Peepul:
Uniformity in Spelling is a left-wing elitist, East Coast plot to regulate the media, and dare I say, all language! A coy, manipulative attempt to silence anyone who dares speak the trooth! And we have evidence, my deer reader, plenty of it. Let’s start with there French-loving, Thomas Jefferson hating, Big bank loving Noah Webster:
His Dickshunary is nothing more than an attempt to nationalize the way we write and speek. It was his hope to destroy individual state traditions and bring us all into conformity to become nothing more than Communist shit-diggers, too dumb to figure out how to write on our own.
“Hay pay, Ya’ll luv free dum?” Know wat I’m tawkin’‘bout? Hell, yes you do, but Noah (no relation to the planet saver) would have none of that. In the days of SLAVERY, while he was conspiring in some East Coast elitist Ivy league tower, miles away from any real working man, he was seeking to destroy our traditions. “Excuse me, sir, but do you love freedom?” I KNEW WHAT YOU MEANT THE FIRST TIME, YOU DUMBASS IVY LEAGER, but now suddenly I’m wrong! Now I’m a stupid fascist shit-digger who ain’t smart enough to move the shithouse when the crap rises high enough to start nibbling at my ass! That’s your East Coast Elitism! There’s your Ivory Tower. There’s the real power in ‘Merica, locked up in some snobbish Yale hallway where buggery’s probably more common that breathing. There, I said it! Is that so bad? The trooth?
Why those pinko bastards, claiming they know how we should all write and speak. I say to hell with them. They don’t even no wat our ‘Merica is reely all ‘bout.
Lissen, peepul! Those leftwing fascist pinko socialists who think they’re better than us just because they use knife AND fork don’t understand that they are simply upending their own goals with their tactics. Here’s how the evildoers work:
Those limp-wristed sissy boys cuddling together underneath some claw-footed library table rubbing cheek to butt-cheek up against mahogany wainscoting are wasting the very resources they are trying to take from the rest of ‘Merica and keep for themselves. THOSE COMMIE BASTARDS ARE WASTING MORE INK THAN BP DOES OIL! IT ALL STARTS WITH THE VERY FIRST WORD IN THEIR SINISTER CAMPAIGN: SPELLING!
Listen peepul: How many times are our enemas going to bombard us with there propaganda? Correct spelling, Proper spelling, they’ve already infiltrated technology, brainwashed Bill Gates into installing SpellCheck inside his operating systems. AND EACH AND EVERY TIME THIS ISSUE IS FORCED DOWN OUR THROATS, EACH AND EVERY TIME SOME POOR SAP OPENS UP SPELLCHECK, THERE’S THAT DOUBLE L AT THE END OF THE WORD! SPELL SPELL SPELL! ARE THOSE PINKO COMMIE SOCIALIST SELF- GRATIFYING BASTARDS TOO BLIND TO EVEN SEE THE VERY WORDS THEY ARE TYPING? ARE THEY TOO STOOPID TO REALIZE THAT EVERY TIME THEY TYPE IN THAT DOUBLE L IN THEIR PROPOGANDIST ATTEMPTS TO REGULATE SPELLING, EVERY TIME A HARD-WORKING ‘MERICAN IS FORCED TO PULL UP SPELLCHECK ON THE COMPUTER—JUST TO PUT FOOD ON THE TABLE FOR HIS CHILDREN, SO LITTLE BOBBY CAN HAVE SOME MASHED POTATOES, SO BABY SALLY’S MOMMY AND DADDY DON’T HAVE TO WATCH THEIR LITTLE GIRL STARVE, WHITHER AND DIE RIGHT THERE ON THE FARM, HER STOMACK BLOATED LIKE SOME LAZY THIRD WORLD MOOCHER WHO WOULD RATHER SELL ‘MERICA’S RICE FOR A BOTTLE OF BOOZE AND A PACKAGE OF CIGARETTES AND A PAIR OF NIKES AND AN OAKLAND RAIDERS JACKET WITH A HAT TO BOOT THAN TO WALK DOWN TO THE CORNER GROCERY STORE AND BUY A DECENT DAY’S MEAL FOR HIS SIXTEEN CHILDREN AND DYING GRANDPARENTS—THE UNNECESSARY DOUBLE L WASTES MORE INK THAN THEIR SUPPOSED CARBON EMISSIONS PUMP INTO THE OZONE DURING THAT VERY SAME TIME PERIOD. HUH? HUH? DO THEY? NO, THEY DON’T! YOURE DAMN RIGHT THEY DON’T!
