Dream Job

 Quiet enough today all the same.  Still have no one to hand out the flyers for the dolphin spotting.  Put another ad up in the Eurospar and one in Kilminihan’s.  In orange letters and all!  They’re either too out of their heads to see it or too lazy to want the job.

Bright, neat, mannerly youth wanted to hand out flyers for dolphin spotting.  Apply in person to the Cliff Experience Reception Experience Head Office at the far end of the parking lot.    Must have own bicycle.  Access to own photocopier preferred.  No time-wasters, hipsters, teddy-boys, gougers, corner-boys, yobbos, punks, hippies, goths or skinheads need apply!

Personally I have nothing against hippies but Peadar said I should put them in too otherwise it would look like discriminating.

The Cliff Experience Reception Experience (Disruptive Innovation in the Prefab Hut Space)

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What a fantastic year it has been! 

In January we had the immortal quote from our Outraged Reader: “NATIONALIZE THE BASTARD BANKS!’  Of course this was ignored by grown ups with suits in the hope that everyone would forget about the whole thing and, in large part, everyone did.

In February we had the world exclusive on the last letters of Col. Trevelyan Makeshift-Bastion, a similarly exclusive report of Pope Dancing Foxtrot With Celebrity Fascist long before celebrity fascism had even become popular and some assorted ruminations on Ponzi Schemes.

March brought with it wind and rain and disturbing movements on the Hedgeer Hemlien Index, fantastic St. Patrick’s Day frolics, and the news of AIG for Sale.

April was indeed the cruellest month and The Definitive Indefinite Article took to heart the advices of Ludvig Wittgenstein: “Whereof we cannot speak reasonably, we must pass over in silence.”  Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 7

May we heralded in in time-honored fashion with a stirring rendition of the Internationale, the introduction of Twiterature and its Spanish language version Twiteratura.

June brought us my own mysterious disappearance, Hedgeer Hemlien acquiring Bigote of Barcelona, Bloomsday, the birth of Twiterary Cwiticism and the  launch of ipuke, the app that makes your phone throw up all over itself at night.

July was a slow month with wi fi in Dublin taxis bringing the death of obscurantist conversation and the French Foreign Legion setting fire to Marseilles.

August saw the end of reader-generated content and the rebranding of AIG as CHARTIS

September was a mixed bag of little note.

October saw  Dublin being the real winner in the Olympic bidding process.

November saw the Definitive Indefinite Article branch out into plagiarism, the Thierry Henry Sportsman of the Year/Decade debacle and its associated vinicultural fallout.

December delivered itself of TD Paul Gogarty shouting “Fuck You” at Emmet Stagg in Dáil Éireann, the continuing decease of Samuel Beckett , The Mire’s Year in Review and (the ultimate, the ne plus pas ultra in self-referentiality) the Definitive Indefinite Article Year in Review.

Here’s to another year of pharmaceutical auto bots misguidedly leaving links trying to sell Celexa to the residents of  St. Loman’s Home for Retired, Decrepit and Indigent Blog Taglines and their Relicts. Now pin your ears back, ignore the bad 70’s clothes and enjoy (email subscribers please do not all visit the site at once or you will crash it):

The Casual Reader: Seeing as there is no one home today and I have the keys, here’s a question for the wide public out there.  If Apple made an application that periodically vomited all over itself, what would it be called?

ipuke

ivomit

ichunder

igag

iheave

ibarf

ipuke

isick