Note: Here's my Fourth of July gift to you guys. Enjoy.
I used to be a perfectly content hyperactive spider monkey squirrel who hid from the rest of the world by cowering behind her laptop and nibbling fervently on cold spinach puffs in the wee hours of the morning.
Then I discovered my true calling: Being a lightning-struck hyperactive spider monkey squirrel who hides from the rest of the world by cowering behind her laptop and nibbling fervently on cold spinach puffs in the wee hours of the morning while making obnoxious remarks about the state of grammar in the world.
For a long time, my newly found Gravatar State aided me in my pointedly sarcastic remarks and generally made my life worth living.
Unfortunately, all good things end either in unnecessary sequels, prequels, and I-hate-you-but-need-your-money-to-feed-my-alcohol-addiction-quels; slow descents into madness; or truckloads of Chihuahuas. No, trust me, I've seen more things end in truckloads of Chihuahuas than anything, except for that one time it ended in a truckload of Chihuahua-shark hybrids . . . but then again, that did allow me to try out my thirty-dollar flamethrower, so maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
Either unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your view of the Infinite Improbability Drive, my Grammar Lordship has taken a very steep turn into the "descent into madness" state of "Conquering the World and Becoming a Bald Supervillain". As much as I could argue the point for being a supervillain, I prefer to keep my hair in one place: My head.
Therefore, this blog post has been brought to you by the Grammar Nation, whose Orbital Drop Shock Troopers are coming to a street corner near you.
"I have all the power in the world! Muahahahah!"
Guru Pathik hates my soul. As I settling down and preparing myself to watch one of my favorite chapters and hopefully open my chakras - hint: Chakras don't make pinging sound effects when opened - I mentally reviewed the seven chakras, their locations, with what they deal, and by what they are blocked.
That was when I heard something terrifying.
My forehead instantly became covered in sweat. The world was a blur, and my heart raced, reaching a high of 216 beats a minute. With quivering fingers, I took hold of my mouse and carefully dragged it back about thirty seconds.
I had been correct.
Guru Pathik clearly wished to drive me insane. This was his wish, and he was going to do it better than that truckload of Chihuahua-shark hybrids.
My favorite show had made a grammatical error. I was left unable to enjoy the beauty of the moment and Aang's inner fears of Zaang shipping.
Now my earth chakra is blocked, because I fear for the state of grammar in this world.
And just when I thought the worst was over - yes, the previous clause does have some major grammatical issues - I realized that the onslaught had barely begun. Indeed, Guru Pathik was clearly out to gently take my already fragile mental state into his massive palms and do to it what a dog would do to a petrified partridge, that one I shot with a single cartridge. Miss Lander, if you're reading this, I still hate that musical, and I will never agree to sing that stupid song again.
It was at this point that I leaped up from my chair and began to run around in a neat little circle at six miles an hour. I was duly informed that six miles an hour was far too dangerous and that one should only run at three. Unable to comprehend what was being said, I chose to very loudly yell "Get the fluoride uranium carbon potassium out of my room!"
I was unable to watch the rest of the water chakra segment because I was too busy rocking myself while sobbing that the Four LOLcats of the Grammar Apocalypse had come. I'd like to believe that a fire-breathing koala sheep in red pajamas was involved, but I'm not sure now.
Now my water chakra is blocked, because I feel guilt ruining one of my favorite moments of television history with my stupidity.
I ceased running around and instead stood there like a philosopher sharkgator in a ballerina's tutu standing in front of a corpse and trying to decide whether to eat it or urinate on it. Yes, tutus can urinate. I'm afraid it's a simple fact of life.
"What? You weren't standing there! You grabbed a copy of Flatland and was about to ram it into your computer screen!"
Gee, thanks, voice in my mind. Get out. Get out! Leave! Begone! None shall pass!
"You are a Grammar Ozai, and therefore you are an insane person."
Stop mocking me, you Chihuahua-shark hybrid! Stop it!
