And once again suprised. Goodbye for nowNow I'm back. You're still here. (and redundancy!) I may NEVER shut up. SHE has to get up at 6:11 to put on make-up, do her hair and basically annoy the heck out of me. But that is irrelevant. As we all know, the world is going to end in about 380,695 days! there were bugs. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); Image by Carl Van Vechten, via Wikimedia Commons. To think, YOU are trying to tell ME that YOU aren't here. Naturally, I had many mixed feelings, primarily disgust, as I have not voluntarily eaten a Cheez-It in quite some time. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistriansand I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. What I want to know is this: are there no intelectual property rights in the world of food products? Oh, yeah. It was fun. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. There is exactly 500 units of distance between the two extremes of winning amounts (0 and 500) BUT! Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. Uhdon't think soNumber Four: I could have learned to drive. That's just silly. 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. Every fantasy the human mind has concieved exist at some place in the universe. I'm back. Longest Sentence. Not one of those bargain ones anyone can find at your local topic discount outlet store. Sodoesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). Answer me, you blobby looking freak! I know a topic! I'm back. thank you always. They're basically begging on the street. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. William Faulkner was featured in 1983 Guinness Book of World Records for this 1,288-word sentence from Absalom, Absalom! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! I mean, who'd a thought? Seeyahmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computerI'm back. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. Which is why it's not even 10:00 and here I am, typing. why must everyone always rhyme, why Im a poet and dont I know it? Who am I kidding? The World's Longest Sentence (5237 words) by Mark Virtue (1980, aged 15) Once upon a while back there was an ambitious contortionist who made up his mind he would try to conquer the twenty-seventh highest dead volcano on Neptune, with his tongue secretly hiding behind his overweight postman's Swedish Hi-Fi set and the shoelaces of his Persian . All because YOU tried to convince me that I was crazy. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Oooootime for today's topic. I'm back. But, for a time, Faulkner took the run-on as far as it could go. *sigh* *sniffle* *snort* *insert word that is a sound that begins with an "s" here* I don't have much time, so, I must be brief. And "Mr. Owl" replies "OneTwooThree! Wasn't it super? paste . The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Somehow, I managed to make my furby die. It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Insane, chaotichmmmmmI wonder who thought of it? Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? I gave up in exasperation. That makes me feel alll warm and fuzzy inside. I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. What if, eventually, Earth's gravity get's very very strong, and we all imploud from the squishyness? Of course, when I next saw my Mom, she retold the story to me, several times. WE got it at Wal-mart. Jesus Christ is my lord and savior.You guys probably think that that is the worlds longest sentence, but it's not,because I just keep on adding commas, and it's pretty easy, if you think about it, so anyway there is this girl at school and she's my friend, and all but she's turning . You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Today I will be mercifully brief. What nowhmmmmmshould I share with you more of my paranoid/delusional conspiracy theories? That just sounds nifty! I admit it. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Its in the mail, I promise! But untill that day, the concept of the smoke detector is useless. The world of literature is full of examples of sprawling monologues and multi-line descriptions, but it was American writer William Faulkner who was featured in the 1983 Guinness Book of World Records for his lengthy passage from his 1936 book, Absalom, Absalom! I think I hear a monkeyOkaynow I'm back. NowI know what you guys are thinkingsome of those items on that list are gonna be hard to find. My dadwas on this site. They avoided the sun at all costs. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? My dad. So when you kill, or whatever, in the game, you are actually ending life somewhere in the universe. Follow him at@jdmagness, by Josh Jones | Permalink | Comments (30) |. I'm just rambling. Who am I kidding. It sets a perfect example for you young, impressionable minds. Wow. Uhyou don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. You complete me in all ways. I'll probably have another one soon, but that whole water thing has been buggin me for awhile. There MUST be some sort of conspiracy involved, 'cause if there is, I can get rid of the EVIL thing! Yeah. We slept. Now think of 100 people typing randomly. In English, and stuff, if you miss one little detail, at most you lose partial credit, but you usually get it all right. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. What a good idea! i am tiredbut cannot go to sleep. The distance between the two extremes of how much I could have won is 1000np, making me feel like I've won much more than if I'd played a normal game. You are deviousI give you that. It really lets me get to know you. AND I DONT BLAME YOU!! Spooky, huh? Especially the part about the biscuits and cheese. Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. It's wrong, I tell you. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. Let's see: 12345! Because I have nothing else to do right now. They're listening for a secrretno it's cause of a secret. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. Two and a half hours of homework (total) to be precise. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? OhI'm rambling again, aren't I? | 12.46 KB, JSON | I wonder if I've made the world record? No, really. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21. For all you, the uninformed consumer, could know, it might have rat poison in it. 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. When is it MYturn? That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. I want SOME free time. Our mind's cannot conceive of the vastness of infinity. I better stop typing before I have a heart attackjust rememberThe Matrix has youI'm back. 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. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. The sleeping person will gradually get used to it (and incorporate it into their dreams). I suppose that is the bane of all authors. It sucked. Cheese is watching. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. NowI'm gonna go and worry about the light on my toaster ovenseeya! I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. 