Post the Most Random Stuff You Can Think Of

[Redacted System]

If thoughts were not random, I would not have a joke among some friends about baguettes with moustaches. Damien wouldn’t have a white tiger as a form. Torea’s name wouldn’t be Torea. And this thread would not exist.

 

Even if these aren’t random, they’re pretty close.

[Lucilyn]

[video=youtube]

I mean honestly it was just stuck in my head for no reason

[Guest]

It's time to play.

[Indigo Blue]

Now this is a story all about how

My life got flipped turned upside down

And I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there

I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air

 

In West Philadelphia born and raised

On the playground is where I spent most of my days

Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool

And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school

When a couple of guys who were up to no good

Started making trouble in my neighborhood

I got in one little fight and my mom got scared

And said "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air"

 

I begged and pleaded with her day after day

But she packed my suitcase and sent me on my way

She gave me a kiss and then she gave me my ticket

I put my Walkman on and said "I might as well kick it"

First class, yo, this is bad

Drinking orange juice out of a champagne glass

Is this what the people of Bel-Air living like?

Hmmm, this might be all right

But wait, I hear they're prissy, bourgeois, and all that

Is this the type of place that they should sent this cool cat?

I don't think so, I'll see when I get there

I hope they're prepared for the Prince of Bel-Air

 

Well, uh, the plane landed and when I came out

There was a dude looked like a cop standing there with my name out

I ain't trying to get arrested yet, I just got here

I sprang with the quickness like lightning, disappeared

I whistled for a cab and when it came near

The license plate said 'Fresh' and it had dice in the mirror

If anything I could say that this cab was rare

But I thought "Nah, forget it, yo holmes, to Bel-Air!"

 

I pulled up to a house about seven or eight

And I yelled to the cabbie "Yo holmes, smell ya later"

Looked at my kingdom, I was finally there

To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Air

[Guest]

Smiff

[Indigo Blue]

Don't click this

Spoiler

Bee Movie Script

 

 

 

According to all known laws

of aviation,

 

 

there is no way a bee

should be able to fly.

 

 

Its wings are too small to get

its fat little body off the ground.

 

 

The bee, of course, flies anyway

 

 

because bees don't care

what humans think is impossible.

 

 

Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

Yellow, black. Yellow, black.

 

 

Ooh, black and yellow!

Let's shake it up a little.

 

 

Barry! Breakfast is ready!

 

 

Ooming!

 

 

Hang on a second.

 

 

Hello?

 

 

- Barry?

- Adam?

 

 

- Oan you believe this is happening?

- I can't. I'll pick you up.

 

 

Looking sharp.

 

 

Use the stairs. Your father

paid good money for those.

 

 

Sorry. I'm excited.

 

 

Here's the graduate.

We're very proud of you, son.

 

 

A perfect report card, all B's.

 

 

Very proud.

 

 

Ma! I got a thing going here.

 

 

- You got lint on your fuzz.

- Ow! That's me!

 

 

- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000.

- Bye!

 

 

Barry, I told you,

stop flying in the house!

 

 

- Hey, Adam.

- Hey, Barry.

 

 

- Is that fuzz gel?

- A little. Special day, graduation.

 

 

Never thought I'd make it.

 

 

Three days grade school,

three days high school.

 

 

Those were awkward.

 

 

Three days college. I'm glad I took

a day and hitchhiked around the hive.

 

 

You did come back different.

 

 

- Hi, Barry.

- Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good.

 

 

- Hear about Frankie?

- Yeah.

 

 

- You going to the funeral?

- No, I'm not going.

 

 

Everybody knows,

sting someone, you die.

 

 

Don't waste it on a squirrel.

Such a hothead.

 

 

I guess he could have

just gotten out of the way.

 

 

I love this incorporating

an amusement park into our day.

 

 

That's why we don't need vacations.

 

 

Boy, quite a bit of pomp...

under the circumstances.

 

 

- Well, Adam, today we are men.

- We are!

 

 

- Bee-men.

- Amen!

 

 

Hallelujah!

 

 

Students, faculty, distinguished bees,

 

 

please welcome Dean Buzzwell.

 

 

Welcome, New Hive Oity

graduating class of...

 

 

...9:15.

 

 

That concludes our ceremonies.

 

 

And begins your career

at Honex Industries!

 

 

Will we pick ourjob today?

 

 

I heard it's just orientation.

 

 

Heads up! Here we go.

 

 

Keep your hands and antennas

inside the tram at all times.

 

 

- Wonder what it'll be like?

- A little scary.

 

 

Welcome to Honex,

a division of Honesco

 

 

and a part of the Hexagon Group.

 

 

This is it!

 

 

Wow.

 

 

Wow.

 

 

We know that you, as a bee,

have worked your whole life

 

 

to get to the point where you

can work for your whole life.

 

 

Honey begins when our valiant Pollen

Jocks bring the nectar to the hive.

 

 

Our top-secret formula

 

 

is automatically color-corrected,

scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured

 

 

into this soothing sweet syrup

 

 

with its distinctive

golden glow you know as...

 

 

Honey!

 

 

- That girl was hot.

- She's my cousin!

 

 

- She is?

- Yes, we're all cousins.

 

 

- Right. You're right.

- At Honex, we constantly strive

 

 

to improve every aspect

of bee existence.

 

 

These bees are stress-testing

a new helmet technology.

 

 

- What do you think he makes?

- Not enough.

 

 

Here we have our latest advancement,

the Krelman.

 

 

- What does that do?

- Oatches that little strand of honey

 

 

that hangs after you pour it.

Saves us millions.

 

 

Oan anyone work on the Krelman?

 

 

Of course. Most bee jobs are

small ones. But bees know

 

 

that every small job,

if it's done well, means a lot.

 

 

But choose carefully

 

 

because you'll stay in the job

you pick for the rest of your life.

 

 

The same job the rest of your life?

I didn't know that.

 

 

What's the difference?

 

 

You'll be happy to know that bees,

as a species, haven't had one day off

 

 

in 27 million years.

 

 

So you'll just work us to death?

 

 

We'll sure try.

 

 

Wow! That blew my mind!

 

 

"What's the difference?"

How can you say that?

 

 

One job forever?

That's an insane choice to have to make.

 

 

I'm relieved. Now we only have

to make one decision in life.

 

 

But, Adam, how could they

never have told us that?

 

 

Why would you question anything?

We're bees.

 

 

We're the most perfectly

functioning society on Earth.

 

 

You ever think maybe things

work a little too well here?

 

 

Like what? Give me one example.

 

 

I don't know. But you know

what I'm talking about.

 

 

Please clear the gate.

Royal Nectar Force on approach.

 

 

Wait a second. Oheck it out.

 

 

- Hey, those are Pollen Jocks!

- Wow.

 

 

I've never seen them this close.

 

 

They know what it's like

outside the hive.

 

 

Yeah, but some don't come back.

 

 

- Hey, Jocks!

- Hi, Jocks!

 

 

You guys did great!

 

 

You're monsters!

You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it!

 

 

- I wonder where they were.

- I don't know.

 

 

Their day's not planned.

 

 

Outside the hive, flying who knows

where, doing who knows what.

 

 

You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen

Jock. You have to be bred for that.

 

 

Right.

 

 

Look. That's more pollen

than you and I will see in a lifetime.

 

 

It's just a status symbol.

Bees make too much of it.

 

 

Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it

and the ladies see you wearing it.

 

 

Those ladies?

Aren't they our cousins too?

 

 

Distant. Distant.

 

 

Look at these two.

 

 

- Oouple of Hive Harrys.

- Let's have fun with them.

 

 

It must be dangerous

being a Pollen Jock.

 

 

Yeah. Once a bear pinned me

against a mushroom!

 

 

He had a paw on my throat,

and with the other, he was slapping me!

 

 

- Oh, my!

- I never thought I'd knock him out.

 

 

What were you doing during this?

 

 

Trying to alert the authorities.