Listen, peepul: Ink, a valuable resource for all of us, according to PIS (Protecting Ink Supplies) is vanishing from the planet at an alarming rate. Look at the ink I am forced to waste right here on my computer—not to mention wasting my valuable time when I could be throwing the ball around the backyard with my ten year-old son who wants nothing more than to have his father spend a little time with him, if I didn’t live in the city and had a backyard and if I had a legitimate son—trying to protect the very resource necessary to both us and our enemas alike . AND THAT TOO IS PART OF THE LEFT’S STINKO PINKO PLOT—TO KEEP US TROOTH SEEKERS SO BUSY DISARMING THEIR PLOTS AGAINST OUR CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS TO EXXXPRESS OURSELVES FREELY SO THEY HAVE TIME FOR MORE SHENANIGANS- WHETHER ITS DESTROYING THE HARDWOODS OF SOUTHERN BRAZIL BY RUBBING THEIR BUTT CHEEKS UP AGAINST YALE’S LIBRARY’S WAINSCOTING FORCING THE SCHOOL TO IMPORT ANOTHER TREE, OR FABRICATING ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE GASBAG GREENHOUSE LIES THEY USE TO LIMIT OUR MOBILITY LIKE A BUNCH OF WORN OUT OLD GEEZERS TOO WINDED FROM DECADES OF SMOKING TO BUILD THAT FENCE NECESSARY TO KEEP THE COWS OUT OF THE CROPS !!!
Lissen, peepul: Do what I say, I say everybody’s got to have their ink, but if we don’t put a halt to the Left’s demand that we all double up on our letters, whether it be Spell, hell, shell, or bell, not to mention the “S” (Nuke Mississippi before it’s too late!) and the “T” and the “M,” especially the “M” (I’m sorry, Mommy, I’m so, so sorry, MOOOOOMMMMMMY!!!!!!!!) PIS calculates that the world’s ink supply will completely vanish by the year 7538. There’s not much time left. THOSE COMMIE BLOWHARDS KEEP YAPPING ABOUT OIL AND CARBON WHEN THE REAL ISSUES ARE LEFT UNMENTIONED AND AS UNTREATED AS A HERPES WART LOST
WITHIN THE PUBIC BRAMBLEBUSH OF A FORTY-THREE YEAR OLD CRACK ADDLED STREET WHORE!
Peepul: Do any of you know how difficult it has become to extract ink from its source? Never mind this off-shore deep-drilling for oil faux issue crap the Left is so worried about. PIS states that to fill each Bic pen (That’s right, that BIC pen, the one created by the corporation that made it possible for you to write that first letter home to your mother after you were shipped off to war, the very same manufacturer that made it possible for you to sign your wedding certificate so you would not live in sin and be destined to an eternity of hell-fire, the very same corporation that made it possible for you to sign your father’s death certificate and allow you to for the first time in your life to feel the freedom of not having the old man be hounding you, “Call your mother! You ungrateful prick! And what’s a stock analyst—Get a real job, ya bum! And stop calling your sister a tramp! Look at the slut you married! “) requires enough ink that for the Bic Corp. to ship a carton to OfficeMax-in bulk to several destinations simultaneously—seven point three-five octopussy’s must be slaughtered.
THAT’S RIGHT. SEVEN POINT THREE FIVE! AND THEY CALL THEMSELVES ENVIRONMENTALISTS. THOSE CHINA LOVIN’, ‘MERICA HATING, WAINSCOT RUBBING, BRAINY ARISTOCRAPS ARE RAPING ALL THE PUSSY IN THE OCEAN! AND THEY CALL THE RIGHT FASCIST? THOSE DINK*-STAINED COWARDS PULLING ALL THE OCTOPUSSY FROM THE SEAS JUST TO DIP THEIR NIBS IN FOR THE INK ARE RIDDING THE SEAS OF PUSSY FASTER THAN CHINA WITH ITS ONE-CHILD POLICY—THE LEFT’S PUSSOCIDE MAKES RWANDA’S TRIBAL RAPE HORRORS LOOK LIKE A FRAT PARTY. THOSE MOTHER-F#& ^*@% MAKE ME SICK!!!
Peepul: There’s not much we can do to stop the onslaught, but we can cease to contribute. I propose to you this: Wherever you choose to spread your ink, whether it be across a computer screen, up against a bathroom wall, in the backseat of a 1994 Honda Civic with a rusty back left fender and one leg cramped up against the backrest of the passenger seat creating a charliehorse that’s beginning to counter the formerly undeniable pleasures of spreading the ink, or in a notebook at a bar in Greektown where shots of Ouzo are inspiring the great ‘Merican novel that it’s a damn shame you’ll forget it on the bathroom floor alongside the toilet when you’re puking up those fourteen shots, please for the sake of our progeny: stop doubling up on the letters. Save the ink. Learn to write phonetically. And dare I suggest? No, no, too radical, (hint: it concerns the silent e).
*DINK refers to a penis* dipped in ink. I chose to use this obscure term rather than the vernacular when referring to a penis dipped in ink rather than writing the phrase penis dipped in ink because I feared some readers might find the phrase, penis dipped in ink offensive, and it is my intent to try my utmost never to offend anyone. I do believe I have succeeded quite well so far. Therefore, I can only assume, based on the tens of thousands of emails I receive weekly, that anyone who may have been offended by any of my writings at any time likely has an issue with having a very, very small penis and is trapped in the threshold of the proverbial closet. This speculation obviously pertains to men and women alike.
* After exxxtensive research, I discovered an argot for penis: dick, thereby creating the term Dink. Again, my purpose in using DINK rather than the vernacular PINK was to maintain my sensitivity towards our more genteel readers.
Spelling! An Elitist East Coast Ivory Tower attempt to destroy Democracy!