Under the Sea

I take a surprisingly small amount of personal pride in persuading you to put pen to paper, dearest Karen. Or presumably more accurately, fingertip to keyboard. Or presumably even more accurately, given that we’ve learned the true nature of both fingertip and keyboard, let me almost entirely rephrase my opening gambit and write “I take a surprisingly small amount of personal pride in persuading you to put tendency to tendency.” In fact, this syntactical redress momentarily shipwrecks me on the shore of an even more remote island. Where does all this Quantum Confusion leave the hard-working members of the academic linguistic community (and their Man Fridays, such as myself)? Should every noun now be replaced with the word “tendency”? How far down this this linguistic rabbit hole should we go? Perhaps we won’t get a choice and will simply fall like Alice*.

Returning to the matter in hand (pun intended; and remember neither matter nor hand is actually touching the other), the reason for my pride’s lack of mass is due to my concern and sense of overwhelming guilt at aggravating this fear of your sofa (and inciting it in myself as a consequence). The prospect of couch-led Universe Lebensraum is unsettling in the extreme, but adds weight to the old adage that it’s always the quiet ones. I thought mine was supremely benevolent; I had no idea of the cosmic bellicosity which lurked beneath its worn leathery exterior. Should I find myself in the unenviable situation of being menaced by an orca whale, I shall offer my traitorous settee as some sort of fabric makepeace. I doubt it would be accepted. Settees, not being mammalian, lack the cheesy aftertaste of vernix caseosa** which I suspect (though have no way of proving) orcas slavishly and secretly crave. Had I a seal to use in this oceanic stand-off, instead of a settee, the orca might somehow be convinced to let me go.

All this talk of vernix caseosa is really just a prelude to me introducing into the forum another much maligned theoretical argument, alongside the theories of our beloved "What the Bleep...?" This is the Aquatic Ape Theory, First posited by Elaine Morgan in 1942, A.A.T. postulates that our ancestors, at some point in ancient history, spent time evolving in a aquatic (or semi-aquatic) environment, and uses evidence apparently suggesting that humans are biologically closer to marine mammals than the great apes to support the claim.

Your suggestion that I write on myself in response to "What the Bleep...?" was met with some circumspection amongst the constantly moving and disappearing particles nominally referred to as my brain. Their doubts arose not at the origin of the suggestion, rather because they were planning to coerce the rest of the constantly moving and disappearing particles that (again, nominally) constitute my body into a vigorous test of the A.A.T. They're worried it'll wash off once submerged. I'm sure the rest of me would at least understand their logic, if it wasn't so elusive.

Sadly devoid now of vernix caseosa (and so eliminating the chance to use myself and a baby seal as a taste test for any local orcas), I'm choosing instead to take myself off to the nearst lido and to set up camp in the shallow end to see if I really am more suited to life there, by thoroughly examine the following tasiest morsels of evidence from the A.A.T. lobby:

1) Lack of hair, similar to aquatic mammals and in contrast to the ape (speak for yourself, Elaine. Have you seen my beard? Have you seen my eyebrows? "Aquadynamic" would not be your first response).

2) Increased subcutaneous fat; again like our slippery friends (I think, in my case, this arose more with the discovery of Cool Ranch Doritos at University, rather than any hangover from my protohuman forefathers).

3) The human brain requires certain nutrients found most easily and absorbed most efficiently from seafood (our ancestors must have had exceptional hand-eye coordination too then, given the presumable lack of nets and fishing rods back in the day. Either that or protofish must have been as gullible as the Red Rail).

So, dear KP, you must sally forth into the world of particle-influnce single-handed. Or single-tendencied. Unless you can write with both tendencies, that would probably be the case anyway.

I'll get back to you with news of the A.A.T. test. If you and the cats fancy joining me, make sure you bring a permanent marker for you, and some clippers for them. Can't have them slowing us down below the surface.

RF

* Tim Burton’s Wonderland/Underland and its inhabitants seem to suffer from a very unpredictable (though extremely visible) condition of the laws of Quantum Physics. It may yet emerge that Burton’s “Alice…” is simply a sequel to ‘What the Bleep…?”, cleverly concealed and marketed beneath Lewis Carroll’s original tendency.

** Vernix caseosa is the birth-slime to which you referred in your last post, KP.