We ran out of ideas, okay? We're not even trying.
Our joke writer quit to pursue a career in accounting. It's a real tragedy.
We're considering replacing the jokes with just a picture of a chicken.
If you're still here, you must really like pain.
Or maybe you just love the aesthetic of a page that's been put together by a committee of middle schoolers.
Either way, you're a glutton for punishment.
We're not even counting down the seconds until you click the back button.
But don't worry, it's not like we're going to win any awards for this. Or be able to afford the electricity bill.
This page is brought to you by the letter 'Z', the number 42, and a can of expired sardines.
If you want more, we've got:
Don't go.