winnegans fake
@winnegansfake.bsky.social
The text of Finnegans Wake one skeet at a time....
Sell me sooth the fare for Humblin! Humblady Fair. But speak it allsosiftly, moulder! Be in your whisht!
December 22, 2025 at 7:15 AM
Sell me sooth the fare for Humblin! Humblady Fair. But speak it allsosiftly, moulder! Be in your whisht!
Mutt.—Meldundleize! By the fearse wave behoughted. Despond's sung. And thanacestross mound have swollup them all. This ourth of years is not save brickdust and being humus the same roturns. He who runes may rede it on all fours. O'c'stle, n'wc'stle, tr'c'stle, crumbling!
December 22, 2025 at 4:15 AM
Mutt.—Meldundleize! By the fearse wave behoughted. Despond's sung. And thanacestross mound have swollup them all. This ourth of years is not save brickdust and being humus the same roturns. He who runes may rede it on all fours. O'c'stle, n'wc'stle, tr'c'stle, crumbling!
Jute.—'Zmorde!
December 22, 2025 at 1:15 AM
Jute.—'Zmorde!
Mutt.—Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge by the smal an' everynight life olso th'estrange, babylone the greatgrandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig, drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound seemetery which iz leebez luv.
December 21, 2025 at 10:15 PM
Mutt.—Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge by the smal an' everynight life olso th'estrange, babylone the greatgrandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig, drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound seemetery which iz leebez luv.
Jute.—'Stench!
December 21, 2025 at 7:15 PM
Jute.—'Stench!
flick as flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of whirlworlds. Now are all tombed to the mound, isges to isges, erde from erde. Pride, O pride, thy prize!
December 21, 2025 at 4:15 PM
flick as flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of whirlworlds. Now are all tombed to the mound, isges to isges, erde from erde. Pride, O pride, thy prize!
icefloe was from his Inn the Byggning to whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr. Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are in surgence: hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce. Countlessness of livestories have netherfallen by this plage,
December 21, 2025 at 1:15 PM
icefloe was from his Inn the Byggning to whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr. Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are in surgence: hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce. Countlessness of livestories have netherfallen by this plage,
Mutt.—Quite agreem. Bussave a sec. Walk a dun blink roundward this albutisle and you skull see how olde ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone to wail whimbrel to peewee o'er the saltings, where wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of signory,
December 21, 2025 at 10:14 AM
Mutt.—Quite agreem. Bussave a sec. Walk a dun blink roundward this albutisle and you skull see how olde ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone to wail whimbrel to peewee o'er the saltings, where wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of signory,
Jute.—Boildoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly forsstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a patwhat as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and um&scene! Gut aftermeal! See you doomed.
December 21, 2025 at 7:14 AM
Jute.—Boildoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly forsstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a patwhat as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and um&scene! Gut aftermeal! See you doomed.
Mutt.—Somular with a bull on a clompturf. Rooks roarum rex roome! I could snore to him of the spumy horn, with his woolseley side in, by the neck I am sutton on, did Brian d' of Linn.
December 21, 2025 at 4:14 AM
Mutt.—Somular with a bull on a clompturf. Rooks roarum rex roome! I could snore to him of the spumy horn, with his woolseley side in, by the neck I am sutton on, did Brian d' of Linn.
Jute.—Load Allmarshy! Wid wad for a norse like?
December 21, 2025 at 1:14 AM
Jute.—Load Allmarshy! Wid wad for a norse like?
Mutt.—Just how a puddinstone inat the brookcells by a riverpool.
December 20, 2025 at 10:14 PM
Mutt.—Just how a puddinstone inat the brookcells by a riverpool.
Jute.—Simply because as Taciturn pretells, our wrongstoryshortener, he dumptied the wholeborrow of rubbages on to soil here.
December 20, 2025 at 7:14 PM
Jute.—Simply because as Taciturn pretells, our wrongstoryshortener, he dumptied the wholeborrow of rubbages on to soil here.
Mutt.—Louee, louee! How wooden I not know it, the intellible greytcloak of Cedric Silkyshag! Cead mealy faulty rices for one dabblin bar. Old grilsy growlsy! He was poached on in that eggtentical spot. Here where the liveries, Monomark. There where the missers moony, Minnikin passe.
December 20, 2025 at 4:14 PM
Mutt.—Louee, louee! How wooden I not know it, the intellible greytcloak of Cedric Silkyshag! Cead mealy faulty rices for one dabblin bar. Old grilsy growlsy! He was poached on in that eggtentical spot. Here where the liveries, Monomark. There where the missers moony, Minnikin passe.
Jute.—One eyegonblack. Bisons is bisons. Let me fore all your hasitancy cross your qualm with trink gilt. Here have sylvan coyne, a piece of oak. Ghinees hies good for you.
December 20, 2025 at 1:14 PM
Jute.—One eyegonblack. Bisons is bisons. Let me fore all your hasitancy cross your qualm with trink gilt. Here have sylvan coyne, a piece of oak. Ghinees hies good for you.
Mutt.—Has? Has at? Hasatency? Urp, Boohooru! Booru Usurp! I trumple from rath in mine mines when I rimimirim!
December 20, 2025 at 10:14 AM
Mutt.—Has? Has at? Hasatency? Urp, Boohooru! Booru Usurp! I trumple from rath in mine mines when I rimimirim!
Jute.—You that side your voise are almost inedible to me. Become a bitskin more wiseable, as if I were you.
December 20, 2025 at 7:14 AM
Jute.—You that side your voise are almost inedible to me. Become a bitskin more wiseable, as if I were you.
Mutt.—The Inns of Dungtarf where Used awe to be he.
December 20, 2025 at 4:14 AM
Mutt.—The Inns of Dungtarf where Used awe to be he.
Jute.—Whose poddle? Wherein?
December 20, 2025 at 1:14 AM
Jute.—Whose poddle? Wherein?
Mutt.—Aput the buttle, surd.
December 19, 2025 at 10:14 PM
Mutt.—Aput the buttle, surd.
Jute.—What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing, to be cause! How, Mutt?
December 19, 2025 at 7:14 PM
Jute.—What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing, to be cause! How, Mutt?
Mutt.—I became a stun a stummer.
December 19, 2025 at 4:14 PM
Mutt.—I became a stun a stummer.
Jute.—Whoa? Whoat is the mutter with you?
December 19, 2025 at 1:14 PM
Jute.—Whoa? Whoat is the mutter with you?
Mutt.—Noho. Only an utterer.
December 19, 2025 at 10:14 AM
Mutt.—Noho. Only an utterer.