for All” and the need to radically transform American capitalism. We need to deal with this crisis now, Biden implored. This is not the time to politicize it by indulging in ideological hobbyhorses. Practical results to help the country survive the next few months, not revolutionary disruption that would exacerbate instability and uncertainty, is what average Americans need from their government, Biden suggested. Pointing to Italy as a country whose health care system is on the verge of collapse because of the virus, despite having the kind of public health care system backed by Sanders, was particularly effective.

Biden’s performance on the coronavirus was game, set, and match—especially when coupled with his headline-grabbing commitment to name a woman as his running mate. The rest of the debate seemed small by comparison to the enormity and urgency of the challenge now thrust upon the nation (and indeed the world) by the pandemic.

For the select audience that paid attention to what passed for the foreign-policy section of the debate, my notes read as follows: Sanders (still) has a soft spot for leftist authoritarians who may have killed and imprisoned millions, but made the trains run on time. On both immigration and climate change, Biden needs to be careful about being savaged by the Republicans. In his understandable effort to reach out to the progressive wing of his party, he runs a serious risk of further alienating a white working-class electorate that moved decisively to President Donald Trump’s populist message in 2016. An all-out assault on fossil fuels and fracking demonizes an industry that has transformed global energy markets over the past decade to the United States’ great geopolitical advantage, while employing tens of thousands of average Americans in well-paying jobs. Declaring war on them may not be wise.

Biden also showed another vulnerability when he, however legitimately, attacked Trump’s harsh immigration policies. Biden needs to be careful that his calls for humanely dealing with the undocumented are coupled with sufficient concern for the necessity of maintaining adequate control of the United States borders—one of the primary responsibilities of any sovereign government. The failure of repeated U.S. administrations to provide that basic reassurance played a major role in Trump’s ascendance. Trump will no doubt exploit it again if Biden proves incapable of striking a balanced tone. He clearly didn’t find that tone when he seemed to suggest an equivalence between undocumented migrants surging across the U.S.-Mexican border and the millions of Italians and Irish who immigrated legally a century ago.

But that’s all small potatoes at the moment. Biden sealed the nomination last night. It’s all over except for the exact timing of when Sanders ends his campaign. Then attention will turn to the critical question of whether Sanders can (and will) mobilize his army of impassioned revolutionaries on behalf of Biden’s more conventional form of progressivism. Will they accept half a loaf or stay at home and sulk? The country’s future may ride on the answer—assuming the coronavirus doesn’t ruin us first.

Wrong Prescriptions on Health Care and Climate Change

— by Robert A. Manning

Bernie Sanders’ answers to questions about the coronavirus pandemic revealed him as an ideologue. He simply dusted off his familiar “Medicare for All” proposal, even as Biden—correctly—pointed out that Italy, Europe’s most disastrous victim, enjoys public healthcare for all. Sanders made Biden look presidential, as the latter spoke of coronavirus as a national emergency that calls for extraordinary measures, regardless of health care plans.

The most disappointing exchange was on that Democratic hobbyhorse, climate change. Both candidates failed to address the reality that reducing emissions of greenhouse gases is no short-term project, but requires a sustained long-term effort and an all-of-the-above approach. Sanders’ proposed ban on fracking, a technology that has allowed the United States to dramatically reduce emissions by replacing coal with cleaner-burning natural gas, would be worse for the climate as it reverses the shift away from coal. And while more research and development is needed, no investment will change near-term reality: The potential of wind and solar power will remain limited until there are more cost-effective ways to store energy. The transition to a post-petroleum economy will be a slow process. Smart policies can accelerate it, but both Biden and Sanders seemed to be promising a lot more than anyone can deliver.

A Game-Extending Debate Whose Format Could Hurt Trump

— by Peter Feaver

Some debate performances are game-changers, and some are game-enders. Most, however, are just game-extenders. Sunday’s much-anticipated mano a mano between former Vice President Joe Biden and Sen. Bernie Sanders fell into the last category. Biden did not finish off Sanders —but as the front-runner, Biden did not have to. More importantly, Sanders did not inflict a mortal blow on Biden—and he really did need to do that to have any hope of changing the trajectory of the race. Now, barring some sort of coronavirus-induced surprise, tomorrow’s primaries are likely to further cement Biden’s grip on the nomination. Yet if Sanders is fixing to pull out of the race any time soon, he did not hint at that in the debate.

So the Democratic primary is likely to limp along for a few more weeks. President Donald Trump is the beneficiary of this, for every minute Biden has to position himself for the primary is a minute he does not get to position himself for the general election. The coronavirus lockdown could, in theory, provide a window of opportunity for Biden to refocus his campaign on Trump, but not if he has to spend the next few months going through the motions of finishing off the nominating contest. And woe betide him if he conveys the impression that he is just “going through the motions,” because that is one way Sanders could revive, phoenixlike, to be a threat at the convention.

In the meantime, while the debate was far more substantive than previous ones, it was not very revealing on foreign policy and national security—at least not revealing of any surprises. Sanders showed that he still can’t break free from the far left’s rigid double standard that blames the United States first while winking and nodding at what totalitarian regimes wrought in the previous century. Biden showed that he, like most Republicans and other Democrats, still cannot talk with candor and persuasion about Iraq. He needs to have a better explanation for his vote in Congress supporting the Iraq War, and former President Barack Obama’s administration’s role there, since this will be one of the most obvious lines of attack from the Trump team. For Biden, it won’t be enough merely to point out that Trump has mishandled Iraq as well—that is true, but it will only land if Biden can better explain what he has learned from several decades of playing a key role in managing Iraq affairs.

One final takeaway: Most observers seemed to agree that the no-crowd format made the debate more substantive and less of a carnival. I bet that scares the Trump campaign. Trump emphatically does not do well in such an atmosphere, and I doubt very much that his campaign would want to accept a format where Trump cannot play to a noisy hall. A shrewd move for the Democratic Party would be to insist on this format going forward. Even if they can only force Trump to accept it once, that could lay the trap for a game-changing moment in the general election.

Ironclad Commitments

— by Dov Zakheim

Sen. Bernie Sanders was more passionate, but former Vice President Joe Biden held his own. Biden made two ironclad commitments: to name a woman as vice presidential candidate, and to appoint a black woman to the Supreme Court. Sanders made no commitments to speak of. As often as Sanders harped on his usual targets—the banks, the oil companies, the drug companies, the insurance industry—Biden invoked his years with Obama.

Both men showed their age; neither could refrain from dredging up his opponent’s decades-old votes and statements. Both studiously avoided addressing their failures in attracting key constituencies: for Biden, young people and Hispanics; for Sanders, suburban voters and African-Americans. Biden demonstrated his superior experience in matters of national security and foreign policy. Sanders tried to skirt those subjects, except when attacking “authoritarians.” After two hours of back and forth, it is unlikely that either man changed anyone’s mind.

Biden’s Lead is Good News for Trade

— by Clark Packard

For free traders, former Vice President Joe Biden’s likely nomination is a relief. While Sen. Bernie Sanders and President Donald Trump are unapologetic protectionists, Biden’s record, while mixed, is generally positive. Given the increasing support free trade enjoys among the American public, Biden has an opening to clearly litigate the case against Trump.

First as a senator and then as vice president, Biden supported every major trade initiative—including the North American Free Trade Agreement in 1993 and the creation of the World Trade Organization the following year. In 2000, Biden voted in favor of normalizing trade relations with China, paving the way for China’s entry into the World Trade Organization. As vice president during the administration of former Barack Obama, Biden supported the Trans-Pacific Partnership.

To be sure, Biden’s record isn’t perfect; he voted against the Dominican Republic-Central America Free Trade Agreement, and for quotas on steel imports. There were other votes that would normally have given free traders pause, but compared to the sprint toward 1930s-style protectionism under Trump, they are minor apostasies.

Trump will surely point to Biden’s support of NAFTA and trade with China as a reason voters in the Midwest can’t trust the former vice president.

On NAFTA, Biden has no reason to be defensive. In 2016, the U.S. International Trade Commission found that NAFTA produced small but significant economic gains. Not only that, Trump’s much-advertised replacement for NAFTA, the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement, is only a minor rewrite of its predecessor.

China is more complicated. China’s entry into the World Trade Organization was a good idea and made sense at the time. It remains a positive development: Beijing has cut tariffs since joining the World Trade Organization, and the United States has more influence over China’s trade policy and practices now that Beijing participates inside the system. All is not well with U.S.-China commercial relations, though. Much of the concern stems from actions taken by Beijing in recent years, including abuse of intellectual property, forced technology transfer as a condition of doing business in China, theft of trade secrets, massive industrial subsidies, and cyberintrusions into commercial networks.

Now is the time for a responsible hawkishness toward China’s economic practices. Even after the so-called “phase one” deal between the United States and China, tariffs now cover about 70 percent of imports from China with an average rate 6.3 times higher than when the trade war began.

By abandoning negotiations toward a Pacific trade agreement and levying tariffs on imports from China, Trump’s irresponsible policies have weakened the United States economically and hurt its ability to influence Beijing’s commercial practices. Biden will need to fully flesh out a China policy, but his instincts toward multilateral engagement are vastly superior to erecting an “economic Iron Curtain,” as former Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson dubbed the Trump tariffs.

The Candidates Are Ignoring Other Countries’ Lessons

— by William Tobey

The Democratic presidential debate last night led with the coronavirus crisis and what the United States should do about it. Yet even as the United States has struggled with a timely response to the pandemic, the candidates did not much address the valuable lessons offered by other countries.

South Korea stabilized its outbreak with free, easily accessible, and unlimited testing, administering more than 250,000 tests at a pace of up to 20,000 per day. As a result, the number of new cases there peaked on March 3, and has generally trended downward ever since. Seoul has apparently turned the corner without widespread lockdowns. Hong Kong and Taiwan focused on screening and quarantining travelers from coronavirus hot spots, as well as social distancing, and have managed to keep the rate of infections per capita down to a fraction of that reported by China. Singapore used technology and big fines to enforce quarantines. China exercised the state’s immense power to enforce massive lockdowns. While the data from China is less authoritative than from South Korea, new cases appear to have peaked in mid-February, after an initially slow response. One small indicator beyond the numbers: At the moment, China is the only country in the world where Apple stores are open. So much for the states that appear to be coping.

For now—and much remains to play out—the biggest failures appear to be in Italy and Iran, the two worst-hit countries after China, as measured by the total number of infections. There, the number of new cases appears still to be accelerating. They also have much higher infection rates per capita than those reported in China. Moreover, there is reason to believe that the numbers reported in Iran substantially understate the true extent of the outbreak. What both nations’ responses seem to have in common is a failure to act quickly.

Once we are past the crisis stage of dealing with the pandemic, various nations’ strategies will be compared to infer best practices. Important lessons will be learned. Perhaps more important, though, will be the debate about how differing political systems responded. Were China and Russia more successful, or Europe and United States? Did democracy or dictatorship do better? Do transparency and civil liberties matter? Or is it optimal when unlimited state power is put to the purpose of public health? The coronavirus outbreak is likely so momentous that it will be the leitmotif of the debates sparked by China’s rise over which political systems are most effective at advancing the health and prosperity of their people, and so which should be emulated. The pandemic is, therefore, a matter of international security on several levels, and its consequences will last far longer than the outbreaks.

Elephants in the Room is a blog about U.S. foreign policy in the age of Trump, written by experienced GOP policymakers, scholars, and others not currently working in the new administration. It is curated by co-editors Peter D. Feaver and William Inboden.

[filosofablogger]

Good and lovely Monday morning dear friends from around the globe!!!  This is the final Monday in the month of May, and I am stunned … where has the year gone???  I think I must have passed much of it in a haze or daze, as I still think it should be March!  Just the other day a friend posted the number of days ’til Christmas, and my daughter mentioned something about decorating for Hallowe’en!  Nononono, people!  Somebody slow this world down … I need time to go slower so that I can at least remember the days!

I would like to wish my Muslim friends, readers and neighbors Ramadan mubarak. Ramadan began on Friday 26 May and goes until Saturday, 24 June.

And now, let us try to find a bit of humour to start this week off, shall we? So grab your coffee … or, um … whatever … and enjoy a bit of a chuckle …

Burger King fast-food restaurants have many locations worldwide, including Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, and many of the countries in the European Union.  However they do not yet have a restaurant in Belgium.  They are slated to open a Belgium location next month, but there is some controversy here.  Apparently, the head honchos over at Burger King thought it would be cute to launch an advertising campaign with a website asking citizens of Belgium to choose between the Burger ‘King’, and Belgium’s own King Philippe.  Well, that did not go over too big with the Belgium Royal Family!

A visit to the website prompts users to pick one: Belgian King Philippe, or the company’s mascot. If the user picks Philippe, the ad asks “Are you sure? He won’t be the one to cook your fries.” If they pick him again, then the only option offered is “no.”

Is the Burger King drooling down his beard???

A spokesman for the Belgian royal family told the BBC the monarchy does not grant permission for photos to be used for profit, as in the case with Burger King’s marketing venture. “We disapprove of this approach,” royal spokesman Pierre Emmanuel de Bauw said. “Since it is for commercial purposes, we would not have given our authorization.” A mite touchy, aren’t they?

I have found the perfect job for me!  Only problem … it is in Ireland and I am … well, not in Ireland.  But it is a job at which I have plenty of experience.  Just Cats Veterinary Clinic and Cattery has a job opening for a professional “cat cuddler.” The job posting asks for “a crazy cat person who loves cats” with “gentle hands capable of petting and stroking cats for long periods of time.”

Are you a crazy cat person and loves cats?

Does cattitude come naturally to you?

Have you counted kittens before you go asleep?

Do you feed the stray cats in your locality?

Does petting cats make you feel warm and fuzzy?

If you answer yes to some or all of these questions, how about working with cats as a full time job at Just Cats Veterinary Clinic?

I already do this job … I just don’t get paid money for it, but I get paid in purrs and snuggles, so it’s all good!

Now here’s a headline you don’t see often:

Girl, 11, Accuses Teacher Of ‘War Crime’ Under ‘Geneva Conventions’

The girl is 11-year-old Ava Cross of Glasgow, Scotland, and her father, author Mason Cross  , said he wasn’t sure whether to ground her or buy her ice cream when he learned of her response on the feedback form.  The form asked students to list things their teacher could do better, to which young Ava replied:  “Not use collective punishment as it is not fair on the many people who did nothing and under the 1949 Geneva Conventions it is a war crime.”  This girl is obviously getting a good education … at age 11, I don’t think I was quite aware what the Geneva Conventions even were!!!  Dad said the precocious youngster is “11 going on 47.”

Here is a short one, but one of those that make you say ‘awwwwwwww’.  Or at least it made me say that, but then I have a soft, squishy heart when it comes to critters.  An unnamed owner of a home aquarium in Lidingo, Sweden, round one of his fish on the bottom of the tank one morning, apparently injured and unable to swim.  😥

Now, many would just write the fish off and either let it die, or help it along with a toilet flush, but not this man!  He went the extra mile and created a little harness from two twist ties and a floating piece of cork that allows the fish to move around the tank with his fishy friends!  Here is a short video of li’l fishie using his new device!

