Snypiuer

Hi! I know there are still a few of you lurking, not many, but a few. I added a Literature Clock. It's at the top of the Forums under TIME. It redirects you to another site that you can just click back from. I have it set at Safe for Work and Dark theme. Every minute it will display a random passage that contains the current time in it, along with a citation. Not every time has been written about, so the nearest time written about BEFORE the unwritten about current time will remain until the next current time that has been written about. You can change the theme to light and Not Safe for Work (which will give you more times that have been written about) by clicking at the bottom of the page the passage appears on. I'm also trying to figure out how to do social media accounts for the Pen so we can link them to the site, it's just that I have NEVER had social media accounts, so I gotsta figure it out first! If you have TIME, let me know what you think!!

Toobinati: Group, society, organization, etc. that believe they are hidden and that their activities are secret and unknown to the common people (everyone NOT a member) but, in reality, their existence and activities are, not only, FULLY known worldwide, by every level of society, but have been, literally, from the very moment of their conception. EXAMPLE: You: Umm . . . what, EXACTLY are Peredhil and Snypiuer . . . doing in there? Why are they dressed like that? Do they know we can see them!? Mynx: *Head in hands, shame in her voice* The "Ceremonial Call to the Ancient High Hubabub" . . . those are their "Ceremonial Vestments" . . . no . . . they think it's a one-way mirror that they can "secretly" watch the world through. You: And you're married to one of them? Mynx: *Slumped shouldered and in a soft, defeated voice* yeah . . .

Paunchtificate: noun: The abdomen, gut, belly (especially if protruding - i.e., potbelly) of a pontiff, high priest or pope. verb: To display, utilize, present, etc. one's paunch in a pretentious, dogmatic, pompous, bombastic, excessively grandiose, arrogant (as if it is the only one that is perfect and without flaw), etc. manner. EXAMPLE: You: *Enters room. Full belly displayed for all to see. Boldly strolls to center of room, belly first, with everyone and everything falling away or pushed aside by it, with not so much as a thought nor care. Stands proudly, so all may gaze upon its' wonder.* Mynx: *Reverently approaches. Begins to softly rub the belly, eyes closed while chanting.* I wish I had a million dollars. I wish I had a million dollars.

Shaolinfreude: When one experiences joy, pleasure or self-satisfaction from witnessing or learning of the misfortune, failure, trouble, humiliation, defeat, etc. of monks who practice martial arts. EXAMPLE: You: Did you see how many monks he killed when he stole their Child-God and/or Holy/Sacred relic!? Mynx: YEAH! That'll teach them to keep/protect a 5,000-year-old secret!

Under NO circumstances, never, EVER: Rage fart. Do not ask how I know this, just accept it as fact!

I want to fight Shaq. That's right. I can, probably, take him In a semi-fair fight. I want to fight Shaq. I'm not afraid of his size. I'll climb up on a chair, Pop him in his eyes. I want to fight Shaq. At least one round. The battle would be epic But, I think, he'd go down. I want to fight Shaq. Not out of hate. Actually, I'm a fan. I think he's really great! I want to fight Shaq. Not for notoriety. Neither for the glory Or publicity. I want to fight Shaq. So HE can say he did. So he can tell his grandchildren And they can tell their kid. I want to fight Shaq. So when it's time to retire He can have a story To tell around a fire. I want to fight Shaq. I think it's plain to see I'd be doing it for him And not a bit for me. I want to fight Shaq.

