'83 Junior Bridgeman ruby card

'83 Junior Bridgeman

Rewards / Rewards: Bucks

General information

6'5" (195cm)
210lbs (95kg)
Mid Range Guard Post Up 3 PT Isolation

Hot Zones


'83 Junior Bridgeman ruby card

88 Overall

88 Outside scoring

  • 94 Open shot mid
  • 88 Contested shot mid
  • 90 Off dribble shot mid
  • 84 Open shot 3pt
  • 78 Contested shot 3pt
  • 79 Off dribble shot 3pt
  • 94 Shot IQ
  • 91 Free throw
  • 95 Off. consistency

87 Athleticism

  • 89 Speed
  • 89 Acceleration
  • 88 Vertical
  • 75 Strength
  • 90 Stamina
  • 80 Hustle
  • 65 Overall durability

76 Inside scoring

  • 95 Shot close
  • 95 Standing layup
  • 95 Driving layup
  • 25 Standing dunk
  • 85 Driving dunk
  • 70 Contact dunk
  • 79 Draw foul
  • 59 Post control
  • 25 Post hook
  • 59 Post fadeaway
  • 90 Hands

84 Playmaking

  • 86 Ball control
  • 85 Passing accuracy
  • 80 Passing vision
  • 84 Passing IQ
  • 85 Speed with ball

77 Defending

  • 87 On-ball def. IQ
  • 55 Low post def. IQ
  • 88 Pick & roll def. IQ
  • 85 Help def. IQ
  • 90 Lateral quickness
  • 74 Pass perception
  • 60 Reaction time
  • 64 Steal
  • 32 Block
  • 60 Shot contest
  • 85 Def. consistency

66 Rebounding

  • 62 Offensive rebound
  • 69 Defensive rebound
  • 60 Boxout
  • 88 Potential
  • 50 Intangibles
  • 3537 Total attr.

Comments Sort by


    this guy is the 80's in one photo


    Eh, not enough tight pants




    zem.....quit replying to top comments smh

    Show 4 replies...

    Replying to me dont get u clout


    Zem you can’t get clout from a 2k website..


    Quit jerking off to Nikola


    prolly will be a good underrated card


    It is so much like the diamond Lou Hudson last year. If he has a better release he will kill it


    For anyone who doesn't know, This guy and a few other players were traded to the bucks for kareem abdul jabbar in the 70s. Probably the one bright spot for the bucks out of this deal. My eyes lit up when I saw it was my boy Junior because I have always been a fan of him. No wonder his jersey is in the rafters at the BMO Harris Bradley center in Milwaukee


    why he aint on the all time team tho


    I know, I was asking myself that to!


    I like how 2k is giving us lesser known players this year u can count on every week or so weither it be in collections or card we will get a not well known player or a pic of a player on a team u might not of known he played on


    Junior Bacon CheeseBurger


    isnt this a bilionaire because he owns a shit ton of Wendys


    Yea and he owns over 100 Chili's restaurants as well


    one of the most respectable people i can think of. Antoine Walker and darius miles could learn from this guy


    Next reward gonna be the KFC general


    What 2kmtc wanted the comment section for:

    Discussion of the card, pros, and cons, information on the player.

    What it is used for:

    Having a go at Zem for commenting on the top comment, making bad jokes, getting triggered by minor things, having arguments with butthurt team fans over the card not being over powered.


    This dude is rich with all the things he owns


    Solid Card. Will be good in any mode and wreak havoc on defenses.


    His defense leaves a bit to be desired, but overall I agree with your comment.


    only the low post defense is lacking though. that lateral quickness and consistency will make him a great wing defender

    Show 1 reply...

    90 lat quickness and all high 80 D...

    Show 2 replies...

    I meant defensive overall, shot contest, steal, reaction time, and pass perception. Obviously, it leaves a very small but to be desired.


    The goat himself

    Higher net worth than lebron James
    Junior Bridgeman.


    Everyone’s gonna be abusing his layup and shot. Even though he might not be the best player in the game.


    good card i suggest you run him at powerforward he will cheese all over your opponents


    This card is the goat


    Go cop Rex Chapman


    His defense isn't the same so this is why I want him

    Show 1 reply...

    Pretty good card. I'm impressed.


    junoir bridgeman one of my favorite players, name hung in the rafters in BMO harris bank center for a reason


    didnt he make a shit ton of money from wendys


    I like this card. He will be an underrated slasher type dude. He's also got a nice driving dunk rating, pretty good defensive IQ stats, and OK playmaking and outside scoring ability. My only real problem with this guy is his steal rating.


    One of the richest NBA players of all time. Opened 160 Wendy’s and 120 Chili’s. Legend


    Am I the only one who got a duplicate Alvan Adams instead of this card?!!


    I got Alvan Adams also, just for the first time though. I noticed at the time when I got him there was no Bridgeman in the historic Bucks part of the collection? Ehhhh


    How can you get him?


    how do you get him


    Unfortunately can't get him anymore. He was available as a reward for one week of supermax and that was the only chance to get the card. Completely unfair for people who bought the game late and want to collect all Bucks cards in myteam. I ask 2ksupport and they pretty much said eh sucks for you, try to get the next reward.


    this card is so not junior Bridgeman just had a look at his stats and he shot 24% from three and gets an 84 three

    he averaged 2.4 assists in his career gets all 80 or above passing stats

    all they had to do was look at some stats I never seen the man play I just know he cant shoot


    He might have slipped 2k a couple thousand to make him good. He can easily afford it.


    Question: I know he was the supermax reward, but will he also be available in the auction house? Or is it pretty much if you didn't get him last weekend, you are screwed? Huge bucks fan here and would appreciate the feedback.


    All of the supermax reward cards are non-auctionable. So if you didn't make the pink diamond league this round, you unfortunately can't get the card.


    I figured that would be the case. Sucks that you only get 5 days to get a card and poof it's impossible to get for the rest of the year. What if someone is gone all weekend and wants to get the card some other time they have time? Lame.


    isn't this guy rich


    way better then lebron fax


    One of the wealthiest men in america


    i like how we get players we have never had or rarely get before keeps us on our toes and we dont know what card they will drop next


    What would you say if he was stuttering?

    Ta ta ta Today Junior


    Can i have a junior bacon cheese burger?


    stop the hate my cr


    OK how does anyone from the bucks get over a 80 their best player is Greg Monroe and this SCRUB gets 91!!!!!!!!!


    Please tell me how old you are


    Fag, Greg plays for the suns now fucking irrelevant cunt.


    FALSE plays for the pistons now


    I think your forgetting about a man named Giannis Antetokounmpo ya asshole




    Wait a second I should've looked into your previous comments you're a clear troll. I feel dumb for responding now lmao.

    Show 1 reply...

    You know i speak facts




    "whoooooooooo" actually enjoys the comments you make on this site, troll?


    see other comment


    The Longest Yard Script - Dialogue Transcript

    Voila! Finally, the The Longest Yard script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Adam Sandler football movie. This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of The Longest Yard. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.
    Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!
    The Longest Yard Script

    Hey, sexy.

    I love that dress.

    Of course you do, Lorenzo.

    You made it.

    - Hi, sweetie.

    - Hey, guys.

    - There you are.

    - Lena.

    - You've done it again.

    - Well, it's all for you, Bradlee.

    Gotta mingle.

    Oh, the girls are by the pool.

    Well, well, well, Lena. So where's

    this sexy boy toy of yours hiding?

    I didn't know you were

    a football fan, Patrick.

    I've never watched a game. I'm just

    a big fan of his old underwear ads.

    Well, he's probably just getting out of

    the shower. Let me go hurry his ass up.

    - Hi.

    - Hey, babe.

    Start of the fourth quarter, and Owens

    will throw. He's got Brown wide open!

    You have got to be kidding me.

    Honey, just let me finish the game,

    I'll take you to the movies.

