South Mississippi Sun-Herald to The New Yorker: They're Called Periods...
Very funny piece.
It is time, once again, for propounding a paean to the period. Heavenly dot! Divine orb! Precious pea of punctuation! Let us pray for thy unceasing employment!
Why this unseemly ruckus? I shall explain - regretfully explain. On Oct. 4, The New Yorker magazine carried 1,500 words of truly abominable editing. The piece was a think-piece of little thought. It started nowhere, went nowhere, and arrived at no interesting destination. Even so, the content was not improved by the style. All of us may learn something here.