Wall o' Text

[S.W.A.T.K.]

This is a very simple game that is, in fact, super easy. All you have to do is hijack whatever train of thought I happen to be driving. The point is to end up with a really really really rather really long collection of words that ultimately means absolutely nothing.

WRITE UNTIL YOU ARE TIRED is basically how this works. But try to continue where the previous post left off. If you can't, that's okay. Chances are, no one will read this anyway. Oh. Also. DO NOT USE THE ENTER KEY because it's supposed to be a wall o' text. And also. NO COPY/PASTING ANYTHING because this needs to be straight up typed out from beginning to end. Otherwise it won't be nearly as impressive to people. And also. I AM DRINKING SUNNY D AND EATING CAPTAIN CRUNCH... HE TASTES NOTHING LIKE THE CEREAL.

And now:

Crunchatize me, Cap'n. Sometimes, I stare at oxygen and wonder why I can't see it. That's when I start to wonder what it would be like if oxygen were visible, and that's when I realize it needs to be invisible so we can see with our eyes. Funny how that works. Something else that is funny is french fries, which were invented in Canadia -- not French. You know, Griffin has a sidebox on GEC that says "GEC Supports Mitt Romney," and then it has a picture of Mitt Romney, but he does not have a sidebox that says "GEC Also Supports the Apocalypse" and then a picture of an explosiony mushroom cloud. That just isn't right. Griffin says it is because it makes it look like GEC doesn't actually support Mitt Romney, but I just think it's hilarious. Some people just don't make sense. Kind of like Obama-supporters. How could anyone support a president who literally does the opposite of something? He uses taxpayers' money to go on a billion vacations; meanwhile, the economy plummets. That's the thing about money; the more time you spend not making it, the more of it you lose. It's not like a video game where you can save your progress and then come back to it like eighteen months later and you'll still be right where you started. It's more like canoeing up a river where, if you stop, you will drift back down the river. Time flows, people. I knows how time flows 'cause we owes a ton of dough...z....to, y'know, people...I have toes...ANYWAY ALL CAPS. Have you ever noticed how when people type in all caps, it looks like they're screaming stuff? Weird, huh? "GO FALL IN A DITCH" looks a lot less polite than "Go fall in a ditch...please," doesn't it? I think so. I have a clock, an otter, a boat, and approximately seventeen cans of soda on my desk right now. Among other things. I think sentence fragments are fun. They allow you to create more pause between phrases. Much better than stupid little commas. Commas tend to disappear when I try to type them, much like the letter E, but that's only because my keyboard kinda sucks. Sometimes. And also because they are not just commas. They are comma chameleons. Oh. What now. Best reference ever, and you know it. I can go all day, baby. Baby is a funny thing to call just your general Joe who is average. I just don't want to be called an infant, even if you are happy because you dunked a basketball while doing a handstand on a hobo's ear that was on fire. Furthermore, Average Joe must have a pretty odd life, what with his friends calling him Average. I would find that a bit depressing, wouldn't you? Nevermind. Nobody cares what you think. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to explode on you like that. It's just, lawn gnomes don't belong in the toilet, but DOES THAT MAKE A DIFFERENCE TO MARTHA? NOOOOO. Sorry. I used all caps again. I was screaming. With my fingers. You know what I think about Florida? Exactly. It's like finger-shaped, in a weird way. And also it's warm. All the time. Why is that? Stupid equator. It equates NOTHING. I am literally drinking straight out of a large jug of Sunny D. Straight out of it. And also, I am misusing the word "literally." I hate it when people do that. But it's waaaay more annoying when people misuse the word "ironically." Which they do ALL THE TIME. I'm not angry, I promise. I just like the all caps button. IT MAKES THINGS A LOT MORE FUN TO TYPE. I DON'T KNOW WHY. ANYWAY, IT HURTS MY EYES TO READ ALL CAPS so I'm gonna stop for now. But let me clear something up. Ironically does NOT mean unexpectedly. It means irony is involved, and irony is, more often than not, NOT involved. Irony is when peace treaty ends up causing a war. Irony is not when you are sleepy even though you just drank three Red Bulls. It's unusual and unexpected, but it is NOT ironic. I must just be in an ALL CAPS MOOD TODAY. But at least I am not Jonathan Swift, who randomly italicizes stuff he says, and also underlines random words and stuff. It just doesn't make much sense, does it?? Gosh, I have like the worst posture in the history of my back posture. I should probably be doing homework or something but I don't have a class until 2:00pm today, and it just happens to be 11:55am. I slept in 'til about 10:30 this morning, which was nice, except usually sleeping that long gives me a headache but it didn't this time and you know what I don't care that I'm blatantly excluding commas from my sentences because frankly, that, isn't, my, concern, because, I, well, I, don't, know, but, I, just, don't, ca,re, okay? Oh there they are. And now the time is something else besides 11:55am. I can tell because my clock says so. Hey. I have a bet to make you before I give my carpal tunnel a break. This is my bet to you: Try to read every bit of this wall o' text once we (Griffin and I) have completed it. Anyway I am tired of typing and my comma key on my keyboard which sucks is still not working very well,,,,,, so, I am going to stop for now and let Griffin take over. Griffin is a weird thing.

