Joycean wit

**musical mood preference: Kottonmouth Kings - Peace Not Greed**

Have I expressed that I love James Joyce? Here's another reason:

(When asked what he thought of Virginia Woolf....)

"An impressive name . . . she married her wolfish husband purely in order to change her name. Virginia Stephens is not a name for an exploratory authoress. I shall write a book some day about the appropriateness of names. Geoffrey Chaucer has a ribald ring, as is proper and correct, and Alexander Pope was inevitably Alexander Pope. Colley Cibber was a silly little man without much elegance and Shelley was very Percy and very Bysshe."

Wit with no end. Beautiful. Now, only if I understood a fucking thing Finnegans Wake says. Spend 3 months reading something, you think you'd come out of it with an idea of theme, plot, etc. But FUCK NO. I'm sure there's plenty of wit and irony and humor buried in that 700 page leviathan, but I for one cannot decipher it.