    Take me to the movies?

    Hello! There's a huge party

    going on downstairs.

    Remember the catering trucks

    and the valet parkers?

    Oh, shit, I forgot.

    I'll tell you what

    you should forget about.


    Because it's forgotten all about you.

    Now, you're going to put this outfit on

    that I bought you,

    drag your drunken ass downstairs

    and mingle with my clients

    like a good boy.

    Who am I? Elton John?

    I ain't wearing that shit.

    - Yes, you are.

    - I'm not your trained monkey, honey.

    No. You're much more

    expensive than that.

    But I tell you what.

    If you're not downstairs

    in five minutes,

    I'm gonna throw you out of my bed,

    out of my house and out of my life.

    Then you're gonna have to

    pay for your own bananas.

    I'm just so mad at you

    because you're not wearing my gift.


    What gift?

    It's like a I-love-you gift.

    I left it in the closet for you.


    Paul, I'm so excited.

    I can't believe you did this.

    - Where'd you put it?

    - In the back, on the right.

    Paul? Paul, what are you doing?

    I think we need some

    alone time, honey,

    so I'm gonna go take a cruise

    in your Bentley.

    Don't you dare take my car,

    you drunken bastard!

    - I own you!

    - I love you.

    Somebody please open

    this damn door! Patrick?

    - Lena?

    - Patrick.

    What happened to you?

    He locked me in the closet

    and left me to die.

    Oh, my God, he is deranged!

    He thinks he can mess with me.


    Oh, man.

    Here come the party poopers.

    Well, well, well. I'll be damned.

    If it isn't Paul Crewe.

    So, what did I do wrong?

    Was I driving poorly?

    Nope. Nope.

    This car was reported stolen.

    No, no, no.

    It's actually my girlfriend's car.

    Shit happens.

    Shit does happen. I mean,

    look what happened to your ears.

    I gotta ask you something.

    Does he get XM Radio with those?

    Actually, they get

    a couple of channels.

    It's Paul Crewe.

    Another question, though.

    Santa Claus. What's he like?

    Boy, I hate to arrest a public figure

    like yourself,

    but, hell, I don't think

    you got too many

    endorsement deals to worry about,

    now, do you?

    Now, listen here, Mr. Frodo.

    Don't get short with me.

    That was good. I mean, he's good.

    Man. I hope you got a lot of money

    for that game you threw,

    because that was the most pathetic

    thing I ever saw.

    Now, step out of the vehicle,

    Mr. Crewe.

    Don't you think I should pull the car

    over more? I could get sideswiped.

    You're slurring your words a bit there,

    Paul. You been drinking tonight?

    Absolutely not. Now, could you do me a

    favor? Hold this beer while I back it up.

    Hey, you can finish that one.

    I got five more. Take care, guys.

    We got a - in progress.

    Okay, remain calm.

    How you doing? What's up?

    What's up? What's up?

    What you are watching is live footage

    of a vehicle, apparently stolen,

    being pursued by police.

    We're receiving word now

    that the driver of that vehicle

    is former Pittsburgh football star

    Paul Crewe.

    Crewe, you might remember,

    was the only man ever to be indicted

    on federal racketeering charges

    for shaving points

    in a professional football game,

    although it was never fully proven.


    - Hello.

    - Do not get one more scratch

    on my car, or I will slit your throat.

    See, that's our problem, sweetie.

    You care about this car

    more than you do us.

    And how'd you even know

    there was a scratch on this baby?

    Because I am watching you on TV,

    as is the whole country.

    Once again,

    you are proving to everyone

    what a worthless piece of shit

    you are.

    Well, I hope they like this.

    Hey, Lena!

    I think we should start

    seeing other people!

    I think I'm in love.

    Good news, boys,

    I didn't spill my beer.

    Without question, Crewe's five-year

    federal probation for point-shaving

    has been severely violated tonight.

    The future of this once-great football

    star looks very dark indeed.

    Long way from the big city,

    huh, superstar?

    Staying with the times

    around here, huh?

    Ain't she beautiful?

    Home sweet home, boy.

    Get on your feet.

    You're one lucky son of a bitch,


    - Is that right?

    - That's right.

    See, the warden loves his football.

    Fact, he was on the winning side

    of your little thing.

    - Well, tell him congratulations.

    - But I wasn't.

    Welcome to Allenville.

    Thank you, sergeant.

    I'll take it from here.

    - Afternoon, inmate Crewe.

    - Yeah.

    Come on. Warden wants to see you.

    Let's do it.

    Move it.

    I used to play

    a little college ball myself.

    Down at the University of Miami.

    I bet a lot of your old teammates

    are locked up in here.

    No inmates from my playing days.

    Couple of guards, though.

    See, we got us a fine

    prison-guard league down here.

    It's like a company softball team.

    Now, the warden...

    ...he's gonna ask you to help out.

    Okay. With what?

    That wasn't nice.

    When the warden asks you,

    what are you gonna say?


    You're gonna tell him "no. "

    You got it?

    You're gonna tell the warden

    that you want nothing to do

    with his football fantasies.

    Not in my back yard.

    Because the warden

    don't run this prison. I do.

    You understand?

    Not entirely.

    Okay. I feel you, dog. I feel you.

    Paul "Wrecking" Crewe.

    I don't get to say this

    to my new guests very often,

    but it's an honor to have you

    here at this institution.

    It's an honor to be

    locked up here, sir.

    Oh, well, this is Errol Dandridge.

    Colonel Sanders

    been eating his own chicken.

    He's my political adviser.

    See, I've been approached

    by several very influential people

    wondering if I'd be interested

    in standing for governor.

    They see the way I run this prison,

    think maybe I should run this state.

    Only with less sodomy, right?

    Hopefully none.


    Now, there are two things we take very

    seriously here in the state of Texas.

    Prison and football.

    We play a little of the latter here.

    The warden is too modest to admit

    that his team is rather good.

    But not good enough.

    Five years since

    our last championship.

    Five years.

    Now, I've worked real hard,

    pulled strings,

    called in quite a few favors

    to get you here, Paul.

    Now, why would you go and do that?

    Because I am convinced that

    you can get us back on track.

    I haven't played football in I don't

    know how long. I don't really want to.

    You wouldn't be playing, Paul.

    Just consulting.

    Anyone who was once the MVP

    of the National Football League

    must have a great deal

    of expertise to offer.

    Captain, what would you say

    to Mr. Crewe looking in,

    giving us the benefit

    of his experience?

    I think that's a real good idea, warden.

    We can use all the help we can get.

    Well, then, it's all settled.

    What you say, Paul?

    I appreciate the offer,

    but I'm gonna have to pass.

    Now, I can assure you

    that your time here will be a whole

    lot easier if you just participate.

    I just wanna do my time

    and go home. Nothing else.

    If you'll excuse us, Mr. Crewe.

    Captain Knauer, you can stay.

    Sit down!

    I used to love

    your underwear commercials.

    Thank you very much.

    My ex-husband wore the

    same brand of tighty whities.

    He didn't fill them out

    quite as well as you, though.

    Special effects. Hollywood.

    Not all me.

    Oh, I doubt that very seriously.

    Well, then get him enthusiastic,

    damn it!

    Come on, get up.

    How'd it go in there?

    We all set now?

    Oh, yeah, we're real tight.

    Only the finest for you, superstar.

    I was just playing.

    I ain't gonna forget you, Crewe.

    Hey, yo, you owe me money

    on that game, punk!

    Better watch yourself, Mr. Football!


    Yeah, you better run, woman.

    Yo, football.

    Take a seat.


    You know, I have never seen

    one inmate just walk in here

    and be unanimously hated

    by the entire population.

    - I ain't never seen it.

    - How'd I get so lucky?

    You could have robbed banks,

    sold crack,

    stole your grandmama's pension,

    and nobody would have cared.