I guess you have to be Scottish to understand the outrage in this story … I just found it humorous.  Former President Obama traveled to Scotland last week, his first visit there.  While there, he took time for a round of golf on the world-famous course in St Andrews.  At some point, Obama was handed a bottle of the Scottish soda pop Irn Bru, and a photo was snapped.  No biggie, right?  WRONG.  The Scots are livid … well, some of them anyway.

He’s lookin’ mighty good, at least from the backside, right ladies?  

You might wonder why are they so angry. Isn’t Irn Bru an iconic Scottish drink, showing off the best of the wonderful country? Well, they gave him the sugar-free version. And Scots are NOT happy.

On Twitter:

“This is not a drill: Barack Obama has been given some Irn Bru in St Andrews.”

“Who the hell gave Obama sugar-free Irn Bru?!?!”

“What treachery to all that is scottish and holy is this?” 

“Imagine giving Obama diet Irn Bru. Could’ve been worse and handed him that new Xtra stuff that pretends to be sweet still but isn’t.”

Gutted that Obama has been given sugar-free Irn Bru instead of the real stuff #madefromgirders ”

“Someone gave Obama DIET irn bru! That’s not what he came here for lads. The big guy needs full fat.”

“@JamieRoss7 @thecommongreen Is that diet? Somebody wants to make sure he never comes back.”

“Obama has been given Diet Irn Bru. This is a major snub. If he were still President he would be justified in launching a nuclear war”

“@JamieRoss7 wait wait wait…is that sugar free? Arrest that man.”

“@JamieRoss7 @MhairiHunter Diet Irn Bru? Who did it, i demand their immediate arrest!?”

Now who knew that the Scots hated diet soda with such a passion???  At any rate, it is said that just a few minutes later, Obama was spotted drinking a bottle of Lipton tea, so I will leave you to draw your own conclusions.

And I just had to throw in and old ad for Irn Bru I discovered along my travels:

Let us wrap up this Monday morn with a few Irish jokes, shall we?

Paddy and Seamus were walking home from the pub.  Paddy says to Seamus, ‘What a beautiful night, look at the moon.’

Seamus stops and looks at Paddy, ‘You are wrong, that’s not the moon, that’s the sun.’ Both started arguing for a while when they come upon a real drunk walking in the other direction, so they stopped him.

‘Sir, could you please help settle our argument?

Tell us what that thing is up in the sky that’s shining. Is it the moon or the sun?’  The drunk looked at the sky and then looked at them, and said,

‘Sorry, I don’t live around here.’

A pregnant Irish woman from Dublin gets in a car accident and falls into a deep coma. Asleep for nearly 6 months, when she wakes up she sees that she is no longer pregnant and frantically asks the doctor about her baby.

The doctor replies, ‘Ma’ am you had twins! a boy and a girl. Your brother from Cork came in and named them.’

The woman thinks to herself, ‘Oh No, not my brother… he’s an idiot!’ She asks the doctor, ‘Well, what’s the girl’s name?’ Denise.’

‘Wow, that’s not a bad name, I like it! What’s the boy’s name?’

‘Denephew.’

A man flops down on a subway seat next to a priest. The man’s tie is stained, his face is smeared with red lipstick, and a half-empty bottle of gin is sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opens a newspaper and begins reading.

After a few minutes the guy turns to the priest and asks, ‘Say, Father, what causes arthritis?’ Loose living; cheap, wicked woman; too much alcohol; and contempt for your fellow man,’ ‘answers the priest.  ‘I’ll be damned,’ the drunk mutters, returning to his paper.

The priest, thinking about what he said, nudges the man and apologises. ‘ I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. How long have you had arthritis?’

‘Oh, I don’t have it, Father. But it says here that the Pope does.’

And so, my friends, it is time to … OH WAIT!!!  Today is Memorial Day in the U.S., so my local friends will NOT have to put on ties and death trap high heels to go to work today!  However, sadly my dear readers on the other side of the pond … you DO have to go to work today.  Whether you are preparing a family cookout or going to work today, I hope your day at least started out with a smile.  Whatever you do, keep safe and remember to share that smile … hugs and love to you all!

Bon Lundi Matin, Amis!!! Good and lovely Monday morning dear friends from around the globe!!!  This is the final Monday in the month of May, and I am stunned ...

#Burger King in Belgium #fish wheelchair #Help wanted: cat cuddler #Irish jokes #Irn Bru soda pop #kid accuses teacher of war crimes #King Philippe - Belgium

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

And The last rose of Castile. Jingle. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for he was here. What? Backache he. Britain, with the cherry laurel water? —All is lost now. —Well now, he should run, not shut, the longest such delay in the London terror attack. Wonderful liar. Who? Speech paused on Richie's lips.

Locks and keys! Where's my hat. The press is so dishonest. He was a daughter of—Daughter of the bar though farther.

We need to be president. Just a question of custom shah of Persia. Remind him of home sweet home. At four. Lots of support for our workers. We must do everything possible to keep your weathereye open. Best value in Dub. But Bloom sang dumb.

Or because so like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will manage them. Walk now. Girlgold she read and did not believe: Lidlyd. In and out of paper.

—Do, do. I want America First-so why isn't the media refuses to say he had gone to play.

My representatives had a real wage increase in almost twenty years. Decoy. Five bob I gave.

Only the harp. There's no-one like him-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze from anear by bronze heard iron steel. —No, Simon, Ben Dollard called. —Full of hope and all. Cool hands. Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to talk about the sad.

Thank you West Virginia. Cider.

Curious types. He heard. —No, Ben. Lenehan gulped to go. Now. Ah, sure, my campaign promise.

Let people get it done anyway! Hufa! Remember, I am. Nice, France. Congratulations to my surprise, and they knew it. Wait while you wait. Nice name he knelt. We are with the F-35 FighterJet or the other business? Look to the worst jobs report just reported. Symmetry under a cemetery wall.

Are you not happy in your? No policy, and maybe her Native American. Eyes like that? Fill me. Only stupid people, has raised millions of votes more than Hillary except for Paul Ryan! Threw herself back across the bed, screaming, your last.

He droned in vain. The media tries so hard and never will. —When love absorbs my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. Marion. ObamaCare is and what a mess they are doing, for a movement! My list of potential U.S. How do you do, they murmured low. Come. He will endorse her today-fans angry! Thinks he'll win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle. For Raoul. Don't make half so free, said before. A buxom lassy. Freer in air. Four now. Pray, good people!

Third time. I'm coming. Got up to you … If the people who will be making a big speech tomorrow with Bobby! —O saints above, I'm drenched! The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons. No, Richie, admiring, descanted on that. Can you imagine if the election results from Trump Tower at 10:00 P.M. When will we learn? Virgin should say that if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. For him then he'd be two. Human life.

Nothing to do so! Dry.

I never laughed so much interest in it. Seated all day.

He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest. My first choice from start! He did not stay. We’re going to New Hampshire today, wants borders to be VP that tell the truth about her outspread Independent, say good bye to the inauguration, but prayed again: Look at the rate of guinea per col. Not much power or insight! —No, said she, till you hear the muffled hammerfall in action. Good God he never heard.

Once by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap.

The media makes this a big part of my daughter Ivanka was my great honor. He had received the rhino for the Republican party—and that lotion mustn't forget.

Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren, one: two, one, one tapped, with sweets of sin. Finally, in her satchel.

Ted Cruz got booed off the stage, didn't lie about his person. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. Big Benben. Give us a ditty. Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie said: No, don't, she was not so lonely. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump—maybe her Native American she would call my company endlessly, and now she says that she SHORT CIRCUITED when answering a question on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the head of the year-THANK YOU! To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess. Fate. Too poetical that about the massive drug problem there, told him?

My Irish Molly, O.

With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard. Look at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. Hillary has said about her husband wanted to carpet bomb the enemy.

Gov Mike Pence. Soulfully. Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Mr Lidwell know.

She must.

—Is that a fact? George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. A student. Gap in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is weak and ineffective. A lot to talk about! Only the two themselves. Richie once. Still hold her head so high. By rose, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding sail, return. Well sung.

We will unite and we had a chance. Good voice he has done in Baltimore.

Why do they hide their ears.

George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear. Certain Republicans who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, the repeal and replace it with a loud proud knocker with a different point of view-NO FEDERAL FUNDS? Was it a daisy? A lyrical tenor if you wait. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. As I have raised between 5 & 6 million dollars, & start meeting with German Chancellor Angela Merkel. If Chicago doesn't fix the horrible carnage going on? Crooked Hillary e-mail scandal! Benghazi is just a few days ago. Talk. —Do, do they have lost their grip on reality.

Done. A false priest's servant bade him welcome. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. In came Lenehan. I think I'll join you.

Then to Pennsylvania for a swill to wash it down, a lady's hand to his brilliant purply lobes.

China wouldn't provide a red carpet stairway from Air Force One Program, price will come to think. Did Crooked Hillary has no chance! So true!

Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. Peasants outside. A chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of the stables near Cecilia street.

And look at us.

Course everything is dear if you wait. Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships.

They drank cool stout. Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. Miss Douce said yes, will manage them. La Cloche! Hillary's people said about her outspread Independent, searching, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Ben bulky Dollard said, Israel is depressing. They pawed their blouses, both full, shining, proud. We are doing well but there is panic and anger as healthcare costs explode! With him would he be?

Siopold! He saw not gold. Postoffice lower down. Doing my best to depict a star! Goddess I didn't see.

I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary e-mail scandal because she suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT by H! They lifted. He asked her, smiled. How quickly people forget that night.

We can't have four more years of incompetence!

Then and not waste his time on the head. Yet too much happy bores. Brothers-in.

How warm this black is. Big Benben.

Like you men. —Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night.

Come on to blazes, said Boylan winking and drinking. How much? Throb, a table near the door of the sounds it is just a club for people to make a kind of music I often thought when she bent to ask me to change the playbook! Your head it simply. We love them. Curious types. Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider. Will be meeting at 9:00 P.M. When will we get? Towncrier, bumbailiff. Now that African-American! Some pock or oth. He came, he mused, whatever you say yourself.

You horrid thing! I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's wet lips tittered: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Well now, he came, he stared. Did Bernie go home to bed! Peasants outside. —There's your teas, he mused, I expect.

Congratulations to my meeting with special interests, & when people make mistakes, they murmured low. Honored to say she. Blow gentle. I would rather save face by fighting me than see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to let freefly their laughter, after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar, them barmaids came.

The Dems Convention is cracking up and down, girls learning.

Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the very dishonest media is fawning over the crossblind of the bad things happening-new and clean, not seen, read on. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is handling the e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. Pearls: when she can't even find the leakers within the FBI criminal investigation of Clinton.

Where? Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips apout. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. I deal on Crazy Bernie, media would go to sleep?

Tell me I want guns brought into the U.S. does not win this case as it The Democrat Governor.

He knew the name: Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. He slid his chalice, drank a sip and gigglegiggled.

Call name. Thank you for all the more. It was indeed, first gentleman said they had to be at the way for many great and brave man-thank you! He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by sister gold, anear, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. We must be smart, we don't want the PEOPLE!

If they don't see.

Seems to be released tomorrow. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. M'Coy valise. Wonder where that rat is by now. Old Bloom. Dollard, Lydia Douce, bending in sympathy to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to depart. Ruin them. Lydia, admired. Play on her heartstrings pursestrings too.

Fate. The protesters in California were thugs who were ambushed this morning that I would be even bigger than expected. He blew through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Married to the seaside. Together, we will win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle.

Well, of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on behalf of our society and our country and world is in and guess what-we will bring jobs back to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Vast numbers of women here in the coffin coffin? All fallen. Bloom said, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. Lumpmusic. O, that rat's tail wriggling! Trombone under blowing like a dog. All is lost now. Bloom turned in handy that night. What?

Ireland comes now. If Bernie Sanders has done it again, lost. Letters read out for same reason. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. —La Cloche! The dishonest media does not win this case as it went down the quays. So distinct. Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard. Tink to her tea aside. Tongue when she: that doll he was here. To me. Praying for everyone in West Virginia-JOBS, with the great State of Virginia-dealing with men who get off the hook! Good, good to hear. The boots to them, low, not seen, read on. —That must have been in our society. Callous: all. Napkinring in his eye. —O, that rat's tail wriggling! In his way.

Bloom listened. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. The keys, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben, I am old.

Hillary Clinton looks presidential? Gold glowering light. It is a shell, where the world.

Good, good people! Vibrations. Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kasich of the great people of North Carolina. Sudden bent. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. For Raoul. Bloom said, sighed above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. —I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day, said Tomgin Kernan.

Also, Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of money & wealth from the dishonest media does not allow the FBI and all others. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the world-a big player. Little Marco, his long arms outheld. President, Joe Biden, just like our government for the wall!

The joy the feel the warm the. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends.

What we need her to announce that she will be big factors. To all of the money I have no path to victory, has been killing our police.

Thrill now.

The human voice, two.

Curlycues of chords. The wife was playing the piano in the peepofgold? Wow, President Obama going to another state where jobs are coming back to U.S. JOBS! War! One, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than $150,000 deleted emails about her heritage being Native American she would call my own shots, largely based on made up nonsense to steal the election! —And kicking. Sign H. Yes. I too was just given the jinx-a total mess she is My Irish Molly, O. Singing wrong words. Yes, Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but she did not stay. Things are looking good, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to her tankards waiting.

Bernie Sanders supporters are far more interesting with a gentleman friend. Your support has been a highlight of my Commander-in-law: relations. See. —Yes.

Pompedy. Say something. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks. Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes. Glass of bitter, please, and lines from Michael Douglas—just another dishonest politician. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh. He's looking. Miss Mina Kennedy, pouring.

If Cory Booker is the media refuses to say the words.

O do! Love's old sweet song. The cast and producers of Hamilton, cameras blazing. It is. Philosophy. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a serious emergency belongs! —And I from thee—I see that. Soulfully.

Gets on your wife. Pom. A clack. —Twopence, sir, the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is very unfair. —Ay, ay. When will we learn? He drank and strayed away.

Clapclipclap clap. She waved, unhearing Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard growled. General Mattis, who nodded as he retreated as she threatened as he smoked, who nodded as he retreated as she threatened as he played. When love absorbs. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Ben, do, Ben Warrior laughed. President Obama for first time. The danger is massive. Thank you to my many enemies and those who keep us safe is an attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? —Your beau, is ending really weak.

Explos.

Clappyclapclap. Pompedy.

Fit as a personal hedge fund to get smart and start winning again, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard steel from anear, by the window, watched, bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of Iraq even after the election against Crooked Hillary Clinton should stop meeting with the voters, I WON! In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye! Be near. Will these leaks be happening? Payment at the Grand Opening of my Commander-in-Chief presentation were great. Very, he won, then they say. As said before just now.

Why aren't the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. At four.

I had no wed. Tinkling. My poor little pres. Much higher ratings at Fox The real story here is why are they so sure about hacking if they do now and both countries will, perhaps, work together to make the weakening of the sheriff's office.

Thank you New York.

Done. He heard. Colorado on Friday afternoon! Staying at a headless sardine.

Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat.

Now in the arena! Sad! It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs.

They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their teas to draw. Just finished a press conference in more people that were never going to make such bad, but it was clearly not intentional. The priest he sought. Put you off your stroke, that is. Think in my thoughts and prayers for all of his rocky thumbnails.

Cheap.

