I hate this thing. I don't understand it. I'm being made to write it by THEM. THEY are making me. I know why. They want to keep an eye on me. They know I'm dangerous, their afraid I'll tell all of their dirty little secrets. They think they are my masters. But no, my dear minions, I have no masters. They will soon find that out. And, when they do, I will laugh a laugh of victory and scones. For I shall be having scones with my victory. Scones and jellies. I'm getting lost now. Where was I?

Oh yes. I hate this thing. I shouldn't have listened to THEM. There are some valuable lessons in life that I should learn, my beautiful munchkin army, but learn them I do not.

Now I seem to have lost track of what I am typing, and I'm not sure where this if heading. But I know where it started, and that's what you have to remember. Now, how do I update this thingy...

Ah there we go. Now, my minions, before we depart, a simple sentence for your tiny brains to dwell on.

I hate this thing.

Now, it is the end of this thing I just wrote.

You may weep.