    But shaving points off a football game?

    Man, that's just un-American.

    - You play football?

    - Me? No.

    I suck so bad, they used to pick me

    after the white kids.

    Used to be mad too. It's like, "I can't

    believe I picked a nigga that can't play. "

    - Caretaker.

    - Paul Crewe.

    Whatever your pleasure,

    I can facilitate.

    You need weed, you need meth...

    Hey, you need Prozac, I'm your man.

    I know how you white boys

    always deal with that depression.

    I mean, me personally, I don't

    understand what you white boys

    all depressed about.

    Hey, you're white. Smile.

    And for a small fee,

    I can even get you McDonald's.

    - Really?

    - Yeah, that's right. Mickey D's.

    My man Cheeseburger Eddy

    got the hookup.

    Cheeseburger Eddy?

    That's right.

    We can get our McFlurry on.

    Enjoy it, fat man.

    What about the love

    of a beautiful woman?

    Well, you're gonna have

    to lower your standards

    on the beautiful part

    and on the woman part.


    Let's just stick

    with the cheeseburgers.

    Oh, they ugly now, but in eight months,

    he gonna look like Beyoncé.

    No, thanks.

    Now, here's the most important part.

    You can't let these guys scare you.

    You can't let them punk you.

    Because if you do that, you gonna

    end up being somebody's bitch.

    Don't want that.

    Thanks for the advice.

    Hey. Let me take that tray

    out for you.

    I ain't done eating yet.

    Oh, you're not?

    I'll give it back to you, then.

    You're dead!

    Hornet's Nest!

    Everybody stay down.

    Stay quiet!

    Come on, Crewe, get up.

    Get up, superstar.

    Yes, sir.

    You think you can do anything

    you want around here, don't you?

    Well, you are no different

    than any other piece of shit

    that calls this place home.

    Really? These guys think

    you're a dumb redneck too?

    Girl, that's your new boo.

    You better cut that shit out.

    It's getting old.

    That's gonna cost you.

    Looking forward to it.

    Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.

    Hey, superdick.

    Warden's wondering if your stay

    in the hotbox has changed your mind.

    How long have I been in here?

    One week. Wanna go for two?

    How'd you find these guys anyways?

    Recruitment, boy.

    When college stars don't get drafted,

    they need a place to go.

    A job, money, security.

    Who drank all the damn Gatorade?!

    Damn it!

    And apparently steroids.

    Look, seems like you got all the talent

    you'd want. So why do you need me?

    Well, now, you might

    find this hard to believe,

    but there's folks here in the prison

    league don't care for me very much.

    - You, warden?

    - They thought it might be amusing

    to schedule the defending

    league champs as our first game.

    And me? Well, I thought

    an old pro like yourself

    might have some training-camp tricks,

    drills, insights to offer up.

    Give us the competitive edge.

    All right. Relatively simple.

    You need a tune-up game.

    A tune-up game?

    Yeah. In college, we'd start every

    season against Appalachian State

    or some slack Division II team.

    Kick the living shit out of them.

    Get their confidence up.

    You know something, Paul?

    - You've just given me an inspiration.

    - That's great. What?

    You're gonna assemble a team

    to play the first game against us.

    And you, Mr. Crewe,

    are gonna be the quarterback.

    I don't think so.

    Let me tell you something.

    In my prison, to get along,

    you gotta go along.

    I just wanna do my three years

    and be done.

    Three years is before

    you assaulted Captain Knauer.

    Now, you could be with us

    for a very long time, Mr. Crewe.

    Fine, I'll do it.

    Good choice.

    But one condition, though.

    Gotta promise me to keep

    Captain Knauer off my back.

    It's a deal.

    Now, you got four weeks

    to assemble a team and train them.

    What, are we gonna have a half-hour

    a day to practice with a Nerf ball?

    Oh, I'll make sure my boys allow you

    sufficient freedom, within these walls,

    to get your team in shape.

    What's this? "Football 'tree-outs. "'

    What the hell is a "tree-out"?

    "Tryout," you half a meatball.

    - What's this football thing about, man?

    - Crewe's getting a team together.

    - To play against who?

    - The guards.

    Now, I don't know about y'all,

    but I occasionally have the impulse

    to physically assault one of our

    finer correctional officers.

    Yeah? Well, how the hell

    we gonna get to do that?

    Just show up at the "tree-outs,"

    you big, dumb bitch.

    Do the girls get to play?

    We're playing footballs,

    not balls-balls.

    This is bullshit. Just another chance

    for the guards to beat on us.

    Don't you idiots get it? We could get

    a free shot at the guards.

    This is our turn.

    We could beat up on them.

    We could kill them.

    Kill them.

    You know MVP

    sold his own teammates out.

    What do you think

    he's gonna do to you fools?

    And that's the truth.

    With some cheese on it.

    There ain't no meat loaf

    between these buns.

    Yo, man, that's my flier, man!

    I worked hard on it!

    You see? He ran like a little bitch,

    right? You saw that, right?

    Yo, team needs you.

    Team needs you.

    You sh... You come to the tr...

    Come to the tree-outs.

    Crappy field, shit-ass equipment...

    Hey, man, at least we got some

    world-class players over there.




    He might make the team.

    Well, if we gotta cut him,

    you're doing it.



    - All right, man.

    - Good job, man.

    Well, well, well.

    You a football player?

    Oh, no. I never played

    no football, mister.

    So, what happened? You read the flier,

    thought it looked like some fun?

    - Oh, I can't read.

    - Oh, don't worry.

    Reading's for rich people.

    So you know, we're putting together

    a football team. Love you to join.

    Will you teach me to football?

    Sure we'll teach you to football.

    Won't we, Caretaker?

    Hey, I'll teach you anything.

    Just don't eat me.


    Down, Shrek. Down!

    Okay, bring it in. Whoever's trying out

    for the team, wake up.

    Can you give a brother

    a little hustle?

    Very good.

    For those of you who don't know

    who I am, I'm Paul Crewe.

    I'm gonna be your coach,

    your captain, your quarterback.

    You haven't played in years.

    Why can't I be quarterback?

    - You're right. Let's see what you got.

    - All right.

    - Hit me, I'm open.

    - Hike, hike! Hike!

    That's why.

    Now, sit down and shut up.

    It slipped. I just ate popcorn.

    Question: Any of you gentlemen

    ever play football before?

    - You did? Where?

    - Kansas State.

    Are you shitting me?

    For Coach Snyder?

    Kansas State Prison.

    Now, I hear they have

    the softest mattresses out there.

    Yeah, they do.

    Not as soft as the ones

    at West Texas Mental Institution.

    - Really?

    - Let's finish this conversation later.

    For now, I wanna see

    what you got out there.

    We'll grade them

    on a scale of one to ten.

    Move it! Hustle, hustle, hustle!

    Give these guys sixes.

    Give these guys fives.

    Good. Good.

    Give them threes.

    Very nice!

    - Aren't we missing somebody?

    - Where's the Kansas State guy?

    You assholes better not cut me!

    I'm still on this team!

    Negative two.

    All right, go with negative two.

    Hey! Somebody bring me

    a Diet Coke!

    - Let's do this!

    - That's it!


    Good. Seven.

    Stupid tire! You're a fricking tire!

    You think you're better than me?!

    I'll kick your ass!


    And a half?

    Yeah. That's better.

    Okay. Good.

    Yeah. Hit that bag, man.

    There you go, man.


    - Five. I don't know.

    - I go.

    Come on, Switowski!


    Oh, man!

    - Look at that.

    - He got it off the hinge.

    - I think that's a ten.

    - Let's go with a ten.

    I'm sorry. I "brokeded" your toy.

    No, that's a good thing. You should

    have a victory hug with Caretaker.

    What? What you

    talking about, man? Hey!


    Okay, fellas, it's pretty simple.

    You do a buttonhook.

