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Why doesn’t josh use proper punctuation?

Verily, sir, his writing style is extraordinary in its uncouthness. It has long been apparent to me that the decline of learning that marks the present age has been most exceedingly severe over 'across the pond,' as the saying has it, but the extent to which Mr. Moon - and I assure you that I use the honorific with the most extreme reluctance imaginable - and others of his ilk have abused the language of Shakespeare and Milton is not to be borne. The witless churl composes his sentences with all the care and craft of some guttersnipe from the declining years of Rome scrawling a sub-literate graffito upon the mighty works of stone which his forebears erected with such care and forethought. Right you are to rail, rail against this desecration of the immeasurable gift which has been passed down to us through the tender hands of Johnson, Tennyson, and Joyce (though the last was a d- Irishman). Oh, dear, I do believe that I feel a letter to the Times coming on... Please excuse me, dear sir.
 
Verily, sir, his writing style is extraordinary in its uncouthness. It has long been apparent to me that the decline of learning that marks the present age has been most exceedingly severe over 'across the pond,' as the saying has it, but the extent to which Mr. Moon - and I assure you that I use the honorific with the most extreme reluctance imaginable - and others of his ilk have abused the language of Shakespeare and Milton is not to be borne. The witless churl composes his sentences with all the care and craft of some guttersnipe from the declining years of Rome scrawling a sub-literate graffito upon the mighty works of stone which his forebears erected with such care and forethought. Right you are to rail, rail against this desecration of the immeasurable gift which has been passed down to us through the tender hands of Johnson, Tennyson, and Joyce (though the last was a d- Irishman). Oh, dear, I do believe that I feel a letter to the Times coming on... Please excuse me, dear sir.
This, but unironically
 
I say! 'Tis a most fortunate event to have stumbled upon a kindred soul in such vast swathes of darkness which are now snuffing out the modem times. Without even a smidgeon of the contents within a feckless carrier pigeon's letters that are so typically filled with caustic remarks, I shall now recite your papers in earnest: "Verily, sir, his writing style is extraordinary in its uncouthness. It has long been apparent to me that the decline of learning that marks the present age has been most exceedingly severe over 'across the pond,' as the saying has it, but the extent to which Mr. Moon - and I assure you that I use the honorific with the most extreme reluctance imaginable - and others of his ilk have abused the language of Shakespeare and Milton is not to be borne. The witless churl composes his sentences with all the care and craft of some guttersnipe from the declining years of Rome scrawling a sub-literate graffito upon the mighty works of stone which his forebears erected with such care and forethought. Right you are to rail, rail against this desecration of the immeasurable gift which has been passed down to us through the tender hands of Johnson, Tennyson, and Joyce (though the last was a d- Irishman). Oh, dear, I do believe that I feel a letter to the Times coming on... Please excuse me, dear sir..." I'm ascending into a new plane of existence with no surviving biological organisms.
 
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