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Honestly, the more time I waste playing the game, the less time Iāll work on this site and the less stuff you gotta read. Although why youād be here if you didnāt want to read is beyond me. Maybe youāre lost. Okay, if you want to get out, click the little refresh button, okay? Goodā¦what? You say it didnāt let you out? Oh, well. You must be caught in a time warp. Keep pressing it. Maybe youāll break free. Whatās that. The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? Never mind. Thatās just how many times you have to click before you can leave. Good-bye.
Hey, Iām once again: back. I donāt suppose you fell for that little thing about the refresh button. After all, youāre a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. Well, you canāt possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I
made this site. Youāre only browsing it. And most people donāt even come here. Not even my friendsā¦sniffle The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe theyāre here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? IāM FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, IāM YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page wonāt get a single hit, unless I bribe peopleā¦now
that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here andā¦uhā¦Iāllā¦uhā¦send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. Iām bored. Iām gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, Iām back again! Yeaā¦waits for applause okay! Now I want all you loyal fansā¦cricket chirps to go to the link to see what Iām like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. Iām an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they areā¦anyway, I command you to go! Iām going. Iām back. Iām gonna start counting how many times I say back. Letās see: 1ā¦2ā¦3ā¦4ā¦5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! Iām just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. Youāre great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that Iām entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. Iāve done what Iāve set out to accomplish. Yea, me! Iām so special. You see, most people, they donāt like reading or writing. So if youāre not most people, youāve made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if youāve bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. Itās a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe youāre just skimming. Anyway, thereās nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it nowā¦It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. Itād probley be as popular as those game shows that no oneās ever heard of. Speaking of food, whatās up with pie? Thereās strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. Iām just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldnāt you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesnāt make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. Theyāre basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldnāt it make more sense to get a kazoo, if youāre broke? And if theyāre so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I donāt think I could afford a monkey, and Iām not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computerā¦so, back to the organ grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feedā¦not to mention the mess. Thatās just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkeyā¦Okayā¦now Iām back. Thatās the sixth time Iāve said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyoneās time. But Iād like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. Iām not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioningā¦thatās not goodā¦I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for nowā¦Now Iām back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout āWhoo-Hoo!ā as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now Iām back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. Itās more like techno talk about arrays and how much I suck and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else Iāve said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimerā¦Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Oooooā¦thatās a great idea! Iām gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (thatās me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isnāt paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which Iām sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. Itās in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leaveā¦and remember. Cheese is watching. Okayā¦Iām backā¦I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over againā¦thatās just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. Thereās even a money back guarantee. Isnātā that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I donāt take care of my viewers. Especially since I donāt have viewers. I have readers. Waitā¦I really donāt even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? Itās pathetic. Especially since Iām bothering to write all this. Itās not fair! Why canāt I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except theyāre better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas Iām more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. Iām getting bored, so I think Iām done for the day. May your day be shiney! Iām back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it nowā¦an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what itās name would be. Donāt Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isnāt that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? Iāll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I donāt feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problemā¦itās almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but donāt feel like quitting just yet. Iām like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers snicker will probley wonder what Iām talking about. My answer is simple. It doesnāt matter. Iām just rambling. Which means that it doesnāt matter if you understand anything I say. Doesnāt that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! Iāve just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunesā¦I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form Iām gonna have to put back as my favorite wordā¦I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didnāt have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big olā slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesnāt. And let me tell you, itās an outrage. It deludes all of Americanās sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! āMr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?