zenicurean: No omg lol we aer simply n0t ev1l pr3scriptivists liek y00 we aer teh futurez instead lol ydsdgox lsdfklsd apowsx fdhfdgdfs fleshly beams of walking round amethyst ovals of seeing perked audits sparkling many-fauceted red emerald grignr grignr grignr
celestineangel: I weild a magic Dictionary of Doom! Should I whap you with it, you shall either magically be able to type correctly... or you'll implode.
Care to find out?
zenicurean: urgh grignr grignr grignr mrfik? grignr waargh raargh!
ovals of s1ght.
celestineangel: ::whaps with magic Dictionary of Doom::
zenicurean: arrg! hrrgh! grignr grignr underpants ovals of...
No, wait. Wait. I can... I can feel something. What is this unearthly feeling? The keys on the keyboard are suddenly alight with an inner glow. Does their arrangement follow some sort of ghostly logic only now coming to my attention? My very brain is reeling, smitten with a thousand new sensations and concepts. The comma. The capital letter. The Shift key.
And there... yes, there in the far distance? What is that? Is that the English language?
Oh, my Lord. The structure. The beautiful, beautiful, immaculate structure. Every subject, every predicate, every modifier in its place. Every comma and every full stop carefully placed. Every expressed thought wrapped and bound within a system of presentation that's crisp, coherent, and precise, yet rich and flexible.
It is full of letters!