Well, it's Bloomsday. Even Google has noted it. My plans for today include eating a kidney for breakfast, picking up mail, spying on girls at the beach, hanging out with an impetuous younger friend, getting in a near-fight with a one-eyed nationalist, having a hell of a bad time in a brothel, and stumbling home in the wee hours with the aforementioned friend, only to crash in bed and start all over again.

Wait, that's what Leopold Bloom did a hundred years ago today. I'm going to take a drug test, sleepwalk through work, then come home and read Ulysses.

Here's to that a-mazing halfblindhandcramped scared-o-thunder Dyoublonger, James Joyce.