It’s the time of year where Ireland gets collectively sloshed, but with a purpose outside of working class despair or because being surrounded by Catholics would make anyone want to drink: Bloomsday!
This most holy of holidays celebrates native son James Joyce’s groundbreaking and largely incomprehensible magnum opus Ulysses with a multitude of events – and with many people who should know better dressing in turn-of-the-last-century fashions. Alas, if there’s a high concentration of literate people, there’s going to be cosplay…
