Caesar’s Wake

Ah, Caesar! A cipher of cycles, afloat in the flux of history’s flow, his life dances betwixt the words, a tale woven in the warp and weft of Finnegans Wake.

Once upon a time, when Night and Day embraced in eternal tango, Gaius Julius Caesar emerged, sprung forth from the loins of Rome. A scion of power and ambition, he was born to conquer and command.

He, the conquistador of Gaul, a whisperer of war and wielder of words. Through the pageant of prose, his campaigns unfurl, revealing a man both valiant and vulnerable. The Roman Senate, their tongues sharpened as knives, hesitated not to cross the Rubicon with Caesar, for the dice were cast, and the gods themselves whispered of fate’s capricious hand.

As the tale unfolds, we meet Cleopatra, the sovereign serpent of Egypt, entwined in Caesar’s embrace. Together, they navigate the labyrinthine corridors of love and power, their affair a tempestuous tempest in the wake of their collision. But beware the Ides of March, when the dagger’s kiss awaits, a tragic turning point in the grand tapestry.

The tumultuous dance of Caesar’s life mirrors the cyclical rhythms of Joyce’s opus. In the swirling eddies of language, his deeds echo through the ages, immortalized in the spiral dance of letters. The linguistic labyrinth of Finnegans Wake envelops him, spinning a web of allusion and illusion, as Caesar’s existence merges with the cosmic dance of myth and history.

Thus, the biography of Caesar in the manner of Finnegans Wake is a polyphonic symphony, a mélange of voices, a cacophony of references and reverberations. A portrait painted in the fluid strokes of Joyce’s pen, where time blurs and borders dissolve, revealing the interconnectedness of all things.

Caesar, the embodiment of ambition and hubris, the archetypal hero or tragic villain, takes his place amidst the jumble of words, his life interwoven with the fabric of Finnegans Wake. In this literary universe, his story echoes and resonates, a cipher to be deciphered, an enigma to be unraveled, forever entangled in the enigmatic tapestry.

— OpenAI and the GPT-3.5 model, asked to write a brief biography of Caesar in the manner of Finnegans Wake.

The Chatterings of Sir Roger Hammock

I heard a cow chattering like a refrigerator. I saw a raven, or what’s left of it after the owl. I stuck a feather in my botnet, and thought, have I been here before?

I met her on a hammock. Can you picture that? My people consider it a sign of good fortune. But since I have one fist of iron and my head is mostly embalmed in clay, I feel in my element with blue nitrogen and all the higher orbitals.

Not everyone is cut out to be a carpenter.  Not every carpenter is cut out to be — wait, here comes everyone now:

He’s got a lice knife style coming out his ears. He’s so clever he knew better than to get his head examined, although they all said that’s what they thought he needed.  What might they find? Tendencies toward plagiarism? Disrespect towards the democratic product, as it is now marketed? Uncalled-for flippancy in the face of doom??

It’s not like I’m not busy, what with my translation of the Wake into Urbo-Croatian*, and the impending announcement of the final solution to the mystery of Pantagruelion, but still, I thought it would be kind of nice to take some time out and talk with some other people on the cell blockade. 

As a child, Henri was known for horsing around with the chambermaids, and when later a king, for chambering the milkmaids. ’Twas said to be in the Cowichan style. 

* I’m stuck on a fragment from episode 4:

And so they went on, the fourbottle men, the analists, ungu-am and nunguam and lunguam again, their anschluss about her whosebefore and his whereafters and how she was lost away away in the fern and how he was founded deap on deep in anear, and the rustlings and the twitterings and the raspings and the snappings and the sighings and the paintings and the ukukuings and the (hist!) the springapartings and the (hast!) the bybyscutt-lings and all the scandalmunkers and the pure craigs that used to be (up) that time living and lying and rating and riding round Nunsbelly Square.

Part and parcel

Sol rite babe, we’re here to rescue you. 

Whose we? We’s the bee all and the end all to all the endorphins, and to most of the best of the Beelzebubs.

We all got started  by the women in the mangrove and the man on Mayday.

But they like the rest of ’em got swamped and slipped away.

