Attention you primitive fools: be nervous; I have come to make human beings of you. After my initial diatribe for this media wasteland known as Pork Pony, I was shocked to find out just how many of the dullards who read my work were put off by it. Many of you sent me duncical letters filled with misspellings, erroneous grammar, and worst of all, lack of capitalization. Mountain of idiocy: save yourselves now. Purchase a copy of The Gods of Grammar in the Punctuation Palace, the only children's book I've ever written. It shall act like an elevator, lifting your IQ out of the basement. Who knows, maybe you'll even be able to handle the complexities held within a third grade social studies book after you're done.
The Gods of Grammar in the Punctuation Palace follows the adventures of a dear lad named Art. Art goes to school with children who ignore academics in favor of things like baseball, dolls, and poo-poo jokes. Our ostracized hero spends his time in isolation, reading and studying grammar. Atop the clouds, the gods Subjectus and Predicatus watch poor Art and, feeling sympathy for the lonely boy, they magically transport him to their ethereal estate, Punctuation Palace. Art is instantly mesmerized as he ambles to and fro, learning all the true and good rules of grammar and punctuation. The adventure gets a tad hairy, however, when the evil Misspell-O appears and attempts to sully the laws of the land. Watch out for sting of Misspell-O's end-preposition whip, dear Art!
Alas dear reader, shun all poo-poo jokes. Come to Punctuation Palace where all is good and two spaces follow every period. Ah, but I dream, for during your next visit to the bookstore you'll go straight to the periodicals and start perusing the awful garbage printed on the pages of magazines like Esquire and Maxim. You sicken me.
