"The last word in stolentelling!"

(423.10-425.3)  Today's passage begins with Shaun continuing his vitriolic description of Shem's literary habits.  After calling Shem an "imitator," Shaun adds that "it was entirely theck latter to blame."  Thus, as ALP's letter recounts the downfall of the father, HCE, it brings forth the downfall of the son, Shem.  Shaun paints "Shem Skrivenitch" as an "unbloody housewarmer" who was "always cutting my phrose to please his phrase."  "He's weird, I tell you, and middayevil down to his vegetable soul," says Shaun as he continues to pile on.  "Never mind his falls feet and his tanbark complexion.  That's why he was forbidden tomate and was warmed off the ricecource of marrimoney, under the Helpless Corpses Enactment."  Penniless, unloved, and unfit for formal education ("he was pusched out of Thingamuddy's school by Miss Garterd, for itching"), Shem sought religion with "the society of jewses" (both Jewish society and the Jesuit order) and eventually considered joining "the clericy as a demonican skyterrier" (a Dominican friar).  With no true place in the world for Shem, Shaun says that "Tiberia" (Siberia) is waiting for him.  He punctuates this long rant with "Ex.  Ex.  Ex.  Ex."  As McHugh notes, this both indicates Shem's excommunication and references the finale of ALP's actual letter way back in Book I of the Wake.

But for what, and why was he excommunicated, the crowd asks?  "For his root language," Shaun replies.  Shaun goes on to quote one example of this rude or fundamental language, another thunderword that includes numerous references to Norse mythology including Thor's hammer (here, "molnir") and the Norse apocalypse (here, "rackinarockar").  The crowd recognizes this "hundredlettered name" as the "last word of perfect lanuage."  But, they ask, couldn't Shaun have come up with a word almost as good as the one Shem created?

"Peax!  Peax!" replies Shaun, trying to get the crowd to come to its senses and "taking a slug of Jon Jacobsen" whiskey.  Shaun says that Shem didn't come up with any words, because he's a plagiarist.  "Every dimmed letter in it is a copy," he says.  Shem's work, his brother continues, is "rightdown lowbrown schisthematic robblemint!"  Shaun says that as Shem was writing his letter, he was stealing "the tale of me shur."  So, it seems that what's ultimately got Shaun so worked up is that he believes Shem surely stole his tale, as if it were the tail of Shaun's shirt.