TheBridge 
I know NOTHING
Haven’t been around here in awhile and thus am going to post a stream of consciousnesses fiction:
Once upon a time in the magical sand of Grand YOU. People ate the dog and this was deemed as cannibalism when the sentience and sapience were merged and conflated by the dog king and their human underlords. This caused the majority of the internet to disprove the enlightenment and return to cause on the moral justification on the sins of others twice removed from the temporal Twilight of the forever born house.
Once upon a time in the magical sand of Grand YOU. People ate the dog and this was deemed as cannibalism when the sentience and sapience were merged and conflated by the dog king and their human underlords. This caused the majority of the internet to disprove the enlightenment and return to cause on the moral justification on the sins of others twice removed from the temporal Twilight of the forever born house.
It was a weekend like any other and the screams were sort, meaning the day would be good.” Applejack said, as her blabbering nonsense transitioned from narration to spoken dialog. This disturbed Pinkie Pie, as she usually was the one that controlled meta in fiction-subtext.
“Now this concludes this exercise in postmodern gibberish… Twilight Sparkle said as she transitioned from dialog back to narration. This made the wordsmiths quite happy.
Oh… why had the written word been so mangled and mangled and mangled and mangled and mangled and mangled and mangle and mangled [howdy dad] and mangled and mangled and mangle and mangled and mangled and mangled and tied together in the two-bit string palace of unfair and unusually strong emotions. DAYs and time unchanging. The cringe from it all (a lowly word unto itself, memeified and killed in the harm of the Searepublic). Forth trustkey and the underrated playfair cipher caused the Internet to die-the solar flare and people’s search for destruction are understood and about the suitableness of the frost country.
Twilight Sparkle glanced upon her words, they were ugly and awful, and that made her happy because at least she felt something… that was what art was supposed-pretentious ramblings of a backstabbing failed librarian evoked the time that ice cream swore vengeance on time itself, killing liberty and justice and replacing those values with pain and honor in the century of a ice cream truck” yet another rustic man spoken in the pursuit of justice and it caused justice to lunch at him: THE KIND IS SAFE!