[Griffin2448]

So this is supposed to be a wall of text? That seems kind of racist don't you think? It couldn't be a door of text or a window? You have to think of the other architectural designs that could be made of text. I mean, why couldn't a window be friends with the wall? Did the window ever do anything to hurt said wall? It just makes me so mad that something that is almost completely the same couldn't work together. That reminds me, do you remember when Obama's presidency had any good results? Yeah, me neither. I can't wait for Romney to be elected. He definitely know how to run a country better than Obama. Then again, a bookcase knows how to run a country better than Obama. Yeah, if a tomato ran for president, I would vote for it before I did Obama. I also like waffles. Remember that one time when that six foot waffle fell onto a lady's car from the sky? Yeah, Russians are weird. Just remember, no taxation without representation. The Russians will hopefully get that sorted out soon. I love it when Russians do Russianny things. Makes me proud that they are on television in America. Just like Sylvester Stallone. Hey, remember when Arnold Schwarzenegger's accent used to not be funny? ME NEITHER! It has always made the throats of Americans giggle. BUNNIES! Oh sorry. I thought it was my birthday. I hope someone reads this, because I'm having a terrible time eating this biscuit. It makes me want to yell, Bweeeee Bwowww Biscuits aint fo jam!!! But I understand that that's offensive and I would never tell a baked good that ever. Speaking of baked goods, I love Star Wars. My favorite part is when that one dude that looks like a plaid shirt yelled at that trash man for picking up his cat and eating it. It was hilarious! Wait....cats aren't real. Huh. I don't know why they lied to me. This really hurts my feelers. I might have to call someone. Do you know a good drycleaner? I've tried like six different ones and they always make my suit look like some guy's old beard that he went and threw away. Then a mythical cat pooped on it and the whole dance party was interrupted. I'm not sure if SWATK intended this to be so random, but man do I love making envelopes. It is my hobby, making envelopes. Instead of making Christmas cards to send to families, I just send them a custom envelope that has nothing inside it. That way they can admire my handiwork without some stupid letter getting in the way. Well its getting to that time that I begin to tell you what happened to my neighbor's front lawn. But I'm not going to tell you. So ha. See ya, goodbye, end of story, the end. Stop asking about it. The cops have told me to not speak of it in front of strangers. Tipyour salami holsters! Wait....uh- huh- HUH-CHOOO! Eh, excuse me. I was throwing saw dust around my room and it finally got to me. I will force spiders and badgers on my neighbor. And get his wife ta shut up. Oh sorry. I said I wasn't going to tell you what happened but I did anyway. Law doesn't control me, my remote controls me! See, if I press pause I would just stop working until someone came and pressed play. Watch.