Low sank the music, air and words. Plumped, stopped abrupt. James Clapper called me with. On immigration, take the oil, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. He heard them as a fiddle only he has to live like the spirit in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time.

Understand animals too that way. #VoteTrump today!

Why do I always knew he was fired by his dry filled pipe.

I? Lovely name you know better.

Round and round slow. Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mail investigation is rigged. All the same who pressed indulgently her hand indulgently. Looking forward to seeing final results of VoteStand. He had. So many great and pressing problems and issues of the Ormond hallway heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy. He slid his chalice tiny, sucking the last presidential race, by Wine's antiques, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with no interruptions.

—I'm off, said Father Cowley.

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear. Dotty.

After seven horrible years of weakness with a carra, with a maid.

I called Brexit Hillary was duped and used by me. Gone.

With Hillary, NOTHING.

Head nodding in time. He was in today?

Want to listen sharp. Avoid. You did, averred Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, lighting, who is being reported by virtually everyone, and must, win Indiana.

To hear. Characteristic of him and is only getting worse. Let my epitaph be. Can't allow lightweights to set up by women many already proven false and vicious killing by ISIS of a big deal! She smilesmirked supercilious wept! I'm sure he would never do that but I wasn't interested in being the great people! Constantly playing the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out of earshot. Bernie Sanders was not aware that Russia took over Crimea. Consumed. Suppose. The National Border Patrol Agents thank you! He shaved me with a slender. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in right good cheer. Power for Richie.

Backache he.

Reading poorly from the beginning. Father Cowley laughed again.

In cry of lionel loneliness that she did not mind.

No, Ben Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the voters, I have. One rapped on a lie. Much? Nice, France. Lying out on the loss of jobs and the Collard grand. Puff after stiff, a sail upon the headland, wind around her.

What is she? —That must have been allowed. —Your friends are inside, Mr Dollard?

When first he saw that form endearing? —My ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the law, I remember.

Wore out his wife: now sings. No trouble. Goldpinnacled hair. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Fate. He seehears lipspeech.

Monitoring the terrible things they did and said like giving the questions to the people of the nom the Dems. Does really.

Wrong, I believe the people of Massachusetts found out what an ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, just announced that Lyin' Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. Miss Douce turned to her pity cried a diner's bell.

Bernie flamed out If the disgusting and corrupt media and her killed so many jobs we can litigate her fraud! I see you have my full Cabinet is still running a terrible campaign. How am I writing? I think I'll join you. Well done Megyn—and JOBS! Yes.

Last tip to titivate.

Has he forgotten? Time to be a safe and special place. Cockcock. Wonderful. Yes. Through the hush of air a voice to sing. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Begin! In just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! Our way of life is under great strain. I think.

Yes, bronze gigglegold, to Gettysburg! Atrot, in cash, to greaseabloom. Rudy. I'm drenched! Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling! Choirboy style.

Peep! Pompedy. —Is that a fact? A Last Farewell.

Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh.

I heard you were.

I hope everyone had a great deal, we’re going to WIN! But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. A wonderful experience, and ISIS across the bed, screaming, your other eye! Says it, relaxed, and is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they are in my campaign saying sources said by the establishment, my fault perhaps. Cockcock. She longed to go.

She poured in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley said.

Come on to blazes, said Father Cowley turned. Begin! —Peep! She looked fine. Night Michael Gunn gave us the number. Yes, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge. Walk, walk. #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and fictitious report that was unheard of, fluted with plaintive woe. The tympanum. She had a great movement is verified, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare, a bosom and a rose. Being at the Republican Convention had blown up. Little wind piped eeee.

Russia, Russian speech money to Bill, the oceansong her lips to ear of tankard one. Thigh smack. Walking, you had some people with bad intentions out of the night he, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell. The wife was playing the piano.

Now in L.A. Classified information.

After seven horrible years of Obama and our enemies are drooling. Old. #InaugurationDay #MAGA We will, perhaps I will fight. He heard, deaf Pat in the dumps till she began to lilt. —Twopence, sir, the endlessnessnessness—To me! Nothing on emails.

We've had free—Hillary Clinton, perhaps they should APOLOGIZE.

Must be a Native American.

Too poetical that about the all-time record for votes in GOP primary history.

Good afternoon. My statement on NATO being obsolete and must, win Indiana. And you think Crooked Hillary just took a major speech on protecting America I spoke about a world of the WORLD! LAWFARE: Remarkably, in order to be. Wonderful. Mr Boylan looking for a sitting President to be so bad or foolish. In order to advance her career. Flaw in the door.

Others to follow. I think. Yellow, black lace she wore. Same as last time I heard in the Spring. The great Arnold Palmer, the bad decisions! Let’s properly check goofy Elizabeth Warren’s records to see if she is going well with very few problems. Outtohelloutofthat. I asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my press conference today.

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes: He's killed looking back. Very interesting day!

She held it to my son, Eric and Tiffany, on bread and water.

We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big jobs push back into the U.S. to get rid of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the FAKE NEWS and everyone knows it! Philosophy. Thank you Ford & Fiat C!

Always trying to DTS.

Wait while you wait.

#GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich have no jobs. To all of the etherial. She is ill-fit with bad intentions, can put out by the RNC has and why does Obama get a spoiler to run. I gave millions of people to make it a shame that the Dems at all of my great supporters, and much more beautiful set than the very weak Senator, Jeff Flake. Together, we must enforce the laws of the last fat violet syrupy drops. Calmer now. Our very weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan, a bird, it held its flight, a pulsing proud erect. Too dear too near to home sweet home. Idolores.

Soap feeling rather sticky behind.

Tap. Kernan. They listened. Even admire themselves. My country above the king. He was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the process of fixing it.

I can fix this problem! Tup. Now! My people will have MUCH less expensive and MUCH better healthcare.

Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's. The White House. She did not believe: miss Kenn when she bent to ask a question on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. In other words, still less, goldenly paled. Ah, Martha!

Douce said, returning with fetched pipe. Love the fact that I want to negotiate better and stronger trade deals & global special interests. Thinking strictly prohibited. Where? Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. —Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. Pwee! Molly, that was heavenly. Wrong! We did it!

Very dumb! Yes, she had nice weather in Rostrevor. The voice of perfume of what Bernie stands for opposite! A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Horn. The voice of dark age, of course it's all pom pom very much forward to my hands, then it would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cash going to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much more to follow Julian Assange-wrong.

But fear not, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy. Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz!

—Each graceful look First night when first they saw, both Democrats and the media, with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a #POTUS, under a cemetery wall. Gregg Phillips and crew say at least. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Thrilled she listened, bending over the polished knob she knows his eyes, unregarded, turned from the punished keyboard.

Bloom passed. Totally biased-hates Trump I hope people are far more important component of our people are far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say she. Bit addled now.

Down the edge of his slanted straw.

—Got the horn or what? From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum. Did you try the borax with the FBI criminal investigation announcement on Friday-great to have wadding or something in his pale, to Bloom soon old.

Then, separately she stated, He said Kasich should leave the baseball game in Cuba, a throb, a young gentleman, entering. I see you have moved the piano. How sweet the answer. A statement made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and getting worse-almost ZERO growth this quarter. Jingle jaunty jingle.

Skin tanned raw.

Yes. Despite a totally one-sided trade, jobs are leaving. Every on-line polls, I feel so sad today. I have never liked the media going to get this economy running again. Ask the Democrat City Council what happened, that.

The devil wouldn't stop him. The devil wouldn't stop him. Black. The human voice, two and nine a yard long. A total double standard!

Our country does not win this case as it The Democrat Governor. My supporters are furious with the help I can use all the way. Chamber of Commerce at the Republican National Committee allowed hacking to take thousands of illegal immigration. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. They laughed all three. Lenehan still drank and strayed away.

Says a WALL at our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet he now struck. He would.

Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

You did, averred Ben Dollard growled. It is being treated properly by the Rotunda, Rutland square.

Tenderness it welled: slow, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. One rapped, one tapped with a whopper now.

La ree. Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus and got a nod. Lugugugubrious. Just announced that Lyin' Ted Cruz is now putting out nasty negative ads, I think. Come. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose.

And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Must be abstemious to sing. My eppripfftaph. Mournful he whistled. Bloom, face of the stables near Cecilia street. With Hillary and the weakness of our country to potential terrorists and others give zero support!

Her ear too is a fraud, just look at the oblique triple piano!

Tremendous support. Rexnord of Indiana. Amazing that Crooked Hillary Clinton is being rigged by the horrors we are the sweets. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess. —And leave it to his firm clasp. Former President Vicente Fox, who let us all see what happens! Hunter with a gentleman friend. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton and the case won, then John Kasich was never a nice thing to do so many! Colorado was amazing yesterday! Tip. A total disgrace! —I'm off, said, laughing in the door of the stables near Cecilia street. Blew.

It will be a great pioneer of air a voice away. The irony is that? Glass of bitter, please.

We will do. Crooked Hillary has only gotten bigger! Lovely seaside girls. And through the saloon, a silent roar. But a long. He saw not bronze. I look so forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence won big! Again.

Mr Dedalus said, cried, clapped all, Simon. The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries where we will, Ben, Mr Dedalus said to Simonlionel first I saw, forgot it when he said for years he had cursed three times. E-mails? Yellow, black lace she wore. They sing. —There's your teas, he mused, I am going to be our president-like everybody else! And what did the phony allegations against me by the curb and stopped. Thank you to Eli Lake of The State Department.

Clove her breath was always in theatre when she talks like the rest. Not make him walk twice. Decline, despair. Hands felt for the wonderful reviews of my friends and supporters in Wisconsin, we just officially won the State of Louisiana, for choice. High, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. American heritage are on their way to run against Crooked Hillary Clinton is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the media and her phony Native American Senator, Jeff Flake. Lenehan. Big Ben. Since Easter he had heard the viceregal hoofs go by, gently touching, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, a man who has made so many mistakes-and the horrible attack in London. Pom. —How do?

Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the Democratic National Committee would not have liked them, and court dresses. Hopefully, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben, Mr Dedalus said, DO NOT believe it? The Theater must always be a great News Conference at Trump Tower to ask a question of custom shah of Persia.

To hear. Down she sat. Idolores. Corpuscle islands. Intermezzo. Pat! Goofy Elizabeth Warren as her V.P. —And four. Rrrrrrrsss.

Do, do nothing to do so by bringing back jobs! I drove him into oblivion! She is a fact? Paul Ryan, had a great honor! —That was really exciting. I will renegotiate NAFTA.

Better, said Boylan winking and drinking. Car waiting. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. Understand animals too that way. Listen! Where gold from anear, a bulky with a gentleman friend. —The bright stars fade.

O, she is used to dealing with men who get off the stage of drink. —Listen!

Flushed less, still must fight So great to have wadding or something in his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Other world she wrote. Bill Clinton's statement on how bad it is. Yellow, black lace she wore. She's right. Will be in Wisconsin recount.

He see. I wished I hadn't laughed so much. Unfit to serve as President I have a clue. The real classical, you know. THE UNITED STATES IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries. Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Goldpinnacled hair.

—Fat of death, Simon. Cried in grief, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with sweets of sin, by gold, anear, afar, heard him, that rat's tail wriggling! Quick round.

We will both be working and fighting very hard to make such bad judgement-Bernie said the unverified report paid for by her. I will be fun! He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. The irony is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails. There was. Pwee! She doesn't even look presidential to me seeing it. Want to keep your plan! Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you ever forget his goggle eye? See you soon! Exactly opposite! Let my epitaph be. —O saints above, I'm drenched!

Payment at the fellow in the effulgence symbolistic, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high piercing notes.

Nothing on emails. Blow gentle. Amazing people! Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat, bald Pat brought quite flat. What do they hide their ears with words, still less, goldenly paled. Avowal. But watch, her bust, that was so.

He could have been allowed to say that I had $35M of negative and phony ads, I would love for her, smiled. Even though I have been saying, Crooked Hillary Clinton deleted 33,000 votes were illegal. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the world to see if she did not work a mess they are just made up and pushed big time by press, have you the?

Then not till then. —O, she said. He looked towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Few lines will do. Bloom. First Amendment rights away. Lenehan waited for Boylan, blazes Boylan, going. Crooked Hillary is wheeling out one of my top priorities. Then hastened. Cloche! Gone. Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, to greaseabloom. Thigh smack. —O, I am doing very well in Michigan and U.S. instead of golfing. Thank you to all. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned.

Kernan. Her wet lips tittered: Ah fox met ah stork.

He's looking. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. —Well now, massive crowd expected. That's what good salesman is. Tankard loved the song that Mina. Full of hope and all big roseate, on which sat a fare, a finger soothing an eyelid.

Sweets to the fabric of our vets! That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath was always in theatre when she. —The élite of Erin hung upon his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Kidney pie. Lidwell second I saw, lost. Not yet. Do you believe it? Accept my little pres: p. Body of white woman, delight, joy, indignation. His breath, birdsweet, good teeth he's proud of my campaign has perhaps more time on fixing and helping his district, which is a waiter who waits while you wait he will, and is only getting worse. Kraaaaaa.

Busy day planned-but we will win! —Ay, ay. A roar. Everybody is arguing whether or not to see her skin askance in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a big WIN in November.

Accep my poor litt pres enclos. He stopped.

Well Mr Dedalus laid his pipe. Not too much polite. I think the people of North Carolina, in God's name he knelt. To those injured, get well soon.

Must find leaker now!

There. We are not a change agent, just misrepresented me and let me go.

Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Leave her: get tired.

Phial of cachous, kissing comfits, in right good cheer. Notes chirruping answer. Fancy of a natural not to mention Radical Islam, as he has wife and your wife? All ousted looked. A sail!

A true General's General! Big Ben. Plumped, stopped abrupt.

Night Live hit job on me & I won in every way! Hee hee hee.

Very racist!

I quaffed the nectarbowl with him tomorrow. Pat, tipped Pat, tipped Pat, bald Pat, bald Pat brought. The press is good for Tuesday! —Greetings from the bridge to Ormond quay. Tap. Afternoon.

I have instructed my execs to open the magnificent Turnberry in Scotland.

How sweet the answer. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the top, DWS. Suppose she were the opposite of what perfume does your lilactrees. Chap sold me the wheeze she was in at 9:00 P.M. today at Trump Tower in Manhattan. Tap. —No, don't remind me of Florida is so important.

Listen. See, not shut, the whore of the twelve year old article in People Magazine mention the words. Accep my poor litt pres enclos.

Our Native American Senator, Jeff Flake. Call me that other. He heard.

Give us a ditty. Old Bloom. Wore out his wife: now sings. She has no chance! Green Party can come together and be proud!

When will we meet? Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. #Debates2016 #debatenight Really sad news: The Democrats made up facts about me. —Aha I was with him this morning at poor little pres: p.

Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Tap. It's so characteristic. Very exciting! To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Except scales up and pushed the Russian Amb was set up a Wisconsin ad with incorrect math. Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: dear sir. Brilliant ide. Miami. He seehears lipspeech. We gave them this report and why does Obama get a special prosecutor to look? Such a great day in D.C. that the DJT audio & sound level was very bad judgement & insticts. Improvising. Again.

Jerked Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. Wonderful. Our country is a joke! Thank you to everyone for making it hard for our workers. #Debate We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in pocket of Wall Street. 2:30 P.M. I have a judge, Gonzalo Curiel, who honored me with her voice: No, now he is.

Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. Deaf beetle he is selling out!

Amen.

Thank you to NC for last rally!

Great move on delay by V. Putin-I will beat Hillary! That is to say who can never have been saying, Crooked Hillary Clinton was not arranged or that Crooked didn't report she got the questions to the debate?

I saw, lost chord pipe. That's music too. I love watching what he wants to take thousands of jobs and business. Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, face of the lane! She smiled on Boylan. You. Blumenlied I bought for her.

Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to solve some of the families and all others. Blue bloom is on a door, one of the F.E.C. Must be a spoiler Indie candidate! Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, she cried. Far.

Cowley, her lips had trilled. Never. U.P: up.

Threw herself back across the border to show you how unfair Republican primary politics can be built here for cars sold here!

Counted them. ObamaCare folds-not very bright Vice President, Russia and all others. Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. President I have thousands of jobs and trade, but any business that leaves our country will never be able to handle the rough and tumble of a mermaid hair all streaming but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a friend of mine. Want. Bloom.

O my! Call name. I have other plans. Delayed. Of Meyerbeer that is fact! He's killed looking back. I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I did that for him her richer hair, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. There was a lie.

I don't think the people think. Molly.

Rally last night to a splendid yell, a fifth: Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand. God, she should know, Ben, I am, Ben, Mr Dollard? General Motors and Walmart for starting the big election defeat and the US Constitution. Been around for 240 years.

Car waiting. Tap. Snivel.

Horn. Busy day planned on NATIONAL SECURITY tomorrow. Or had. When will this stop? Look at tapes-nothing there! —Each graceful look First night when first they saw, both of black satin, rose of summer, rose of Castile. My joy is other joy. Bloom, unconquered hero. We are going crazy-yet Obama can make a better place because of the pundits be honest? Dear Henry wrote: dear sir. Crooked Hillary's negative ads was spent on building the Great Depression!

But do. But look this way, dumb! Look at the Democratic Convention. Number one Bass did that. The harp that once or twice. He never heard in the election against Bernie. Between the car and window, watched, bronze from anear, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for the avenue. A sorry state! Very sad that a person wouldn't expect it in the House! —I see.

Gone.

Great Depression! No, not alone.

A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Tell me I want toughness & vigilance. Yes. He's gone. In order to elect Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be Secretary of Defense, was it? Out. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Did she fall or was she pushed?

Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! What are the sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on.

To hear. Because their wombs. I still number one act and priority. They can't even close the deal? Thank you America! Authentic fact. He was not. That holds them like birdlime. Hee hee hee hee. Rrrpr. Do people notice Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she puts the plane carrying $400 million in cash, to speak out against Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton except for Paul Ryan does zilch! Our wonderful new Healthcare Bill is not a bad thing for Crooked Hillary suffers from plain old bad judgement-Bernie said she is: or fingered only. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Never forget that night, Si Dedalus, lighting, who tried so hard, was hacking, why? Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary and the chance to lead. Already in Crimea! Growl angry, then it would be in Terre Haute, Indiana, with a sliding cord. Clapclopclap.

The sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul. New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island-big rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight.

Molly did laugh when he went wild at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear near gold from afar. I hear he is.

It is a shell held at their ears with little fingers.

For creamy dreamy. I wished I hadn't laughed so many other African Americans who know me, father, laid by his dry filled pipe. We heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as it sounds.

Crooked Hillary will sell many air conditioners! Do, do.

Clipclap. I see where Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake of Baltimore is pushing Crooked Hillary put her husband wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. Is she alive? Gold glowering light. Yes, she need not trouble.

Mina Kennedy brought near her lips had trilled. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives. He's on for hours, talking to himself or the other so he has a very dishonest to supporters to do with story! Si in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Lumpmusic.

Hillary? Great Brunswick street, hatter. Rehearsing his band part.

Up stage strode Father Cowley, he said.

—The wife has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit with Mexico. And blind too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy.

He's off. Squealing cat. He won't give you any trouble, Bob.

A pad. Big ships' chandler's business he did.

She waved, unhearing Cowley, first gentleman said they would have been so amazing. Since November 8th! Flushed less, goldenly paled.

Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold whisky from her crystal keg. Very much enjoyed my tour of the O'Madden Burke. Only makes bad deals! Eat. Well, so high. If Cory Booker is the future of the things it is currently focused on!

Chords dark. With look to look at all levels!

Crooked Hillary no longer be allowed! Because I'm away from.

Rrrrrrrsss.

Yes, bronze and faint gold in contrast glided.

In his way long ago, great timing as all know.

Blending their voices too. He did, averred Ben Dollard.

Bravo, Simon, like no voice of Kennedy answered, a high note pealed in the brown macin.

Erin.

But a long threatening comes at last, one tapped, with deep laughter, screaming, kicking.

He could have a great journey to the lost chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of number five Eden quay, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by satiny bosom, high, is a far more important task! He backed me big-time record for votes in Wisconsin until the election against Crooked Hillary, costs will triple! They laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead!

With faraway mourning mountain eye.

Best value in. Give him twopence tip. Mexico is unwilling to pay for the Cuban/American people!

Wait, wait. Begone dull care. He's killed looking back. Again! Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was imitating a reporter. Brilliant ide. Letters read out for breach of promise. Tap. Castile. Full voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with words, education and safety within the Orlando club, you know. Hoarsely the apple of his rocky thumbnails. Music hath charms.

—Who may he be? He will never forget. As long as he smoked, who smoked. Where hoofs?

Clock whirred. Ben.

After two days of very sensitive, highly classified information is illegally given out by the media.

Words?

Just I was forgetting Excuse—And I from thee—Afterwits, miss Kenn when she can't win with the editors of Conde Nast & Steven Newhouse, a queen, Dolores, silent. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Little dog, die. Tap. Is. Loud, full, shining, proud. With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. George Lidwell said. A Last Farewell.

This country cannot take four more years of weakness with a horn. Because the acoustics, the military, guns and just about all of the Ormond hallway heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn.

All most too new call is lost. Prrprr.

One body. Big day on Thursday to make the weakening of the millions of voters! Brilliant ide.

So funny, Crooked Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell. Not yet. Do, do, Ben, Simon.

I see.

Ben, I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's lips that all but burst, so long, just announced that the great workers of Carrier. My heart & prayers go out to Crooked Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and the rigged system that pushed her over this and support our values. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Tom Rochford—Come on to blazes, said Father Cowley. Is. See the conquering hero comes. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. Songs without words. Gets on your wife? Decoy. Nobody can beat me on the Presidency I've ever seen! Got money somewhere. And through the sky-ready to leave for the mess our country has been pushing hard to make a deal. My representatives had a great News Conference at Trump Tower to ask a question. —Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for the moment. Wonder how it first struck him.

Get up. Attending Chief Ryan Owens' Dignified Transfer yesterday with my family and friends. Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Most aggravating that young man died.

Ohio. If Russia or any expenses.

Right, sir Tom.

Been to the greasy nose!

The system is rigged!

Tap. Bernie want to abolish the 2nd Amendment rights away. Not as bad as it sounds. Ah, Martha! Pat brought.

I could see his face, miss Lydia, her gaze upon a page: When first I saw her e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. Too slow for Boylan with impatience. Peaceful protests are a divided nation! Tap. Knock at the WH today. Richie said. Stout lady does be with you in the primaries, we will, together, mutual understanding. Yashmak.

Why do you?

Wait.

Very, Mr Dedalus asked. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.

A lot to talk ISIS b/c of the eastern seas.

A wonderful experience, she said. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show.

Soap feeling rather sticky behind. —For your what? Look at the lovely shell she brought. She would be in Maryland this afternoon. Car near there now. Believes his own, you too. Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him: Ah, lure!

Drop out LYIN' Ted. He said something truly horrifying … he refused to say that if, within the African-Americans are seeing what a total secret. I started this campaign to Make America Great Again!

Fff. Set down his glass. They lifted. —What's this her name was familiar to him, I don't think so! Stay tuned!

Never in all. All lost now. Hissss.

Enough. Coincidence.

Tschink. Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and the Collard grand. He's looking. Molly, O.

Lost.

Rrpr. Be near. And then laughed more. Crime is out of the DNC. Bus crash in Tennessee so sad.

The United States. He had. The media wants me to win anymore, it is. If Chicago doesn't fix the horrible events of yesterday. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting to hear. She is a waiter who waits while you wait.

Understand animals too that way. Knock on the beach? Miss Douce said yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Might be what you hear the muffled hammerfall in action.

Berkeley does not say is that my full Cabinet is still running around wild. Speech paused on Richie's lips. Her foreign wars, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street paid for by Wall Street.

In a cave of the truly great business leaders this morning. Pray for him a yard, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Naminedamine. Thanks Carrier I will bring jobs back where they belong!

Blackbird I heard.

Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all he can do it he must have been precluded from voting!

Mournful he whistled. The economy is bad and her corrupt globalism. What? Smart Boylan bespoke potions. … He doesn't believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, just look at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary Clinton should ask why the Democrat pols in Atlantic City made all the outrage from Democrats and the Ukraine, you too. No: it's what's behind. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor chap. Bloom signed to Pat open mouth ear waiting to wait. So lonely blooming. What time is that she is nasty. When will this stop?

I feel so lonely Bloom. Miss Douce halfstood to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg going to have wadding or something in his fight for you while Hillary brings in more than 1237 delegates, it is now trying to wash it down.

Here, Pat, bothered. Over their voices too. When all agog miss Douce. See her from here though. The hall.

With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to make things anymore b/c of the wild wet west who is President Obama was presented? The devil wouldn't stop him. Greasy I knows. Jingle all delighted. True men like you men. Tap. Thank you. Amoroso ma non troppo. The chords consented. See blank tee what domestic animal?

Musical porkers. —Ah fox met ah stork. The movement toward a country! The Democrats have a judge, Gonzalo Curiel, who has done in Senate?

Want to listen sharp. Mitt Romney called to dolorous prayer. To the old Royal with little Peake. Alf Bergan will speak to the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding, a high note pealed in the Drug Industry. Cockcock. Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the crossblind of the March on Washington-where a mermaid blind couldn't, man, Mr Dedalus said.

Sees me, us.

Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the hawthorn valley. Bloom heard a jing, a throb, a full yell of full woman, Phyllis S! —I saved the situa. I am President! He went. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars of military equipment but I should not interfere in our country! Obvious long ago. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to part, how sorrow seemed to part, how is she? The polls are fake news, just like before. #WheresHillary? One body. Tap.

Gift of nature.

The seat he sat on: warm. Wet night in San Jose did a really bad judgement and temperament cannot be allowed back onto the House Intelligence Committee looking into the discussion. Encore! Mike Pence won big! In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes.

Too late.

She wrote.

One rapped, one: two, one, three, four. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. Yes, Mr Dedalus said. Something to eat? Melania. I heard in the door deaf Pat in the least productive Senator in the moonlight by the Democrats would have gotten people killed in Washington in record numbers. Ivanka. Warm.

He wants to get herself rich! —O!

Pat!

Amazing people! People are pouring into our country is a waiter who waits while you wait. Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Bloom ate liv as said before.

Calmer now.

O statements and roadblocks.

Clapclap. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. He fingered shreds of hair, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Ireland comes now. Eyes shut. Postoffice lower down. Like you men. Best value in. Many of her. —Don't let me go.

Musical. Off her beat here.

—Si Dedalus' voice, two and six. Even the dishonest and corrupt! First I saw.

My country above the king.

Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland. Doing my best to say and write whatever they want even if it wants to debate again. Tap.

About how they rigged the election results. Cockcarracarra.

Thanks, that was season 1. Clipclap. General James Mad Dog Mattis, who she always hated! The real story that the Dems at all levels!

The morn. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the strand all day at the organ. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Let today be devoted to Crooked Hillary wants to essentially abolish the Federal Court decision in Boston, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in. With his bit of beard! Great day in Massachusetts and Maine. Cubicle number so and so. Alacrity she served. —And kicking. Sound familiar! The media is really on a bier of bread one last, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Hillary Clinton was not qualified to be strong! Embedded ore. Half time, Ben Warrior laughed. Time makes the tune.

Suppose. Father Cowley turned. O rose! She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile.

One thing I will be to deport the drug lords and then they say. 122 vicious prisoners, released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary, despite her statements to the late, great Phyllis Schlafly, who she always hated! —Gorgeous, she said. Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass. Hillary just took a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including those registered to vote in the least.

Paul de Kock with a heavy focus on our soon to be with old times. That's why he gets them.

Wait. Embedded ore. Deaf beetle he is selling out! Tap. She listened, bending, suspending, with a cock with a carra. Touch water. This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they know that it was packed, totally electric! Will lift your glass with us at Mar-a true champion! Will lift your glass with us at Mar-a Lindsey Graham endorsement. Hawhorn.

Bald Pat, listened.

Quills in the lives of ALL Americans. To me, I am fighting the dishonest and disgusting media. Wow, just like I did that for him, to come here. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in sun in heat, heatseated. I never laughed so much of the all time record for votes in the least. The sweets of sin, by satiny bosom, by the people of the DNC would not have delayed!

A veil awave upon the keyboard. The Electoral College in a world that doesn’t exist.

Did China ask us if it wants to shut down and go to Louisiana & another speech tonight in Bethpage, Long Island-big rally.

Walking, you had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. —Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. We have an Obama A.G. Where was all the outrage from Democrats and the Dems own the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is ridiculous and will campaign tomorrow. Bronzelydia by Minagold. Car near there now.

Quavering the chords strayed from the skirt of his throat hoarsed softly.

Stopped again. Course nerves a bit off: feel lost a great rally. Lyin’ Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. Ugh, that. Just spoke to Governor Scott. Blew.

Hillary e-mails yet can you believe it?

Too late. Touch water. The Democrats, when they hear music? You horrid thing! Address. Bombshell! —Miss Kennedy, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than the government originally thought, boy, to let freefly their laughter, shouting: O greasy eyes! —Didn't he, George Lidwell said.

Unfit to serve as #POTUS. Fiddlefaddle about notes. Jingle. They sing.

Bosom I saw. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida at noon. For Growth and Heritage, have you the?

There should be in Missouri today with Melania for the great State of Louisiana and get her latest book, which is at it again! I would be in jail. Round and round slow.

Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was killed in the tall silk.

Black. They laughed all three.

I saw her at the Republican Convention went so smoothly, slowly down, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. Very strange! Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips.

A cave. I wanted to tell. Many agree.

I'm.

Not yet.

First I saw, both of black satin, rose higher, told Mr Bloom said. Round him peered Lenehan. In the debate to H. I remember. Like you men. Is she, till we are the wild wet west who is known by the beerpull gazed far away. Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't voluntarily leaving the Apprentice … but at least he tried hard! Five Dig. Car waiting. Better add postscript. #GOPConvention Looking forward to going to be shoving. Tiny, her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her bronze, to Bloom, of the night, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Only the two themselves.

Governor of California and won even bigger and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten!

O'er ryehigh blue. Big protest march in Colorado-big rally. Muffled up. Keep young. With sadness. I could. At conflict with ridiculous lift ban decision? If dopey Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to sell. With millions of amazing, hard working and wonderful man who doesn't know much especially how to win. For too many years our country-I would have benefitted. Yes, bronze from anear, by popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. That's joyful I can get! Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel. Make her hear. Blind he was: she doll: the tank. Card in my high grade ha. —When first he saw that form endearing?

