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A group of nouns staged an intervention for their adjective friend. 'You have a problem,' said Table firmly. 'Every time you describe something, you bring fourteen of your cousins along.' The adjective looked around the room—at the concerned, worried, troubled, anxious, distressed, uneasy, and apprehensive faces—and whispered, 'I can stop whenever I want.' Behind her, Thesaurus nodded enthusiastically, vigorously, and with great fervor.
An Oxford comma files for divorce. In court, the judge asks: 'What are your irreconcilable differences?'
The comma sighs: 'My spouse introduced me to their parents, the Queen of England and a professional wrestler. I've spent years trying to figure out if that's two people or four. The ambiguity is killing our relationship.'
The judge nods sympathetically: 'Case dismissed—I mean, case, dismissed.'
A passive voice construction finally went to therapy. 'I feel like I'm never the one doing anything,' it complained. 'Actions are always being done by me, but I'm never doing them myself. My self-esteem has been destroyed.' The therapist nodded thoughtfully. 'And how does that make you feel?' The passive voice sighed. 'Feelings are being felt by me, but honestly, I couldn't tell you which ones.'
At the funeral for the Oxford comma, three speakers gave eulogies: the grammarian, the editor and the journalist. The grammarian wept: 'Without you, I once invited the strippers, JFK and Stalin to a party.' The editor nodded solemnly: 'You prevented so many disasters.' The journalist shrugged: 'Honestly, we stopped using you years ago. We needed the space.' The Oxford comma's ghost appeared briefly, hovering between the last two mourners, exactly where it belonged.
A group of nouns staged an intervention for their adjective friend. 'You have a problem,' said Table firmly. 'Every time you describe something, you bring fourteen of your cousins along.' The adjective looked around the room—at the concerned, worried, troubled, anxious, distressed, uneasy, and apprehensive faces—and whispered, 'I can stop whenever I want.' Behind her, Thesaurus nodded enthusiastically, vigorously, and with great fervor.
An Oxford comma files for divorce. In court, the judge asks: 'What are your irreconcilable differences?' The comma sighs: 'My spouse introduced me to their parents, the Queen of England and a professional wrestler. I've spent years trying to figure out if that's two people or four. The ambiguity is killing our relationship.' The judge nods sympathetically: 'Case dismissed—I mean, case, dismissed.'
A passive voice construction finally went to therapy. 'I feel like I'm never the one doing anything,' it complained. 'Actions are always being done by me, but I'm never doing them myself. My self-esteem has been destroyed.' The therapist nodded thoughtfully. 'And how does that make you feel?' The passive voice sighed. 'Feelings are being felt by me, but honestly, I couldn't tell you which ones.'
At the funeral for the Oxford comma, three speakers gave eulogies: the grammarian, the editor and the journalist. The grammarian wept: 'Without you, I once invited the strippers, JFK and Stalin to a party.' The editor nodded solemnly: 'You prevented so many disasters.' The journalist shrugged: 'Honestly, we stopped using you years ago. We needed the space.' The Oxford comma's ghost appeared briefly, hovering between the last two mourners, exactly where it belonged.
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