Oh good someone finally came and pressed play. Weird thing was that it was my mail man who's been dead for three years. He was a good mail man. He always loved it when my pet rat cooked him peaches. It was his favorite. Wanna hear a secret? Well I set all my passwords to 'incorrect.' so the thing reminds me when I forget. Clever huh? Or sometimes I set it to banana302. But that doesn't happen very often. Now I think its time we go to bad advertisements with Griffin. Griffin.

Thanks Griffin. Now these advertisements were sent to me this morning from my book-fair buddy, Henry the messed up squirrel. Uhhhhh the first one says:

Looking for a roommate, just got out of prison for murder and need a place to stay.

Next one:

Have a flatulence problem? Come to my house with a lighter and we can make it a gift.

One more:

Feeling lucky? Come on down to the bank where we might not get robbed.

Back to you Griffin.

Those were awesome Griffin! I just love making toast in the morning. Well folks, we getting to that time in the post where I will have to turn it back over to SWATK. But before I do, I must apologize for making this post read like a talk show. It all happens to us eventually anyway so why not start now? One more thing before I leave and hand the post to SWATK, let's count down the new year. Ready? Okay.

5

4

3

2

1

GREENBOW ALABAMA!!!!!!

[S.W.A.T.K.]

I am looking up Mitt Romney's nose. GEC should find a better picture of that guy, because I really miss the hot sauce in my sock drawer. Anyway, I think it's time we drown everyone in rootbeer. Let's do it. But not right now because I am feeling lazy and perhaps a bit ticklish. Let's polka. Wait a second, where are my shoes? I think I left them in the parking lot of the White House. The secret service is probably eating them RIGHT NOW!!! Oh well. I'll just stuff a thousand kittens in my socks and hope they don't mind puddles. By the way, I think the plural of House should be Hice. That is not to say that all baby pants should conform to grammatical standards, but let's face it: your mama's pudgy. Because of that, I've come to realize that people are a lot like slinkies in that they bring a smile to your face and are fun to push down the stairs. Oh hey, apparently, Griffin just bought an old toothbrush on Ebay. They paid him to take it. I bet it has a mouse living in it. I wonder what would happen if that mouse invaded a castle and freed all the slaves that didn't like the fruit pudding they were being fed hourly? I bet the economy would plummet, but it was going to do that anyway. Tin cans predict the rise and fall of the stock market when people drink out of them, and that's no lie. That is, until you cut your tomatoes on the part where the soda comes out. See, people, this is why you need to invest in finger-armor. I use it. I mean, sure, you get a jolt of electricity every time you type on a keyboard, but the mental repercussions aren't that mayonnaise is NOT AN INSTRUMENT, PATRICK! . . . HORSE RADISH ISN'T AN INSTRUMENT EITHER. . . Stupid politicians. Anyway. I hate it when people can't take a joke. Like, yesterday, I planted several high-grade explosives in somebody's ice cream, and they got mad at me. I thought it was hilarious. Everybody's a critic. And a body. Everybody's a body and don't forget it, Barbara. At least I don't have beanstalks sprouting from my earlobes. And that's a fact. Okay, okay, listen. Right now, there are three cans of philosophy on my desk, and they are literally whispering to me. I can hear them because I wear a tinfoil hat and chase Bigfoot as if evolution were real. Okay, that's a lie. But they are on my desk. And they make a grating sound if I slide them back and forth. Hahahaha. Fun. Anyway. There's also a glass that I got for free, and by free I mean I got them with a large-sized meal at McDonald's, which also came with a free orphan. Aw, you're so cute you think those are real children. So far, I know that these glasses are good for chocolate milk. I prefer those kinds of glasses. My doctor once gave me glasses, but I always spilled my chocolate milk because of them. LOIL. That is an acceptable replacement for LOL, but it's better. Yup, that's chocolate. I'm head-bobbin' away while the autotuned nerd makes some noize with his vocal chords, y'all, gimme a milkshake. Now we're rollin' in style, three wheels and a phat horn with ribbons on the side. Yeah, we cool. Good night. Nevermind it's morning. Please deliver your Greecian formula to the mouse with the green sedan -- IT'S ON FIRE!!! But that doesn't matter because Obama will take a vacation and then go golfing. To those of you still reading this jabberwocky, I commend your eyeballs. And your attention span. It is quite clear that neither Griffin or I possess such a span of attention. APRIL FOOLS I BLEW UP YOUR HOUSE!!![/I] I lied. I just set it on fire. Fire burns things. Like metaphors. I had like seventeen metaphors before this post, but I left them in your house. Which I blew up. That taco is smiling. Please detour. And will SOMEBODY ARREST THAT FAT KID!!! I always use three exclamation points and point at three exclamations, but I'd rather eat in a nuclear powerplant or perhaps just a plant. Plants drink carbon dioxide and burp oxygen. WE ARE DRINKING PLANT BURPS. But that's okay, because we also eat the plants, so it works out. The question is not, do I want to drink plant burps or not. The question is, to be or not to be. The answer is 42. Back to you, Griffin!

