My Own Private Ulysses: The Rottenest Roommates in Dublin
<p>“Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep!…Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin.”<br />
- Ulysses, James Joyce</p>
<p>What kind of panting maniac would name a “Joycean Heritage Pub” after these two rat bastards? Could Stephen have worse roommates than No-Name Haines and Back-Shivving Buck Mulligan? These jagoffs make Rosencrantz and Guildenstern look like Piglet and Eeyore. And what are the signature cocktails of this pothouse: The Gay Betrayer? The Ponderous Saxon? The Woful Lunatic? This pair of pigdogs deserves far, far worse, but a <a href="https://www.robertromanempire.com/single-post/my-own-private-ulysses-the-six-word-prose-poem" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" target="_blank">Hemingway Half-Dozen Prose Poem</a> is all our showrunner could gin up in these tricky-dicky times. It seems history is to blame.</p>
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