    The rest of you guys block for me.

    I'll take care of the rest.

    Okay? On "go. " On "go. "

    Ready? Break!

    We'll work on that.

    Okay, half speed on this one, guys.

    Slow and easy.



    Stop it!

    Stop the violence!

    Can't we all get along?

    - Hey, Paul.

    - Unger.

    - Team's looking great.

    - Oh, yeah.

    - So are you.

    - Yep. Working on it.

    The blood of the guards is gonna flow

    like the rivers of ancient Babylon.

    That's good news.

    Unger, you're the man.

    Good job today. You're all starting

    to look really sharp out there. Yeah.

    See you tomorrow.

    - We're gonna suck.

    - Yeah. No doubt about it.

    You look like

    you could use a little help.

    No offense, my man,

    but you're a little seasoned.


    I'm not asking to play. I'll coach.

    I'm Nate Scarborough.

    Nate Scarborough?

    The Heisman Trophy winner

    from Oklahoma?

    The inmate from cellblock D.

    But about a hundred years ago,

    when I could run and gun,

    yeah, I was a Sooner then.

    I heard you were dead.

    No, I ain't dead.

    I've been right here, rotting.

    Waiting for a chance to get back

    at those sadistic guards.

    Waiting. For this.

    Well, coach, as you can see,

    we don't exactly have the cream

    of the crop to work with here.

    Well, what are we gonna do?

    How are we gonna find players?

    How'd they get you

    to go to Florida State?

    They recruited me.

    I'll get the strippers.

    Well, now, Lindsay, this isn't

    about credit or congratulations.

    This is about giving men

    who've made mistakes in their lives

    an opportunity

    to rise above themselves.

    To move beyond

    the bars of containment.

    Say what?

    What I would do to you.

    Yeah. Nice boot, skin man.

    Hey, why does he get to be

    the kicker? I was All-State, man.

    Let's see what you got.

    That's why, you dumb-ass.

    Just go do some laps.

    I heard you boys needed to see me.

    Yeah. I want you to meet Skitchy.

    Hey, dog.

    Check that building over there.

    They keep all the records

    in the basement.

    He's been here so long,

    he knows where everything is.

    That ain't necessarily

    a good thing, is it?

    I had a parole date in ' .

    But I got in a tussle with a guard and...

    One punch and it went away.

    Twenty extra years for one punch?

    Well, unfortunately for him,

    the guard he punched

    just happens to be the warden now.

    Oh, shit. Warden Hazen?

    "Oh, shit" is right.

    Fight in the yard. Send backup.

    Right on time.

    - Let's do it.

    - Let's do it.

    Ain't you guys glad you got

    a black man for a friend?

    - Hell, yeah.

    - Come on.

    Hazen has a rating system

    for every con.

    What's three stars?

    The more prone to violence that the

    inmate is, the more stars he gets.

    Five stars is the max.

    I didn't know that. Let's see how many

    stars my maniacal ass got.

    Half a star? That's gotta be a mistake.

    Check it again. Check it again.

    You're about as maniacal

    as a boxful of kittens.

    Come on, that's not funny, man.

    I'm gonna have to stab somebody

    or something. Get my rep up.

    Why don't we have a maniacal pillow

    fight tonight. That could get it up some.

    Yeah. We can sell it to pay-per-view.

    Superstar Versus Half-a-Star.

    Why don't you shut up before I slit your

    throat and watch the dust come out.

    Come on, guys,

    we only got a couple minutes.

    How about this guy?

    Damn, this fool got the chair

    three times, ain't died yet.

    Well, we may not have

    the most talented team,

    but we will definitely

    have the meanest.

    - What's he doing that for?

    - Because he's a freak.

    Hey, Sasquatch!

    Someone's here to see you!

    Not too smart on your part.


    How's the headbanging coming?

    You're bleeding. Just so you know.

    People have told me that

    you and I look a lot alike,

    so I wanted to see for myself.

    I'm gonna take a piss.

    You scared him away, dumbshit.

    You're kidding. Five-star Torres

    likes The View?

    No, just Joy Behar.

    The good news is she can

    breast-feed standing up. That's it.

    Where does she come up

    with this shit?

    I'm a Star Jones man myself.

    I love that big bitch.

    That was, like, the furthest thing.

    I got married so young, so, I mean,

    they weren't pressuring me,

    the society was pressuring me...

    Mr. Torres.

    Us convicts are starting up

    a football team.

    Not interested.

    We're playing the guards.

    Walk away.

    Good idea.

    for .

    You're putting the pressure

    on her right now.

    Show's over, amigo.

    I still got minutes of Joy Behar.

    Well, I'm cutting you short.

    Back to your cell, asswipe.

    Hey, white boy.

    Cherryhead gonna play?

    Yes, he is.

    Crewe, don't forget,

    I'm gonna be open.

    Green ! Hut!


    Brucie. Brucie. You all right?

    You breathing?

    I got a bird. His name is Ronnie.

    Well, tell Ronnie you got

    knocked the fuck out.

    Wow, no bullshit. Real football?

    Against the guards?

    Full contact.

    Captain Knauer is their quarterback?

    - Yep.

    - So I get to tackle him?

    Yeah. You can either tackle him or hit

    him over the head with that hammer.

    I wanna hurt him. Not kill him.

    Let's get out of here

    before that thing bites somebody.

    All right. We'll see you

    and your pet iguana at practice.

    Down, set!

    Hut! Hut!


    - Hit me.

    - Get rid of it.

    Get rid of it!

    He didn't get rid of it.

    Sacked your ass.

    Somebody's gotta get open, guys.

    You got hammered by the hammer.

    I think I felt it on my leg.

    We gotta get some speed, man.

    What'd you expect?

    You got no brothers out there.

    What are you talking about?

    We got Switowski.

    Switowski? That's one brother.

    That's a lonely nigga.

    This ain't hockey.

    You want some speed,

    you know where to go.

    Hey, yo, check out

    this fake Slim Shady, man.

    I knew you couldn't resist my shit.

    I got the shakes

    that'll make you quake.

    I got the fries that'll cross your eyes.

    I got the burgers that'Il...

    I just got burgers.

    I'm all right. Thank you.

    Just wanted to talk to you fellas about

    possibly joining the football team.

    The only game we'd play with you is

    Slap the Point-Shaving White Boy

    Till He Cries Like a Baby-Back Bitch.

    Baby-back bitch, baby-back bitch

    Baby-back bitch

    - That's a big-ass robot.

    - Yeah.

    You gonna help me out here?

    Thank you, Half-a-Star.

    Just so you know,

    we are playing the guards.

    That ain't a team.

    That's just a bunch of dumb rednecks

    giving themselves excuses

    to grab each other.

    This guy must be

    quite the athlete, huh?

    You risk bringing your ass in the jungle

    because you know I am.

    Yeah, so you'd beat me

    in a game of one-on-one, right?

    - What?

    - I think it's time for you to get stepping.

    How's this, though? One game.

    I beat you, you guys play for the team.

    You beat me, I'll leave you alone.

    Take that. Take that, Deac.

    This fool ain't nothing

    but a thing, baby.

    - Ball, dog.

    - Ball up!

    Can Crewe play ball?

    He's a natural athlete.

    So is Greg Louganis, but I bet you

    he'd get his ass whupped out here.

    - Game's . Call your own fouls.

    - Okay.

    - Come on, come on.

    - Give it to him, Deac!

    Did I get you?

    No, that was clean.