[Griffin2448]

YAY! I'm listening to the jazz version of Nyan cat. I suggest you listen to it. It makes happy elves inside of wonderfully humongous bananas scream with terror. But I like it non the less. The prince of onion town should make this his theme song. He seems like the type of guy that would hate the human race. But that's beside the point. Right beside the point. Sitting in the chair over there to the right. It's not wearing pants. Anyway, the point needs to make a policy, no shirt no pants no service. Because the onion town theme song point isn't wearing said pants. Therefore, he could be thrown out. But since the policy is no shirt no shes no service, they have to allow him to stay. What was I talking about before I started talking about my points policy on clothes in his store? I can't remember. And I'm too lazy to read what I just wrote. Gotta have the train of thought steaming along, you know? Haha. Anyway, I am very happy that this is election year. Mostly because of the president being shoved out of office just like he should have been the day he was elected. But another good thing about election year is the Olympics. And not the fruity kind. The atlhetic athletes jumping around with Gaterade shirts because Gaterade has that sort of swag kind. They need toucan stubs come to think about it. If Mitt Romney grew a beard that would make the nation be surprised that he grew one. Just saying. Remember that one time that one thing did that movie that had the banana singing in all revolutionary revolutions where they made grenades out of pineapples and nose hairs? Me neither. They should make that movie. It would be a hit. Not like a good movie or anything. I'm talking about hit as in some guy buys the movie, thinks its terrible, and hits it with a baseball bat to cure his anxiety. I want to crump, but I also do not want to push it. You know? John F. Kennedy knew all the answers. Too bad there was that Russian man named Pete. Pete loved cats. Mythical cats. Because cats aren't real. Just like a 12 year old girl loving unicorns. Only its a 50 year old Russian dude named Pete. I see the similarities, don't you? John Mayer knew what I liked. Hip parties with elephant money. Then the dodo disappeared. And I spent the cash. I like eating happy meals. Speaking of happy meals, do you remember that one time when this guy named Lance Armstrong landed on the moon? NO! Because that man rode bikes. And you must answer in the form of a question. Loser. Back to the game! Makes me feel like Drew Carry jumping up and down like that. You sir, are nothing but a rotten tomato filled with cheese deep fried in a water bucket of hats with nothing but a grandma to sooth its comfort. You catch my drift? NO! You cannot catch a drift. And that answer was still not in the form of a question. You really are bad at this. Maybe I should sign you up for a painting seminar. That could calm the old nerve joints. Ligaments? Who knows. As long as there are cowboys as well as anthrax, we'll be okay. Til next time, my name is Kurt. See ya! Wait. My name isn't Kurt. I'm sure of it! Maybe Kurt is short for something. Dean? William? Ichiro Sizuki? Nah that can't be it. BUTTERMILK! That's it! As long as I don't think about it, my bathroom stays the same! I have to tell someone! Wait. I'm talking to you. Not you. Yu. The Japanese laundromat owner. You think I meant you?! YOU'RE CRAZY! I would never talk to you! You can't even answer in the form of a question mark? What? Are you some sort of wizard? BLEEP BLOOP. That's my impression of a lawn mower running over a flip flop who forgot to pay back his mob boss. Cheese sure has a way of causing problems like that. It couldn't be more simple. Don't buy the cheese. SEE?! So simple! If you want to talk to tomatoes. Nevermind. Wow. While writing this post, it underlined nevermind in red. Really post? Nevermind isn't a word? Really? Get your facts straight post. Get them straight. You are so near sighted that you can't choose nevermind as a word! YOU SIR, NEED TO GET A LIFE. Telling me nevermind isn't a word. Man, I had something funny to say before I went off on a rant about nevermind. I think it had something to do with Madonna. Oh well. Maybe SWATK will know when he replies. And I think its about time I hand it back over to him. So, from all of us here at News Channel Five, you stay classy San Diego.

