A Phonemological Analysis
by Harold P. Dowd
The consignment came by phone, without warming, under the cubbard of Knight: "Write something
inciteful, something refluxive, about the British ack-SEN-triks (sp?) movement," said a voice belong
ing to the polisher of a distinguished nonsense magazine, if I heard the mission correctly before my
telephone
self-destructed in exactly 10 seconds. I was told that this movement,
if I chose to write about it, roughly coin-sided with the "Tern of the
Century." But the tip proved an unread herring, at best, as I knew
nothing about that bird (the afermented tern), which must have been a
standout in the Avian halls of omthidontistry, nor the century in which
it made its fleeting appearance. Nor had I heard anything about the
ill-legged ack-SEN-triks movement, British or otherwise, of any spelling
or denomination. I was not, in truth, particularly well-traversed in
this subject and was man enough to deny it to the hilt. My strategy was
to do what any professional generalist - including well-known calumnists
formerly on the parole of the Boston Globe - would have done in my
place: I got proactive and procreative.
Eccentric Possibilities
There
were, as best I could palpipate, only a hamful of possibilities. In the
interests of thoroughbrededness, I decided to dissect them all- both
one at a time and individually - to explode the various options until
the correct interpretation became oblivious. Who were these forgotten
men of science (not to be a sextant), and what remarkable contributions
did they make to the evincement of knowledge and ineffectual marsh of
progress?
It was not the science itself that stood out so much as the way it was
resented, which made me think that my assignment could have reverted to
the British "accentrics," since scientific instigators of British
persuasion have always talked funny (to my untrammeled ear, at least),
employing a strange accent - a stiltified manner of speech - best
described as "British." I had occasion to meet one of these types, an
English agronomist (actually farm-assist by trade) whose car broke down
in Centerville and ended up in Barney's one night having a stiff one,
while Walt and the gang gave his vehicle a stiff going over. With a name
that sounded like "Cereal," he sure talked funny, just like on TV
("Fawlty Trousers"), going on for hours about clowned sheep and
genitally-engineered soybeans. A nice guy, albeit lungwinded, but
definitely accentric.
Speaking of TV, awhile back, perhaps on
Late Night with David Lederhosen, I saw something that might have been
called "Stupid Egg-Zen Tricks." I can't remember what happened, but I
believe the extinguished guest (British Inlander perhaps?) sat on a
dozen of middle-aged-America's farm-fresh finest while
mediating/levitating - omitting occasional comments on the miracle of M.
Byronic development - as the host's Lederhosen stood by respectfully,
without cracking a single yoke.
Changeable Direction
There
was also, if my infirm grasp of medical history bears up, the
"ex-centrist movement" which, in the mist of the changeling currents of
the Thimes or Thames, missed its doc appointment altogether, drifting
either to the right or left, as the quays may be.
The British "Et
Ceterists," an elite scientific debate society, capped off many an
argument with the epigram ETC, standing for "Evident Thus Correct" or
some such variegation. This group is, of course, a direct nonlinear
precursor to Rush Limbo's lesion of "dittoheads" and the contemporaneous
"parrotheads" of Buffett fame, who speak so longingly of
"Magritteville" - also home to the factitious French detective composted
by Simenon.
British Sex? Western Meat?
The
British sex tantrics, to miss a metaphor or two, performed tricks using
all manner of unnatural axe, combining the best of the Missionary and
Hindish traditions. East meats West/West eats Meat, some say, though
others wish they never had. I submit, from my va unted vantage point,
that the less said about this sorted lot the better.
Leaving no
stone interred, I trust we've finally deconstructed the mystery
surrounding the barefoot, treeclimbing, simian-loving band of
taxidermists (and other stuffed shirts) known to some - and loved by all
who knew them - as the British ack-SEN- triks movement, a group whose
money contributions to diverse areas of basic research have gained
interest over the decades, accumulating an ultimate yield that could
never have been predicted at the time.