    Hello, everyone! This is one of the weirdest sites: or your money back! We have ZIM, neopets, music, and much, much, more. E-mail us for questions, comments, complaints and information. Why not click on the Very Weird Stuff link to see more, or click on the music link? We have halloween and christmas pictures on the NeoPics link. Cheese is not a wild thing!!!!!!!!! Now I have decided to go for a world record. I will try to make the longest web page ever, made completely out of text! Won't that be fun? I will just type, and type, and never, ever use copy and paste. Wow...I really must be bored. Just goes to show what boredom can do to you. Any way, that's it for now. Wait, no it isn't, I still have to keep going, and going, and going. Because I do. THE REST OF THE STUFF I TYPE WILL BE COMPLETLY IN CAPS JUST BECAUSE I CAN. THAT IS ALL. SEEYA! Hi, I'm back. So far this is nowhere near the world record. I think. I don't exactly know where it is...oh, well. I'll just have to do the very best that I can. No one is really coming here, anyway. So it doesn't matter. By the way, TAB is a worthwhile, community-service organization. The form link is to a 100% fake TAB registration form that you can fill out just for laughs. I can't believe I'm bothering to do this. I have very low expectations of my site. None ever comes here, I could do this all day long and I still wouldn't have any more hits. This is just a pointless excursive in spelling errors and grammatical imprecision. May your day be shiney! The following is an extremely weird poem-thingy that I wrote when I was in a relatively weird mood:
    never mind that noise my dear can anyone pass the cheese only if you say pretty please oh, boy do I have to sneeze. why must everyone always rhyme, why I’m a poet and don’t I know it? what I fear comes right after here not this life or the next will I ever be able to pass the test? we’re stuck in here, (alone my dear) and we’ll problem never get out so don’t start to shout. it’s dark and I want to go home is where the heart was where is it now? we’ll never know but oh crap it’s starting to snow and it’s time to show and tell about the well that you found last summer at camp when it was damp it was near the ramp oh god why must this be I liked that tree but now it’s gone, farewell so long I’ll miss you as long as you write but then I’m afraid to say good-night. my dear there’s nothing to fear that’s only a box that’s made of blocks next to the wagon that looks like a dragon why are you shaking it’s your fear that is making you shiver and act all a quiver. don’t you know that you only need be afraid of fear and never anything here and certainly not a post that acts like a ghost?
    See, very weird. At least it fills up my word quota for the day. Not that I exactly have a word quota for the day. It just sounded very professional to say it. Anyway, I still don't think that anyone is actually coming here. You'd have to be an absolute loser (or really bored) to come here. I'd probley come here, but that isn't much of a surprise. After all, I've been to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website over 50 times. Pathetic. But, whatever. As long as I'm happy, right. Humor the crazy person, okay? Oh, guess what? According to someone you problem don't know, this is the second most pointless website ever! Next to the Really Big Button, of course. I feel special. Come on everyone, group hug. Okay, now I'm starting to scare myself...I'm gonna quit for today. Seeya. Now I'm back. Is this getting confusing to you? Too bad. Now I want you to go to http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?biter=eon" If you do this I'll get points in the game. Come on all you non-existing people! Help me! You know you want to! It's a worthy cause! Honestly, the more time I waste playing the game, the less time I'll work on this site and the less stuff you gotta read. Although why you'd be here if you didn't want to read is beyond me. Maybe you're lost. Okay, if you want to get out, click the little refresh button, okay? Good...what? You say it didn't let you out? Oh, well. You must be caught in a time warp. Keep pressing it. Maybe you'll break free. What's that. The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? Never mind. That's just how many times you have to click before you can leave. Good-bye.