[S.W.A.T.K.]

'Cause if Madonna...married a real Giant that would be good...At least I think it would...Mm, wait, no it wouldn't because nevermind...'Cause if Madonna...had a wooden statue...She just...gobbled that sardine! WOO!!! Anyway. She didn't marry a real Giant. But she did do a half-time performance for the Superbowl that the Giants won. That's something. It's something buttery. Tastes like banana pudding. And chocolate with a hint of is that a goat...Mm, wait, no it wouldn't because nevermind. NEVERMIND IS A REAL WORD, MR. SPELLCHECK. C-H-E-C-K. There. I spelled check. Happy? Good. If a zombie invasion occurs, you'll be a happy meal. And I will move to the moon, where I will begin my own chain restaurant that caters to all races of dirt. I will make a killing. And then I will kill everyone. Ever. E. One. In the universe, ever. And so you have to consider solely the souls of soles of shoes of souls of purple people who party until they burn up in the Sol. That means "sun." Period included. You know, people never include the period in anything. Jerks. Let's all put on our dance pants and do the spicy salsa with Dr. Doctor, Doctor. Man these cheese cubes are ticklish. You should do something about that. Here, use this garden gnome. Go throw it at Obama. That should solve everyone's problems. I'll replace him with a grape. But grapes grow on vines, so we'll need a frozen spatula, otherwise we'll never pry the babies off the wall. We should have never left Griffin alone with superglue and diapers. Word to your mother. Glump isn't a word, but let's not forget the letter 5. And anytime you see the forest pixies sprinkling a suspicious powder on your taco, make absolutely sure you don't eat that taco. The powder is cocaine. All pixies are drug addicts. HA! And you thought Peter Pan really could fly? What a naive little toadstool you turned out to kick. SUSAN! Let's kick Susan. And then perhaps launch a few flaming projectiles from a trebuchet and call ourselves Bulgarian. Oh how I do love the waffles. If the waffle light flashes in your direction, please send me a fork quickly and may the force be with you, Luke, I am your mother. And finally, the verdict arrives on a silver platter with bells on and your great-grandfather's great grandfather clock. I wonder how the old geezer is doing these days. Let's dig him up and find out. Okay, let's face it. If you've read this far, you're really determined to finish this, huh? I should reward you with a cookie or something. Maybe a pumpkin. You can put it on Pumpkin Island, where the common folk dip their noses in melted chocolate just to spite the porridge fairies. And frankly, I don't like you, Frank. Nobody likes Frank, frankly. That's why we invented the spoon. Ew, another plump news anchorwoman just barged through the door and got splinters all over the carpet. Good thing this isn't my shower. I'm going to crawl through the air vents and end up in your kitchen sink. Now it's a party. The bumble bees have discovered their own toes and now cows are releasing the winds of destruction. Guard the cities and hide the children in the dumpster. This means war. And I'm fairly certain she'll be collecting other people's breakfasts 'cause she really doesn't know the difference between girls and other girls. But that's okay, because we have plenty of marshmallows to go around and over and under and occasionally INTO THE ABYSS but not usually. Hmm, my grandmother smells of grandmotherlyness, which would make sense, now that I think about it. I think in French, but I'm secretly an oyster. Hide me. Well, morning is approaching my arthritis, so let's get this omelet on the road and watch it heat up on the asphalt, GRIFFIN--