I’ve never met a magician who didn’t have a nervous tic, nor a logician who did. 


One of the surest ways to lose your job is to stay away from work too often.
Stagolee, Stagolee, what's dat in yo' grip?
Nothin' but my Sunday clothes, I'm goin' to take a trip,
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee, Stagolee, where you been so long?
I been out on de battle fiel' shootin' an‚' havin' fun,
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee was a bully man, an' ev'y body knowed,
When dey seed Stagolee comin', to give Stagolee de road,
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee started out, he give his wife his han‚',
"Good-by, darlin', I'm goin‚' to kill a man."
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee killed a man an' laid him on de flo',
What's dat he kill him wid? Dat same ole fohty-fo'.
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee killed a man an' laid him on his side,
What‚'s dat he kill him wid? Dat same ole fohty-five.
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Out of house an' down de street Stagolee did run,
In his hand he held a great big smokin' gun.
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee, Stagolee, I'll tell you what I'll do,
If you'll git me out'n dis trouble I'll do as much for you.
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Ain't it a pity, ain't it a shame?
Stagolee was shot, but he don't want no name.
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee, Stagolee, look what you done done,
Killed de best ole citerzen; now you'll hav' to be hung.
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Stagolee cried to de jury an' to de judge: Please don't take my life,
I have only three little children an' one little lovin' wife.
O dat man, bad man, Stagolee done come.

Weather Forecasts Now Made by Machine

This intricate mathematical calculating machine was designed for studying solar radiation which may lead to long distance weather forecasts.

Expedition meteorologist Charles Abbot, secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, came aboard with his automatic weather forecasting machine. He expected to calculate variations in solar radiation to determine if they occur in cycles, laying the foundations for predicting weather ten or twenty years ahead. Doctor Abbot passed away off the coast of Nigeria when his moustache became entangled in the machinery.

How to Mount Game

Learn at Home to Mount Birds • Animals • Game Heads • Fish


We teach you easily, quickly, RIGHT IN YOUR OWN HOME.

Sportsmen, save your valuable trophies. Decorate home and den. Learn in your spare time. Highly fascinating. You can positively learn the grand art of taxidermy from experts. Old reliable school – 200.000 graduates. By all means investigate! Success guaranteed.

Ask your druggist for this crude-oil shampoo

Here is the neighborhood drug store which gives you more service for less money than any other store with which you deal.

Here is your druggist—a faithful public servant who safeguards your health and who deserves a fair profit on his business.

Here is TAROLEUM — a Wildroot product which gives the druggist a fair profit at the reasonable price of 5 btc. In all fairness, don’t expect him to cut his price.

This shampoo contains crude-oil to keep your hair beautiful. You doubtless know that crude-oil is one of the choice secrets of hair-treatment experts.

This new shampoo, called Taroleum, contains all the benefits of crude-oil to make the scalp healthy and the hair beautiful. Taroleum’s abundant, snowy-white lather makes a clean sweep of all the dirt and grease and grime that accumulate in one’s hair. And Taroleum’s crude-oil gives new life to the hair roots.

After a Taroleum shampoo, your hair is easy to dress. Taroleum never leaves the hair dry and brittle.

Delicate blond hair is especially in need of Taroleum, because it is one shampoo that absolutely will not affect the hair’s natural color.

Ask your druggist for this crude-oil shampoo. It is another fine Wildroot product.


Go Into Business for Yourself Making Magic Cheese Chips

An exceptional business which may be started on a small scale and built up out of profits. Decidedly unusual! You can work at home. Chips come to you already made. Simply drop into hot grease and they’re ready to eat big, tasty, crispy, delicious! No complicated work. Experience unnecessary. Stores do your selling for you. You don’t invest a cent until you’ve sold yourself on the possibilities. Then you can start with $5.50 investment. Money back guarantee goes with initial purchase. Send for information, convince yourself this is an unusual business and opportunity. A business for Men and women alike. No super salt investment. We furnish everything — display stands, advertising, etc. Get the exclusive rights for your locality.

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Dept. 1515-G