Thank you for submitting your research paper to the Journal of Universal Rejection. A casual glance informs me it is written in Greek. I can't read Greek, but I enjoyed flipping through your manuscript and watching the numbers in the upper right hand corner of each page increase. At first these numbers seemed to be jumping by 10's or 20's, but once I calmed down and proceeded in an orderly fashion more befitting an associate editor of the world's most prestigious journal, it became clear that the numbers incremented by the customary step size of one.
After this initial in-depth review of your paper, I walked to a coffee shop to purchase and consume a fine beverage (which was even more delightful than usual since I drank it in a Journal of Universal Rejection Ceramic Travel Mug!). I took your paper along with me in order to give it a quick second look. On the way to the shop I walked past several young men with sequences of three Greek letters emblazoned on their clothing and headwear. Surely, they must be experts in the Greek language! Excitedly, I showed them your manuscript in order to form a better understanding of its intellectual merit. Strangely, the conversation went something like this:
Me: "Excuse me, gentleman. Would you please take a moment to peruse this paper and give me your opinions of it?"
Me: "I know it's somewhat lengthy, but you would be providing a valuable service to the scholarly world."
They: "Like, duuuuude."
Me: "I take it that you are uninterested in reviewing this?"
They: "LOL! R U nuts?"
Then they walked away, laughing.
So, I must base my decision on your manuscript without the benefit of input from additional reviewers. It is a nice paper, with the page numbers increasing in an orderly and efficient manner. Unfortunately, this is not enough to meet our high standards and expectations. I must reject your paper.
The Journal of Universal Rejection