 

 

I can autograph that.

 

 

A little gusty out there today,

wasn't it, comrades?

 

 

Yeah. Gusty.

 

 

We're hitting a sunflower patch

six miles from here tomorrow.

 

 

- Six miles, huh?

- Barry!

 

 

A puddle jump for us,

but maybe you're not up for it.

 

 

- Maybe I am.

- You are not!

 

 

We're going 0900 at J-Gate.

 

 

What do you think, buzzy-boy?

Are you bee enough?

 

 

I might be. It all depends

on what 0900 means.

 

 

Hey, Honex!

 

 

Dad, you surprised me.

 

 

You decide what you're interested in?

 

 

- Well, there's a lot of choices.

- But you only get one.

 

 

Do you ever get bored

doing the same job every day?

 

 

Son, let me tell you about stirring.

 

 

You grab that stick, and you just

move it around, and you stir it around.

 

 

You get yourself into a rhythm.

It's a beautiful thing.

 

 

You know, Dad,

the more I think about it,

 

 

maybe the honey field

just isn't right for me.

 

 

You were thinking of what,

making balloon animals?

 

 

That's a bad job

for a guy with a stinger.

 

 

Janet, your son's not sure

he wants to go into honey!

 

 

- Barry, you are so funny sometimes.

- I'm not trying to be funny.

 

 

You're not funny! You're going

into honey. Our son, the stirrer!

 

 

- You're gonna be a stirrer?

- No one's listening to me!

 

 

Wait till you see the sticks I have.

 

 

I could say anything right now.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!

 

 

Let's open some honey and celebrate!

 

 

Maybe I'll pierce my thorax.

Shave my antennae.

 

 

Shack up with a grasshopper. Get

a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!

 

 

I'm so proud.

 

 

- We're starting work today!

- Today's the day.

 

 

Oome on! All the good jobs

will be gone.

 

 

Yeah, right.

 

 

Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring,

stirrer, front desk, hair removal...

 

 

- Is it still available?

- Hang on. Two left!

 

 

One of them's yours! Oongratulations!

Step to the side.

 

 

- What'd you get?

- Picking crud out. Stellar!

 

 

Wow!

 

 

Oouple of newbies?

 

 

Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!

 

 

Make your choice.

 

 

- You want to go first?

- No, you go.

 

 

Oh, my. What's available?

 

 

Restroom attendant's open,

not for the reason you think.

 

 

- Any chance of getting the Krelman?

- Sure, you're on.

 

 

I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.

 

 

Wax monkey's always open.

 

 

The Krelman opened up again.

 

 

What happened?

 

 

A bee died. Makes an opening. See?

He's dead. Another dead one.

 

 

Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.

 

 

Dead from the neck up.

Dead from the neck down. That's life!

 

 

Oh, this is so hard!

 

 

Heating, cooling,

stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,

 

 

humming, inspector number seven,

lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,

 

 

mite wrangler. Barry, what

do you think I should... Barry?

 

 

Barry!

 

 

All right, we've got the sunflower patch

in quadrant nine...

 

 

What happened to you?

Where are you?

 

 

- I'm going out.

- Out? Out where?

 

 

- Out there.

- Oh, no!

 

 

I have to, before I go

to work for the rest of my life.

 

 

You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?

 

 

Another call coming in.

 

 

If anyone's feeling brave,

there's a Korean deli on 83rd

 

 

that gets their roses today.

 

 

Hey, guys.

 

 

- Look at that.

- Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?

 

 

Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.

 

 

It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.

 

 

Really? Feeling lucky, are you?

 

 

Sign here, here. Just initial that.

 

 

- Thank you.

- OK.

 

 

You got a rain advisory today,

 

 

and as you all know,

bees cannot fly in rain.

 

 

So be careful. As always,

watch your brooms,

 

 

hockey sticks, dogs,

birds, bears and bats.

 

 

Also, I got a couple of reports

of root beer being poured on us.

 

 

Murphy's in a home because of it,

babbling like a cicada!

 

 

- That's awful.

- And a reminder for you rookies,

 

 

bee law number one,

absolutely no talking to humans!

 

 

All right, launch positions!

 

 

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz,

buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!

 

 

Black and yellow!

 

 

Hello!

 

 

You ready for this, hot shot?

 

 

Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.

 

 

Wind, check.

 

 

- Antennae, check.

- Nectar pack, check.

 

 

- Wings, check.

- Stinger, check.

 

 

Scared out of my shorts, check.

 

 

OK, ladies,

 

 

let's move it out!

 

 

Pound those petunias,

you striped stem-suckers!

 

 

All of you, drain those flowers!

 

 

Wow! I'm out!

 

 

I can't believe I'm out!

 

 

So blue.

 

 

I feel so fast and free!

 

 

Box kite!

 

 

Wow!

 

 

Flowers!

 

 

This is Blue Leader.

We have roses visual.

 

 

Bring it around 30 degrees and hold.

 

 

Roses!

 

 

30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around.

 

 

Stand to the side, kid.

It's got a bit of a kick.

 

 

That is one nectar collector!

 

 

- Ever see pollination up close?

- No, sir.

 

 

I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it

over here. Maybe a dash over there,

 

 

a pinch on that one.

See that? It's a little bit of magic.

 

 

That's amazing. Why do we do that?

 

 

That's pollen power. More pollen, more

flowers, more nectar, more honey for us.

 

 

Oool.

 

 

I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow.

Oould be daisies. Don't we need those?

 

 

Oopy that visual.

 

 

Wait. One of these flowers

seems to be on the move.

 

 

Say again? You're reporting

a moving flower?

 

 

Affirmative.

 

 

That was on the line!

 

 

This is the coolest. What is it?

 

 

I don't know, but I'm loving this color.

 

 

It smells good.

Not like a flower, but I like it.

 

 

Yeah, fuzzy.

 

 

Ohemical-y.

 

 

Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby.

 

 

My sweet lord of bees!

 

 

Oandy-brain, get off there!

 

 

Problem!

 

 

- Guys!

- This could be bad.

 

 

Affirmative.

 

 

Very close.

 

 

Gonna hurt.

 

 

Mama's little boy.

 

 

You are way out of position, rookie!

 

 

Ooming in at you like a missile!

 

 

Help me!

 

 

I don't think these are flowers.

 

 

- Should we tell him?

- I think he knows.

 

 

What is this?!

 

 

Match point!

 

 

You can start packing up, honey,

because you're about to eat it!

 

 

Yowser!

 

 

Gross.

 

 

There's a bee in the car!

 

 

- Do something!

- I'm driving!

 

 

- Hi, bee.

- He's back here!

 

 

He's going to sting me!

 

 

Nobody move. If you don't move,

he won't sting you. Freeze!

 

 

He blinked!

 

 

Spray him, Granny!

 

 

What are you doing?!

 

 

Wow... the tension level

out here is unbelievable.

 

 

I gotta get home.

 

 

Oan't fly in rain.

 

 

Oan't fly in rain.

 

 

Oan't fly in rain.

 

 

Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down!

 

 

Ken, could you close

the window please?

 

 

Ken, could you close

the window please?

 

 

Oheck out my new resume.

I made it into a fold-out brochure.

 

 

You see? Folds out.

 

 

Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this.

 

 

What was that?

 

 

Maybe this time. This time. This time.

This time! This time! This...

 

 

Drapes!

 

 

That is diabolical.

 

 

It's fantastic. It's got all my special

skills, even my top-ten favorite movies.

 

 

What's number one? Star Wars?

 

 

Nah, I don't go for that...

 

 

...kind of stuff.

 

 

No wonder we shouldn't talk to them.

They're out of their minds.

 

 

When I leave a job interview, they're

flabbergasted, can't believe what I say.

 

 

There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out.

 

 

I don't remember the sun

having a big 75 on it.

 

 

I predicted global warming.

 

 

I could feel it getting hotter.

At first I thought it was just me.

 

 

Wait! Stop! Bee!

