build/whitespace_file.txt - vendor/opensource/webrtc - Git at Google

 Copyright (c) 2011 The Chromium Authors. All rights reserved.
 Use of this useless file is governed by a BSD-style license that can be
 found in the LICENSE file.

 This file is used for making non-code changes to trigger buildbot cycles. Make
 any modification below this line.

 ==============================================================================

 Let's make a story. Add one sentence for each commit:

 CHAPTER 1:
 It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at
 occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which
 swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along
 the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that
 struggled against the darkness. A dark figure emerged.

 It was a Domo-Kun. "What took you so long?", inquired his wife.
 Silence. Not noticing his silence, she continued, "Did Mr. Usagi enjoy the
 waffles you brought him?" "You know him, he's not one to forego a waffle,
 no matter how burnt", he snickered.
 The pause was filled with the sound of thunder.

 CHAPTER 2:
 The syrup was as dark as night, and just as runny.
 The Domo-Kun shuddered, remembering the way Mr. Usagi had speared his waffles
 with his fork, watching the runny syrup spread and pool across his plate,
 like the blood of a dying fawn. "It reminds me of the time --" he started, as
 his wife cut in quickly: "-- please. I can't bear to hear it.". A flury of
 images coming from the past flowed through his mind.

 "You recall what happened on Mulholland drive?" The ceiling fan rotated slowly
 overhead, barely disturbing the thick cigarette smoke. No doubt was left about
 when the fan was last cleaned.

 There was a poignant pause.

 CHAPTER 3:
 Mr. Usagi felt that something wasn't right. Shortly after the Domo-Kun left he
 began feeling sick. He thought out loud to himself, "No, he wouldn't have done
 that to me." He considered that perhaps he shouldn't have pushed him so far.
 Perhaps he shouldn't have been so cold and sarcastic, after the unimaginable
 horror that had occurred, just the week before.
	Copyright (c) 2011 The Chromium Authors. All rights reserved.
	Use of this useless file is governed by a BSD-style license that can be
	found in the LICENSE file.

	This file is used for making non-code changes to trigger buildbot cycles. Make
	any modification below this line.

	==============================================================================

	Let's make a story. Add one sentence for each commit:

	CHAPTER 1:
	It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at
	occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which
	swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along
	the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that
	struggled against the darkness. A dark figure emerged.

	It was a Domo-Kun. "What took you so long?", inquired his wife.
	Silence. Not noticing his silence, she continued, "Did Mr. Usagi enjoy the
	waffles you brought him?" "You know him, he's not one to forego a waffle,
	no matter how burnt", he snickered.
	The pause was filled with the sound of thunder.

	CHAPTER 2:
	The syrup was as dark as night, and just as runny.
	The Domo-Kun shuddered, remembering the way Mr. Usagi had speared his waffles
	with his fork, watching the runny syrup spread and pool across his plate,
	like the blood of a dying fawn. "It reminds me of the time --" he started, as
	his wife cut in quickly: "-- please. I can't bear to hear it.". A flury of
	images coming from the past flowed through his mind.

	"You recall what happened on Mulholland drive?" The ceiling fan rotated slowly
	overhead, barely disturbing the thick cigarette smoke. No doubt was left about
	when the fan was last cleaned.

	There was a poignant pause.

	CHAPTER 3:
	Mr. Usagi felt that something wasn't right. Shortly after the Domo-Kun left he
	began feeling sick. He thought out loud to himself, "No, he wouldn't have done
	that to me." He considered that perhaps he shouldn't have pushed him so far.
	Perhaps he shouldn't have been so cold and sarcastic, after the unimaginable
	horror that had occurred, just the week before.