Tao of Gabe: On Accents

Gabe the Sacriligious Beaver here with an insightful thought experiment. The question of the week is: Do you remember how I told you that sometimes I repeat stories?

This is one of those and it’s not something as light and breezy as drug-addiction, teenage pregnancy, or a closeted bulimic drunk-driving a stolen cop car to a driveby to prove his manhood to his homies who he only talks to because his parents didn’t love him.
I am, of course, talking about accents: the gateway speech disorders.

Allow me to tell you an autobiographical story, which I can only assume is true as I’ve yet to research it.

I was a young tot out in Michigan with my French-Canadian cousin Dave and my mother when I saw some Wisconsin-raised children talking in their silly midwestern way.

I tried to talk to them in their local tongue so as to seem ‘cool’ in their eyes (together now: it’s Wis-kaaahhn-sin). It wasn’t like marijuana, PCP, cocaine, methamphetamines, or glue: I didn’t like it at first, but after a while, I just couldn’t stop myself. I would never tell my parents because I knew they wouldn’t understand.

Soon, regional accents just weren’t enough. It got to the point where I’d rent foreign films just to imitate the sounds that came out. I thought I could quit at any time, but whenever I heard toh-MAH-toh, I just couldn’t stop myself.

One day I woke up in a Mexican cleaning-lady’s broom closet wearing a sombrero and poncho listening to her sancho storm in and hoping he wouldn’t find me. That was when I knew I had a problem: I had to go to the bathroom.

But enough of my boring life story. Not everyone moves on from accents to slurs, lisps, dialects, and phonemes. Some people end up doing the ‘hard stuff’ like learning Elven, Klingon, or even German.

In any case, what matters is that you learn from my mistakes and not get started on accents: the middle-volumed killer. When the kids in your playground (or coffeehouse, I’m not sure what the college-age crowd does these days) start making fun of how a Scotsman would sound in bed, just cover your ears.

It’s not that funny: Scotsmen don’t get women in bed. They get [editor: insert sheep joke here]. Man, that was a wooly joke! Ha ha!

Of course, when we say to stay away from accents, we don’t mean people who have natural accents. Even you have a natural accent, I know what I’m talking aboot, I’m Canadian.
The trick is to speak to people who are different in such a way as to not adopt their mannerisms. I suggest plugging your ears and chanting your cultural music loudly (“Barbie Girl” by Aqua) while they speak.

If you explain it as a cultural anomily, I’m sure they won’t take offense. At least Canadians won’t. We do it to Americans all the time.

Looove,
Gabe D. Beaver

“Remember Kids: Allegories are the new metaphors.”

Gabe the Sacriligious Beaver here with an insightful thought experiment. The question of the week is: Do you remember how I told you that sometimes I repeat stories? This is one of those and it’s not something as light and breezy as drug-addiction, teenage pregnancy, or a closeted bulimic drunk-driving a stolen cop car to…