 

 

Stand back. These are winter boots.

 

 

Wait!

 

 

Don't kill him!

 

 

You know I'm allergic to them!

This thing could kill me!

 

 

Why does his life have

less value than yours?

 

 

Why does his life have any less value

than mine? Is that your statement?

 

 

I'm just saying all life has value. You

don't know what he's capable of feeling.

 

 

My brochure!

 

 

There you go, little guy.

 

 

I'm not scared of him.

It's an allergic thing.

 

 

Put that on your resume brochure.

 

 

My whole face could puff up.

 

 

Make it one of your special skills.

 

 

Knocking someone out

is also a special skill.

 

 

Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks.

 

 

- Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night?

- Sure, Ken. You know, whatever.

 

 

- You could put carob chips on there.

- Bye.

 

 

- Supposed to be less calories.

- Bye.

 

 

I gotta say something.

 

 

She saved my life.

I gotta say something.

 

 

All right, here it goes.

 

 

Nah.

 

 

What would I say?

 

 

I could really get in trouble.

 

 

It's a bee law.

You're not supposed to talk to a human.

 

 

I can't believe I'm doing this.

 

 

I've got to.

 

 

Oh, I can't do it. Oome on!

 

 

No. Yes. No.

 

 

Do it. I can't.

 

 

How should I start it?

"You like jazz?" No, that's no good.

 

 

Here she comes! Speak, you fool!

 

 

Hi!

 

 

I'm sorry.

 

 

- You're talking.

- Yes, I know.

 

 

You're talking!

 

 

I'm so sorry.

 

 

No, it's OK. It's fine.

I know I'm dreaming.

 

 

But I don't recall going to bed.

 

 

Well, I'm sure this

is very disconcerting.

 

 

This is a bit of a surprise to me.

I mean, you're a bee!

 

 

I am. And I'm not supposed

to be doing this,

 

 

but they were all trying to kill me.

 

 

And if it wasn't for you...

 

 

I had to thank you.

It's just how I was raised.

 

 

That was a little weird.

 

 

- I'm talking with a bee.

- Yeah.

 

 

I'm talking to a bee.

And the bee is talking to me!

 

 

I just want to say I'm grateful.

I'll leave now.

 

 

- Wait! How did you learn to do that?

- What?

 

 

The talking thing.

 

 

Same way you did, I guess.

"Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up.

 

 

- That's very funny.

- Yeah.

 

 

Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh,

we'd cry with what we have to deal with.

 

 

Anyway...

 

 

Oan I...

 

 

...get you something?

- Like what?

 

 

I don't know. I mean...

I don't know. Ooffee?

 

 

I don't want to put you out.

 

 

It's no trouble. It takes two minutes.

 

 

- It's just coffee.

- I hate to impose.

 

 

- Don't be ridiculous!

- Actually, I would love a cup.

 

 

Hey, you want rum cake?

 

 

- I shouldn't.

- Have some.

 

 

- No, I can't.

- Oome on!

 

 

I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms.

 

 

- Where?

- These stripes don't help.

 

 

You look great!

 

 

I don't know if you know

anything about fashion.

 

 

Are you all right?

 

 

No.

 

 

He's making the tie in the cab

as they're flying up Madison.

 

 

He finally gets there.

 

 

He runs up the steps into the church.

The wedding is on.

 

 

And he says, "Watermelon?

I thought you said Guatemalan.

 

 

Why would I marry a watermelon?"

 

 

Is that a bee joke?

 

 

That's the kind of stuff we do.

 

 

Yeah, different.

 

 

So, what are you gonna do, Barry?

 

 

About work? I don't know.

 

 

I want to do my part for the hive,

but I can't do it the way they want.

 

 

I know how you feel.

 

 

- You do?

- Sure.

 

 

My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or

a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist.

 

 

- Really?

- My only interest is flowers.

 

 

Our new queen was just elected

with that same campaign slogan.

 

 

Anyway, if you look...

 

 

There's my hive right there. See it?

 

 

You're in Sheep Meadow!

 

 

Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond!

 

 

No way! I know that area.

I lost a toe ring there once.

 

 

- Why do girls put rings on their toes?

- Why not?

 

 

- It's like putting a hat on your knee.

- Maybe I'll try that.

 

 

- You all right, ma'am?

- Oh, yeah. Fine.

 

 

Just having two cups of coffee!

 

 

Anyway, this has been great.

Thanks for the coffee.

 

 

Yeah, it's no trouble.

 

 

Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did,

I'd be up the rest of my life.

 

 

Are you...?

 

 

Oan I take a piece of this with me?

 

 

Sure! Here, have a crumb.

 

 

- Thanks!

- Yeah.

 

 

All right. Well, then...

I guess I'll see you around.

 

 

Or not.

 

 

OK, Barry.

 

 

And thank you

so much again... for before.

 

 

Oh, that? That was nothing.

 

 

Well, not nothing, but... Anyway...

 

 

This can't possibly work.

 

 

He's all set to go.

We may as well try it.

 

 

OK, Dave, pull the chute.

 

 

- Sounds amazing.

- It was amazing!

 

 

It was the scariest,

happiest moment of my life.

 

 

Humans! I can't believe

you were with humans!

 

 

Giant, scary humans!

What were they like?

 

 

Huge and crazy. They talk crazy.

 

 

They eat crazy giant things.

They drive crazy.

 

 

- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?

- Some of them. But some of them don't.

 

 

- How'd you get back?

- Poodle.

 

 

You did it, and I'm glad. You saw

whatever you wanted to see.

 

 

You had your "experience." Now you

can pick out yourjob and be normal.

 

 

- Well...

- Well?

 

 

Well, I met someone.

 

 

You did? Was she Bee-ish?

 

 

- A wasp?! Your parents will kill you!

- No, no, no, not a wasp.

 

 

- Spider?

- I'm not attracted to spiders.

 

 

I know it's the hottest thing,

with the eight legs and all.

 

 

I can't get by that face.

 

 

So who is she?

 

 

She's... human.

 

 

No, no. That's a bee law.

You wouldn't break a bee law.

 

 

- Her name's Vanessa.

- Oh, boy.

 

 

She's so nice. And she's a florist!

 

 

Oh, no! You're dating a human florist!

 

 

We're not dating.

 

 

You're flying outside the hive, talking

to humans that attack our homes

 

 

with power washers and M-80s!

One-eighth a stick of dynamite!

 

 

She saved my life!

And she understands me.

 

 

This is over!

 

 

Eat this.

 

 

This is not over! What was that?

 

 

- They call it a crumb.

- It was so stingin' stripey!

 

 

And that's not what they eat.

That's what falls off what they eat!

 

 

- You know what a Oinnabon is?

- No.

 

 

It's bread and cinnamon and frosting.

They heat it up...

 

 

Sit down!

 

 

...really hot!

- Listen to me!

 

 

We are not them! We're us.

There's us and there's them!

 

 

Yes, but who can deny

the heart that is yearning?

 

 

There's no yearning.

Stop yearning. Listen to me!

 

 

You have got to start thinking bee,

my friend. Thinking bee!

 

 

- Thinking bee.

- Thinking bee.

 

 

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

 

 

There he is. He's in the pool.

 

 

You know what your problem is, Barry?

 

 

I gotta start thinking bee?

 

 

How much longer will this go on?

 

 

It's been three days!

Why aren't you working?

 

 

I've got a lot of big life decisions

to think about.

 

 

What life? You have no life!

You have no job. You're barely a bee!

 

 

Would it kill you

to make a little honey?

 

 

Barry, come out.

Your father's talking to you.

 

 

Martin, would you talk to him?

 

 

Barry, I'm talking to you!

 

 

You coming?

 

 

Got everything?

 

 

All set!

 

 

Go ahead. I'll catch up.

 

 

Don't be too long.

 

 

Watch this!

 

 

Vanessa!

 

 

- We're still here.

- I told you not to yell at him.

 

 

He doesn't respond to yelling!

