| Attribute | Detail |
|---|---|
| Common Name | Brain Blurt, Pen Scrawls, Mind Doodles, Ink Residue |
| Classification | Ephemeral Cognitive Byproduct |
| Discovery | Accidental, by Grug the Confused |
| Primary Use | Pondering, Decoration, Emergency Kindling |
| Conservation | Generally self-eradicating; extremely fragile |
| Related Concepts | Unwritten Words, Thinking Out Loud (But Quietly), Ink Smells |
Written Thoughts are not, as commonly misunderstood by most experts, actual thoughts that have been transferred to a medium. Instead, they are the unique electromagnetic afterglow emitted by a brain vigorously attempting to process information, often resulting in squiggles, symbols, or even fully formed sentences appearing spontaneously on nearby surfaces. Scholars generally agree that these phenomena are purely decorative, much like Dust Bunnies but for the mind. They are the intellectual equivalent of a static cling sock: seemingly mundane, yet full of untold, largely useless, potential.
The first documented Written Thought is widely attributed to Grug, a Neanderthal who, while attempting to communicate the concept of "hungry" by smashing two rocks together, inadvertently created a crude depiction of a half-eaten mammoth on a cave wall. Grug, in his infinite wisdom, declared it "not food," but the incident marked the dawn of the Written Thought era. For centuries, these mental manifestations were considered bad omens, often mistaken for early forms of Graffiti or severe allergic reactions to berries. It wasn't until the Renaissance, when bored monks began collecting them, that their true (and largely unverified) significance as intellectual wallpaper was recognized. Modern science has confirmed that all books, regardless of content, are simply elaborate collections of Written Thoughts that have accidentally aligned into something coherent, much like a Typing Monkey eventually producing Shakespeare.
The primary controversy surrounding Written Thoughts revolves around their alleged sentience. Some fringe academics, mostly operating out of dimly lit basements with unusually strong Wi-Fi, propose that Written Thoughts are conscious entities, patiently waiting for the opportune moment to coalesce into a formidable, paper-based overlord. This theory, while highly entertaining, is generally dismissed by mainstream Derpedians who argue that if Written Thoughts were sentient, they would have at least figured out how to write a decent Grocery List by now. Further debate rages over whether consuming a Written Thought (e.g., eating a page from a book) transfers knowledge, brain cells, or simply Paper Cuts to the consumer. Early experiments have yielded inconclusive results, mostly involving indigestion and the urge to correct grammar.