ā Or whatever. And āMr. Owlā replies āOneā¦Twooā¦Three! Chompā And he bites it. That teaches our youth that itās okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Wellā¦itās not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmmā¦intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titlesā¦it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons donāt make themselves, you know. Iām back again. And not so cheesed off about the whole tootsie roll pop thing. Right now, I have another twenty minutes on the Internet before Iām gonna watch T.V. And I canāt think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. Itās not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if Iāve made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? Iāll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmmā¦has any old, senile person ever written anything? Was it coherent? Did it make more sense that this text? Is it possible to make less sense? Am I enjoying asking retorical questions? Yes. Yes, I am. But I seriously wonder what something written by a senile person would be like. Iāve heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Arenāt they regressed to a child-like state? Does it even matter? Is anyone even reading this? Did I resume asking retorical questions? Do you care? Is this eating up time? I feel like Iām playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but Iām feeling lazyā¦hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! Itās really stressfull. Someday, Iām gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. Itās great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. Thatās why itās here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! Iām gonna quote from the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK again! Yep! I bet you were just breathless in anticipation. Okay. Here goes. Code: 472 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that this site in no way aknowledges the existance of other, better sites (hereon reffered to as the Losers) The Losers are a myth. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips (me again!) claims no knowledge as to where that particullary nasty rumor started, but confirms that this is the best site ever. It would be a sin against humanity for a better site to exist. Should you refuse to aknowledge the Patron Saint of Paper Clips as the ruler of the Internet, you will be subjected to punishment as stated in Code 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook (i.e. Experience vague, pain-like sensations when youāre not paying attention) This has been a public service announcement. This is a test, I repeat only a test. Had this been an actual emergency, we would have bought up all the can openers and charged 3 cows and a pig for each one. I repeat, lock all you doors and windows, this is it. I repeat, there is nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. The end is not here. Iām going, youāre on youāre own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!! Iām back!smiles brightly And apparantly delusional! Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. And I became inspired to talk about nothing. You see, I periodically read the longest text ever to check the constant downward spiral of my sanity. Hmmmā¦I seem to be entertaining myself though, even while reading what I wrote. Which is why I still go to the Really Really Big Button That Doesnāt Do Anything website. Because I am easily amused and have lots and lots of time on my hands. Maybe, some day far in the future (like next Thursday) Iāll print a copy of this insane text. And then go door to door distributing it. Eventually, this would become a monthly tradition. Whole families would gather around their front door, in breathless anticipation while they attempted to barracade me out. I can just see the whole community rising to thwart my attempts to spread love, joy and insane chaos. I probley wouldnāt actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmmā¦maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. Iām still peeved about the cartoon owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials. He is pure evil. TACO will eventually destroy him. Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. I hope not. Or, would that be good? I suppose I could let someone else have the glory. After all, Iām not in this line of buisness for the fame, fortune and power. What line of buisness, do you ask? Why, the assasinating annoying cartoon characters buisness. (Actually I just question them untill they spontaneously combust, I ask lots of questions) So, in conclusion, ladies and gentleman of the jury(thatās you) I could not have possibly tortured āMr. Owlā to death. I
love owls. Hmmā¦I seem to be jumping from one subject to another more frequently. Either I am growing more comfortable with my on-line writing, or I am progressivly getting more insane and chaotic. I also am psyco-analyzing myself a lot todayā¦hmmmmā¦Iām even saying āhmmmmmā¦ā a lot. Just like a real psychologist. Hmmmmmmm. Time for another boring disclaimer!!! Code: 742 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that in no part does the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (Thatās still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. Thatās either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Some of the pages of this site contain a link encouging the two and a half people to e-mail the Patron Saint of Paper Clips. There may also be evil little links that are designed to confuse you. These links send stuff to someone named
[email protected] The Patron Saint of Paper Clips does not know who this individual is, but sincerly wishes that you send all your hate mail to him. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Thank-you for your time. Remember to send your answers to my sanity quiz to the e-mail account,
[email protected] Oh, and once I refer to myself in the first person again, the handbook quote is over. I just thought that I might like to mention that. Oh. Youāre still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you donāt have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! Thatās funny!!! If you you donāt have time to waste, what are you doing here!!! Oh, who am I kidding. I figure that even the people I manage to lure onto my site from neopets donāt even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directlyā¦Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! Iām a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!! Iām back. And really angry, and confused. Iāve always known that I was weird, thatās always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a āfamily outing.ā Now, most families will go bowling, or putt-putt golfing. They may go to a resteraunt with an arcarde, or the movies or to a theme park. Not my family! No, we got the greatest family outing of all. We got to go to a bar and play pool!!!waits for readers to become insanely jealous Yep, thatās right, a bar with a pool table! Not only did we get world class cuisine (under-cooked hotdogs and over-cooked hamburgers), my little sister (age 10) got taught pool by someone I strongly supect is an ex-convict! Naturally when it was announced that weād be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldnāt go to Pizza Hut) When we arrived, we were promptly served (after thirty minutes) In the meantime, we played a family game of pool(my parents played while my brother and sister and I watched) After two rousing rounds, our food came. The food was superb, (our food came the exact opposite of how we ordered it, and half of the onion rings were missing) Then we joyfully returned to our game(my sister and the ex-con played my mom) We spent hours there (from 5p.m.-7:15p.m.) There were many people that were the same age as me and my siblings (no one in the room but us were under 30) Us kids had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bar ( I almost fell asleep during the last game I watched) As we left, there was a feeling of goodwill and fellowship between all(my sister locked me out of the car and wouldnāt let me in untill I started yelling profanity in her general direction) The high point of the entire night was when my mother gave me $21 for my report card. She promptly borrowed $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part Iām not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night Iāll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when heās old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see
Holy sh!t, nani atasoma hio yote?