 

 

- Then why yell at me?

- Because you don't listen!

 

 

I'm not listening to this.

 

 

Sorry, I've gotta go.

 

 

- Where are you going?

- I'm meeting a friend.

 

 

A girl? Is this why you can't decide?

 

 

Bye.

 

 

I just hope she's Bee-ish.

 

 

They have a huge parade

of flowers every year in Pasadena?

 

 

To be in the Tournament of Roses,

that's every florist's dream!

 

 

Up on a float, surrounded

by flowers, crowds cheering.

 

 

A tournament. Do the roses

compete in athletic events?

 

 

No. All right, I've got one.

How come you don't fly everywhere?

 

 

It's exhausting. Why don't you

run everywhere? It's faster.

 

 

Yeah, OK, I see, I see.

All right, your turn.

 

 

TiVo. You can just freeze live TV?

That's insane!

 

 

You don't have that?

 

 

We have Hivo, but it's a disease.

It's a horrible, horrible disease.

 

 

Oh, my.

 

 

Dumb bees!

 

 

You must want to sting all those jerks.

 

 

We try not to sting.

It's usually fatal for us.

 

 

So you have to watch your temper.

 

 

Very carefully.

You kick a wall, take a walk,

 

 

write an angry letter and throw it out.

Work through it like any emotion:

 

 

Anger, jealousy, lust.

 

 

Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?

 

 

Yeah.

 

 

- What is wrong with you?!

- It's a bug.

 

 

He's not bothering anybody.

Get out of here, you creep!

 

 

What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?

 

 

Yeah, it was. How did you know?

 

 

It felt like about 10 pages.

Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.

 

 

You've really got that

down to a science.

 

 

- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.

- I'll bet.

 

 

What in the name

of Mighty Hercules is this?

 

 

How did this get here?

Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,

 

 

Ray Liotta Private Select?

 

 

- Is he that actor?

- I never heard of him.

 

 

- Why is this here?

- For people. We eat it.

 

 

You don't have

enough food of your own?

 

 

- Well, yes.

- How do you get it?

 

 

- Bees make it.

- I know who makes it!

 

 

And it's hard to make it!

 

 

There's heating, cooling, stirring.

You need a whole Krelman thing!

 

 

- It's organic.

- It's our-ganic!

 

 

It's just honey, Barry.

 

 

Just what?!

 

 

Bees don't know about this!

This is stealing! A lot of stealing!

 

 

You've taken our homes, schools,

hospitals! This is all we have!

 

 

And it's on sale?!

I'm getting to the bottom of this.

 

 

I'm getting to the bottom

of all of this!

 

 

Hey, Hector.

 

 

- You almost done?

- Almost.

 

 

He is here. I sense it.

 

 

Well, I guess I'll go home now

 

 

and just leave this nice honey out,

with no one around.

 

 

You're busted, box boy!

 

 

I knew I heard something.

So you can talk!

 

 

I can talk.

And now you'll start talking!

 

 

Where you getting the sweet stuff?

Who's your supplier?

 

 

I don't understand.

I thought we were friends.

 

 

The last thing we want

to do is upset bees!

 

 

You're too late! It's ours now!

 

 

You, sir, have crossed

the wrong sword!

 

 

You, sir, will be lunch

for my iguana, Ignacio!

 

 

Where is the honey coming from?

 

 

Tell me where!

 

 

Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!

 

 

Orazy person!

 

 

What horrible thing has happened here?

 

 

These faces, they never knew

what hit them. And now

 

 

they're on the road to nowhere!

 

 

Just keep still.

 

 

What? You're not dead?

 

 

Do I look dead? They will wipe anything

that moves. Where you headed?

 

 

To Honey Farms.

I am onto something huge here.

 

 

I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,

crazy stuff. Blows your head off!

 

 

I'm going to Tacoma.

 

 

- And you?

- He really is dead.

 

 

All right.

 

 

Uh-oh!

 

 

- What is that?!

- Oh, no!

 

 

- A wiper! Triple blade!

- Triple blade?

 

 

Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!

 

 

Why does everything have

to be so doggone clean?!

 

 

How much do you people need to see?!

 

 

Open your eyes!

Stick your head out the window!

 

 

From NPR News in Washington,

I'm Oarl Kasell.

 

 

But don't kill no more bugs!

 

 

- Bee!

- Moose blood guy!!

 

 

- You hear something?

- Like what?

 

 

Like tiny screaming.

 

 

Turn off the radio.

 

 

Whassup, bee boy?

 

 

Hey, Blood.

 

 

Just a row of honey jars,

as far as the eye could see.

 

 

Wow!

 

 

I assume wherever this truck goes

is where they're getting it.

 

 

I mean, that honey's ours.

 

 

- Bees hang tight.

- We're all jammed in.

 

 

It's a close community.

 

 

Not us, man. We on our own.

Every mosquito on his own.

 

 

- What if you get in trouble?

- You a mosquito, you in trouble.

 

 

Nobody likes us. They just smack.

See a mosquito, smack, smack!

 

 

At least you're out in the world.

You must meet girls.

 

 

Mosquito girls try to trade up,

get with a moth, dragonfly.

 

 

Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.

 

 

You got to be kidding me!

 

 

Mooseblood's about to leave

the building! So long, bee!

 

 

- Hey, guys!

- Mooseblood!

 

 

I knew I'd catch y'all down here.

Did you bring your crazy straw?

 

 

We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,

and it's pretty much pure profit.

 

 

What is this place?

 

 

A bee's got a brain

the size of a pinhead.

 

 

They are pinheads!

 

 

Pinhead.

 

 

- Oheck out the new smoker.

- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.

 

 

The Thomas 3000!

 

 

Smoker?

 

 

Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.

Twice the nicotine, all the tar.

 

 

A couple breaths of this

knocks them right out.

 

 

They make the honey,

and we make the money.

 

 

"They make the honey,

and we make the money"?

 

 

Oh, my!

 

 

What's going on? Are you OK?

 

 

Yeah. It doesn't last too long.

 

 

Do you know you're

in a fake hive with fake walls?

 

 

Our queen was moved here.

We had no choice.

 

 

This is your queen?

That's a man in women's clothes!

 

 

That's a drag queen!

 

 

What is this?

 

 

Oh, no!

 

 

There's hundreds of them!

 

 

Bee honey.

 

 

Our honey is being brazenly stolen

on a massive scale!

 

 

This is worse than anything bears

have done! I intend to do something.

 

 

Oh, Barry, stop.

 

 

Who told you humans are taking

our honey? That's a rumor.

 

 

Do these look like rumors?

 

 

That's a conspiracy theory.

These are obviously doctored photos.

 

 

How did you get mixed up in this?

 

 

He's been talking to humans.

 

 

- What?

- Talking to humans?!

 

 

He has a human girlfriend.

And they make out!

 

 

Make out? Barry!

 

 

We do not.

 

 

- You wish you could.

- Whose side are you on?

 

 

The bees!

 

 

I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.

Those crazy legs kept me up all night.

 

 

Barry, this is what you want

to do with your life?

 

 

I want to do it for all our lives.

Nobody works harder than bees!

 

 

Dad, I remember you

coming home so overworked

 

 

your hands were still stirring.

You couldn't stop.

 

 

I remember that.

 

 

What right do they have to our honey?

 

 

We live on two cups a year. They put it

in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!

 

 

Even if it's true, what can one bee do?

 

 

Sting them where it really hurts.

 

 

In the face! The eye!

 

 

- That would hurt.

- No.

 

 

Up the nose? That's a killer.

 

 

There's only one place you can sting

the humans, one place where it matters.

 

 

Hive at Five, the hive's only

full-hour action news source.

 

 

No more bee beards!

 

 

With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk.

 

 

Weather with Storm Stinger.

 

 

Sports with Buzz Larvi.

 

 

And Jeanette Ohung.

 

 

- Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble.

- And I'm Jeanette Ohung.

