But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Especially since I don't have viewers. In anycase, this was particularly funny because Tonileigh is one of my "normaler" friends. You know? How do you know I even exist? I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry childrenand adults. Why do I have to work year round? Well, seeya *waves brightly* I got to go to my Grendel (really cool book) project for school. We have ZIM, neopets, music, and much, much, more. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Although there are many lengthy monologues and multi-line descriptions in literature, the chapter from American author William Faulkner 's 1936 novel Absalom, Absalom! And hotand smoky. I only signed up for a semester. Guess what I wanna do. *yawn* I'm back. Why not click on the Very Weird Stuff link to see more, or click on the music link? They started shaking and barked their little heads off. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. longest possible text for discord : r/copypasta - reddit Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. But I couldn't have sung it 'cause it would have woken everyone up and they would have called me inconsiderate. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. And what did he do to me? We need to act now! that was recognised in the 1983 Guinness Book of World Records was the longest ever written. You mean that I'm just randomly responding regardless of your reactions? There MUST be some sort of conspiracy involved, 'cause if there is, I can get rid of the EVIL thing! And insanity. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. They associated tans with hard, manuel labor. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. Not even my friends*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website. In Math, one teeny, tiny little mistake will make you get the entire thing wrong. Welltwo can play by THOSE rules. That's just how many times you have to click before you can leave. HA-HA! Today, I was checking out some weird news. 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. Good. That's it, I'm gonna take drastic measures! I have no problem with Lit. I'll tell you why. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? WaitI really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. They add random minerals to our water to make it taste better, and then advertise it as pure! Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. Okay. While studying at Johns Hopkins University, Barth found himself writing about his native Eastern Shore Maryland in a pastiche style of middle Faulkner and late Joyce. He may have won some praise from a visiting young William Styron, but the finished opus didnt flyfor one thing, because Faulkner intimately knewhis Snopses and Compsons and Sartorises, as I did not know my made-up denizens of the Maryland marsh. The advice to write only what you know may not be worth much as a universal commandment. I added to the lenghth of the LTE without even thinking! Spooky how accurate they areanyway, I command you to go! As long as I'm happy, right. Who am I kidding. BYE!!! His syntax has a way of weaving itself into the unconscious, emerging as fair to middling imitation. These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! If my site manages to last a decade, my readers *snicker* will probley wonder what I'm talking about. I learned this from my calculator. 11. That's right! Welllet's see. Hmmmmmhas any old, senile person ever written anything? I'm gonna quit for now. How did you ever guess? Oh, wellI tired of nostalgia. The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. I hate Math. The answer is still infinity. I'm back. And one out of a million people would probably have a few sentences. isnt paying attention. Maybe you'll break free. 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. Death is like life in that after you die some things start life again inside of you. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. I'm so very, very tired. My sister. This is because she memorizes the questions. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. "Yep, Bill, time to dump the arsnic in so it tastes pure!" I love my calculator, though. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. If you have something better to do, why wouldn't you be doing it right now? Which is what I'm about to do. All of Faulkners modernist contemporaries, including of course Joyce, Wolff, and Beckett, mastered the use of run-ons, to different effect. Good. Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. :) Seeya! The smoke detector either never went off, or went off and the people just slept through it. longest text ever (most deleted bc max 40000 letters) : (. Plus, the kids at the daycare (where I work, obviously) say that I'm "cool to talk to". 516 words 'In the event that the Purchaser defaults in the payment of any instalment of purchase price, taxes, insurance, interest, or the annual charge described elsewhere herein, or shall default in the performance of any other obligations set forth in this . I love-d you moose! Oooooo! Yeahthatguyyou know who I'm talking about. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. Still no? Now, those have possibilities. or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. I finnaly get some free time to rant and rave and all my topics just magically melted away. theni got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. When is it MYturn? (may the moose be with you) And now I am back. It's pathetic. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazyhey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. 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. Do you know story about the longest story in the world? There is a world where you were never born. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. But wait! OF FREAKIN' COURSE IT WAS FREE! BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. The Longest Long Words List | Merriam-Webster "Purified" water. I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! I am here to bring AWARNESS to your moosey soul! Even though my schedule is technically supposed to be completly differnt. Come on all you non-existing people! I'm going. 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! Okay, now I'm starting to scare myselfI'm gonna quit for today. We could call ourselves TACO! Using my philosopy, that EVERYTHING exists because the universe is infinitewellthink about it. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? I'm sure some so called "scientist" can prove all my theories wrongbut how? Or CRAP, for short. I rule theer*random Loyal Minion whispers in ear* That's right! Even though air is light, that much air adds up. They couldn't stop laughing. AS soon as you're pierced, you have to buy "starter" earrings. But untill that day, the concept of the smoke detector is useless. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. 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.) 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! I can't remember what I was gonna rant about. OrI could just continue to write about finding a topic. It just looks weird. Why can't I? Jesus Christ is my lord and savior.You guys probably think that that is the worlds longest sentence, but it's not,because I just keep on adding commas, and it's pretty easy, if you think about it, so anyway there is this girl at school and she's my friend, and all but she's turning . But then, I'm meand you're you. First devised by professor William J. Rapaport in 1972, this notorious sentence plays on reduced relative clauses, different part-of-speech readings of the same word, and center embedding. My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. I will try to make the longest web page ever, made completely out of text! You don't know either? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. Ormaybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (onetwothree..*crunch*). I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. THe cake was good. SHE has to get up at 6:11 to put on make-up, do her hair and basically annoy the heck out of me. Fire is good. 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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