Dublin in 20 years? Flaccid, trite imagined landscapes from a very dry and uninspiring cohort. Dublin will remain as it is: boozy, loud and rowdy with a synapse consuming divide, a deepening chasm emerging between the already divided middle and lower classes, as lower income earners are saddled with the back breaking debt that will finally be foisted as part of the post boom wakemare, as the ghostly memories of the Celtic Tiger dissolve slowly into the cut hearts and minds of the select few who benefited from her ephemeral fertility. Too painful to recall, too fluthered to remember just exactly what happened. Guilbaulds was fabulous during the boom years, although I confess to not remembering reported decadence with totality of recall. A folkloric period.

I would not silence anybody’s right to a voice or an opinion. I couldn’t hush the gurgling throat of the unfortunate with a powerful tube mechanism, it would be too costly and too time consuming. I only found myself repeatedly wincing like a rugby player’s mother at these gross, dull visions many have expressed here (in a cyber dialect that I heretofore have yet to teach myself). One is not surprised at the use of trite adjectives in a thing on the internet made from brittle brained graduates who’s literary pugnacity is about as penetrative as stabbing a wall with a peeled banana, or simply hearing Craig Doyle use his face. No, not that. The more peeving aspect of this article being grounded on a pretence of youthful blue sky thinking is how having commanded impressive, italicized titles, ( Senior Dogshit Collector, Co-Owner of Dog Shit Ireland was obviously overlooked,then. Luscious O’Hara, deputy chief of women’s bras at the Gaiety Theatre)  the people who offer their (grimly disappointing) faculties of clairvoyance fail to excel here – and I was surpised how they seem not only fail to excite, but they actually conspire to undermine the fatuous job titles assigned to them. Obviously reader, some must be talking heads of some renown and recognized wisdom, in posession of a balanced library but yet, by expressing visions of Dublin as a bereft cum covered phonebox, devoid of realism or a manifesto one would expect from those who deem their cultural erudition advanced enough to comment on the subject. A twitter account shall suffice, surely? I simply feel it right that I should express my feeling that I feel we have reached the nadir; the wet pit of an indiscernably horrific, formless cave, thousands of naked and misguided Dubliner’s with dazzled voices, suffused in a million opinions, aroused by their own reflection, mentally constipated by the sour din of their I-Phone’s, or the potentiality for another seat at one of Dublin’s emptiest dining or music venues.  Common beliefs in the necessity for an indigenous food market seem to operate as a piss-sweet leit-motif among many of these self pronounced spokespeople. The acknolwedgement that cultivating locally sourced and produced meat, fruit and vegetables are paramount to the prosperity of Dublin as a capital European city in two decades time. What about the conspicuous presence of toothless heroin addicts who suffer under the innumerable dark arches of the city? Organic courgettes. Or establishing a co-ed system? Celery. A Metro? LOCALLY PRODUCED BUTTERNUT SQUASH. I see. Much more important. Would you like a hear of a possible way of eating local produce? I would. Go head there sure. Snip off the marrowfat green foreskin of every self confessed lifestyle guru’s working at any of these unmentionable  ‘culture’ magazines and collect their teeth, nasal hair and lips and serve them in Dublin’s newest, hippest restaurant, or club, run by another threateningly ubiquitous and ambitious nerd, utilize the meticulously rehearsed South Dublin accent which he must have bought in a shop considering he’s from Meath, and have him assert that this is the best meal in town, the only place to eat! By God, you’re a terrible man. That is a terrible idea, what would the public think! Well I’m not very good at guessing what the public likes so I myself rather like it. By God you’re a terrible man altogether.. Ah, sure don’t I know. Just for the record, by the by; what would this cultural hub which serves human anatomy be called?

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