"Let me stay."
Fine. You can stay if you let me call you Li'l Voice, even though the word 'li'l' is not recognized by my spell-check and therefore has a squiggly red line underneath that will give me nightmares and cause me to hyperventilate more quickly than a shaved jackrabbit on crack-spiked coffee on jet skis - don't ask me how crack-spiked coffee received access to jet skis - and all the other things in that high-speed Internet commercial.
You know what Internet?
I don't care! Hah!
"What? Well . . . my preferred title is the Lord of the Flies . . . but I suppose that Li'l Voice works as well."
Now that I have a Li'l Voice in my mind as further proof of my imminent insanity, I can safely say that I'm on the highway to Candyland.
Please, let it be Candyland and not Candyfornia.
Now my fire chakra is blocked, because I am ashamed that I am a Grammar Ozai.
Thankfully, it appeared as though I had earned a brief respite from my constant war against the grammatical errors of the show, as the Good Guru had refrained from asking any more questions riddled with misplaced prepositions; however, I was unable to comprehend what was going on, as my mind was still fighting the War on
Sadly, I wasn't sure what to do. This wasn't a forum or chat room where I could cleverly disguise my well-meaning lessons in grammar behind hand-picked sarcasm and witty ironies; this was a television show that had already been written, spoken, animated, colored, and aired. What was I supposed to do now?
I'll tell you what.
I will tell you what.
I was supposed to drop it and leave it alone, but the Grammar Sages compelled me to begin my search for the one thing that stood between me and an Avatar free of grammatical errors: My sanity.
Fortunately for me, that didn't prove too difficult to destroy mercilessly.
Now my air chakra is blocked, because I grieve for grammar.
Unable to move, think, or live - I'm still quite convinced a Bloodbender has reanimated my dead corpse and is forcing me to type this while screaming in agony, torture, pain, and whatever other synonyms your thesaurus has that mine doesn't - I attempted to persuade myself that KFAJ had been correct and that the errors stated previously were not, in fact, grammatical errors.
"Why," I said to myself, "it's just another one of those quaint rules of grammar no one follows."
Li'l Voice, on the other hand, had quite a different opinion. Being in cahoots with Guru Pathik - and I'm certain that both Toasty, the toaster, and Are-You-Still-In, the bathroom, are conspirators as well; the two of you, please stop telling me to take the blue pill, because I know exactly which pill to take - he smartly noted, "Technically, the dictionary now has words like 'unfriend'. Are you going to follow the modern rules of grammar?"
"What?" I cried. "No! No! Unfriend can never be a word! The day it becomes a word is the day the universe implodes!"
Now my sound chakra is blocked, because I am lying to myself that they were not, in fact, errors.
Now my sound chakra is blocked, because I am under the illusion that the grammar of the world isn't quite over and dead.
As the onslaught against the Forces of Grammar continued, with Twitter and Facebook rampaging through the land, burning more things than even Trogdor the Burninator, and making myself act like some sort of fool Ukrainian struck by lightning - hey, wait a second - I was forced onto the defensive. Sitting under a blanket with my Council of War - a penny, a chip, a slightly used napkin, tea server Aang, and Noh Koh - I unrolled my map of the world and started to plan a strategy of total warfare.
I planned to begin at a little place known as the Avatar Wiki. Though I was currently there as an agent of fanon, I knew that soon enough, I would start my quest to world domination, just as soon as I could finish off the last round of ABCLAF chapters.
"Today: Grammar. Tomorrow: The world!"
Thus, to my loyal subjects, I apologize sincerely for lacking on my canon edits in recent times. The second I finish posting ABCLAF - currently scheduled on July 30th - I swear that I will continue the Comma Crusade and ride Armored Appa to victory!
Now my energy chakra is blocked, because I am attached to grammar. And Arthur.
Update: Shortly after posting this, I found my confiscated Koh plushie. You know what? Being a Grammar Ozai rocks.
See you next time!
~The Avatar Demotivator