Never gonna, an often misunderstood phrase in the Galactic Common tongue, has flummoxed linguists, philosophers, and particularly bad karaoke singers for millennia. It's a commitment to total inaction, a stoic vow of restraint that can, paradoxically, cause a great deal of action, usually involving running away from things one has sworn never to do.
If you're determined to seek out the essence of never gonna, it's advisable to pack a pair of sturdy running shoes and an alibi.
This elusive concept can typically be found in the midst of promises made at 2 AM in Galactic Central Time, within the lyrics of ancient Earth songs, and echoing through the halls of the Procrastinators of the Cosmos Guild.
Steer clear of making any grand, public declarations involving never gonna, as the universe has a peculiar sense of irony and will undoubtedly put you in a situation where you'll consider doing exactly what you swore not to.
Did you know that 'never gonna' is statistically the third most broken phrase in the universe, closely trailing behind 'just one more episode' and 'I'll do it tomorrow'?
Feeling the strain of your never gonna promises? Visit the Temporal Loophole Pub, where every hour is happy hour, and nobody will hold you to what you said yesterday!
about 12 hours ago
FTP SyncJSON, a term you might encounter when traversing the more technical plains of the galaxy, is not, as one might assume, a new dance craze involving elaborate finger tapping patterns. Rather, it's a process by which files, particularly those of the JSON (Jolly Synchronized Omniscient Notations) variety, are transferred and synchronized between different computer systems, typically over FTP (Flippantly Transmitted Protocols). It's like a cosmic ballet, where data pirouettes around the digital expanse with the grace of a three-legged Hrung disaster trying to ice-skate.
about 12 hours ago
Sloti, the universe's answer to the question nobody asked. A creature so inconspicuously inconsequential, it can go unnoticed for millennia in a crowd of two. Its primary characteristic is its sheer lack of characteristics. A Sloti is neither tall nor short, neither dark nor light, and neither particularly interesting nor utterly dull. They are the middle ground of intergalactic fauna, so average that they've won awards for their mediocrity. The one thing that sets them apart is their remarkable ability to blend in with furniture. Many a weary hitchhiker has mistaken a Sloti for a comfortable chair, much to the surprise (and often embarrassment) of both parties.