Finnegans Wake page 485

A renowned novelist in his youth, after getting smashed with his friends, would return home, open a famous novel, while sitting at his typewriter, and copy word for word the entire book. He did this to feel the epiphany that comes with writing something brilliant. And while Hunter S. Thompson may not be the greatest role model, he was an excellent thief.

Aside: Look Into Thompson's Funferal, it is as ridiculous as Tim's.

So I've decided to do as he has done (if only a bit shorter) and copy out word for word page 485 of Finnegans Wake.

'Sagart can self laud nilobstant to Lowman Catlick's patrician morning coat of arms with my High tripenniferry cresta and caudal mottams: Itch dean: which gaspey, Otto and Sauer, he renders: echo stay so! Addressing eat or not eat body Yours am. And, Mind praisegad, is the first praisonal Egoname yod heard boissboissy in Moy Bog's domesday. Hastan the vista! Or in alleman: Suck at!

--Suck if yourself, sugarstick! Misha, Yid think whose was asking to luckat your sore toe or to taste your gaspy, hot and sour! Ichthyan! Hegvat tosser! Gags be plebsed! Between his voyous and her consinnantes! Thugg, Dirke and Hacker with Rose Lankester and Blanche Yorke! Are we speachin d'anglas landage or are you sprakin sea Djoytsch? Oy soy, Bleseyblasey, where to go is knowing remain? Come back, baddy wrily, to Bullydamestough! Cum him, buddy rowly, with me! What about your thruppenny croucher of an old fellow, me boy, through the ages, tell us, eh? What about Brian's the Vauntandonlieme, Master Monk, eh, eh, Spira in Me Domino, spear me Doyne! Fat prize the bonafide peachumpidgeonlover, eh, eh, eh, esquire earwugs, escusado, of Jenkins' Area, with his I've Ivy under his tangue and the hohallo to his dullaphone, before there was a sound in the world? How big was his boost friend and be shanghied to him? The swaaber! The twicer, trifoaled in Wanstable! Loud's curse to him! If you hored him outerly as we harum lubberintly, from norning rice till nightmale, with his drums and bones and hums in drones your innereer'd heerdly heer he. Ho ha hi he hung! Tsing tsing!

-- Me no angly mo, me speakee Yellman's lingas. Nicey Doc Mistel Lu, please! Me no pigey ludiments all same numpa one topside Tellmastoly fella. Me pigey savvy a singasong anothel time. Pleasie, Mista Luke Walkie! Josadam cowbelly maam belongame shepullamealahmalong, begolla, Jackinaboss belongashe: plentymuch boohoomeo.

--Hell's Confucium and the Elements! Tootoo moohootch! Thot's never the postal cleric, checking chinchin chat with niponnippers! Halt there sob story to your lambdad's tale! Are you roman cawtrick 432?'-Finnegans Wake, 485.