5 Wonderfully Long Literary Sentences by Samuel Beckett, Virginia Woolf, F. Scott Fitzgerald & Other Masters of the Run-On, Seven Tips From William Faulkner on How to Write Fiction, William Faulkner Reads from As I Lay Dying, Josh Jonesis a writer and musician based in Durham, NC. (it's edited, of course, to stay PG13**** signifies a random naugty word:)) "HEY, DOG ENTITY! So far this is nowhere near the world record. I can't think of anything!? How did you do that. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. You have to admit its sheer coolness. The boat sailed on . Think about that old saying about "If you gave an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters, eventually they would reproduce the entire works of Shakespear". 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. Definitly. Or CRAP, for short. Sothe plan is going to fail. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Hmmmmintersting. I dunnoI guess I'm just kinda freaked out. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. Now, a long time ago, people were sort of smarter. You CANNOT DENY it! It's a small light, but it's sooooooo annoying. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. One guy was a "shock therepy" patienthe was a good actor. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. I'll add a link to the main page when I get around to it. Oh, wellI tired of nostalgia. Look how long this has gotten. I SENSE YOUR ENVY OF MY NECK!! 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.) This naturally alarmed the HECK out of me! This Book Is the Longest Sentence Ever Written and Then Published (2020), by humor writer Dave Cowen, consists of one sentence that runs for 111,111 words, and is a stream of consciousness memoir. Any way, I'm leaving to eat some Cheessy goodness! WellI DO have a special treat for you weirdos who apparantly like wasting time! But it's legs were still moving and it was alive. I have a guest rant/fake commercial written by "Meg" (who is once again banned from accessing the almighty Internet). I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. I'll rant and rave and ramble about the EVILS of sunlight. Just exactly like Father if Father had known as much about it the night before I went out there as he did the day after I came back thinking Mad impotent old man who realized at last that there must be some limit even to the capabilities of a demon for doing harm, who must have seen his situation as that of the show girl, the pony, who realizes that the principal tune she prances to comes not from horn and fiddle and drum but from a clock and calendar, must have seen himself as the old wornout cannon which realizes that it can deliver just one more fierce shot and crumble to dust in its own furious blast and recoil, who looked about upon the scene which was still within his scope and compass and saw son gone, vanished, more insuperable to him now than if the son were dead since now (if the son still lived) his name would be different and those to call him by it strangers and whatever dragons outcropping of Sutpen blood the son might sow on the body of whatever strange woman would therefore carry on the tradition, accomplish the hereditary evil and harm under another name and upon and among people who will never have heard the right one; daughter doomed to spinsterhood who had chosen spinsterhood already before there was anyone named Charles Bon since the aunt who came to succor her in bereavement and sorrow found neither but instead that calm absolutely impenetrable face between a homespun dress and sunbonnet seen before a closed door and again in a cloudy swirl of chickens while Jones was building the coffin and which she wore during the next year while the aunt lived there and the three women wove their own garments and raised their own food and cut the wood they cooked it with (excusing what help they had from Jones who lived with his granddaughter in the abandoned fishing camp with its collapsing roof and rotting porch against which the rusty scythe which Sutpen was to lend him, make him borrow to cut away the weeds from the door-and at last forced him to use though not to cut weeds, at least not vegetable weeds -would lean for two years) and wore still after the aunts indignation had swept her back to town to live on stolen garden truck and out o f anonymous baskets left on her front steps at night, the three of them, the two daughters negro and white and the aunt twelve miles away watching from her distance as the two daughters watched from theirs the old demon, the ancient varicose and despairing Faustus fling his final main now with the Creditors hand already on his shoulder, running his little country store now for his bread and meat, haggling tediously over nickels and dimes with rapacious and poverty-stricken whites and negroes, who at one time could have galloped for ten miles in any direction without crossing his own boundary, using out of his meagre stock the cheap ribbons and beads and the stale violently-colored candy with which even an old man can seduce a fifteen-year-old country girl, to ruin the granddaughter o f his partner, this Jones-this gangling malaria-ridden white man whom he had given permission fourteen years ago to squat in the abandoned fishing camp with the year-old grandchild-Jones, partner porter and clerk who at the demons command removed with his own hand (and maybe delivered too) from the showcase the candy beads and ribbons, measured the very cloth from which Judith (who had not been bereaved and did not mourn) helped the granddaughter to fashion a dress to walk past the lounging men in, the side-looking and the tongues, until her increasing belly taught her embarrassment-or perhaps fear;-Jones who before 61 had not even been allowed to approach the front of the house and who during the next four years got no nearer than the kitchen door and that only when he brought the game and fish and vegetables on which the seducer-to-bes wife and daughter (and Clytie too, the one remaining servant, negro, the one who would forbid him to pass the kitchen door with what he brought) depended on to keep life in them, but who now entered the house itself on the (quite frequent now) afternoons when the demon would suddenly curse the store empty of customers and lock the door and repair to the rear and in the same tone in which he used to address his orderly or even his house servants when he had them (and in which he doubtless ordered Jones to fetch from the showcase the ribbons and beads and candy) direct Jones to fetch the jug, the two of them (and Jones even sitting now who in the old days, the old dead Sunday afternoons of monotonous peace which they spent beneath the scuppernong arbor in the back yard, the demon lying in the hammock while Jones squatted against a post, rising from time to time to pour for the demon from the demijohn and the bucket of spring water which he had fetched from the spring more than a mile away then squatting again, chortling and chuckling and saying `Sho, Mister Tawm each time the demon paused)-the two of them drinking turn and turn about from the jug and the demon not lying down now nor even sitting but reaching after the third or second drink that old mans state of impotent and furious undefeat in which he would rise, swaying and plunging and shouting for his horse and pistols to ride single-handed into Washington and shoot Lincoln (a year or so too late here) and Sherman both, shouting, Kill them!