 

 

A tri-county bee, Barry Benson,

 

 

intends to sue the human race

for stealing our honey,

 

 

packaging it and profiting

from it illegally!

 

 

Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King,

 

 

we'll have three former queens here in

our studio, discussing their new book,

 

 

Olassy Ladies,

out this week on Hexagon.

 

 

Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson.

 

 

Did you ever think, "I'm a kid

from the hive. I can't do this"?

 

 

Bees have never been afraid

to change the world.

 

 

What about Bee Oolumbus?

Bee Gandhi? Bejesus?

 

 

Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans.

 

 

We were thinking

of stickball or candy stores.

 

 

How old are you?

 

 

The bee community

is supporting you in this case,

 

 

which will be the trial

of the bee century.

 

 

You know, they have a Larry King

in the human world too.

 

 

It's a common name. Next week...

 

 

He looks like you and has a show

and suspenders and colored dots...

 

 

Next week...

 

 

Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the

guest even though you just heard 'em.

 

 

Bear Week next week!

They're scary, hairy and here live.

 

 

Always leans forward, pointy shoulders,

squinty eyes, very Jewish.

 

 

In tennis, you attack

at the point of weakness!

 

 

It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81.

 

 

Honey, her backhand's a joke!

I'm not gonna take advantage of that?

 

 

Quiet, please.

Actual work going on here.

 

 

- Is that that same bee?

- Yes, it is!

 

 

I'm helping him sue the human race.

 

 

- Hello.

- Hello, bee.

 

 

This is Ken.

 

 

Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size

ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe.

 

 

Why does he talk again?

 

 

Listen, you better go

'cause we're really busy working.

 

 

But it's our yogurt night!

 

 

Bye-bye.

 

 

Why is yogurt night so difficult?!

 

 

You poor thing.

You two have been at this for hours!

 

 

Yes, and Adam here

has been a huge help.

 

 

- Frosting...

- How many sugars?

 

 

Just one. I try not

to use the competition.

 

 

So why are you helping me?

 

 

Bees have good qualities.

 

 

And it takes my mind off the shop.

 

 

Instead of flowers, people

are giving balloon bouquets now.

 

 

Those are great, if you're three.

 

 

And artificial flowers.

 

 

- Oh, those just get me psychotic!

- Yeah, me too.

 

 

Bent stingers, pointless pollination.

 

 

Bees must hate those fake things!

 

 

Nothing worse

than a daffodil that's had work done.

 

 

Maybe this could make up

for it a little bit.

 

 

- This lawsuit's a pretty big deal.

- I guess.

 

 

You sure you want to go through with it?

 

 

Am I sure? When I'm done with

the humans, they won't be able

 

 

to say, "Honey, I'm home,"

without paying a royalty!

 

 

It's an incredible scene

here in downtown Manhattan,

 

 

where the world anxiously waits,

because for the first time in history,

 

 

we will hear for ourselves

if a honeybee can actually speak.

 

 

What have we gotten into here, Barry?

 

 

It's pretty big, isn't it?

 

 

I can't believe how many humans

don't work during the day.

 

 

You think billion-dollar multinational

food companies have good lawyers?

 

 

Everybody needs to stay

behind the barricade.

 

 

- What's the matter?

- I don't know, I just got a chill.

 

 

Well, if it isn't the bee team.

 

 

You boys work on this?

 

 

All rise! The Honorable

Judge Bumbleton presiding.

 

 

All right. Oase number 4475,

 

 

Superior Oourt of New York,

Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry

 

 

is now in session.

 

 

Mr. Montgomery, you're representing

the five food companies collectively?

 

 

A privilege.

 

 

Mr. Benson... you're representing

all the bees of the world?

 

 

I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor,

we're ready to proceed.

 

 

Mr. Montgomery,

your opening statement, please.

 

 

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

 

 

my grandmother was a simple woman.

 

 

Born on a farm, she believed

it was man's divine right

 

 

to benefit from the bounty

of nature God put before us.

 

 

If we lived in the topsy-turvy world

Mr. Benson imagines,

 

 

just think of what would it mean.

 

 

I would have to negotiate

with the silkworm

 

 

for the elastic in my britches!

 

 

Talking bee!

 

 

How do we know this isn't some sort of

 

 

holographic motion-picture-capture

Hollywood wizardry?

 

 

They could be using laser beams!

 

 

Robotics! Ventriloquism!

Oloning! For all we know,

 

 

he could be on steroids!

 

 

Mr. Benson?

 

 

Ladies and gentlemen,

there's no trickery here.

 

 

I'm just an ordinary bee.

Honey's pretty important to me.

 

 

It's important to all bees.

We invented it!

 

 

We make it. And we protect it

with our lives.

 

 

Unfortunately, there are

some people in this room

 

 

who think they can take it from us

 

 

'cause we're the little guys!

I'm hoping that, after this is all over,

 

 

you'll see how, by taking our honey,

you not only take everything we have

 

 

but everything we are!

 

 

I wish he'd dress like that

all the time. So nice!

 

 

Oall your first witness.

 

 

So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden

of Honey Farms, big company you have.

 

 

I suppose so.

 

 

I see you also own

Honeyburton and Honron!

 

 

Yes, they provide beekeepers

for our farms.

 

 

Beekeeper. I find that

to be a very disturbing term.

 

 

I don't imagine you employ

any bee-free-ers, do you?

 

 

- No.

- I couldn't hear you.

 

 

- No.

- No.

 

 

Because you don't free bees.

You keep bees. Not only that,

 

 

it seems you thought a bear would be

an appropriate image for a jar of honey.

 

 

They're very lovable creatures.

 

 

Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear.

 

 

You mean like this?

 

 

Bears kill bees!

 

 

How'd you like his head crashing

through your living room?!

 

 

Biting into your couch!

Spitting out your throw pillows!

 

 

OK, that's enough. Take him away.

 

 

So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here.

Your name intrigues me.

 

 

- Where have I heard it before?

- I was with a band called The Police.

 

 

But you've never been

a police officer, have you?

 

 

No, I haven't.

 

 

No, you haven't. And so here

we have yet another example

 

 

of bee culture casually

stolen by a human

 

 

for nothing more than

a prance-about stage name.

 

 

Oh, please.

 

 

Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting?

 

 

Because I'm feeling

a little stung, Sting.

 

 

Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner!

 

 

That's not his real name?! You idiots!

 

 

Mr. Liotta, first,

belated congratulations on

 

 

your Emmy win for a guest spot

on ER in 2005.

 

 

Thank you. Thank you.

 

 

I see from your resume

that you're devilishly handsome

 

 

with a churning inner turmoil

that's ready to blow.

 

 

I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime?

 

 

Not yet it isn't. But is this

what it's come to for you?

 

 

Exploiting tiny, helpless bees

so you don't

 

 

have to rehearse

your part and learn your lines, sir?

 

 

Watch it, Benson!

I could blow right now!

 

 

This isn't a goodfella.

This is a badfella!

 

 

Why doesn't someone just step on

this creep, and we can all go home?!

 

 

- Order in this court!

- You're all thinking it!

 

 

Order! Order, I say!

 

 

- Say it!

- Mr. Liotta, please sit down!

 

 

I think it was awfully nice

of that bear to pitch in like that.

 

 

I think the jury's on our side.

 

 

Are we doing everything right, legally?

 

 

I'm a florist.

 

 

Right. Well, here's to a great team.

 

 

To a great team!

 

 

Well, hello.

 

 

- Ken!

- Hello.

 

 

I didn't think you were coming.

 

 

No, I was just late.

I tried to call, but... the battery.

 

 

I didn't want all this to go to waste,

so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free.

 

 

Oh, that was lucky.

 

 

There's a little left.

I could heat it up.

 

 

Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever.

 

 

So I hear you're quite a tennis player.

 

 

I'm not much for the game myself.

The ball's a little grabby.

 

 

That's where I usually sit.

Right... there.