    Hey, I'm once again: back. I don't suppose you fell for that little thing about the refresh button. After all, you're a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. Well, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this site. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...*waits for applause* okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...*cricket chirps* to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...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! I'm 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. You're 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 I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've 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. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's 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 now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm 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? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't 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. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...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 feed...not to mention the mess. That's 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 monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd 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. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...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 now...Now I'm 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 "Whoo-Hoo!" 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 I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's 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 I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...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. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't 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? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm 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. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm 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 now...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 it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't 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? I'll 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 don't 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 problem...it's 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 don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm 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 I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't 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! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...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 didn't 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 ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's 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. Hmmmm...intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titles...it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons don't make themselves, you know. I'm 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 I'm gonna watch T.V. And I can't think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. It's not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if I've made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmm...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. I've heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Aren't 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 I'm playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazy...hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! It's really stressfull. Someday, I'm gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. That's why it's here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! I'm 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 you're 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. I'm going, you're on you're own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm 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. Hmmm...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 Doesn't 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) I'll 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 wouldn't actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmm...maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. I'm 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, I'm 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(that's you) I could not have possibly tortured "Mr. Owl" to death. I love owls. Hmm...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 today...hmmmm...I'm even saying "hmmmmm..." 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 (That's still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. That's 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 johnjones333@hotmail.com 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, flamingchickens333@hotmail.com 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. You're still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! That's funny!!!! If you you don't 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 don't even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directly...Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! I'm a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!!! I'm back. And really angry, and confused. I've always known that I was weird, that's always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a "family outing." 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, that's 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 we'd be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldn't 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 wouldn't 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 $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part I'm not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night I'll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blind...or stupid) &#!#%&&!!!(*%$ WHAT THE %$#@ WAS MY MOTHER $#$#%$# THINKING!!!!!!!???? BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? I know it was her idea, 'cause my dad hates it, too. My mom and my stupid little 10-year old sister loves it, though. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? I'm leaving...now I'm back! And not so pissed at my weird family. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. If I told you, I'd have to kill you and all that stuff. So...now I am down to one and a half readers. Untill such time that I have more. I wonder why anyone would read this? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. First of all, you'd have to have an extrodinary amount of free time. Second of all, you would have to have the patience to read through all of this. And lastly, you'd have to know where the heck this site is. I admit it. I haven't exactly advertised this site. Nor can I find it on any search engines. Some of my pages have stuff written in to make search engines recognize me, but it doesn't seem to be working. What must I do to rise above obscurity? I tell people I know about this site, but they either ignore this page, or don't even bother coming to the site in the first place. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. To pour your heart and soul into a passage, and have everyone ignore it. *sniffle* Why must this be? Maybe I should just give up. After all, no one would really care if I quit updating this site. But I can't help but think of stuff like the evil over lord list and REALLY REALLY BIG BUTTON THAT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. They are not great neccesarily because of the content, (although that helps some) they are great because of their sheer length. You can read a little each day. And almost never finish. Also, I guess I still am trying to get the world record. I have heard some feedback suggesting that I make someway for people to remember where they stopped reading. It can be very confusing, especially if you weren't paying attention in the first place. Well, I dont want to organize this page, in any manner. This is chaos. And insanity. Not neat little text in classifiable rows, in alphabetical order. If you want neat, go to some other site(though, as mentioned in Flaming Chickens Code:472 there is no such thing as a site better than this one). Otherwise, I guess you're stuck with me. Awwwww...I'm touched! You didn't run screaming to another site, thankfull for the chance to escape this insanity. You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! Hey, where are you going?! I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! *drags reader back* See, I knew you'd stay! *gagged reader glares* What's that? I know this is the best site ever, thanks for the compliment! *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better go...I think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. And very concerned about this new, younger generation (all 10 year olds who were born in 1992) They are supposed to be the future. Instead they appear to be a nuclear armagedon in the form of a fifth grader. I chanced to have an interview with an informant from this evil generation (my little sister) who will be called Mrs. X for security reasons (no, she's not married, the "Mrs" makes it good as a disguise) I was quizing Mrs. X on Civil War History for an upcoming test in her classroom (whose location can not be devulged) Mrs. X seemed fluent in the subject. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked Mrs. X who participated in the Civil War. She immediatly replied "Clara Barton". I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. She answered: England, Russia, and (out of sheer desperation) Iraq. I believe that she was just listing countries she knows America has fought against. Now, correct me if I'm wrong...but Iraq? I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! Moving on, I finaly managed to coax my sister (I'm tired of writing Mrs. X) to tentativly guess that America fought in the Civil War. I mean, who'd a thought? America? Fighting in the American Civil War? In a moment of inspiration, I asked her who America fought. Her first guess was enslaved africans. Well, at least she knows that slaves were involved in the war. Before she could start listing all of America's enemies, I gave her a hint. I said "The Union fought..." With a crack, snaple and pop, some random synapses in her brain connected in the right order and she said "CONFEDERACY!!!" I was very proud of her, just as you would be proud of a two-year-old who has just announced: "I WENT POO-POO ON THE POTTY!!!!!" What I mean is, you wouldn't be very proud if the average person said that they just took a dookey on the toilet, and you wouldn't be very proud if they knew who fought against the Union in the Civil War. I confirmed that the Union was Northern and Free, and that the Confederacy was Southern and Slave. We resumed quizzing and she got every question on the worksheet correct. This is because she memorizes the questions. That way, she can pass the test without actually learning anything. You see, if you memorize stuff, you only have to remember that the answer to number 6 is Clara Barton for a week, rather than having to remember that Clara Barton started the Red Cross for the rest of you life. I sincerely appologize if anyone is offended by my view of memorization. I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. You don't belong here. You see...knowledge is good. If my sister...uh...Mrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. With knowledge you can win money and the opportunity to look like a dork on national television. My sister is a big believer in the memorization system. I previous time when I was studying with her (American Revolution, this time) I was trying to help her remember the difference between the Patriots(Patriotic to America) and the Loyalists (Loyal to Britain) She didn't know what the word patriotic meant. I tried to explain. I asked her how you dress on the forth of july (she said nice) I asked what the colors red, white and blue were (pretty). I gave up in exasperation. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. I asked her what the golden rule of christianity was. She didn't know. When I pressed her, she confessed she didn't know what chrisianity was. Completly defeated, I told her that it was the religion she practiced every Sunday when she went with her friends to church. This confirmed my suspicion that she only went so that she could have the use of the church's playground equipment. My family also strongly suspects that she stole $20 from the donation thingy. Anyway, that's my rant on the new generation that contains my little sister. When someone of her generation runs for president, I'm gonna do a complete background check. If they're anything like my sister, I'm movin' to Canada. Gotta go...the Russian-Brittish-Iraqi-enslaved-Africans are coming to defeat the Mexicans. I'm back! *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Furthormore, is it considered accepted behavior to talk to these dead reptiles, in a cooey, baby talky kind of voice? Finnaly, is it expected for said sibling's non-gender specific parent to encourage such behavior, citing "I was just like that as a child" as an excuse? It's an honest question as I fear that my non-gender specific sibling is weird. Who am I kidding? My entire family is weird. It's just a matter of degree. Hey, by the way. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. Although I can't see why you care, because there is a large probability that you do not exist, because I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. How discouraging. People need to make the time to waste time. It's a time honored tradition. Who'd thought that I could use time that many times in only a few sentences? It's been pretty quiet here lately, which is why I haven't added anything to this text in awhile. