Credits

Credits? You want credits? What does this look like, a Star Wars movie? Get outta here. Go bother another page.

Kids these days... no respect. Like a mouse getting itself cooked into a hamburger so it can tell the establishment, "bite me". What a dirty little rat.

Whatever is this world coming to, when a 32-year-old man named Robert who lives in Delaware can't leave a nonsensical paragraph on his web site* that he made all by himself and to which he owns all copyrights 2018 and to which no one else contributed for some random stranger browsing The Internet to find... in peace?

* I assert that "web site" is two words. "site" and "web" are not married; God has not made them one. Sometimes they flirt, but only on sketchy websites. This is no sketchy website. It is a well-bred, well-fed, well-led web site. I thumb my nose in your general direction. All the better to look like a pig for you, my dear. Now come closer; the red dot sight on this assault rifle has not been calibrated yet. Yes, that's right... nice and close... and stand nice and still for me, too... that's it... Insult mine grammar and speling, will you? Wait, I want to attach this cool, new bayonet to the barrel. I just had it sharpened. Uh... this footnote is getting to be a bit too long. I think it's already longer than the entire body of the web page. Uh oh, I hope that's not going to increase my footnote utility bill. Let's just take a raincheck on this whole mutilation business. Leave now before I change my mind. Wait, where did I put my mind? Didn't I think I knew I had it around here somewhere? ...Damn, this paragraph sucks! Maybe I should retire while I'm ahead. Wait, that's not possible. But is a retirement plan supposed to work? Isn't it retired?