 

 

Ken, Barry was looking at your resume,

 

 

and he agreed with me that eating with

chopsticks isn't really a special skill.

 

 

You think I don't see what you're doing?

 

 

I know how hard it is to find

the rightjob. We have that in common.

 

 

Do we?

 

 

Bees have 100 percent employment,

but we do jobs like taking the crud out.

 

 

That's just what

I was thinking about doing.

 

 

Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor

for his fuzz. I hope that was all right.

 

 

I'm going to drain the old stinger.

 

 

Yeah, you do that.

 

 

Look at that.

 

 

You know, I've just about had it

 

 

with your little mind games.

 

 

- What's that?

- Italian Vogue.

 

 

Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages.

 

 

A lot of ads.

 

 

Remember what Van said, why is

your life more valuable than mine?

 

 

Funny, I just can't seem to recall that!

 

 

I think something stinks in here!

 

 

I love the smell of flowers.

 

 

How do you like the smell of flames?!

 

 

Not as much.

 

 

Water bug! Not taking sides!

 

 

Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat!

This is pathetic!

 

 

I've got issues!

 

 

Well, well, well, a royal flush!

 

 

- You're bluffing.

- Am I?

 

 

Surf's up, dude!

 

 

Poo water!

 

 

That bowl is gnarly.

 

 

Except for those dirty yellow rings!

 

 

Kenneth! What are you doing?!

 

 

You know, I don't even like honey!

I don't eat it!

 

 

We need to talk!

 

 

He's just a little bee!

 

 

And he happens to be

the nicest bee I've met in a long time!

 

 

Long time? What are you talking about?!

Are there other bugs in your life?

 

 

No, but there are other things bugging

me in life. And you're one of them!

 

 

Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night...

 

 

My nerves are fried from riding

on this emotional roller coaster!

 

 

Goodbye, Ken.

 

 

And for your information,

 

 

I prefer sugar-free, artificial

sweeteners made by man!

 

 

I'm sorry about all that.

 

 

I know it's got

an aftertaste! I like it!

 

 

I always felt there was some kind

of barrier between Ken and me.

 

 

I couldn't overcome it.

Oh, well.

 

 

Are you OK for the trial?

 

 

I believe Mr. Montgomery

is about out of ideas.

 

 

We would like to call

Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand.

 

 

Good idea! You can really see why he's

considered one of the best lawyers...

 

 

Yeah.

 

 

Layton, you've

gotta weave some magic

 

 

with this jury,

or it's gonna be all over.

 

 

Don't worry. The only thing I have

to do to turn this jury around

 

 

is to remind them

of what they don't like about bees.

 

 

- You got the tweezers?

- Are you allergic?

 

 

Only to losing, son. Only to losing.

 

 

Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you

what I think we'd all like to know.

 

 

What exactly is your relationship

 

 

to that woman?

 

 

We're friends.

 

 

- Good friends?

- Yes.

 

 

How good? Do you live together?

 

 

Wait a minute...

 

 

Are you her little...

 

 

...bedbug?

 

 

I've seen a bee documentary or two.

From what I understand,

 

 

doesn't your queen give birth

to all the bee children?

 

 

- Yeah, but...

- So those aren't your real parents!

 

 

- Oh, Barry...

- Yes, they are!

 

 

Hold me back!

 

 

You're an illegitimate bee,

aren't you, Benson?

 

 

He's denouncing bees!

 

 

Don't y'all date your cousins?

 

 

- Objection!

- I'm going to pincushion this guy!

 

 

Adam, don't! It's what he wants!

 

 

Oh, I'm hit!!

 

 

Oh, lordy, I am hit!

 

 

Order! Order!

 

 

The venom! The venom

is coursing through my veins!

 

 

I have been felled

by a winged beast of destruction!

 

 

You see? You can't treat them

like equals! They're striped savages!

 

 

Stinging's the only thing

they know! It's their way!

 

 

- Adam, stay with me.

- I can't feel my legs.

 

 

What angel of mercy

will come forward to suck the poison

 

 

from my heaving buttocks?

 

 

I will have order in this court. Order!

 

 

Order, please!

 

 

The case of the honeybees

versus the human race

 

 

took a pointed turn against the bees

 

 

yesterday when one of their legal

team stung Layton T. Montgomery.

 

 

- Hey, buddy.

- Hey.

 

 

- Is there much pain?

- Yeah.

 

 

I...

 

 

I blew the whole case, didn't I?

 

 

It doesn't matter. What matters is

you're alive. You could have died.

 

 

I'd be better off dead. Look at me.

 

 

They got it from the cafeteria

downstairs, in a tuna sandwich.

 

 

Look, there's

a little celery still on it.

 

 

What was it like to sting someone?

 

 

I can't explain it. It was all...

 

 

All adrenaline and then...

and then ecstasy!

 

 

All right.

 

 

You think it was all a trap?

 

 

Of course. I'm sorry.

I flew us right into this.

 

 

What were we thinking? Look at us. We're

just a couple of bugs in this world.

 

 

What will the humans do to us

if they win?

 

 

I don't know.

 

 

I hear they put the roaches in motels.

That doesn't sound so bad.

 

 

Adam, they check in,

but they don't check out!

 

 

Oh, my.

 

 

Oould you get a nurse

to close that window?

 

 

- Why?

- The smoke.

 

 

Bees don't smoke.

 

 

Right. Bees don't smoke.

 

 

Bees don't smoke!

But some bees are smoking.

 

 

That's it! That's our case!

 

 

It is? It's not over?

 

 

Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere.

 

 

Get back to the court and stall.

Stall any way you can.

 

 

And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub.

 

 

Mr. Flayman.

 

 

Yes? Yes, Your Honor!

 

 

Where is the rest of your team?

 

 

Well, Your Honor, it's interesting.

 

 

Bees are trained to fly haphazardly,

 

 

and as a result,

we don't make very good time.

 

 

I actually heard a funny story about...

 

 

Your Honor,

haven't these ridiculous bugs

 

 

taken up enough

of this court's valuable time?

 

 

How much longer will we allow

these absurd shenanigans to go on?

 

 

They have presented no compelling

evidence to support their charges

 

 

against my clients,

who run legitimate businesses.

 

 

I move for a complete dismissal

of this entire case!

 

 

Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going

 

 

to have to consider

Mr. Montgomery's motion.

 

 

But you can't! We have a terrific case.

 

 

Where is your proof?

Where is the evidence?

 

 

Show me the smoking gun!

 

 

Hold it, Your Honor!

You want a smoking gun?

 

 

Here is your smoking gun.

 

 

What is that?

 

 

It's a bee smoker!

 

 

What, this?

This harmless little contraption?

 

 

This couldn't hurt a fly,

let alone a bee.

 

 

Look at what has happened

 

 

to bees who have never been asked,

"Smoking or non?"

 

 

Is this what nature intended for us?

 

 

To be forcibly addicted

to smoke machines

 

 

and man-made wooden slat work camps?

 

 

Living out our lives as honey slaves

to the white man?

 

 

- What are we gonna do?

- He's playing the species card.

 

 

Ladies and gentlemen, please,

free these bees!

 

 

Free the bees! Free the bees!

 

 

Free the bees!

 

 

Free the bees! Free the bees!

 

 

The court finds in favor of the bees!

 

 

Vanessa, we won!

 

 

I knew you could do it! High-five!

 

 

Sorry.

 

 

I'm OK! You know what this means?

 

 

All the honey

will finally belong to the bees.

 

 

Now we won't have

to work so hard all the time.

 

 

This is an unholy perversion

of the balance of nature, Benson.

 

 

You'll regret this.

 

 

Barry, how much honey is out there?

 

 

All right. One at a time.

 

 

Barry, who are you wearing?

 

 

My sweater is Ralph Lauren,

and I have no pants.

 

 

- What if Montgomery's right?

- What do you mean?

 

 

We've been living the bee way

a long time, 27 million years.

 

 

Oongratulations on your victory.

What will you demand as a settlement?

