Truespel is the World’s first “pronunciation guide spelling system” based American English, the world’s most important language.
Oh, dear! Didn't anyone tell this poor soul that this kind of thing has been tried before -- and it failed? It's just not possible to have standardised spelling and a phonetic spelling. Well, not unless you can get everyone to speak in exactly the same accent!
To me it seems like the bastard child of lolcats and Middle English and twice as hard to read as either of them. :)
It does come with a handy translator though, so if you want, you can see what your limpid prose would sound like written in Truespel. Hours of harmless amusement can be had this way. :)
Here's a snippet from the W now back IP...
Maark reechd out tue skrach thu animool beehhiend wun eer, then hee muevd ullaungsied, runeeng hiz handz oever thu damp nek. Seeweed wuz taengoold in thu laung maen; wauter dripd frum thu end uv its tael. Hee dug hiz feengerz intue thu silkee koet at thu baesuv thu aarchd nek and felt thu hors rillaks uggenst him az hee needid uwwae itstenshin.
"Iel taek it bak doun thu beech," Maark kauld tue hiz famlee, thoe it wuz an efert tue speek civilly tue them. "See if Ie ken fiend its oener."
Hee kaantemplaetid thu lenthh uv thu beech, emptee uppaart frum u loen jogger and u fyue skaterd kupoolz waukeeng thair ussortid daugz. Noe wun lookd az thoe thae had laust u hors. Thu hors had eether slipd its hed-kaaler and ivvaedid its handler, or it had eskkaepd frum its feeld. Eether wae it had aabveeyislee kum frum thu southh end uv thu beech, soe hee needid tue taek it bak in that durrekshin. Hee eyed thu hors spekyuelutivlee. It seemd kwieyit innuf.
Mark reached out to scratch the animal behind one ear, then he moved alongside, running his hands over the damp neck. Seaweed was tangled in the long mane; water dripped from the end of its tail. He dug his fingers into the silky coat at the base of the arched neck and felt the horse relax against him as he kneaded away its tension.
"I'll take it back down the beach," Mark called to his family, though it was an effort to speak civilly to them. "See if I can find its owner."
He contemplated the length of the beach, empty apart from a lone jogger and a few scattered couples walking their assorted dogs. No one looked as though they had lost a horse. The horse had either slipped its head-collar and evaded its handler, or it had escaped from its field. Either way it had obviously come from the south end of the beach, so he needed to take it back in that direction. He eyed the horse speculatively. It seemed quiet enough.