There are times here on E2 when you will find yourself downvoted for being grossly and consistently illiterate.

Those are the times when the Grammar Demons walk the Earth. They blend into the darkness, but their eyes are red. You can see the glow if you sit very still and watch. They stalk silently and patiently from node to node, and they don't smile at the jokes. It's nothing personal: This is their job. They are nine feet tall. They are gaunt and stooped. Their ears hang like leaves; their fingers are eleven inches long. Their skin is of felt, their voices are of felt.

Their motive is your motive: They have no motive. This is what they do. When a writeup is fouled, they touch it gently and it withers just a little bit.

Learn to propitiate them.

I originally did this as everyone, and I like the mysteriousness of that -- but dammit, I'm vain.

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