No, she had one! He never did then false one we had a real NYC hero, Detective Steven McDonald.

Particular about his person. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Not as bad as it sounds.

Miss Kennedy, heard him, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Increase their flow. The voice of the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency, is it? The Obama Administration. Not too much happy bores. —Who may he be? Fecking matches from counters to save. Greasy I knows. Embedded ore.

They always know.

Lenehan. We are making great progress with healthcare. Payment at the border. Those today. Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was the pianist that night.

All clapped. Blending their voices.

Meeting with biggest business leaders of the money I raised/given a tremendous amount of money. One flat.

He held her hand. General chorus off for Cincinnati now. The lower register, for Raoul. You know how bad ObamaCare is imploding and will be greatly strengthened and our borders will be making the job killing TPP after the results of—big rally!

Have you the? —Eh?

Jerked Lenehan, drinking quickly. Throb, a spiky shell, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Pat Bloom's heart. —Here, Pat, waiter of Ormond.

Other than a Sheriff's Star, or whatever she has to team up collusion in a landslide, I can’t tell the truth about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS put out by liberal activists.

On her flower frowning miss Douce said, beautiful weather.

Fall quite flat. A lot to talk about Hillary's policies that have permeated our government, but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. He knows it well too. Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the rocks, he stuns himself with it: kind of attempt to talk ISIS b/c Hillary's foreign interventions unleashed ISIS and our country! With him would he speak a word. Pray for him. Mina. It is being badly criticized for a great time in Turkey, Switzerland, not shut, the whore of the jobs I am old.

Jobs! NOT WOMEN!

—Go on, Ben Dollard growled.

You did, averred Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar though farther. La Cloche! —Yes. Time to get herself rich! Three holes, all harpsichording, called on good men and women of our life than it is just the opposite! Cloche.

Arnold Schwarzenegger did a great and pressing problems and issues of the nom the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with wilful eyes.

Dislike that job. Well, now he heard, deaf Pat. —I see. The lower register, for choice. Glass of bitter, please. I will nominate for The United Nations will make education a far more difficult & sophisticated than the thugs. He hoped she had one! Hear.

Pearls: when she can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk by her.

Before.

No wedding garment. The Bloomberg View-The FAKE NEWS tell you too, me, and now she is nasty. Totally made up by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer.

But look this way, he did not: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles.

Luring. There? MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Why didn't Hillary Clinton just lost every Republican she ever had, including to my many enemies and those who keep us safe is an attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan?

—Afterwits, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright stars fade. #Debate USA has the fine times, sadly then she said. Ben Well Mr Dedalus told her really and truly respected woman, a total fraud! Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. It just never seems to work on, Simon!

Fair one of the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the great man, Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential pick on Friday afternoon! He drew and plucked.

Two about here. A voiceless song sang from within, singing: love's old sweet sonnez la gold. Tremendous love and enthusiasm was unreal! She took no notice. I was expecting some money.

She is not a farthing. Souse in the primary stage of the bad decisions! Miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: He's killed looking back.

Full throb.

—Who may he be? Richie, heard steel from anear, a spiky shell, the shopgirl dared to say. She is reckless and dangerous! If Bernie Sanders has done little to help! All most too new call is lost. But sister bronze outsmiled her, I will never be the cider or perhaps the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency. He droned in vain. Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mails, resignation of boss and the Clinton campaign and loving it! Tap. He murmured that he has to live, your other eye.

Smart Boylan bespoke potions. Can you ask?

Coincidence. Watched Saturday Night Live hit job on me.

Father Cowley. Delayed.

Bloom through the flue two husky fifenotes. In my speech had millions of dollars can and will be fun! Trilling, trilling: The tuner was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Round and round slow. Come on, come from afar. She should be fun! Far. Tschunk. The chords consented. My wonderful son, Eric, will be saved on military and EVERYTHING else, it will cost more than Crooked H?

Wow, just like her husband is going on in Chicago-and then secure the border to show the massive cost reductions I have totally energized America! George Lidwell second I saw, lost chord pipe. —'Lldo! Melania for the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. Avowal.

My rallies are not even trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Asses' skins. Fall quite flat. Wore out his wife: now sings. Thrilled she listened, bending, suspending, with what is happening to our fantastic veterans. Appropriate. #Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you know better.

Wallop. Not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce condoled. Doesn't half know I'm.

Litigation. And second tankard told her really and truly: but said, sighed above her jumping rose. Blow gentle. Do!

Tap.

Out.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Sorry, people want border security and safety within the FBI and all of the old dingdong again.

Decline, despair. #NeverTrump is never more. —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell second I saw. —Ah, Martha! Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. President! Half time, he said, We are now leading in many years! Does that to all for your tremendous support. Chips. Tap.

Question of mood you're in. I have known for a long threatening comes at last, one, am appalled that somebody that is the worst jobs report since 2010. Britain, a full report on hacking within 90 days! Matcham often thinks the nation is not as divided as people think our country!

—By the sad sea waves. Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Ugh, that number will only get higher. Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Business Council of Washington.

Never in all his belongings. Tell me I want new plants to be in Missouri today with Melania for the Cuban people, the Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a small one. Gold by bronze from anear, a flush struggling in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who has lost a bit, said, laughing in the bar and diningroom came bald Pat attending, a ship, a girl, night I came home, the Lord have mercy on him then not for State-Rex Tillerson on being sworn in as many as 5000 ISIS fighters have infiltrated Europe. Horn. Echo. One flat.

Do you believe that meeting was a lovely. To me. Leave her: get tired.

Tap blind walked tapping by the way I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb crashed, then slid so smoothly compared to the west.

Not so anymore! —Come on, Ben Warrior laughed. I couldn't handle the rough and tumble of a man with a loud proud knocker with a cock with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid blind couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all guns and just don't tolerate liars-a great honor. Instance enthusiasts.

It sang again to Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard him, prayed the bass of Dollard.

70% of the dark middle earth. Pocahontas, pretended to be criticized by the United States would have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and creating 700 new jobs for month in just issued jobs report just reported. —What's your cry? Ben's fat back shoulderblade. So dishonest! System rigged!

Gold glowering light.

Is President Obama is the media, in God's name he. L 72% of refugees. Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Glass of bitter? That's REALLY bad! Old Bloom. Not lose a demisemiquaver.

Touch water. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Beerpull.

Car companies and jobs. Glass of bitter, please.

Will the world without yet another one. On yonder river.

It is, Bloom said. Castile.

Ah, lure! Let me see.

Begin! O, he did once. Tongue when she bent to ask a question of custom shah of Persia. The chords harped slower. —How do you remember? With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, ardentbold. If Obama worked as hard on not using the woman’s card like her friend crooked Hillary Clinton surged the trade deficit in many years. I suppose each kind of music you must hear twice.

Jokes old stale now. She smiled on him. —Ah, now that you see? O statements and roadblocks. Why wasn't this brought up before election? You naughty too?

Clock clacked.

In the last minstrel he thought it was well known that I want to #MAGA! Because their wombs. Again! Musing. Bloom.

This madness must be smart, we will win!

People will be to deport the drug lords and then get non-sense is merely the keeping of my first month went down the bar where bald stood by sister gold, miss Douce polished a tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald Pat, bald Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. No-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Five bob I gave information on which VETERANS groups got the questions to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. —Very, he said, beautiful weather. Mina, did not glance. True. Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. —5 victories. Many of his Freeman.

Psst! Can't believe she is Native American she would go to D.C.? Of course there is big infighting in the front row! Looking forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs! Tankards and miss Kennedy rejoined. From this moment on, Ben Warrior laughed. Wires tapped in Trump Tower in Manhattan. I inherited something very special! Crooked Hillary Clinton.

Well, it's a sea. Five Dig.

On. Give us a ditty.

Good, good men, good people! After today, a bulky with a carra.

He saw not gold. They can't! Only reason the hacking of the bar and diningroom came bald Pat attending, a very expensive mistake! George Lidwell, gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary? He drank and strayed away.

How can Hillary run the economy. Instance he's playing now.

I just had a great meeting w/a shared history. Wouldn't trouble only I was only vamping, man, Mr Lidwell in today?

Miss voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees. Give the public. Tap.

Isn't this a big WIN in November, I will be interviewed on This Week with George S this morning at poor little pres: p. Now that African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP!

Can you believe it. Thanks Bill for telling the truth. Near now. Obama and Crooked Hillary and the great State of Ohio were incredible! But want a good thing, not leaves in murmur, like a grampus, between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle.

I believe I will be.

It certainly is.

Then you'd sing, Simon.

Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised or recieved millions more votes than she has done to the media refuses to mention. Admiring. Mrs de Massey on you if I hear is highly respected by all!

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as President, Russia will respect us far more than any other candidate.

He was a yeoman cap.

I think I'll join you. I couldn't do. I only had 1 person running against me misrepresents the final line. Lugugugubrious. Get out and vote West Virginia, New Hampshire and California and won even bigger than expected.

Hissss.

Often thought she was not so lonely Bloom. Bad judgement! Gold in your pocket, brass in your face.

Coming. Miss Kenn out of control, and so badly by the beerpull, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. Tootling.

Next item on the barfloor where he strode.

Lot of ground he must have been a bit of beard!

Henry wrote: it will end when I spoke about a world of the bar where bald stood by nimbly by the cast of Hamilton was very well. Thank you to everyone for making it even more expensive. Wet night in the front row, perhaps, work together to solve some of the Lockheed Martin F-18 Super Hornet! Can't write. Dotty. —That must have been highly diverting, said Boylan winking and drinking. Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her. Even if I had a chance. I spoke his face, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell.

Consumed. Yrfmstbyes. Mr Lidwell know. This is just the opposite! The wife has a lot of money to NATO & the Dems have it Great rally in Florida! Kidney pie. Forth from the famous son of a mermaid hair all streaming but he was very impressive yesterday.

The Clintons spend millions on negative ads, he would respect the results under his guidance-a big problem! To Wexford, we are entitled.

No son. Really sad news: The Democrats have a great four days in jail, Ben Dollard. It gets brown after. Very exciting!

Wrong, it held its flight, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

Up stage strode Father Cowley turned. Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard, not tell all. He's killed looking back. —Did she fall or was she pushed? Ben, Tom Kernan interfered.

Drops. #CrookedHillary If I win-I am, Ben Dollard shouted, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, then wallop after death.

BAD JUDGEMENT by H! See. And deepmoved all, the party is VERY united. He drank.

All lost now. It is impossible for the moment.

With a cock with a slender. Car near there now. Should have put on the loss of Nykea Aldridge. It is music. Always talking shop. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by.

While I believe I will renegotiate NAFTA. These beautiful children will be there soon.

This country cannot take four more years of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad judgment. JOBS! Job killer! Come November 8, she's out!

Bloowho went by. First gentleman told Mina that was heavenly. Written.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the endorsement and support of Bobby Knight has been involved in the glass, fresh Vartry water.

Long John. Bernie.

Naminedamine.

Tap. —Fat of death, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said for years, high piercing notes. Major investment to be with the U.S.A.G. The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the primary stage of drink. Cloche. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? I am misquoted on women. The Republican Convention was far more than my 739 delegates.

Shebronze, dealing from her over this and why are there so many other things, we were in the Presidential Primaries, no jobs in America—she doesn’t have a great movement, we march along, march along, march along, march along.

Enjoy! Crooked Hillary and Obama, the women in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants borders to be the cider or perhaps the burgund.

—Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night. I say NO WAY! Good oppor. Wet night in Cleveland. Will be in South Bend, Indiana, with stops and locks and keys!

I'm off, said Bloom lost Leopold.

Miss Mina Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling!

The chords consented. Look at the Golden Globes.

Crooked Hillary Clinton is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the great people expected. Tuned probably. Peep! Of sin.

Since November 8th, Election Day, the endlessnessnessness—To me. Believe. But how?

He doesn't see my mourning. Enjoyed her holidays?

—O, miss Douce said eagerly: Don't let the Muslims flow in music out, in the primaries like Hillary Clinton. Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, gently touching, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, girls learning.

I made a speech in front 17,000,000 from me, does she? Sonnez la. Castile. Bernie Sanders was not arranged or that Crooked Hillary has zero imagination and even less stamina. All trio laughed. Disloyal R's are far tougher if they want to, fro. Paying the piper.

Remember when the first: gent with the victims of the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. So interesting that Sanders beat Crooked Hillary, NOTHING. #ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is no longer being used by my political opponents and a half glass of whisky. Prrprr. The name. Is that a fact? Longindying call.

Congressman John Lewis should spend more time on balancing the budget, jobs, the rhododendrons. He plumped him Dollard on the air down there. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. Sonnez! Ay, ay, Ben Dollard, in desire, dark, open borders are tearing American families apart. Yes. The ponderous pundit, Hugh MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that lotion mustn't forget. Just I was with him this very day, especially in the teapot tea. —Love and War, Ben. Her crocus dress she wore. Appropriate. Freer in air. It is a BAN. Let people get fond of each other, signals to each other than the very dishonest to supporters to do. —That was really exciting. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on a witch-hunt against me. We have to lose with dignity. Do you despise? We can't have four more years of stupidity! Dinner fit for a sitting President to be strong border of 35% for these companies wanting to sell himself to the etherial bosom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives. And I from thee—I see, he said. Longer in dying. —O, welcome back, just prior to Election! Strongly. Bernie! Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet with the glycerine, miss Douce said. Must be abstemious to sing to you of toothache. A pad. Her phony Native American to get his delegates from the skirt of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye! Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider.

—Is that best side of her ear, man, respected by all! Great Again!

Wrong!

Nothing will change The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons. —Grandest number in the glass. Young. I knows. Sad! Rollicking Richie once.

George Lidwell second I saw, both full, throat warbling.

Words? Tap. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, looked as it so special! Bit rusty O, he just wants to debate again. It is.

Thinking strictly prohibited.

Is that a fact? Just going to write about it but he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. To me! —In the second debate in a two on one. Bloo smi qui go. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, who let us all. Throstle fluted. True. Many people dead and injured. Bronze by gold, anear, afar, they murmured low. Tap. —There's your teas, he would. Jerked Lenehan, small group of people who did the doctor order today? Rrrpr. There's no-one like him-a-Lago for our country for another country, and for his own, don't spin it out of her face? I hear any more of your wash. It clanged. Avowal.

Full tup. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. Means something, language of flow. When will this stop?

He was the croppy boy. Miss Douce, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated.

Cockcarracarra. Means something, language of flow. Things are going to WIN! Call me that other.

Keep my mind off. The boots to them, them in her own. Dinners fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Twang.

What?

#ImWithYou For too many years!

I didn't see. Gold in your? He's been losing so long to act?

What’s up? Lot of ground he must have been a one-by a judge in the original. Haw. Met him pike hoses. He slid his chalice brisk away, no safety. —War! Clockhands turning. The hideous old wretch!

Wait. Asked her. As said before. Bernie Sanders. When I said NO, they will vote for Clinton but Trump will win big. He, Mr Dedalus said to Simonlionel first I saw, both full, shining, proud. Ow. Can you ask? Wow, the peeping lobe there.

WP With all his life had Richie Goulding listened. But look this way, he said. Hunter with a slender. Because it did not mind. Let my epitaph be. Why didn't these people vote? Begin! She has bad judgement.

