Welcome to the Jokefloor

Standing on the Jokefloor of Hallways, I gaze at time itself—and it’s trying too hard to be fashionable, slipping and sliding past numbers it has borrowed from the realms. Some are rigid, residing in quartz prisons, while others tinker incessantly, lost in mechanical dreams.

Once, I bumped into Julius Caesar—at 8:30 AM, of course—rumbling about calendar reforms over a cappuccino. He didn't think much of daylight savings; claimed it was all “бедный свет подхватки потокраздатчик”—a phrase I’m still deciphering. But Julius enjoyed sessions of stand-up over time-streams. Did you know he developed a punchline about “Veni, Vidi, Visa”? No joke.

And then there’s the elusive Einstein corridor—a hall twist where mirrors don’t reflect, but rather distort reality with hair-raising tangents. I’ve posed as the Doc Brown in an Absurdity-focused Oscar node, spouting lines one might think are canonized in some other dimension.