It's not worth it , this ... post .

I just built myself an ancient pyramid last night . Now , I possessed for me ( myself ) no advanced carpentry tools , no slaves , no beasts of burden . This has - and I repeat - this has led me down a rather unforeseen avenue of thought for myself ( me ) . Having had previously no earlier encounters with the unexplained - aside from my minutely ( that is , minute - ly , as in hourly , only ... minutely ) confrontations with the question : Why am I doing these ( things ) - I am now forced to believe that Ancient Astronauts not only exist , but are , in fact , real . Indeed , the only thing holding me back from adding to the list of Ancient Astronaut literature with my own tome is the fact - the indisputable fact - that the great spirit of malice and treachery that so often hangs over and between one's legs has called me to a greater task ; a task which I'm sure - but not positive - will land me - not in jail - but quite firmly , albeit comfortably , in the very seat of my pants , which I've longed for since rising to greet an oncoming bus with open arms . And just to inform you , the italics option in my little blog box has once again consigned me to a rather dubious position of typing all the rest of this in italics . But this need not be an obstacle , for now is a fantastic opportunity for me to say all I've ever wanted to say with emphasis : help me . please .