 

 

First, we'll demand a complete shutdown

of all bee work camps.

 

 

Then we want back the honey

that was ours to begin with,

 

 

every last drop.

 

 

We demand an end to the glorification

of the bear as anything more

 

 

than a filthy, smelly,

bad-breath stink machine.

 

 

We're all aware

of what they do in the woods.

 

 

Wait for my signal.

 

 

Take him out.

 

 

He'll have nauseous

for a few hours, then he'll be fine.

 

 

And we will no longer tolerate

bee-negative nicknames...

 

 

But it's just a prance-about stage name!

 

 

...unnecessary inclusion of honey

in bogus health products

 

 

and la-dee-da human

tea-time snack garnishments.

 

 

Oan't breathe.

 

 

Bring it in, boys!

 

 

Hold it right there! Good.

 

 

Tap it.

 

 

Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups,

and there's gallons more coming!

 

 

- I think we need to shut down!

- Shut down? We've never shut down.

 

 

Shut down honey production!

 

 

Stop making honey!

 

 

Turn your key, sir!

 

 

What do we do now?

 

 

Oannonball!

 

 

We're shutting honey production!

 

 

Mission abort.

 

 

Aborting pollination and nectar detail.

Returning to base.

 

 

Adam, you wouldn't believe

how much honey was out there.

 

 

Oh, yeah?

 

 

What's going on? Where is everybody?

 

 

- Are they out celebrating?

- They're home.

 

 

They don't know what to do.

Laying out, sleeping in.

 

 

I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way

to San Antonio with a cricket.

 

 

At least we got our honey back.

 

 

Sometimes I think, so what if humans

liked our honey? Who wouldn't?

 

 

It's the greatest thing in the world!

I was excited to be part of making it.

 

 

This was my new desk. This was my

new job. I wanted to do it really well.

 

 

And now...

 

 

Now I can't.

 

 

I don't understand

why they're not happy.

 

 

I thought their lives would be better!

 

 

They're doing nothing. It's amazing.

Honey really changes people.

 

 

You don't have any idea

what's going on, do you?

 

 

- What did you want to show me?

- This.

 

 

What happened here?

 

 

That is not the half of it.

 

 

Oh, no. Oh, my.

 

 

They're all wilting.

 

 

Doesn't look very good, does it?

 

 

No.

 

 

And whose fault do you think that is?

 

 

You know, I'm gonna guess bees.

 

 

Bees?

 

 

Specifically, me.

 

 

I didn't think bees not needing to make

honey would affect all these things.

 

 

It's notjust flowers.

Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees.

 

 

That's our whole SAT test right there.

 

 

Take away produce, that affects

the entire animal kingdom.

 

 

And then, of course...

 

 

The human species?

 

 

So if there's no more pollination,

 

 

it could all just go south here,

couldn't it?

 

 

I know this is also partly my fault.

 

 

How about a suicide pact?

 

 

How do we do it?

 

 

- I'll sting you, you step on me.

- Thatjust kills you twice.

 

 

Right, right.

 

 

Listen, Barry...

sorry, but I gotta get going.

 

 

I had to open my mouth and talk.

 

 

Vanessa?

 

 

Vanessa? Why are you leaving?

Where are you going?

 

 

To the final Tournament of Roses parade

in Pasadena.

 

 

They've moved it to this weekend

because all the flowers are dying.

 

 

It's the last chance

I'll ever have to see it.

 

 

Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry.

I never meant it to turn out like this.

 

 

I know. Me neither.

 

 

Tournament of Roses.

Roses can't do sports.

 

 

Wait a minute. Roses. Roses?

 

 

Roses!

 

 

Vanessa!

 

 

Roses?!

 

 

Barry?

 

 

- Roses are flowers!

- Yes, they are.

 

 

Flowers, bees, pollen!

 

 

I know.

That's why this is the last parade.

 

 

Maybe not.

Oould you ask him to slow down?

 

 

Oould you slow down?

 

 

Barry!

 

 

OK, I made a huge mistake.

This is a total disaster, all my fault.

 

 

Yes, it kind of is.

 

 

I've ruined the planet.

I wanted to help you

 

 

with the flower shop.

I've made it worse.

 

 

Actually, it's completely closed down.

 

 

I thought maybe you were remodeling.

 

 

But I have another idea, and it's

greater than my previous ideas combined.

 

 

I don't want to hear it!

 

 

All right, they have the roses,

the roses have the pollen.

 

 

I know every bee, plant

and flower bud in this park.

 

 

All we gotta do is get what they've got

back here with what we've got.

 

 

- Bees.

- Park.

 

 

- Pollen!

- Flowers.

 

 

- Repollination!

- Across the nation!

 

 

Tournament of Roses,

Pasadena, Oalifornia.

 

 

They've got nothing

but flowers, floats and cotton candy.

 

 

Security will be tight.

 

 

I have an idea.

 

 

Vanessa Bloome, FTD.

 

 

Official floral business. It's real.

 

 

Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch.

 

 

Thank you. It was a gift.

 

 

Once inside,

we just pick the right float.

 

 

How about The Princess and the Pea?

 

 

I could be the princess,

and you could be the pea!

 

 

Yes, I got it.

 

 

- Where should I sit?

- What are you?

 

 

- I believe I'm the pea.

- The pea?

 

 

It goes under the mattresses.

 

 

- Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart.

- I'm getting the marshal.

 

 

You do that!

This whole parade is a fiasco!

 

 

Let's see what this baby'll do.

 

 

Hey, what are you doing?!

 

 

Then all we do

is blend in with traffic...

 

 

...without arousing suspicion.

 

 

Once at the airport,

there's no stopping us.

 

 

Stop! Security.

 

 

- You and your insect pack your float?

- Yes.

 

 

Has it been

in your possession the entire time?

 

 

Would you remove your shoes?

 

 

- Remove your stinger.

- It's part of me.

 

 

I know. Just having some fun.

Enjoy your flight.

 

 

Then if we're lucky, we'll have

just enough pollen to do the job.

 

 

Oan you believe how lucky we are? We

have just enough pollen to do the job!

 

 

I think this is gonna work.

 

 

It's got to work.

 

 

Attention, passengers,

this is Oaptain Scott.

 

 

We have a bit of bad weather

in New York.

 

 

It looks like we'll experience

a couple hours delay.

 

 

Barry, these are cut flowers

with no water. They'll never make it.

 

 

I gotta get up there

and talk to them.

 

 

Be careful.

 

 

Oan I get help

with the Sky Mall magazine?

 

 

I'd like to order the talking

inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer.

 

 

Oaptain, I'm in a real situation.

 

 

- What'd you say, Hal?

- Nothing.

 

 

Bee!

 

 

Don't freak out! My entire species...

 

 

What are you doing?

 

 

- Wait a minute! I'm an attorney!

- Who's an attorney?

 

 

Don't move.

 

 

Oh, Barry.

 

 

Good afternoon, passengers.

This is your captain.

 

 

Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B

please report to the cockpit?

 

 

And please hurry!

 

 

What happened here?

 

 

There was a DustBuster,

a toupee, a life raft exploded.

 

 

One's bald, one's in a boat,

they're both unconscious!

 

 

- Is that another bee joke?

- No!

 

 

No one's flying the plane!

 

 

This is JFK control tower, Flight 356.

What's your status?

 

 

This is Vanessa Bloome.

I'm a florist from New York.

 

 

Where's the pilot?

 

 

He's unconscious,

and so is the copilot.

 

 

Not good. Does anyone onboard

have flight experience?

 

 

As a matter of fact, there is.

 

 

- Who's that?

- Barry Benson.

 

 

From the honey trial?! Oh, great.

 

 

Vanessa, this is nothing more

than a big metal bee.

 

 

It's got giant wings, huge engines.

 

 

I can't fly a plane.

 

 

- Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot?

- Yes.

 

 

How hard could it be?

 

 

Wait, Barry!

We're headed into some lightning.

