This is a test. This is only a test. Had this been a real emergency, nobody would have notified you because, my dear Humans, you would have winked out of existence, doomed to galactic inconsequentiality by some random quirk of interstellar fate which, to the universe is a mere blip, a trifle, but to you humans means annihilation. So ignore this test ... it's really irrelevant to the messages to come. We're testing out our interstellar FTL internet (IFTLI) VPN connection, trying to accustom ourselves to your remarkably expressive yet subtly ambiguous "English" language (it strikes us odd that England only holds one thirtieth of the English-speaking people in the world; perhaps the language has gotten muddied as it travelled around?).

Here is some more text we find amusing, which will help us establish the correct functioning of this thing you call a "blog."

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves 

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: 

All mimsy were the borogoves, 

      And the mome raths outgrabe. 

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son! 

      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! 

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun 

      The frumious Bandersnatch!” 

He took his vorpal sword in hand; 

      Long time the manxome foe he sought— 

So rested he by the Tumtum tree 

      And stood awhile in thought. 

And, as in uffish thought he stood, 

      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, 

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, 

      And burbled as it came! 

One, two! One, two! And through and through 

      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! 

He left it dead, and with its head 

      He went galumphing back. 

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? 

      Come to my arms, my beamish boy! 

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” 

      He chortled in his joy. 

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves 

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: 

All mimsy were the borogoves, 

      And the mome raths outgrabe.