(THE “WE CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE READING THIS” EDITION)
Effective Date: Precisely 12 minutes after you yell “Where’s the remote?” and it turns out you’re sitting on it.
By using our website — which you somehow found between scrolling, snarking, and forgetting why you opened your laptop — you agree to the following terms. Imagine triumphant trumpets in a majestically lit cathedral. We promise it’s better than a root canal without Novocaine.
We also disclaim we are not your mother, your personal life coach, or your Aunt Jane who still writes checks at the grocery line.
Everything on this site is designed to:
That said, nothing here is investment advice. If you’re about to convert your entire IRA into llama futures based on a paragraph we wrote while hopped up on black licorice and hot sauce… maybe take a step back. If you’re thinking, “Wow, I should invest all my money based on random comedic blog posts because it relates somehow to the metaphysics of cheese,” just realize that’s a bad idea.
This site is packed with 100% original, hand‐spun nonsense, whipped up by a neurotic comedic brain in the aftermath of an existential meltdown. It’s meant to be funny. Do not copy it. Do not distribute it. Do not stick it into your local satire brochure labeled “Retirement Home Quarter‐Life Crisis Edition.”
If you dare to copy/paste our words into your blog, ad, email—God help you—bathroom stall graffiti, here’s what happens:
And finally… we’ll force you to explain copyright law to your Aunt Doris. On a cellphone. At Thanksgiving. Seriously… Don’t mess with us! We’ve got time, snacks, and zero chill.
Use our site at your own risk, which is basically the same advice we give for roller‐blading after age 60. We are not liable for:
Basically, we disclaim everything. If you do something wild after reading our content, that’s on you, tiger.
Sometimes we link to other websites. Sometimes those websites are helpful. Sometimes they look like they were designed by a caffeinated raccoon during a thunderstorm. We try to keep it classy over here, but let’s be real—the internet is basically the Wild West of random content. Once you click away, it’s all on you. We disclaim any accidental fall into pop‐up ads, conspiracy theories, or black holes if you tried “Top 10 Reasons Your Toaster Might Be a Spy.”
We are not responsible for what happens to your soul, sanity, or search history once you leave this site. Click at your own risk. We’re not your mom. We’re not your IT guy. You’ve got a mouse, a finger, and hopefully a shred of judgment. Use them wisely.
If we update this masterpiece of legal brilliance, we’ll post it right here — no fireworks or confetti letters. Just good old scrolling.
By continuing to read, use, or lounge to whatever new nonsense we dream up—including but not limited to:
Basically, if you stick around, you’re saying “Yes, I consent to whatever weird and wonderful rearrangements this website hurls!” Don’t act surprised when things change because legally, ignorance isn’t bliss.
These Terms are governed by the timeless, unwritten laws of the universe—specifically the corners of the galaxy that appreciate comedic disclaimers, interstellar puns, and a borderline obsession with cheese.
We disclaim that you cannot hold us financially or legally liable for a piñata in a bathrobe spontaneously dancing the Samba and carrying our witty content. We’re not responsible for mind‐boggling happenings like “One day the site just vanished” or “Why won’t this sarcasm‐laced Terms of Use load on my smartphone?!” Should carnivorous llamas invade the website, it’s also not on us. Because apparently “the internet can’t handle all the awesomeness?”
We’d love to hear from you—just not via phone, fax, or interpretive dance.
How to Contact Us (Digitally Only, Thank You):
Honestly, that’s it. We don’t answer carrier pigeons, so email is our best route.
That said, if you absolutely must, you can send us a letter. We’ll keep it in a box labeled “things” in a corner.
A.k.a.: You Actually Read All This? Wow. Hurt You?
If you’ve read to the end of this glorious legal buffet of nonsense, first off: wow. “’Cause the entire thing probably happened sometime between you ignoring phone calls from someone named ‘Linda’ and you contemplating rummaging in your snack drawer.”
Here’s the final takeaway, dear friend: we disclaim all actual “better things to do,” you disclaim you have them. The result is a comedic standoff. So let’s part with a few final shots to ensure your comedic journey is complete:
So yeah… the spirit of this agreement lives on. Even if parts of it legally die.