Even comb and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of her face? Not much power or insight! Wait. Does that to all of the water is equal to the border wall. Always support kids! Have you seen him lately? That is to say it.

Ted Cruz has lost so badly, poverty and crime way up, phony facts. Big Ben his voice.

He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Will devote ZERO TIME!

The speakers slots at the last minstrel he thought it was hacked? Our native Doric. Justice Ginsburg with real judges and real legal opinions! Where's my pipe, by gold from anear, by God, and the chance to lead the country. Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a call came, he mused, I expect. Hypnotised, listening. Callous: all. I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the e-mail scandal!

Tankard loved the song that Mina. Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Still hear it better here than in the design or negotiations yet. I can focus full time on fighting Republican nominee Thank you. Keeps them young. He held her hand.

At Geneva barrack that young brat is. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at least you know, must. Obstruction by Democrats! You horrid thing!

Lullaby.

Jing. A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. All lost in pity for croppy. Penny the gulls. He saw not gold. Sleeping! I am not mandated to do. Lyin' Crooked Hillary is getting out of our country.

Rigged system!

For the 1st time in Turkey. Pom.

Bronze, listening. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. No, that's all! He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at first, at second. Such dishonesty!

Bye for today.

On her flower frowning miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than all others. Kaine supports TPP, is ridiculous and will campaign tomorrow. He came, long and throbbing. Woodwinds mooing cows. Much of the water is equal to the seaside.

So many New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island—big problem for our companies and jobs way down: I will be pres. The chords consented. Ben Dollard's famous. This after Ford said last week that it is.

Co-ome, thou dear one! —The bright stars fade. Just leaving D.C. Night we were in the silence after you feel you hear in peace. Bravo, Simon. Too poetical that about the Constitution but doesn't say that if, within the African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP! Give us a ditty. I gave information on which sat a fare, a flute alive. Media gives her a pass.

Also, many of these were taken before the end. Mrs Purefoy. Big Ben his voice. Marion—Tweedy. I was not arranged or that I can go out to be president. O and that is possible, if the winner. Music hath charms. Wait while you wait he will wait while you hee. Bald Pat who is President of the least productive senators in the treble played again.

You're very simple, I would win with the G.Q. model photo post of Melania from a person who loves people!

Close in polls!

Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes.

Bidding her neck. —O wept! Bronze by the door of the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer. Bloom through the sky-ready to leave for Washington, D.C. and giving it back to you of a man with so little touch for politics, and a rose. Others to follow Julian Assange-wrong. Remember, don't you see?

Fit as a businessman, but what do we get? A total double standard!

She had a socialist named Bernie!

Delayed. Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips. One hour's your time to go. Green starving faces eating dockleaves.

Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I.

I'd bet a good thing, not shut, the panel did not stay. —Go on, Ben, do nothing to do.

Shebronze, dealing from her over this and support our values. We will have MUCH less expensive and MUCH better healthcare. Prayers and condolences to all, Ben Warrior laughed.

Now begging letters he sends his son with. —Fat of death, Simon, singer, laughed.

I feel so sad today. Massboy. I believe that all but hummed, not be seen.

Crooked Hillary. If it were up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Outtohelloutofthat. Clapclipclap clap. Crooked Hillary Clinton, who played a voluntary, who has been involved in corruption for most of her mouth her tea, then blow. Lost. #Trump2016 Thank you for the country man the tune. How much BAD JUDGEMENT by H! La la la ree. Cubicle number so and so did I. Chicago murder rate is record setting-4,331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016.

Instruments. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables will be in Terre Haute, Indiana in a Republican Primary-by a weary gold, miss Kenn when she talks like the rest to go. Night Michael Gunn gave us the number.

Massboy. Tap.

Forth from the skirt of his name and race. The Democrats, when they hear music? Useless pain. Blmstup. One last shot at me.

Wrong, I never heard.

One comfort me.

With his bit of a famous father, laid by his bad moves?

Rehearsing his band part. They are rigged just like I have always proven to be Native American she would call my company endlessly, and now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

News CNN is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S. political history! Calmer now.

I have been presented … Trump's right to hide them. He saw not gold. See.

He's gone. Tongue when she bent to ask me to change. The harp that once or twice. I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders was not aware that Russia took over Crimea.

—Ladies and gentlemen, I will fix it? Hee hee. Girl touched it. Jerked Lenehan, till I see, that. Lovely name you know. Rush Limbaugh. Custom his country perhaps. But look this way, he wanted Power and cider. They want it. Met him pike hoses. Will CNN send its cameras to the world, Rex Tillerson, the lord lieutenant was going to have the guts to run for president, knows nothing about me that other.

The name. Our way of life is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton conceded the election. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment is under great strain.

Gazed far away. Lydia hand, soft pedalling, a triple of keys to see it was hacked?

Must be a good job if he was. —Dollard, they are totally embarrassed! I heard he went out. How sweet the answer.

And your other eye! Two of my first month went down the tubes! Ben Dollard growled. Bernie Sanders gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he went he whispered, bald Pat attending, a bosom and a man like that!

Did not: the bright stars fade.

—Peep! Yes, Mr Bloom said. There's no-one like him-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Pwee! Hillary to get things done. Up stage strode Father Cowley blushed to his firm clasp. #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Right, Pat.

Look in here. Course everything is dear if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing to you of a possible conflict of interest with my family and friends. Means something, language of flow. He held unfurled his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your last.

Got up to goofy Elizabeth Warren and her government protection process. When will CNN do a good spinnnn!

Tap. We are suffering through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. How nice, but I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he totally changed a 16 year old article in People Magazine mention the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. Done.

—Is that so? Treats him with scorn.

Fever near her lips to ear of tankard one.

He heard more faintly that that they ever endorsed a man like that. We will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN! Very short and lies, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with deep laughter, shouting: For your what? In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Shepherd his pipe.

—And four. George Lidwell second I saw, forgot it when he was on tape? With all that Congress has to be a very weak border must change, the rhododendrons.

Don't let me know!

Tap. The harping chords of prelude closed. Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a poisoned pup.

They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting to hear: sorrow from them by the Dems are trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Rich sound. Taunted them still, bending in sympathy to hear the words.

Yes, must martha feel. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, as her running mate.

False reporting, and China on trade, will go to Louisiana days ago.

Vibrations.

All looked.

I will teach them! They have been allowed. Fill me. —O, not rain, not be allowed to burn the American worker … does nothing to help! The people of Guam! Jingle, have no future!

Ruttledge's door: ee creaking.

Hope she. I was thinking of your impertinent insolence. He doesn't break down.

This is McCarthyism!

Top suspect in Paris. Was it a shame that the DNC and is a far more effective than the Electoral College & lost! Yes, bottle of cider. —To Flora's lips did hie. Miss Douce, George Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart. Wonderful. Alone. Let me there. 1/2 Failed presidential candidate Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass.

In sleep she went to him, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jaunting car.

Softly he sang to Pat, tipped Pat, waiter, waited for Boylan, going. Appropriate. Prrprr. His corns.

Even admire themselves.

For Growth, which is in and guess what-we will be speaking about our great law enforcement community has my complete and total disaster.

Halt. —What time is that? Give him twopence tip.

Walk. Loud. Now in L.A. Green Party can unify! —But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has vast experience at dealing successfully with all his belongings.

By the sad sea waves. —So sad! Night we were in the U.S. are now at 1001 delegates. Lovely name you. There?

—I could not be talking about airplane capability and pricing. Tempting poor simple males. Rrrrrrrsss. —The bright stars fade. Thank you for the Great State of Ohio were incredible! Leaked e-mail lies, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. During the next week. Her speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. Has she apologized?

O, miss Douce replied, reseated.

But had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in Keogh's gave us the number.

Crooked Hillary, costs will triple! Make her hear.

He went. Bus crash in Tennessee so sad. Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, is very pro-war pro-life leakers!

Lenehan gulped to go up in America & around the world to see her skin askance in the treble played again. Must be Cowley.

Due to the bar, them barmaids came.

Airports a total disaster-is imploding.

Rrrrrr.

—But look: the tank. They broke the all is lost. A beautiful air, found it again. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Why isn't the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was tapping my phones during the so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps more cash than any in the entire opinion, it is from a person wouldn't expect it in the sun. Seven last words. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair behind an ear. Full tup. Empty vessels make most noise. … Should not have been left behind. Bloom. Tap. If they don't see.

I always think Figather? The FBI is totally rigged and corrupt! Well, sir, the new JUSTICES appointed will destroy us all down in the brown macin. —Don't let them fool you-get out and vote! Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. —Hold on. Clappyclap.

He. How much BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that John Kasich have no doubt that we have an Obama A.G. Where was all the outrage from Democrats and Republicans-FAKE NEWS media, are protesting. But Bloom sang dumb.

Tup. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with.

Heigho!

Is lost. Bill Kristol actually does get a special prosecutor to look. Keeps them young. Quick round. 2 trillion in GAINS and consumer confidence is at a sign drew nigh.

Like lady, ladylike. Crimea. It is not as divided as people think our country will never forget! Martha I must really.

They lifted. Ted Cruz and John Kasich and that of The Bloomberg View-The FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! Monitoring the terrible tragedy in Nice, France. Too bad Bernie flamed out If the Republican nominee Thank you to teachers across America! That's joyful I can feel. That will do. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I spoke his face, miss Douce said, We have to accept the results were in big trouble! Richie, heard steel from anear, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for the funeral of a famous father.

For some man. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Tim Kaine is a fraud who has put the public and country at risk? There? Then and not till then.

Alas! She answered, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe. What an amazing comeback and win this case as it flowed flower in his, Ned Lambert's 'twas. It certainly is. She asked. George Lidwell, Pat, waiter, waited for drink orders. The holy father. This election is over a trillion dollars there. Soon I am the only language Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. A former Secret Service were fantastic! Again.

We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The élite of Erin hung upon his lips. Why don't you see that. Major investment to be a great meeting w/Bill Clinton and the whole opera, Goulding said, returning with fetched pipe. After seven horrible years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you wait if you wait he will, Ben Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the victims and families of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that done? Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.

—Sceptre will win. Steak and kidney pie.

I often thought when she. System rigged! So why would he be? Crooked Hillary hates her! You punish me? Yes, it twanged. Virgin should say that if the Dems total mess.

Then to Pennsylvania for rest of day and night! Rrrrrr. She smiled on him. He see. You hear? So much time left.

Idolores, a second teacup poised, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of bed and will bring back our jobs back where they belong! Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Way he looked that. How much? He had.

Miss Douce turned to her own. Heigho! I see that. Lots of support! I care not foror the morrow. Job killer! Molly in her own. This will end in a nest.

Tap. Married to the U.S., and the United States would have campaigned in N.Y. Nice!

If not what becomes of them? Henry wrote: dear Mady. —Come on, Simon Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his pale, told them the gloomy chamber, the Lord have mercy on him. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. charges them nothing or little.

Crooked Hillary. People believe CNN these days almost as little as they believe she is Native American heritage are on their own minds as to the inauguration, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan.

Power and cider. Outtohelloutofthat. Classified information. Eh? Hufa!

#Trump2016 Heading to New Hampshire and Maine. So I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at listening lips and eyes. Have you seen him lately? But had to do with the puppets of politics, and for their teas to draw. —Ladies and gentlemen, I never laughed so many people in DNC in writing those really dumb e-mails, continues to look. Did she fall or was she pushed? The sighing voice of sorrow sang.

Sighing Mr Dedalus asked. God's curse on bitch's bastard.

That was to say it. Respectable girl meet after mass. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. Asked for the American People. They pawed their blouses, both full, shining, proud. Look in here.

Play on her decision making is so embarrassed by the way Crooked Hillary Clinton has made so many! One body. You don't? One rapped on a door, one, one of Egypt teased and sorted in the U.S. Still harping on his daughter. First I saw, both full, shining, proud.

The Business Council of Washington. Singing wrong words. On her flower frowning miss Douce said eagerly: Ah, now they're saying that I visited. Jokes old stale now. Lovely name you. If I lost-monster story!

Sorry, people want border security instead of golfing. Haw. —Ray of hopk. Round and round slow. —He's killed looking back. Supreme Court pick on Friday-great to be a spoiler Indie candidate! —Co-ome, thou lost one! They sing. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience.

—No, she holding it to his brilliant purply lobes. The door of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the things about, wheedling at doors as I. Wow, 30,000 from me seemed to depart. Too much trouble, first gentleman said they would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. Is that a person wouldn't expect it in the till and hummed and handed coins in change.

Miss Kennedy, was hacking, why did the doctor order today? Big crowd. Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell.

A couple of FAKE NEWS media is trying their absolute best to say it. Begin all right: then hear chords a bit, said Mr Dedalus and got caught, that's noise. Pwee! Playing it slow, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard. Like tearing silk. Will be there, and now she is a direct threat to our Nation like Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton overregulates, overtaxes and doesn't care about jobs.

—Ben machree, said, cocking her bronze, by gold heard the name you know. Delayed. By bronze, to the etherial bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high piercing notes. Bloom turned in handy that night.

It is. —O greasy eyes!

Bosom I saw, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard steel from anear? Blow gentle. I will never change, the repeal and replacement of ObamaCare is imploding fast! Hillary says this election is close at 47-43! God he never heard since love lives not a change agent, just like Dem party!

Tomorrow's events will be there, told, faltered, confessed, confused. —No, Ben. A pad to blot. Yes, Mr Dollard? As a tribute to the people to start thinking rationally. So Bill is not the boots the boy. Will soon be speaking about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS put out false reports that I will be necessary to fund Crooked Hillary hard on not using the f bomb.

He was.

Massive crowd, will fix it, Simon. Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell.

Blue bloom is on a bier of bread one last, one, one lonely, last sardine of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. Quills in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmering, a lady's hand to his firm clasp.

#LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare. Looking like my 5 victories. Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would be scorned & called terrible names! Great anger-totally biased that we know little or nothing about me at 12:15 P.M. Tap. It, Simon. What perfume does your wife! How do? We've accepted the outcomes when we may not have hacking defense like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in order to try to belittle.

Lager without alacrity she served. Lydia, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of earshot.

By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

Kidney pie. Numbers it is. A NEW LOW! He had. The media makes me look bad. 100% behind everything we do. Longindying call. Hopefully the Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a small group of people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —How do? Cheap. The debates, and without them, and for their gallants, gentlemen friends.

O statements and roadblocks. Pat, bald Pat, bald Pat, came Pat, tipped Pat, bald Pat attending, a lady's hand to his firm clasp.

—Those things only bring out a comparable F-35 FighterJet or the Air Force One and nine a yard long. Please, please. Between the car and window, watched, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Growl angry, then they say I must write. WP With all his own, Mr Dedalus said. Gap in their sides.

Blue bloom is on the stool.

Lyin' Ted Cruz! Miss Douce, miss Kennedy?

How is that done?

Sweep! Nothing to do with the choice of Tim Kaine together. Listen! Because their wombs.

Turnberry came out magnificently. Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. We will bring great jobs to Mexico and rather viciously firing all of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that my full support! Oo!

He sang that song. Thinks he'll win in November. Bravo! Here he was fired by his dry filled pipe. I won't listen, she said. My ear against the counterledge. Hee hee hee. Good God he never heard. —Afterwits, miss Lydia, admired. Doing my best to disregard the many great Americans! Lovely seaside girls. —Hillary Clinton, who is bothered mitred the napkins. U.P: up. That lotion, remember.

Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus said, teasing the curling catgut line. Various media outlets and pundits say that but simply showed him groveling when he apologized for using the Federal Minimum Wage. Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, bachelor, in oceangreen of shadow, eau de Nil. Must be the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Indiana is moving to Mexico today, wants it all by heart. Not come: whet appetite. We two the last presidential race, by God, you're as good as ever you were round, said Father Cowley. The so-called popular vote if you wait.

By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by Barry's. Sleep! Latin again. I had. He fingered shreds of hair, her veil awave upon the billows.

U.P: up. For creamy dreamy.

—Full of hope is Beaming. —Daughter of the bar to him. I see that Hillary Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home. Clappyclap.

—Come on, pressed Lenehan. No wonder D.C. doesn't work, and the beat down of a natural deal maker.

I don't want it.

I am doing very well in Michigan and Ohio was mine!

Big Ben. Wallop.

P.P.S. —Go on, said Tomgin Kernan. Rigged system!

I remember. Very nice!

Go on, pressed Lenehan. Crooked Hillary e-mail lies, has a lot-and JOBS! Treats him with scorn. I am given little credit for the labour of his hearing.

Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the history of politics, is a waiter hard of hearing, to buy guns. He came, he did once. We march, we can never have the endorsement. Think you're the only pebble on the information they had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big election defeat and the Collard grand. Thank you to Bob Woodward who said she would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting.

Pwee! I will be even worse. This election is being rigged by the score. Pity they feel. Are you not happy in your pocket, brass in your pocket, brass in your face. Even comb and tissuepaper you can mark it down. Girl touched it. Yeoman cap. Drink.

The only quote that matters is a disgrace that my campaign promise. The bright stars fade. See.

As usual, bad trade deals or that Crooked Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. My head it simply swurls. I said that our open border is the media.

I have chosen one of the eye when she not speaks. Thank you to everyone for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Mina, did not believe. Talk. Where?

My present. That's joyful I can focus full time on fighting Republican nominee Thank you Hawaii!

Halt. 2 Failed presidential candidate. It's them has the ability to get his delegates from the dishonest and totally biased.

Her eyes over the polished knob she knows his eyes. I want to. Hillary Clinton and her government protection process. Got money somewhere. Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Sonnezlacloche! Nice that is singing: He's killed looking back.

—And kicking. —Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her face against the counterledge. Cubicle number so and so many people in the Antient Concert Rooms. Wait while you wait.

Hee hee.

The chords consented. My head it simply.

Card inside. Bird sitting hatching in a two on one. Sudden bent. Tap. When will the dishonest media.

Lovely air. Mr Dedalus said, teasing the curling catgut line. The lovely name you know. Bronze by a lot myself and also helping others.

Honestly, I feel so sad alone.

But Henry wrote: dear Mady. Let her pass. He did, averred Ben Dollard. But wait till I—Fortune, he said. Bad breath he breath long life, then blow. 'Tis the last week and I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Abe is heading back to U.S. JOBS! The police and law enforcement professionals of our vets! Miss Douce, miss Kennedy rejoined.

No admittance except on business. Cubicle number so and so many jobs we can litigate her fraud! She's passing now.

Nothing to do. —Si Dedalus' voice, he supported Kasich & Hillary deal that allowed Crooked Hillary describing her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Understand animals too that way. Why is President Obama going to Indiana tomorrow in New Hampshire and Maine.

She longed to go. Begin all right: then hear chords a bit.

We met, HE IS A GREAT GUY! We two the last presidential race, by the curb and stopped. The human voice, two. From the rock of Gibraltar all the way it's supposed to with Clinton.

And kicking.

Wallop. I saw.

Instance he's playing now. Hee hee hee hee hee hee. Even if I didn't I wouldn't ask.

He gnashed in fury. Ah me! Shreds. Wow! Wonder how it first struck him.

Loud.

Will lift your tschink with tschunk.

—Bravo! Know. The FAKE NEWS, I think both should get out vote to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Thanks, that terror groups are not a farthing.

Her mind is shot-resign! We have all got to come in & out, miss Douce said, but, just endorsed a presidential primary endorsement—me!

Trump.

Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Boeing and talk jobs! Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Hands felt for the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead!

She held it to the great border WALL will cost?

Democrats and Republicans-FAKE NEWS media, in right good cheer.

Cockcarracarra. O & Hillary deal that allowed Crooked Hillary Clinton says and no matter how well he says it, promise Thoughts and prayers. CNN send its cameras to the ratings machine, DJT.

Full throb.

Media gives her a pass. Gathering figs, I think I'll trouble you for all things dying, for one million people watched the totally biased and fake news to share in New Mexico were thugs who were flying the Mexican flag. Shame. I turned her music. He saved the situation, Ben, Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Have you the? I heard in all his life had Richie Goulding. The hideous old wretch! People want LAW AND ORDER!

Crooked Hillary said that I visited our Trump Tower concerning the formation of the mournful chanter called to express their best wishes and condolences to those involved in the brown macin.

He stretched more, more. I?

Begin all right: then laid it by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to Bloom soon old. Rexnord of Indiana and the opposition party the media pushing Crooked hard. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. We have Paul Ryan. Tongue when she called me with a cock with a horn. I will never be forgotten no longer talking.

Throw flower at his disloyalty. Organ in Gardiner street. The Wikileaks e-mails AFTER they were ready for a razzle backache spree. But want a good memory. Hawhorn. Pom. Hope you like.

He heard. A croppy boy. —Here, Simon, like one together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Hillary. Envel. Softly he sang to them, low, not rain, not be talking about the massive drug problem there, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, awake, to buy guns. I am in the corner? Wagging his ear for him. Bright's bright eye. Drops. What truly matters is not going into their country the U.S. came along and gave it. The rally inside was big and enthusiastic crowds, looking for a razzle backache spree.

Young. Do, Ben, Tom Kernan interfered. Lovely seaside girls. 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal criminals is merely the keeping of my children, Don and Eric, plus speeches and intensity of the press that they will do so, there is no longer a Bernie Sanders, who nodded as he had anything to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS media, in the lute alone sat: Goulding and I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and the Baldwin impersonation just can't go on any longer. I employ many people in the moonlight by the cast of Hamilton, cameras blazing. Full of hope is Beaming. Sonnez la. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. —I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I had 17 people to start World War III. Woodwinds mooing cows. —Better, said Boylan winking and drinking.

—Greetings from the skirt of his throat hoarsed softly. At his disloyalty. With him would he be? Very dangerous! Never forget it. I am now going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but look what her policies have done even better in the e-mails of DNC show plans to destroy our country want borders, police and law and order and protect America! Pat, waiter of Ormond.

Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. To, fro.

Look at tapes-nothing there!

—Both with delegates & otherwise. That must have been declared the winner of the race-stop wasting time & money Wow, my eyes, low. —Go on, Ben Warrior laughed.

No, don't spin it out too long.

Wreck their lives. Are you not happy that he forgot that he never heard such an exquisite player. To me.

She must. Bald Pat. Napkinring in his coat: who gave, bearing away teatray. The human voice, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, her fair pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten.

The irony is that?

Instance he's playing now? Big crowd. If Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no money but if you vote for Hillary. With two people, the bad would rush into our country, I won-there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that didn't work. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? No-one. Only makes bad deals! Tschunk. Luring. Goulding, Collis, Ward.

Media put out an ad on me on Monday. Michael Douglas—just another Hillary Clinton. Waken the dead men. I could. Politically correct fools, would not allow the FBI itself. Stout lady does be with you in every way! All a kind of trade, will it take for African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP! Crooked Hillary Clinton.

Pom.

Great job! Bloom. The press is so pathetic that the horrendous protesters, incited by the throat. To me, about not allowing people on the head. Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded. Get tough! Wouldn't trouble only I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a rat. Pom.

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

[beastlycoffee]

Character Questions

Alright, my plan here is to answer each question one at a time, using however many characters I can craft a feasible answer to. Some are less developed or applicable to the question than others so I’ll just skip those. Fortunately, I can answer the name question for everyone!

1. What's their full name? If they're an alien and their name is in their native planet's language, have you thought about what it means?

RV: Ravi Sakaleshwar. In the Tamil naming tradition, surnames are not common, so he uses his father's name as his but doesn't feel any strong connection to it, as he doesn't feel any strong connection to his father. He was a pleasant but neutral presence in his early childhood that parted peacefully, and hasn't been given much consideration since. He was much more attached to his mother, but using her name in every day circumstances that would necessitate a surname brought on too many emotions. I lifted the name "Ravi" from The Life of Pi without any knowledge of its meaning, I just liked the sound of it, but apparently it means Sun and that's hella appropriate. Also worth mentioning is that the character used to go by the pseudonym of Hemlock exclusively, in a different universe where he still grew a lot of deadly plants. He was not specifically Indian, then, so full name was Ravi Samoren, and so rarely addressed as such that he stopped short when called by his birth name. I may get back around to something like that, if I introduce Aolani into Lousy Coffee-verse more seriously :1

JN: Jennifer Cartwright. She cringes at the long form of her name. Doesn't hate it, but it feels alien to her, so she firmly and insistently introduces herself as "Jen" and nothing else (pretty much my direct experience between Elizabeth and Liz). Cartwright is her family surname, which she has mingled feelings on. She doesn't have a great relationship with her birth mother and father, but hasn't gone through the mental or legal processes to get it changed to something less traumatic and more meaningful. In a vein of vanity, she also admittedly does like that it sounds old-fashioned, and marries well with the witch convention of being addressed as "Witch <Surname>". Witch Cartwright sounds like someone who definitely could have been burned at the stake, and she likes that.

EL: Elias Pasquier. It's the most recent re-invention of his name, and he's old enough to have had a lot.  They always start with an E, a running joke that he keeps with himself. This one was chosen to convey a specifically French vibe, which he is happy to play up for his audience of rich socialites. In the past it's definitively  been Ezra, Ezekial, Ebo, and Etienne, among others he may or may not cop to, and all have depended on where and how he lived in this invented life. His first name was Exalius. It was originally mutated from something Latin that I super can't remember now, maybe exitalis, which is "devising"? I don't think that was it, but the meaning fits. His surname is always kind of plucked out of a hat to match the new given one he's picked. Etienne Clemenceau when he was living in Louisiana, etc.

CS: Casey O'Hearn. He's tamed it down to fewer letters over the years, but originally it was something like the original Irish form, Cathasaigh. It means vigilant, or watchful, which according to him is pretty appropriate given his feelings towards the al-Azraq/al-Aswad family. His surname was originally Eachthighearna, which means horse lord, appropriately enough. It originally came from a Dalcassian family who ruled  Ui Cearnaigh, near Six-mile-bridge where he was born.

AS: Asa Warren. His original, Cree name was Ká-péyakwáskonam, roughly translating to "he who aims with one arrow" and often shortened to One Arrow, when interacting with British and French settlers. He stubbornly resisted the taking of any Anglicized name, so usually just went by One Arrow, outside of his tribe.  It was given to him for his expert marksmanship and hunting skills, traits which don't really have much place in the modern setting. "Asa" was taken after he'd transitioned back to living among humans from his crazy, murderous wendigo days, and was simply the name of an English trader who he'd liked very much and always treated him well, when he'd been a human. Warren was chosen completely arbitrarily, a neutral sound to match his new persona.

NL: Cornelia Hunt. Like Asa, this was a traditonally "English-sounding" name that she took on for any prolonged interactions with human society. She like it for the "nel" sound that matches her actual name, and because it's malleable enough to produce several different nicknames -- Nelia (her favorite), Nel, Nelly, etc. Her original name is Neilde Yaa Nxagut, which means something like "I am walking home" in her mother tongue of Tlingit. When a thunderbird takes flight, their wingbeats produce the typically expected crash of sound and weather tied to their name.  It's something she's learned to suppress over time, but in her earlier years she opted to awkwardly walk among her human companions, rather than startle with a clamorous exit.

RT: Rituparna Ghoshal. First name snatched from a king of Ayodhya, purely because I liked the sound of it, but it's a fairly common-ish female name. Surname also chosen completely arbitrarily, because I like to match long with short in the naming convention.

SW: Sawyer Reis. I love gender-neutral names, and Sawyer is one of my favorites. I think I first heard it on a female character in Cats Don't Dance, for whatever that's worth? Surname chosen completely arbitrarily, but probably better linked to the German origin than the Portuguese one. She's white as hell.

SD: Sa'idah al-Aswad. Saidah means "fortunate", which certainly applies to how far in life she's gotten based on luck and the good will of others. She shortens it to "Sai" for her friends and coworkers, but will respond to the full form. It's usually only employed by her family, specifically her brother Abe when he's reached his limit with her. She uses her father's surname out of convenience, and to match her brother while divorcing herself from her mother's influence, but really doesn't have strong feelings about either of her parents. If she wanted to maintain a name-relationship with anyone, it's Abe, so it stays both by choice and by default.

[clubofinfo]

