No one has even bothered to e-mail them to me*sniffle*. Grape Pie. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. Needless to say, we ignored her. I rule theer*random Loyal Minion whispers in ear* That's right! WANNA SEE ME PULL A TAPEWORM OUTTA MY ****!! You feel very, very honored. I few months ago I saw a movie about that. She was extremly upset. Girls began wearing skimpier, and skimpier bathing suits. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. That's just silly. THey might havve been important, but we keep forgetting them. I thought of another very good reason to assist with the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony! Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Josh wants his thought back. I, personally, am obsessed with, kitties, bunnies, bats, this website, drawing, making intriate little patterns with strings, doing mildly repetitive activities, being weird, apparantly making lists and cheeseand chickensand flame. 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. Imagine reading a novel with a sentence that was 40 000 words long! I don't think there actually are any. I'm completly and totally addicted. Come on, think about it! After all, you're a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe peoplenow that has possibilities. It's a cheap shot." Plus, the kids at the daycare (where I work, obviously) say that I'm "cool to talk to". Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. : I've had this nagging fear that I am part of some random but vast conspiracy (about what I'm not sure but it must be vast). The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? I heard something and turned around, and there he was! So my dad picked a steak place. As a member, you'll join us in our effort to support the arts. Today we had a "family outing." Like a division of mounties made entirely out of monks. Soair pressure can be a good thing. It is the extraordinary sensory quality of his prose that enabled Faulkner to get away with writing the longest sentence in literature, at least according to the 1983 Guinness Book of World Records, a passage from Absalom, Absalom! Anyway, seeya! When I start playing a game, I am on 0. Remember that rant I did on how there could be a secret camera in the smoke detector? We slept. Let's see: 12345! You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. (Like alternate dimensions and stuff) So, there is a world where you are the creator of this Longest Text Ever. Never mind. It just sounded very professional to say it. Well, seeya *waves brightly* I got to go to my Grendel (really cool book) project for school. the longest thing that I have ever wrote was a 600 word paragraph and I just wrote that. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. VisitMy Modern Met Media. and even if they could it wouldn't do them any good because it would scare them instead of the aformentioned individual. Either way, he got assasinated. Is your school playground a gateay to the underworld? Here are 65 examples of long sentences ranging from the relatively brief 96 words to one of the longest sentences at 2,156 words. The distance between the two extremes of how much I could have won is 1000np, making me feel like I've won much more than if I'd played a normal game. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. [1], As a result, one linguistics textbook concludes that, in theory, "there is no longest English sentence. *scrunches eyes and makes funny sounds* Nope. I am back. Good for it. Just like a real psychologist. 'I found nothing else to do but to offer him on of my good Swede's ship's biscuits I had in my pocket'" And we're supposed to be GOOD in English! Now, don't get me wrong. Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). The majority of readers would concur that it sometimes takes more than one reading to fully understand an extremely long sentence in a book. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioningthat's not goodI have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. And any weirdness I could come up with would be normal compared to Noodle Boy, soI bid thee farewellseeya! Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. While you wait for yesterday's tomorrow, lunge back and remember that day. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? The number of characters in the longest word is also shown. You wanna try to convince me I'M crazy? Emma Taggart is a Contributing Writer at My Modern Met. My dadwas on this site. The insanity and stupidity is mind boggling! And today's rant is a sort of philosophical one. Okay. Although I tell you she can't possibly be normal, since she hangs out with me. It sucked. But that is irrelevant. Which is what I'm about to do. HI! It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. | 13.63 KB, JSON | If you'll look toward the bottom of this page, you'll notice that I added a nifty little thing called the "babel fish". You don't know either? Josh says I probably won't remember writing any of this, but I can't sleep. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. "Purified" water. But the secret doesn't exist so they are stupid. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. That's the rant of the week, month, year, whatever. Before we knew it, we were on the road. My mother visited relatives. Of course, you won't want to do that becuase you still need more earrings so people won't think you wear the same ones over and over again. Why do weird people (myself included) obsess about monkeys? That's exactly what tanning is like. This is a test, I repeat only a test. For all you, the uninformed consumer, could know, it might have rat poison in it. Try it. Yeah. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. My mom did it to her because it was free. 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) SoNeo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. WE got it at Wal-mart. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" I don't want to play the stupid animal war card game 'cause the stupdi bear gets eaten by an eaagle.. goodbye ssslllee0yyyyslllllllleeeeeeeepppppppppppppyyyyyyyyyyy iiiiiiiiissssssssssssss gggggggggoooooooooooooddddddddddddd. As you can see, I was in a very interesting state of mind. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); Image by Carl Van Vechten, via Wikimedia Commons. I think mine involved a jaunty song to sing. The foil will make up the beak and the folded legs, and the thruster can simulate the tail. 11. