My boy wrote the greatest novel of the century, Ulysses, and wore an eye patch late in his life. Plus, every June 16 he gives Dubliners an excuse to eat kidneys and drink all day. Huzzah!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
James Joyce
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Once upon a time, and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo . . .
I'm starting to be able to predict, when I see the post title on my google reader, which one of you wrote the entry for the day. This one was so obvious it hurt.
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