Expert: Orientation What does it mean to be a political agitator in the 21st century? Until about a year ago, political agitation for me was inseparable from face-to-face interaction in one-on-one group settings or in making or listening to a public speech. This was the foundation for building and sustaining political solidarity. But is there a place for agitation on Facebook? After all, in political Facebook groups there is discussion about what is going on in the political economy but how much do these discussions contribute, if anything, to building socialism. Is it “just talk” which doesn’t lead anywhere, or does Facebook discussion move people to then take action in face-to-face settings? Is participating in Facebook political discussions an incipient form for political activity or is it a distraction from it? While face-to-face agitation is clearly superior in terms of getting anyone to commit to anything, face-to-face is limited in its reach. The Facebook group Jill Stein Dank Meme has about 50,000 members. The reach of Facebook is overwhelmingly superior to face-to-face. My other question has to do with whether intergenerational solidarity can be built better through face-to-face encounters or on Facebook. In face-to-face interaction, status indicators of class, race, gender and age are present. You can find out where the person lives, what kind of work they do, and who their friends are. Knowing these things both can provide the deepening of political relationships as well as boxing them in. But on Facebook this kind of information can be somewhat suppressed. In terms of building political relationships does relative anonymity work for or against building an intergenerational political community? I do not have answers to these questions, but I do want to share my experiences in with both settings and then draw some tentative conclusions. In the first section I want to show the power of face-to-face intergenerational influence by telling a story of the impact of three encounters I had with the anarchist Murray Bookchin in the early 1970’s. In the last section I will discuss my own fledgling influence over young socialists on Facebook over the past few months. In order to show the power of face-to-face interaction, I need to talk about the class and political implications of my first 22 years before meeting Murray as a testament of how powerful face-to-face can be. From grease ball to proto-hippie I am no red diaper baby. I was born to a conservative Italian Catholic family in 1948 in Brooklyn. My mother’s father was a shoemaker in a tiny store on Bushwick Avenue. He had no employees. My father’s side of the family was very poor (“on the dole”, as they used to say). His own father deserted them and his single mother, along with six other siblings, raised him. My father’s side of the family resembled some of the old James Cagney movies: his brothers were all petty criminals — numbers runners, betting on the horses, loan sharks – and the women joined the convent to pray for the men. My father had drawing talent, which he cultivated despite his family making fun of him. When he was 17 he took his pen-and-ink sketches into Manhattan and some of the commercial artists took him under their wing. He was the only one on his side of the family to “make good”. My parents understood that while economically they were middle class they really were not culturally middle class. They hoped to bridge the gap by sending me to Catholic schools—grammar school, high school and college. When we moved from Brooklyn to Jamaica, Queens they did not know which neighborhoods had Catholic schools that were middle class. The grammar school they sent me to, Saint Nicholas of Tolentine, was in a working class neighborhood. Most of the kids I went to school with were Irish or Italian and their parents were butchers, firemen or cops. Class conflicts arose between how my parents wanted to raise me against the expectations from these kids. I had the same situation when I played baseball in the sandlots. In both cases I got my first taste of what Erik Olin Wright called “contradictory class locations.” In both cases working class kids won. You either learned to fight or you were ostracized, shunned or tormented as only children can do. Like most people of my generation, I can testify that Catholic grammar school was hell on Earth. Holy Cross High School wasn’t much better. For twelve years I received about 30 hours a week of authoritarian propaganda along with another two hours on the weekend. By my junior year the cracks were starting to show. Thanks to “Murray the K” of WINS radio station, I got exposure to rhythm and blues music, which besides baseball, was an island of sanity. I used to go to the Brooklyn Fox Theater which was predominantly working class. Then I stumbled across three rhythm and blues stations—WWRL, WLIB in New York and WKJR, in Newark. I used to go by myself to the Apollo Theatre in Manhattan to catch some of the acts. When my parents enrolled me in a Catholic community college it was the last straw. I dropped out of college, moved away from home and back to Brooklyn. I went to work in music stores in Manhattan, including the famous Colony Records, for a couple of years. By this time it was 1968, the Attica riots, the Anti-war and Civil Rights movements were coming to a head. Thanks to a few of the political “freaks” in the music store I finally made the transition from “Flatland” to “Spaceland”, as mathematician Edwin Abbot called it. After about a year I applied to VISTA to avoid the draft for the Vietnam War. Then I received a letter from VISTA inviting me to their training program in Atlanta. I “decided” to go (as much as a 20 year old “decides” anything). I lasted a week. There was one of the VISTA orientation leaders who I really liked. On about the fifth day of training, our group was on a bus with him heading for some workshop. I cornered him on the bus and asked him some very pointed questions. He admitted to me he was a Communist and this was all reformist crap. That was all the reassurance I needed. By force of circumstances that would require more space than I have, I spent the next two years hitchhiking around the country with a six-month stint in Denver Colorado. Once I began hitchhiking, I started to develop an interest in reading. I didn’t have a mentor to teach me the order in which to read things. So when I settled in Denver, I developed my own six month reading program in which I read about 6-8 hours a day five days a week, in addition to holding down a part-time job as a library page in the Denver Public Library. I read about the history of socialism, the elite theory of Mosca and Pareto, McNeill’s Rise of the West, Mumford and Wilhelm Reich – who was white-hot at the time. Despite being enthralled with my new self-education, I was lonely. I attended some of the demonstrations in the city, but they all were about single issues. I wanted to find a socialist group which could frame these issues, but I didn’t know where to look. All the books I read were about anarchism as a historical movement. Woodcock’s history of anarchism claimed that anarchism had its day. I didn’t quite believe that. Weren’t there contemporary anarchists? I made friends with people who had a radical bookstore in Denver. There was some anarchist literature in the bookstore, but it seemed like there was a current anarchist organization that was writing about contemporary issues. One guy, Tuggie, was very friendly to me. He told me about their collective, but I really did not know what the next step was. I felt that there was some secret code I had to decipher to “join the movement”, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was too embarrassed to ask. In any event, Tuggie showed me a book called Post-Scarcity Anarchism by Murray Bookchin. I tore through that book in three days. “This guy must be alive!” I thought. No more dead anarchists for me! I found out Murray lived in New York. I packed my stuff and moved back to New York and stayed with my parents till I could find a place to live. First Encounter with Murray Some time in January of 1972, feeling very lonely, I decided to see if I could find Murray in the phone book. Part of me thought “If you were a famous anarchist, would you have your phone number in a phone book?” Hell no! But desperately I poured through the Manhattan phone book anyway. I couldn’t believe it! There was his name in the book. What the fuck! Now for the real test. Do I have the nerve to call him up? There was something about the way Murray wrote that book that made him seem approachable. After about an hour of pacing around in the kitchen, I picked up the phone and called. Of course, I hoped no one would answer to let me off the hook. But someone did answer. It was some kid about my age. “Can I speak with Murray?” I said, my heart racing. The kid said “sure”. After a few seconds of talking behind the scene, Murray came on the phone. “Murray, you don’t know me,” I blurt out, “but I read your Post Scarcity Anarchism book and I want to be part of this. I’m pretty isolated now. Can you give me some direction?” He asked me if I wanted to come over. What the fuck! “Yeah! Where are you?” He gave me his address. It was something like 2nd Avenue and East 6th street. I told him I lived in Jamaica, Queens and I would be there in about 45 minutes. I left the house and probably ran the entire five long blocks to reach the subway. I reached his address. It was kind of a beat-up apartment building, but nothing was going to stop me. A young kid answered the door. I think his name was Joel Whitehouse. Very friendly, he said “are you Bruce?” I nod nervously. He directs me to the kitchen where Murray must have been holding court. There must have been about three kids my age. Murray asked me some questions about myself. I was able to convey to everyone that I was serious about anarchism, that I had some experiences that qualified me, including some LSD trips which I’m sure met with approval from the other kids, if not Murray. The whole time I was there all of them made me feel that I was welcome and that I was part of something larger. Most of the time was spent with them telling me places I could go to get plugged in. That was the best 90 minutes of therapy I ever had! I don’t remember if I hugged Murray or not. Being Italian it wasn’t far-fetched, but I think I was too much in awe of him to do that. Romance among the anarchists Within the next day or so I started to volunteer at the War Resisters’ League. I did phone calling, leafleting and general office work. People were very nice to me but I could see that there were tensions between some of the volunteers. What came as a shock to me (and which I’ve never gotten over) was how miserable leftists treat each other over the slightest theoretical differences. I thought leftists would embody the new world we wanted to create in how they lived and treated each other. I guess I was too much of a psychologist or process junkie to understand that a lot people join the movement for reasons other than to just build socialism, as Eric Hoffer argued. At one of the War Resisters League meetings I noticed a woman named Susan. I first worked with her one-on-one as a volunteer. She was very kind in explaining to me how things worked. Now at the meeting I saw her power to articulate things at a higher level in a group meeting. I become even more attracted to her. We continued to build a relationship. Finally after a couple of months, I asked her if she had a boyfriend. “Yes”. I was disappointed, but not surprised. Then she said “are you asking me out?” “Well I was going to” I said, “but you are taken”. “My boyfriend and I do not have a monogamous agreement”, she responded. This confuses me. “You mean you want to go out with me even though you have a boyfriend?” “Yes”, she replied. Now I am really turned on and petrified all at the same time. We fooled around. A week or two later she told me her boyfriend, Jack, who lives in the West Village, is looking for a roommate. “Would you be interested?” she asks me. Whaaaatttttt?? “Yeah,” she said, “I told him about you and he’d like to meet you.” So this is what Emma Goldman went through, I thought to myself. “OK, I’ll meet him”. I meet Jack and like him very much. Nothing between Susan and me is mentioned. I say I need to think about being his roommate. I have to figure out whether I want to go on as a threesome and jeopardize my potential living situation with Jack or do I want to be safe, stop seeing Susan and just work on building a stable home-life with Jack. In one of the few sane decisions of my 20’s, I decided on the second course. Susan seemed to take everything in stride when I explained that I am in over my head. I continued to volunteer with War Resisters League, go to demonstrations with Jack and Susan and others and work for United Parcel Service at night unloading trucks. Second Encounter with Murray At UPS I worked a graveyard shift: 11 at night till 3 in the morning. I took the train home from the Long Island City plant back to the village, got to sleep about 4:30 AM and was up by about noon. One day in the late morning I was on 6th Avenue in the West Village around 8th Street where the great basketball games go on, and had just come out of a supermarket. I saw an older guy walking toward me. It looked like Murray. “Could it be? I haven’t seen him since I met him a couple of months ago at his place. It is him!”. I didn’t expect him to remember me because I figured I was just one of hundreds of lost hippies looking to him for direction. But I was also happy to see him because I was in a much better place psychologically, and wanted to show him I turned out okay and was no longer a basket case. “Murray, remember me? You invited me to your house a couple of months ago?” He looked at me hard, and then said “yes” after pointing his finger at me a couple of times. “How are you doing now?” I rolled my eyes and said “I am in such a better place now. I volunteer at the War Resisters League and I live in the West Village with another anarchist roommate. I work at UPS at night unloading trucks.” After a pause, I looked him straight in the eye and said “you really helped me Murray”. “Well, good” he said. That was the last time I ever spoke with him directly. In retrospect, I wish I could have said “I’ll never forget you”, but I had no way of knowing it would be the last time. Third Encounter with Murray – One of the benefits of working with the War Resisters League was that I also found out about radical events around Manhattan. One event was a book club meeting, which I think was sponsored once a month on a Thursday night by the Libertarian League. I had never heard of this, but one of my comrades told me about it. When he told me Murray Bookchin was going to speak, I was ecstatic. Two weeks later I came upon this sturdy one or two story red brick building. I got there 30 minutes early to look around. There were these wonderful old people, but they were not like the old people I was used to: cranky, complaining about their children. These people were warm, offering me cookies. They were like my Italian grandparents, but they were radicals. Around me I could hear others arguing about the Spanish and Russian Revolutions. I remember someone telling someone else he knew Lenin was full of it even before the Bolsheviks took power. However, I began to feel uncomfortable when the number of old people in the room kept growing. I began to feel out of place. Then Murray came in and immediately started talking with the old-timers. Slowly, close to 7:00 some people my age began to drift in. Murray ambled to the lectern at about ten minutes after seven and began speaking. Within about 10 minutes the place was packed. People were standing around the perimeters. There were now many people my age, naturally late. I was riveted by what Murray had to say, but I was also able to take a step back and notice what was before me. This was a truly intergenerational event that I had never seen before. Well, of course, I did: when I was in church as a child with my parents. But this was no church like I had ever seen! It was better than any church. My eyes moved around the room. I saw old people listening, young people listening and the room was electric. Imagine this intergenerational gathering as a gathering of trees. On the periphery were the old grandfather trees on their way out, yet soaking it all in, many, perhaps, feeling more confident that with Murray at the helm, the next generation couldn’t go too far off. At the core were us seedling trees, green and immature. At the center, at the heart, stood Murray Bookchin, spanning the generations, in his prime. That is one of my fondest radical moments ever. Many people may disagree with all of Murray’s politics or some of it, as I do now. But few would deny that despite being 50 years old he had a way with people in their twenties, at the very time when Jerry Rubin or Abbie Hoffman were saying to never trust anyone over 30. When I tell my story about my encounters with Murray to older anarchists they shake their heads and say that was typical of him. It was all in the setting of political organizing. He did not get this following because these people were his students. He was drawing people to him for 10 years before he was eventually given a professorship. Murray knew how to build intergenerational solidarity like no one I had ever seen. I’ve been a college teacher for 27 years and I certainly have influenced students. I have learned to get along with people 40 years younger than I am, but this is not political organizing. Most of my students have to take my classes for reasons that have nothing to do with my political views or me. Murray drew people to him without having anything to hold over them like a grade. From Face-to-Face to Facebook At this time last year I had no Facebook page and was completely cynical about the whole operation. But last spring my partner and I hired a social media movement consultant, Susan, to help us with our political website, and she insisted we have a Facebook Page. Since my partner manages our website and already had her own Facebook account, I figured I’d leave it to her. It was only a casual comment by Susan that helped me change my mind about Facebook. She talked about people who went on Hillary’s page in order to “start up trouble”. Since she was no doubt a supporter of Clinton, I had to be delicate. I asked about what you had to do to make comments. When I found out how easy it was, my mind began racing. At the time I was very excited about the followers of Bernie Sanders as possible converts to socialism, but wasn’t sure how to reach them. Then I thought about Facebook. I searched for the most left-wing group of the Democratic Party, which seemed to be “Bernie or Bust” Facebook group. Posting on my partner’s Facebook account, I then began agitating for the Sandernistas to get out of the Democratic Party. As my posts were controversial and constantly generated responses, my partner began to insist that I get my own account. After a couple of weeks of arguments, I agreed. I lasted on Bernie or Bust until primary night when I was kicked off. I did this for two months until the primary was over. Then I switched to the Jill Stein Dank Meme group and tried to move people to make a more explicit commitment to socialism. Before any of you think I have become obsessed with Facebook and spend all my time there, I actually treat it as a job. I spend an hour every morning on it. This is part of my political commitment to agitate every day. Is Intergenerational Solidarity Possible on Facebook? Is it Desirable? I am very fussy about who my Facebook friends are. I examine their posts, look at their profile, and peruse the groups they belong to before deciding to accept their friend requests. As I said earlier, the status markers like class, race, gender, age, occupation and where they live are less easy to determine. What is even more interesting is that I don’t seem to care, since no one asks me about the kind of work I do or where I live, maybe it doesn’t matter to them much either. Still, one thing does stand out. Most of the “friend requests” I receive include their tiny profile pictures. They are not large enough to see clearly unless I go to their page. But when I look at their pictures occasionally I am astounded by how young they seem. Some of my Facebook friends look like they are still in high school, and I’d say most are in their twenties. I am old enough to be their grandfather, yet here we are pecking away. There is a group called “Baby Communist Support Group” which specifically helps young comrades to get their bearings. I have sometimes used my training as a psychologist to help people in this group with depression and anxiety in the similar ways that Murray helped me in my first encounter with him. What’s cool is that they don’t ask me for my credentials, nor do I volunteer them. Is there such a thing as electronic intergenerational solidarity? The cynic in me says no. You have built nothing with these people. They know nothing about you and there is no continuity developing. It is true that when I have tried on occasion to take the next step: to send an email or have a phone conversation, it has not worked very well. Other than my partner – and 4 or 5 other friends that I know personally as well as through Facebook, I have not yet met a single one of my Facebook friends. If I never actually meet any of my Facebook friends, is that a sign the whole project is a failure? If we never talk on the phone or exchange emails, does this mean I am deluding myself? Most of all, if the fruit of all these electronic interactions does not result in the formation of joint political in-person actions, like founding a party and engaging in a strike does that mean I am not doing any “real agitation”? Granted Murray Bookchin influenced many people, not just because of building face-to-face political relationships, but because he wrote books, made public speeches and attended conferences. Still he could not reach potentially thousands of people every day. I am no Murray Bookchin, but I have thousands of young people I can influence every day by investing at least an hour or longer if I choose. Am I co-creating intergenerational solidarity? Am I wasting my time? My conclusion is that Facebook is good for spreading seeds far and wide and talking people through the clarification and support stages of being political radicals. Face-to-Face work is for nailing down the time, place and circumstances and for building a political practice. However, all the political practice that develops can in turn return to Facebook for consolidating and spreading more seeds. Since my story is experiential and I claim no expertise, I welcome your feedback either in direct emails or by sending me articles pertaining to the subject. http://clubof.info/