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. EryeahI'm back. A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K! Such proofs often use computational proof methods and may be considered non-surveyable . Okay. So rather than battle her over the concept of getting dressed in the dark, I get up. I can just see it nowIt could be called Know-Your-Food. I felt more fufilled when this site was a barren wastland of useless space. It's a worthy cause! It's so completly garbled, it's funny. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. "Someone thinks that someone thinks that someone thinks that someone thinks that,"[1] or by combining shorter clauses. Wellbetter goI need to plan this out moreI'm back. I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! I hadn't had a genuine sugar rush since I was 11. Thank you Squirell. He acted like he was really being tortured and stuff. Aren't they regressed to a child-like state? I think. The smoke detector either never went off, or went off and the people just slept through it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Pathetic, wasn't it? I spend from 8-5 doing what everyone else wants. So when you kill, or whatever, in the game, you are actually ending life somewhere in the universe. Yes, I am. Just exactly like Father if Father had known as much about it the night before I went out there as he did the day after I came back thinking Mad impotent old man who realized at last that there must be some limit even to the capabilities of a demon for doing harm, who must have seen his situation as that of the show girl, the pony, who realizes that the principal tune she prances to comes not from horn and fiddle and drum but from a clock and calendar, must have seen himself as the old wornout cannon which realizes that it can deliver just one more fierce shot and crumble to dust in its own furious blast and recoil, who looked about upon the scene which was still within his scope and compass and saw son gone, vanished, more insuperable to him now than if the son were dead since now (if the son still lived) his name would be different and those to call him by it strangers and whatever dragons outcropping of Sutpen blood the son might sow on the body of whatever strange woman would therefore carry on the tradition, accomplish the hereditary evil and harm under another name and upon and among people who will never have heard the right one; daughter doomed to spinsterhood who had chosen spinsterhood already before there was anyone named Charles Bon since the aunt who came to succor her in bereavement and sorrow found neither but instead that calm absolutely impenetrable face between a homespun dress and sunbonnet seen before a closed door and again in a cloudy swirl of chickens while Jones was building the coffin and which she wore during the next year while the aunt lived there and the three women wove their own garments and raised their own food and cut the wood they cooked it with (excusing what help they had from Jones who lived with his granddaughter in the abandoned fishing camp with its collapsing roof and rotting porch against which the rusty scythe which Sutpen was to lend him, make him borrow to cut away the weeds from the door-and at last forced him to use though not to cut weeds, at least not vegetable weeds -would lean for two years) and wore still after the aunts indignation had swept her back to town to live on stolen garden truck and out o f anonymous baskets left on her front steps at night, the three of them, the two daughters negro and white and the aunt twelve miles away watching from her distance as the two daughters watched from theirs the old demon, the ancient varicose and despairing Faustus fling his final main now with the Creditors hand already on his shoulder, running his little country store now for his bread and meat, haggling tediously over nickels and dimes with rapacious and poverty-stricken whites and negroes, who at one time could have galloped for ten miles in any direction without crossing his own boundary, using out of his meagre stock the cheap ribbons and beads and the stale violently-colored candy with which even an old man can seduce a fifteen-year-old country girl, to ruin the granddaughter o f his partner, this Jones-this gangling malaria-ridden white man whom he had given permission fourteen years ago to squat in the abandoned fishing camp with the year-old grandchild-Jones, partner porter and clerk who at the demons command removed with his own hand (and maybe delivered too) from the showcase the candy beads and ribbons, measured the very cloth from which Judith (who had not been bereaved and did not mourn) helped the granddaughter to fashion a dress to walk past the lounging men in, the side-looking and the tongues, until her increasing belly taught her embarrassment-or perhaps fear;-Jones who before 61 had not even been allowed to approach the front of the house and who during the next four years got no nearer than the kitchen door and that only when he brought the game and fish and vegetables on which the seducer-to-bes wife and daughter (and Clytie too, the one remaining servant, negro, the one who would forbid him to pass the kitchen door with what he brought) depended on to keep life in them, but who now entered the house itself on the (quite frequent now) afternoons when the demon would suddenly curse the store empty of customers and lock the door and repair to the rear and in the same tone in which he used to address his orderly or even his house servants when he had them (and in which he doubtless ordered Jones to fetch from the showcase the ribbons and beads and candy) direct Jones to fetch the jug, the two of them (and Jones even sitting now who in the old days, the old dead Sunday afternoons of monotonous peace which they spent beneath the scuppernong arbor in the back yard, the demon lying in the hammock while Jones squatted against a post, rising from time to time to pour for the demon from the demijohn and the bucket of spring water which he had fetched from the spring more than a mile away then squatting again, chortling and chuckling and saying `Sho, Mister Tawm each time the demon paused)-the two of them drinking turn and turn about from the jug and the demon not lying down now nor even sitting but reaching after the third or second drink that old mans state of impotent and furious undefeat in which he would rise, swaying and plunging and shouting for his horse and pistols to ride single-handed into Washington and shoot Lincoln (a year or so too late here) and Sherman both, shouting, Kill them!
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