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. *sniffle* I feel so sorry for you! Next thing you know, you're internet connection will die. Well, too bad! Do you know I never even had a computer untill just a few months ago (that's why I'm obsessivly writing here) So I won't pity you if you're computer dies for unexpected reasons. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! Code: 843 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that in no way is the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who?) responsible for any faulty wiring or lack thereof in your computer. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. Any derogatory statement is simply an opinion of an individual, not of the flaming order of the flaming chickens. Said order will in no way be held responsible for any damages, injuries, loss of life, limb, head, or organs. Okay, quote is done. Maybe I should put quotation marks around them...nah, too much work. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. That way all the members (what members) can print out a copy of it for themselves (if they didn't get that copy in the mail) I guess I'm done for the day...I know. You want me to stay. It's okay. Because eventually, I'll be back! Seeya! I'm back. And once again suprised. When I was at a TAB poetry thingy (TAB is good TAB is great We love TAB) I met some new people. One of these people (who shall remain nameless untill such time that I have explicit permission to use her name) turned out to be almost as weird as me. As in...she read the ENTIRE Longest Text Ever. The whole thing. So far two whole people (to my knowledge) have read the entire thing, and a few people have skimmed it. That means I really can justify claiming to have two and a half readers! I'm so happy! That means my pointless obsession has actually entertained someone besides me! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. Or maybe not. The point is that it is nice to have readers. Or maybe it's not...I mean...won't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? If that happens, then no one will read this. And then I'll be writing for me again. And then the quality will rise. And then people will start reading. And then the quality will go down and the vicious spiral of good and bad will continue untill I either give up this text, or go crazy...er. In any case...I should probably find a topic. Yeah...a topic would be good. Or...I could just continue to write about finding a topic. Ooooo! I know a topic! Ice cream trucks! This has been bothering me for a while. You see...when it's hot, you want something cold to eat. Conviently, ice cream trucks come around during the hottest part of the year (it must be a conspiracy). As you may or may not know, small children swarm the ice cream trucks. The vendors even play whimsical music which I strongly suspect contains subliminal messages to make you hungry for ice cream. The vendors get oodles of cash, and the kids get ice cream. Now, in today's society of buying groceries on-line and getting them delivered, why hasn't any other food industry marketed this ingenius idea to bring the product to the consumer. I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry children...and adults. Of course, said adults would have to peel their butt-cheeks off the couch...but they'd have to do that for the delivary man anyway. The food trucks could even play music that made you hungry for their food. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. We could all breath a sigh of relief as parents kept their children inside, away from the evil truck drivers and near the T.V. Gone would be the days when parents told children to play outside, it's a nice day. Parents would buy their children computers, video games and other television neccesities. This, of course would expand the market for such products. This would lead to a better, more stable economy. Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. In return companies would make a profit, pay their workers better. The workers would then be able to afford more entertainment items and the upward spiral would continue, as opposed to the evil downward spiral of my writing. In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen...if you implement my idea, there will be peace and prosperity for all. As long as you don't mind a few more couch potatoes. Gotta go...I think I hear a catchy jingle. I'm back...it's been awhile since I've written here. A lot has happened. Like my EVIL school computer deleting my updates page. But it's all good. Especially since I just saw The Matrix: Reloaded. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. Okay. What I liked best was the philosophy on choices. (the mindless fight scenes were really cool, too). It's like this. In the beginning of the movie, Neo is having dreams about Trinity's death. Later, The Oracle tells him that he has already decided her fate. Towards the end of the movie, Neo chooses to tell Trinity to stay out of the Matrix, since he saw her die in it. She agrees, but only after seeing how important it is to him. After a horrific chain of events (is it coincidence, or fate) the people who will deactivate the secondary power source of the building Neo is infiltrating, die. So...the plan is going to fail. Unless someone does something, Neo, Morpheus and many others will die. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. The events of Neo's dream unfold. So...when the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. The moment Neo woke from dreams of Trinity's death, he made a choice. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. So he kept her out of the Matrix, and she saw the problem, and entered the Matrix to fix it. If she had been in the Matrix, she would have likely been with Morpheus, never would have known about the plan's failure, would therefore not have been in the situation that resulted in her death. And the plan would have failed and Neo might have died, along with a large portion of the city (the building was set to blow if there was any intruders) So...Neo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. As Neo realizes all of this, through a nearly omniscient Architect of the Matrix, he makes another choice. This choice is simply an extension of his original choice: he will save Trinity at all costs. Neo is told that he has two choices. He can save mankind, and doom Trinity. Or he can try to save Trinity and doom mankind. No guarantee that he'll succeed in saving Trinity. He goes for Trinity, makes it just in time to catch her body, and starts her heart back up. In return for not taking the easy route, he gains a power in the more or less real world. He can deactivate the machines, (squidies) but at great personal cost. The movie ends with him in a coma. Now, you must realize that I have described only one aspect of this movie of all movies. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the sheer coolness of the fight choreography, special effects and the plot. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. I'm sorry that today's rant isn't random, insane or completely chaotic, but I must right my experience with The Matrix before I forget. I am so buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I love it! You have to admit its sheer coolness. I mean, come on! It's the sequel to the movie that revolutionized the standard by which we judge special effects. I better stop typing before I have a heart attack...just remember...The Matrix has you...I'm back. And throughly pissed off at my school system in general. You see...they feel that the only way to reward academic achievement...yada-yada-yada...is to force the smart kids to be ushers for Senior Honor Nite, and Graduation. Where is the logic in this? I for one, didn't know about such dire consequences for not deliberatly failing classes. It was bad enough that I was forced to "volunteer" my precious time (i could have worked on this site)...no...I was forced to wear formal attire. My school system is stuck in the past...and formal attire means...a dress...a white dress...(for those you who never bothered to find out...I am indeed female). So...for the first time in about 5 years...I wore a dress...and something that was complelty white. What cruel fate is this? To compound the EVIL situation...I was forced to wear feminine shoes. In other words...they hurt. And they pushed my toes together. Since I have a rather weird phobia of touching my own skin...this made my evening my own personall torture session. I think that such gender-specific torture should be deemed inhumane and abolished from our great society...of flaming chickens. Henceforth...Code: 666 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that under no circumstance will the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who) be forced to wear anything other than a t-shirt and preferably black jeans. Should you violate this right, you will become destroyed or possibly dizzy. I'm leaving now...I have some destruction to do. i'm back. from graduation. we had to get there one hour and fifteen minutes early because there was traffic. After standing around a lot...the ceremony started. Lots of people spoke. by the time I had to do my part (tell people where to stand before getting their diploma) it was dark. there were bugs. they liked landing on me. then...i got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. i couldn't hear it because someone had put the speakers facing the audience. we clapped. the whole time, even during the name-calling, seniors were playing with silly string and beachballs. afterwards...they turned off the lights. there were lots of fireworks. i wandered around for 20 minutes looking for a cell phone. i called home, and waited another hour for my ride...traffic to the school was one way. i felt sorry for my dad. i am tired...but cannot go to sleep. i'll copy and paste this to my site. maybe the longest text ever. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. i cannot feel my feet. i hate dress shoes. I'm back. Today, I'm here to salute the Pointless Signs Of America! The PSOA have been whole-heartedly working for you, and what have you done for them? NOTHING! These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! You cannot judge them simply because they have no apparant function. They expand your mind, making you think about all the things they could do. They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Noone can do everything, so how can you expect a SIGN, with the I.Q. of toilet paper, to do everything. You people sicken me. You expect far to much of the inanimate world. The inanimate world, on the otherhand, expects nothing of you. Which is exactly what it gets. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. But, if you expect something and get something you feel nothing. And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. If you're following along, and not completly confused, you'll realize that it is better to be a pessimist than an optomist. Yep that's right. This entry went from saluting the PSOA to making a statement about my ideals. This has been a weird day. You can thank my associate "Meg" she came up with the PSOA acronym. Everyone, clap for "Meg".I gotta go...seeya later! I'm finnaly back! Today, I took a long look at this site, which is the acomplishment of almost a year of work. And I asked myself "How could I have better spent my time?" And so, in the interest of wasting even more time, I made a list. Here we go! Number One: I could have cured cancer. Not that I know anything about medicine...or cancer for that matter. But I'm sure that if I just would have put my mind to it, I could have done it. Number Two: I could helped the earth to find eternal and lasting peace. Which would be boring. So I at least have an excuse for not doing that. Number Three: I could have studied and stuff. Uh...don't think so...Number Four: I could have learned to drive. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistrians...and I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. Number Five: I could have read more books, played more video games and watched more mindless television. Gee...I wish I'd thought of that sooner. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. Number Seven: I could drive people crazy. Wait...aren't I already doing that? Scratch number seven. And on to: Number Eight: I could have...uhhhh...ummmmm...actually thought up these things before hand. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? Number Ten: This is the list that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. One person, started typing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue typing it forever just because this is the list that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, some person started typing it not...etc, etc. Okay...I admit it. I have officialy run out of ways I could have better spent my time. I don't think there actually are any. Except for maybe five and six. Now, those have possibilities. However, I am currently content to just sit here and type. For the benefit of you, the reader...who may or may not exist. Either way, I'm continuing to sort of entertain myself. I feel like I should be outraged about some topic or another. I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. Perhaps a nice, soothing mistrust. Yeah. I can work with mistrust. I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Like organ grinders, and the evil conspiracies. Did you know, that Kodak was part of the conspiracy to assasinate John F. Kennedy. Now, some of you are probably thinking "Gee, Really?", or "Wow, I never knew that!" while others are thinking "Who's John F. Kennedy?" or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". I fervently hope that you're not thinking the last two...especially about Kodak. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. And John F. Kennedy (JFK) was an alien bent on global domination. Or possibly a really good president who wanted to fly to the moon. Either way, he got assasinated. And ever loony in America decided that it was a conspiracy. Some even go so far as to claim that Kodak "changed" the pictures of the assasination to make an assasination in the bushes become a tree's shadow. I didn't know that they had such good technology back then. I have to wonder...why would Kodak do such a thing. Perhaps Kodak is actually a front organization for a shadowy governmental system that controls the entire world and didn't want mankind to obtain the freedom of the stars and so tried to sabotauge the space program even though it didn't work as well as they planned. Or perhaps not. Either way, Kodak is undeniably evil. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? You can just bet that they look at every one that get's turned in to them, judging blackmail value, and whether or not you could get arrested. It's just sickening, you can't even take a simple photo nowadays. Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. I better go...I think Kodak is tracing my site....I'm back now! And, once again, I have proof that someone actually took the time (two hours) to read this entire Longest Text Ever! It's amazing, it's incredible, it's unbelievable. But true. Even more incredible, this time it's someone I don't even know! Wooooooo! I feel inspired and happy and other really good emotions and stuff. And so, I'll take a trip down memory lane, to the dark depths of the past, to when I decided to make this page. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. In school, back before I even owned a computer, I'd type random words for long periods of time, 'cause I had nothing better to do. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Oh, well...I tired of nostalgia. Back to the present. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. I don't think I have any conspiracy theories...except pop-ups/pop-unders. Have you ever had the evil pop-up that says that if you click here, it'll get rid off all the annoying pop-ups? Isn't that sort of ironic? Could the pop-up blocker people have chosen a better means to advertise their product? It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Or CRAP, for short. And the lady representing them, calls the radio station...on a phone. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Insane, chaotic...hmmmmm...I wonder who thought of it? Was it on purpose, or was it just some mistake? It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Or maybe I'll go make a frozen pizza. Yeah. That sounds good, too. Since I'm not particualarly inspired at the moment, I should leave and let you gather what is left of your sanity. I just can't seem to stop, though. Okay...I can do it. I'm leaving. I'm back...and it's several hours later. I've decided to imortalize the stupidity of my dog, Moose. She is a heavy-set Yorkshire Terrior (12 lbs.) In otherwords, she's a small yappy dog who is big for her breed. Today, I met her arch-enemy. An enemy so terrifying that Moose cannot stop shaking. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. And you probably suspect that it is something pathetic. You would be correct in your suspiciousness...for Mooses arch-enemy is...*dramatic drumroll*...a small, white, feather. Now, Moose has seen many feathers, birds even. But none have struck terror in her little moose heart like this particular feather. So...naturally I put her arch-enemy in my pocket and brought it home with me. This action has made her very suspicious of where my loyalties lie. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. She even got her sister and mother in the spirt of things. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. Now, you may be wondering what is so terrifying about a small, white, feather. So am I. It doesn't smell funny, (I asked my brother, since I don't have a sense of smell), it seems perfectly ordinary. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. That is the only possible explanation as to why it upsets her so much. Or...maybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (one...two...three..*crunch*). Whatever the case, I decided that the whole world, (or three of four random people) deserve to know that if the world and or universe are destroyed, it's the evil, little, white, feather's fault. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it...:) I am officially back. And you, the potentially non-existant reader gets a once in a lifetime chance to hear me rant and rave about my Horrible, Horrible Family Vacation. I know. You feel very, very honored. It's like this. My mother is a control freak, and she decided on the spur of the moment that we were going north to visit relatives. Later that day, she decided we were NOT going north, we were going south to a beach resort. Still later that day, she got offended at some trivial thing and decided that we weren't going anywhere at all. The very next day, she decided that we were going north, after all. So, we packed everthing up. Before we knew it, we were on the road. The first part of the trip was fairly easy. As in, I was half-asleep, hoping that we'd arrive while I slept. Then, in an inspired move, my brother talked my mother into letting him sit up front. That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. Immediatly, my mother started complaining. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. Then, she accidently woke our three yappy dogs up, and they relized that they were in a car. That meant only one corse of action for them. They started shaking and barked their little heads off. This annoyed my mother further, untill she asked, no, demanded that my father turn the car around so that we could go home. Unfortuantly, we had already driven 337 miles toward our destination. After much argument, my father was going to turn around, untill he realized that my mother was going to drop the dogs and me off, and then turn around and continue north. This seemed slightly unpracticle, so we ended up not taking that 337 mile detour. We eventually reached our destination after 16 hours of virtually non-stop driving. We got there, we ate. We slept. My mother visited relatives. And so the week went by. I got to go to a huge library, and see Terminator 3 at the local theater. That was the high point of the entire trip. The last day, we were deciding where to eat. My mom said that she didn't care. So my dad picked a steak place. My mother tried to order a mushroom-swiss burger...only to discover that the place had no swiss-cheese. So she decided on a salad, only to discover that they didn't have her favorite salad dressing. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. After complaining how hungry she was, and about the poor quality of the resteraunt, she walked out of the resteraunt, instructing the rest of us to "enjoy our meals". And I wonder where my little sister gets her annoyingness. Not that my mother is annoying...just set in her ways. The whole meal thing was about the only interesting thing to happen during the week. On the way home, we had gotten approximatly 4 hours into the trip when my mother predicatably decided that we had to go back and eat at the 50th aniversary of her favorite ice cream place. Needless to say, we ignored her. Oh, and when my sister had to go to the bathroom very badly during a traffic jam, my mother had the good taste to making hissing/water noises to make my sister's problem worse. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Anyway...that was my family vacation rant. It sucked. No suprise. At least it's over. Sorry if I complained a lot. If you don't like it, start your own longest text ever. Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. I thought of a topic on the way home, but forgot it. Seeya. I'm back! I know, I took you completly by suprise. You thought you'd gotten rid of me. *cheesy super-hero voice* Well, fear not, random citizen, for I, PSOPC am here! *normal voice* Today I have a very important to discuss with you in this: PERFECTLY NORMAL PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCMENT. Yes, that's right. It's time to warn you, the viewer...er...reader...about the evils of various stuff. Today's lesson is: subliminal messages . That's right, folks, mass hypnosis via commercials. Now, I'm sure you've at least heard of subliminal messages , right? No? Well...prepare to be enlightened. Subliminal messages are an advertising technique that puts hidden pictures and words into a main image. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. Your subconsious mind acts on whatever it is told. What does this mean to you? It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!! Why else would they invest all that money to show commercials in their own store? Because they put subliminal messages in them, of course! Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Okay. That had nothing to do whatsoever with subliminal messages...it's just cool to say. Anyway, only watch wal-mart if you WANT to be subliminaly entertained into purchasing a new set of TUPERWARE, even though your old set is PERFECTLY fine. This has been a public service announcment. Pretty cool, huh? Uh...you don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. It's true, and all, but I have no proof about wal-mart, or certain fast food resteraunts. It makes sense, though. Wal-mart TV is evil. You cannot deny it. Seeya...hmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computer...I'm back. And I feel that it's time for a FAKE commercial break, for the highly informed, obviously brain-dead consumer. And now, a word from our non-existant sponsor. Ketchup: The only food that you'll want to eat after traveling to the 5th Dimension. It's been practically proven that Ketchup transforms into a highly intoxicating (non-addictive) delicious substance upon returning from the 5th Dimension. Stock up now with our Valu-Pak to recieve 3-metric tons of Ketchup, all for the low, low price of your brain, since you're obviously not using it anyway. Then, just wait for technology to "catch-up" (get it, catch-up, Ketchup?)so you can travel to the 5th Dimension like our scientists almost did. (Next Commercial) Get ready fo: Faux's new "reality" TV show, "How Low Can We Go?" It's about six contestants who compete to create the worst, least likely "reality" TV show. The winner not only gets the million-dollar prize, they get the chance to produce the show they created. Remember: if the show sucks, it's their fault, not ours!(Next exciting commercial!)And for all the idiots out there: Try new and improved Dum-B-Gon! Dum-B-Gon stimulates brain activity, making you up to 10 times smarter! Not only that, Dum-B-Gon: stimulates weight loss, cures "any" illness, does simple houshold chores, never leaves the toilet seat up and is the perfect gentle companion for your kids. How can you pass up this revolutionary new product? It's yours for only 3 bi-monthly payments of $3.95 ($3,95,000 on days ending in "y")Don't forget, Dum-B-Gon is practically guaranteed!* (*Not a guarantee) (Next commercial)Have you ever wondered why food sometimes goes bad in your fridge, even if you've only had it a few years? It's because of the "evil little faeries with sharp little teeth." These "faeries" sprinkle your food with highly toxic "age dust" and ruin a perfectly good four-year-old meatloaf. How do you stop them? With our patented "spray". Our "spray" kills over 99.9% of "faeries" (which are much to small to see) Our "spray" also kills most disease causing agents, like rats, or pigeons. WARNING: Leave food sit in an open, well-venilated spot for a week before eating. And now, back to our featured presentation. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? I bet you wanna go eat some Ketchup covered Dum-B Gon right now, while watching "reality" TV. Just make sure you "spray" your food first. Pathetic, wasn't it? Oh, well. I was bored, and a dilligent reader suggested I make fake commercials, so...therer they are. Happy? Good. I'm leavin', for now. I'm back. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Today, I was checking out some weird news. At one point, I read an article that stated that it had been proven, conclusivly, that Kansas was flatter than the standard pancake. The researches even used highly advanced technololgy to map the surface of a pancake and compare it to documented geology of Kansas. Some people disagree, the director of the Kansas Geological Survey said "I think this is part of a vast breakfast food conspiracy to denigrate Kansas. It's a cheap shot." So...doesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). It just seems extremly weird (and worthy of mentioning) that this semi-important guy from Kansas believes in a "vast breakfast food conspiracy". Makes you think that the long held belief that Kodak conspired with the JFK assasin(s) is normal. Another article claims that an anitseptic turned a polar bear purple, drawing large crowds of people. I sure hope other zoos won't copy them. Before you know it, we'll have orange alligators, pink tigers and blue lions. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. Random people will think they've gone crazy, after a seemingly innocent visit to the zoo. It's wrong, I tell you. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. What values, you say? The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Then it would be okay. As long as the bear blends in, you know? Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). He sneaks into neighboring homes, and takes clothing, wrapped christmas presents, and anything he can find. He then leaves them under his owners car. Okay, better leave. I'm back. And I don't really have a topic today. I'm just bored. Sometimes I just do this, you know? Start typing without any idea about what it is I intend to say. Maybe I subconsiously DO know what I'm doing here, but refuse to admit it to myself. Or maybe I am monumentally bored and don't have anything else to do at the moment. Either way, I'm here. You must be pretty bored, too. Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? It would make no sense. If you have something better to do, why w


    Please...go away. Or alternatively...do this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ay3cP5YkJgE


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