Well, I don't know much. All I know comes from stories Sayliuer (my Great, Great, Great, Grand Uncle - on my moms', fathers', mothers', mothers', fathers' side) would tell when I was a child. Most stories were about a bar maid that worked in the harbor town located on the western bay of the atoll. He claimed the port that sits on that bay serves a hundred ships a day. Not sure if that's true, like, what are a hundred ships stopping at an atoll EVERY day for!? Anyways, his stories were usually about how beautiful the bar maid is, how her eyes are the most captivating, how all the sailors want to marry her, things along those lines. That, or how he would bring her gifts from distant locals, like jewelry - he was especially proud of a braided chain he said was made from the finest silver from the north of Spain and a locket he had engraved with his own name. I don't know if ANY of it is true - a beautiful bar maid that serves whiskey and wine to lonely sailors that pass their time away talking about their home and telling her how she's so beautiful she'd make a good wife and how her eyes could make sailors give up sailing. Not to mention the hundred ships a day thing! If I ever run into him again, I'll tell him to take me there and see if the Kammanaihuannaleau (pronounced "Come on I wanna lei you" - now that I see that written down, I'm beginning to question uncle Sayliuers' veracity) Atoll and this beautiful bar maid (I think he said her name was Brandy) actually exists. That's about it. Maybe you've heard of it under a different name?

Are the Tiki's any where near the Kammanaihuannaleau Atoll?

I rarely come up with something to write and when I do, I ALWAYS feel like I've seen it, or something like it, before - that I've, absentmindedly plagiarized it and summited it as my own. This is no different, so the usual apologies . . . just in case. (Even with all that, I have the feeling this is a work in progress, so ANY suggestions are, more than, welcome!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I don't want to go. Like a child pleading with mother to be allowed to stay and play, just a little longer. Even as the sun sets and the light begins to fade. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave, just to face the night and sleep. To close my eyes. To no longer see those whom I love, their faces, their smiles. To no longer hear their voices, their laughs, their sighs. To no longer be able to hold them close. To hold them tight and tell them how much I love them, care for them, need them. I don't want to go. There is so much more I want to do. So much more I need to do. So much I was never able to do. So much I failed to do. Please, Let me stay, just a little while longer. Though the sun is setting and the light fades. Please. I don't want to go.

My 3X T-Shirts . . . feeling a little snug lately.

WTF!?

O.K., I use a 15 year old flip-phone (BULLOCKS TO YOU BIG BROTHER! YOU CAN'T TRACK ME! NOT THE KID!), so no idea about the mobile stuff. Let me know any specifics and I'll see what I can do. Most of the themes are working just by pure luck because of the version upgrade, but they do have problems. Some of these problems are easy to notice, some are small and some are unnoticeable - but none look damaging. If they don't get an update to new version, I'll eventually delete them if they are too unusable.

I'm seeing a few things. Looking into it.

Wait a minute . . . are you NOT a robot!?

We are FINALLY switched over. BUT, the idiot in charge has proven his idiocy has absolutely NO bounds and there are a couple of problems he has to get fixed. These problems are behind the scenes and SHOULD not be noticeable on the site! *Snypiuer, The Keep of the Pen is Mightier then the Sword (aka: The Mighty Pen) and any/all individuals connected, in ANY way, to The Mighty Pen, et al. are in NO way, shape or form responsible for any and all effects, reactions, disasters, difficulties, etc. resulting from said problems, such as, but NOT limited to: Death, dismemberment, paralysis, dandruff, psoriasis, halitosis, boils, foot fungus, foot mold, foot funk, funk desires and/or needs, achy breaky heart, alien abduction, dimensional displacement, temporal displacement, spatial bilocation, tummy rumble, the vapors, want of mommy, being the subject of "Nanny, nanny, boo, boo", flatulence, under-tallness, over-tallness, irritability, grooveability, mopishness, adorability, cuteness or lack thereof, grumpiness, goofy foot, flat feet, high arches, you know what . . . ANYTHING foot related, impishness, blurred vision, double vision, second sight, blindness, side eye, O.K., toss in EVERYTHING eye related also, zactly disease, yo mamma-itis, I know you are but what am I-ness, inability to comprehend the concept of Flat Land, swamp butt, deafness, tinnitus, rash, forgetfulness, forgetfulness, posterior expansion, rocking it to the bang-bang boogie say up jump the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie the beat, spazitis, Devolution, ANYTHING that causes small children to cry/animals to flee/normal human beings to scream, "OH MY, DO NOT MOVE! I'M CALLING 911!!"/old war vets to say, "I've seen worse" and proceed to tell the story thereof/or 'THAT' kid who 'KNOWS STUFF' to tell you to just "Rub dirt on it", attacks by dust bunnies and/or Devil Monkeys, possession of the NimBall(TM), etc.*

This is a test. This is ONLY a test. Had this been an ACTUAL post, you would have been overwhelmed, if not flabbergasted, by its poignancy and power to cause deeply personal thought provoking spiritual introspection. I now return you to our regular postings.

