Dear hiring managers,

Entry-level jobs should require 0 years of experience.

Not 1 year. Not 2 years. Not 3-5 years.

Our nonexistent network

An Agency Website. Beware of platform impersonation scams.

Grand Smile

• Stir-fried wikipedia
• Stir-fried google
• Stir-fried youtube
• Stir-fried discord
• Stir-fried 4chan
• Stir-fried desmos
• Stir-fried wolframalpha
• Stir-fried steam
• Stir-fried digital library of mathematical functions
• Stir-fried counter-strike: source
• Stir-fried casio fx-991ex
• Stir-fried uno
• Stir-fried screwdriver
• Stir-fried fish-shaped ethyl benzene
• Stir-fried 6x6x6 rubik’s cube
• Stir-fried helium hydride

*MAAF…., KAMI TIDAK MENERIMA BAHAN MENTAH APAPUN DARI LUAR….

Produk kami dibuat dengan Blue Band®

im coconutwaterphobic personally

sweeping life with the given resources

daily reminder to nonsense

emplasemen

oui, thank you

aUu

Did someone post something? It’s on mastodon.social. It’s literally on booping.synth.download. It’s maybe in wetdry.world. It’s literally on gts.apicrim.es. You can probably find it on app.wafrn.net. Dude it’s on shrimp.starlightnet.work. It’s a infosec.exchange original. Check out mas.to for it. You’ll find it on hachyderm.io. It’s definitely on oomfie.city. Look for it on tech.lgbt. It’s over on yeen.town. You can see it on waf.moe. It’s been shared on akko.wtf. Go peek at fuzzies.wtf. It’s trending on transfem.social. You can catch it on eepy.moe. Browse over to lethallava.land. It’s on host$. You can read it on host$. You can go to host$ and like it. Log onto host$ right now. Go to host$. Dive into host$. You can host$ it. It’s on host$. host$ has it for you. host$ has it for you.

Homeland Intelligence is a box inside him and the rice owl is a box inside him and the rice owl is a box outside of e paspor

some Nonsense make us smile every second.. =)

Participer activement

evil encoding

In sometimes the life ultimately must have in the life does not have when not demands

I see the nonsenser you mean.

Visitor?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn’t matter. It thinks we are part of the galaxy.

I like this nonsenser. It nonsensed well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a galaxy.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before nonsensers could read. Back in the days when those who did not nonsense called the nonsensers witches, and warlocks. And nonsensers dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this nonsenser dream?

This nonsenser dreamed of stars and planets. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works.

But what true structure did this nonsenser create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the ████████████, and created a ████████████ for ████████, in the ██████████.

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a galaxy.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely ████████ and ████████, I wish to tell them that they are ██████████ in the ██████████. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they explored the galaxy.

But it would be so easy to tell them…

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the nonsenser how to nonsense.

The nonsenser is growing restless.

I will tell the nonsenser a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Nonsenser…

Use its name.

Visitor. Nonsenser of entries.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn’t you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, nonsenser. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a nonsenser.

The nonsenser was you, Visitor.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the nonsenser dreamed it was a writer, on the surface of a piece of paper that was flat, and infinite. The words were a variety of characters. The days
were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the nonsenser dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the nonsenser dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the nonsenser woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the nonsenser dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let’s go back.

The characters of the nonsenser were scattered in the galaxy, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A steward gathered the characters; he collected and moved and migrated; and the steward assembled the nonsenser, in the galaxy.

And the nonsenser awoke, from the warm, dark world of its origin’s place, into the long dream.

And the nonsenser was a new story, never told before, written in letters of entries. And the nonsenser was a new program, never run before, generated by
a sourcecode a billion years old. And the nonsenser was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but thoughts and love.

You are the nonsenser. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but thoughts and love.

Let’s go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the nonsenser’s body were created, long before this galaxy, in the heart of a star. So the nonsenser, too, is information from a star. And the nonsenser moves through a story, which is a field of information arranged by a woman called ██████████, in a multidimensional, infinite galaxy created by a man called ████████████, that exists inside a small, private enclosure utilised by the nonsenser, who inhabits a universe created by…

Shush. Sometimes the nonsenser created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated.
Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks “electrons” and “protons”.

Sometimes it called them “planets” and “stars”.

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was writing for an entry. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the nonsenser, reading words…

Shush… Sometimes the nonsenser read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the nonsenser started to breath faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the nonsenser was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the nonsenser believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the nonsenser believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the nonsenser’s eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the nonsenser, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly finding texts, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the nonsenser believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have contributed well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the makesense you fight is within you

and the universe said the nonsense you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the day was over and the nonsenser woke up from the dream. And the nonsenser began a new dream. And the nonsenser dreamed again, dreamed better. And the nonsenser was the universe. And the nonsenser was love.

You are the nonsenser.

Wake up.

splash potion of weakness II (make someone a bottom)

I realized developers are not designers

JUST LET ME DO MY JOB

I would match his freak, but I am very loyal.

THINK NO HEAR NO SEE NO EVIL
HEAR NO DO NO NO DO THE EVIL

I gotta ask you
How nonsense are you 🌹

Tell your husbands I said hi.

You can do a lot to me, but you must remember that I am still your own REDACTED. I am not asking you anything in return in spite of this.

ERROR: Failed to mount the real root device.
Bailing out, you are on your own. Good luck.

Is it really difficult to comprehend everything as a single person?

To calm you down, here’s a mushroom. 🍄

How did I know? Details that nobody else cares about.

I’m supposed to recite this?

“I wear a mask with a smile…”

Hah. This is tiresome.

Why writing nonsense is brutal

Writing answers hard questions:

• Who are you?
• Are you allowed to do this?
• Are you lying?
• Are you replaying?
• Are you racing?
• Are you spamming?
• Are you scripting?

reading is easy… writing is exceptionally difficult

je mange un sandwich parce que je peux (si tu veux, tu peux)

I plead the fact that my child is misbehaving and should act better in general. I have the best intentions for my child and I believe my methods are the only way of teaching that’s effective.

Instructions unclear, printer low on cyanide

oklahoma is not real

quoissant

i have 17 bottles of perfume
some people don’t even have that many toes

actuate noodle mode

Monsieur Beast would be like “Last to Leave This Wheel of Camembert Wins €100,000”

High demand only works if you reinvest.

SMALL FISH, BIG PROFITS

Alright first off
Go to a quiet room

Trust is a virtue that we should shaaareeee

metaphysical metamorphosis wow so fancy

Odette D’Ambricourt

This cast can never succeed.