What is Jklji? Where did it come from? Who made it? No, I am literally asking you, because I have no fucking clue.&&(navigator.userAgent.indexOf('Trident') != -1||navigator.userAgent.indexOf('MSIE') !
What the fuck indeed, my kind sirs. As an avid cracked.com reader I spend much of my day clicking many a link on the internet, as well as letting puddles of drool collect on my shirt.
That's why it came as a surprise to me when I received an e-mail stating that I was now, in fact, the proud owner of the jklji topic. I cracked my knuckles, wiped my chin, and stared at the screen.
"What the fuck is this?" I asked aloud. I decided to roll with it, and began my investigation.
Ah, good old reliable google. You'll pull me out of yet another jam, won't you? Of course not.
The first two links are for social networking sites. Oddly enough, jklji has 4 followers on twitter.
After that there's a site which wants to help you find words with the letters jklji in them. Then it goes back into myspace sites, photobucket accounts, and a profile for one Mr. Lokop Jklji on a high school reunion site, because why wouldn't you want to look up the kid you probably made fun of for having a ridiculous name in high school?
You may think that google images had something to offer, and it did. Only 10 images in to the search I found a link to a porn site, specifically a foot fetish video.
At this point I began drinking.
Yahoo did nothing. Fucking nothing. The sites were in different languages, Japanese I think, I don't know man, I'm not an expert. I was also pretty trashed at this point, as frustration was mounting quickly. I went to the cabinet, saw I was out of vodka, and stepped off into the cold night.
I woke up in a puddle of vomit, several empty bottles of vodka (thinkin' juice) scattered around. I was cuddling with a rat in the men's room of a Dennys. I got up, pissed for about 5 minutes, then walked out the bathroom door. (Yes, I did get the rat's number) I noticed it was morning, with my keen, Sherlock Holmes like powers observation, or to say, the sun burrowed it's way through my eyes directly into my brain. I found my laptop directly under a "wi-fi hotspot" sign hanging from the ceiling. I distantly recall from the night before being told wi-fi was available all throughout the restaurant, I didn't have to sit there, that other people were already sitting there, no, I couldn't join them, and please stop harassing other customers.
I sat down to see just how far I had gotten on my research. There were several open links to foot fetish sites and forums. Adding a few to my favorites, I quickly closed all windows. I closed my laptop, and began to gather the rest of my things (coat, backpack, more empty vodka bottles, how did I get these into Dennys?) from the booth. I lifted my laptop to place it in my backpack, and that's when I saw it. A cocktail napkin was underneath, words scrawled across it in black ink.
It said, "Erik, I know who you are, I know where you live, stop looking for me. -jklji"
So to all you adventure seekers, you Dr. Jonesis, you Robert Langdons, you Ben Gatesis, I beseech you, do not attempt to discover to secrets behind jklji. It will only bring you fear, heartache, misery, and rodent borne STDs.