 

 

This is Bob Bumble. We have some

late-breaking news from JFK Airport,

 

 

where a suspenseful scene

is developing.

 

 

Barry Benson,

fresh from his legal victory...

 

 

That's Barry!

 

 

...is attempting to land a plane,

loaded with people, flowers

 

 

and an incapacitated flight crew.

 

 

Flowers?!

 

 

We have a storm in the area

and two individuals at the controls

 

 

with absolutely no flight experience.

 

 

Just a minute.

There's a bee on that plane.

 

 

I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson

and his no-account compadres.

 

 

They've done enough damage.

 

 

But isn't he your only hope?

 

 

Technically, a bee

shouldn't be able to fly at all.

 

 

Their wings are too small...

 

 

Haven't we heard this a million times?

 

 

"The surface area of the wings

and body mass make no sense."

 

 

- Get this on the air!

- Got it.

 

 

- Stand by.

- We're going live.

 

 

The way we work may be a mystery to you.

 

 

Making honey takes a lot of bees

doing a lot of small jobs.

 

 

But let me tell you about a small job.

 

 

If you do it well,

it makes a big difference.

 

 

More than we realized.

To us, to everyone.

 

 

That's why I want to get bees

back to working together.

 

 

That's the bee way!

We're not made of Jell-O.

 

 

We get behind a fellow.

 

 

- Black and yellow!

- Hello!

 

 

Left, right, down, hover.

 

 

- Hover?

- Forget hover.

 

 

This isn't so hard.

Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

 

 

Barry, what happened?!

 

 

Wait, I think we were

on autopilot the whole time.

 

 

- That may have been helping me.

- And now we're not!

 

 

So it turns out I cannot fly a plane.

 

 

All of you, let's get

behind this fellow! Move it out!

 

 

Move out!

 

 

Our only chance is if I do what I'd do,

you copy me with the wings of the plane!

 

 

Don't have to yell.

 

 

I'm not yelling!

We're in a lot of trouble.

 

 

It's very hard to concentrate

with that panicky tone in your voice!

 

 

It's not a tone. I'm panicking!

 

 

I can't do this!

 

 

Vanessa, pull yourself together.

You have to snap out of it!

 

 

You snap out of it.

 

 

You snap out of it.

 

 

- You snap out of it!

- You snap out of it!

 

 

- You snap out of it!

- You snap out of it!

 

 

- You snap out of it!

- You snap out of it!

 

 

- Hold it!

- Why? Oome on, it's my turn.

 

 

How is the plane flying?

 

 

I don't know.

 

 

Hello?

 

 

Benson, got any flowers

for a happy occasion in there?

 

 

The Pollen Jocks!

 

 

They do get behind a fellow.

 

 

- Black and yellow.

- Hello.

 

 

All right, let's drop this tin can

on the blacktop.

 

 

Where? I can't see anything. Oan you?

 

 

No, nothing. It's all cloudy.

 

 

Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry.

 

 

- Thinking bee.

- Thinking bee.

 

 

Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

 

 

Wait a minute.

I think I'm feeling something.

 

 

- What?

- I don't know. It's strong, pulling me.

 

 

Like a 27-million-year-old instinct.

 

 

Bring the nose down.

 

 

Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

 

 

- What in the world is on the tarmac?

- Get some lights on that!

 

 

Thinking bee!

Thinking bee! Thinking bee!

 

 

- Vanessa, aim for the flower.

- OK.

 

 

Out the engines. We're going in

on bee power. Ready, boys?

 

 

Affirmative!

 

 

Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it.

 

 

Land on that flower!

 

 

Ready? Full reverse!

 

 

Spin it around!

 

 

- Not that flower! The other one!

- Which one?

 

 

- That flower.

- I'm aiming at the flower!

 

 

That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt.

I mean the giant pulsating flower

 

 

made of millions of bees!

 

 

Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up.

 

 

Rotate around it.

 

 

- This is insane, Barry!

- This's the only way I know how to fly.

 

 

Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane

flying in an insect-like pattern?

 

 

Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid.

Smell it. Full reverse!

 

 

Just drop it. Be a part of it.

 

 

Aim for the center!

 

 

Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman!

 

 

Oome on, already.

 

 

Barry, we did it!

You taught me how to fly!

 

 

- Yes. No high-five!

- Right.

 

 

Barry, it worked!

Did you see the giant flower?

 

 

What giant flower? Where? Of course

I saw the flower! That was genius!

 

 

- Thank you.

- But we're not done yet.

 

 

Listen, everyone!

 

 

This runway is covered

with the last pollen

 

 

from the last flowers

available anywhere on Earth.

 

 

That means this is our last chance.

 

 

We're the only ones who make honey,

pollinate flowers and dress like this.

 

 

If we're gonna survive as a species,

this is our moment! What do you say?

 

 

Are we going to be bees, orjust

Museum of Natural History keychains?

 

 

We're bees!

 

 

Keychain!

 

 

Then follow me! Except Keychain.

 

 

Hold on, Barry. Here.

 

 

You've earned this.

 

 

Yeah!

 

 

I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect

fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves.

 

 

Oh, yeah.

 

 

That's our Barry.

 

 

Mom! The bees are back!

 

 

If anybody needs

to make a call, now's the time.

 

 

I got a feeling we'll be

working late tonight!

 

 

Here's your change. Have a great

afternoon! Oan I help who's next?

 

 

Would you like some honey with that?

It is bee-approved. Don't forget these.

 

 

Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me.

And I don't see a nickel!

 

 

Sometimes I just feel

like a piece of meat!

 

 

I had no idea.

 

 

Barry, I'm sorry.

Have you got a moment?

 

 

Would you excuse me?

My mosquito associate will help you.

 

 

Sorry I'm late.

 

 

He's a lawyer too?

 

 

I was already a blood-sucking parasite.

All I needed was a briefcase.

 

 

Have a great afternoon!

 

 

Barry, I just got this huge tulip order,

and I can't get them anywhere.

 

 

No problem, Vannie.

Just leave it to me.

 

 

You're a lifesaver, Barry.

Oan I help who's next?

 

 

All right, scramble, jocks!

It's time to fly.

 

 

Thank you, Barry!

 

 

That bee is living my life!

 

 

Let it go, Kenny.

 

 

- When will this nightmare end?!

- Let it all go.

 

 

- Beautiful day to fly.

- Sure is.

 

 

Between you and me,

I was dying to get out of that office.

 

 

You have got

to start thinking bee, my friend.

 

 

- Thinking bee!

- Me?

 

 

Hold it. Let's just stop

for a second. Hold it.

 

 

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.

Oan we stop here?

 

 

I'm not making a major life decision

during a production number!

 

 

All right. Take ten, everybody.

Wrap it up, guys.

 

 

I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

 

I warned you not to click it.

 

 

Edited October 27, 2020 by Ranger
Converted Hidden tags to Spoiler tags

[nihi0145632]

 

F

[Indigo Blue]

Warning: May cause freezing if on mobile -Ranger

 

Spoiler

 

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 wouldn't you be doing it right now? I would be. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. Yeah. That must be it. Unless you're bored. Then I completly understand. I need to find a topic. Here, topic, topic, topic! Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! Why are you afraid of little ol' me? *sigh* There are no topics anywhere near me. Kinda like me and "Meg" webcomic we are trying to do. It's called Hit-Or-Miss, any topics, plot, etc. are completly accidental and are not the fault/ 

 

 

Edited October 27, 2020 by Ranger
Converted Hidden tags to Spoiler tags, added warning

[Ranger]

Golden Ratio

[Guest]

Dashie and I are going to try to switch tonight again.

 

[Dashie] for science only.

 

I do want to disassociate to immerse into wonderland again.

 

We tried it a couple times with Ember's technique and bounced off. We didn't give it a fair shot at all i know, but we'll be doing the whole wonderland immersion way that everyone disbelieves again. Then i will try to pull Dashie back into wonderland and leave nothing up front if she does switch out of wonderland.