O.K., after some intense procrastination by formally mentioned idiot, migration should take place sometime this week coming up (8/17). So, don't panic if site is down!

Hi! The Pen is migrating (web address will remain the same) and it might be off-line for a bit. I'm not sure how long it will take, but it WILL be back up as soon as the move is complete. So don't panic! Not sure exactly when, but once I got everything ready, I'll start the move and it shouldn't be long. But, then again, the idiot in charge of said migration is, well, an idiot and who knows what wonderful new catastrophes he's capable of achieving, because, as previously mentioned, he's an idiot. I'll let you know when I'm done!

And so it came to pass, the High and Mightiness, Great Lord lumlum, slid down from the lushy exorbitance of the Grand Barcalounger of All Imaginable Reslacksation and muttered unto the scattered masses, "hear me, hear me! But listen not . . . for I have had a Delirium. An apocalyptic dream of Universal Sanity. The future shadow of All, joyfully reveling in the comfort of false security . . . gleefully binding itself in the chains of subjugation unto the Powers That Be . . . hurriedly scurrying about, fulfilling the will of their betters, in order to appease them . . . only so they may, willfully, hold out their hands to receive their Masters blessings." The Great Lord lumlum looked about at the scattered masses and shouted, "SHE FLEES! SHE FLEES!" . . . not a single head turned . . . nor an ear perked in curiosity. The Great Lord lumlum wept, "she flees . . . our Beloved . . . she flees . . . she shall be missed . . . even if watching her walk away is such a gorgeous sight." And so it was that the Age of Wonder and Confusion, the Last Age of Greatness, came to an end and the Age of Willful Ignorance and Conformity dawned. Sanity and peace reigned among the sedated masses as individualism and, unsanctioned, creativity were wiped away by invisible Agencies of Secret Universal Conglomeration. *Taken from a remnant, of a scrap, of one of the Forbidden Midnight Epistles of Sean the Heretic to His Unenlightedness, Sean the Heretic, found scribbled, haphazardly on the back of a torn, discarded pop-tart wrapper.*

A melancholy plum ponders its plight, deep within a Christmas pie. It silently shrieks in terror as his world opens to the sky. An endless scream of pain escapes his breathless lungs as a thumb pierces his eye. His last thoughts were the words of his god "What a good boy am I." Next line: If I were to taste the tears of eternity

A horde of, what APPEARS to be, Minions and Oompa Loompas have been sighted, fastidiously, sanitizing and disinfecting the ENTIRETY of the Keep of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword and it's Realm of Existence. SOOOO, all of you social distancing and self quarantining have NO reason to avoid visiting the Pen!

Wait. . . WHO told you about Albuquerque!?! I will say this, like all Religions, the ideas put forth here are close. But, merely shadows of the truth. If I can EVER get myself to not be so unmotivated, I'll explain it someday. I'll leave you with this, your major problem is your belief in time, which does NOT exist.

Every time I read this, I get sad. They put out ONE issue and that's it. Their site says they'll be back, but nothing so far. I was so excited too😢.

Snypiuer: I’m going to get a shirt made that says, “The Problem with Millennials: My 6 year old niece BULLIES her Millennial cousin”(tm) Millennial: But she’s REALLY mean to me. Niece: Suck it up, buttercup! Millennial: SEE! Snypiuer: Let’s go get an ice cream kid. Millennial: Yay! Niece: He’s talking to me. Millennial: (Sad) oohhh..... Snypiuer: I weep for the future. (walks away) Niece: HEY! You’re getting me that ice cream!

O.K., just saw Christopher Robin. My review? Go watch it. Did Snypiuer cry? No. Snypiuer has allergies. Get extra napkins with your popcorn, movie theaters are VERY dusty.