One Mean Enthymeme
Here's an enthymeme in the popular Geico ad "So easy a caveman can do it.":
Geico Caveman 4: Fourth Commercial
Television Ad /October 1, 2006
<< A brand-new 30-second Geico Caveman spot is back on television featuring an airport sign over an airport walkway. When he is in the airport walking on the moving walkway he passes a billboard sign for Geico which reads “So easy a caveman can do it.” Seconds later, he walks back to the sign and just stares at it with digust followed by the Geico logo. . . >>
This commercial can be viewed at www.geico.com/video. Select "Enjoy our popular TV ads," "Caveman," and "Everyplace he goes, there is something to remind him."
The claim: Cavemen are able to get Geigo insurance.
The stated reason: Getting Geigo insurance is very easy to do.
Unstated assumption: Cavemen are not intelligent and viewers are intelligent.
- OR -
The claim: Getting Geico insurance is very easy to do.
The stated reason: Cavemen are able to get Geico insurance.
Unstated assumption: Cavemen are not intelligent and viewers are intelligent.
The enthymeme in this ad could be based on Aristotle's premise of "signs," as described on Page 184 of our Bizzell-Herzberg text: The fact that the character in the Geico billboard ad is a primitive caveman is a sign that he is someone who does not have enough intelligence or sophistication to acquire insurance. However, Geico makes purchasing insurance so easy that even a lowly caveman can do it. The implication that the viewers of this ad are much more intelligent and sophisticated than a caveman is a sign that they would have no trouble at all acquiring Geico insurance. Piece of cake! Of course, we realize that Geico has committed a heinous faux pas (and cute gag) when the modern-day caveman who spots the billboard in an airport appears to be intelligent and sophisticated -- and deeply offended by Geico's insult to him and/or his caveman society.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Commentary #4 (Kairos)
The Right Words at the Right Time (aka Kairos)
On August 28, 1963, civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr., executed one of the most recognized and remembered works of rhetoric in American history, his “I Have a Dream” speech. About 200,000 people flocked to the Lincoln Memorial to listen to King and/or to otherwise participate in the March on Washington, a demonstration held on the 100th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. Simply stated, the purpose was to achieve civil rights for black American citizens.
An ordained minister, and the son of a minister, King was a skilled and experienced orator who knew what it took to not only attract a crowd but also engage it. As exemplified in his “Dream” speech, he understood the tools of effective rhetoric and used them to his advantage. Before he ever stepped up to the podium or uttered a word on that August 28, King had carefully laid the groundwork by concentrating on kairos. How wise of him to set the stage for this event by selecting the 100-year anniversary of the signing of the proclamation that officially ended slavery in the United States. Focusing on that appropriate and fleeting window of opportunity allowed him to invoke an important historical event and to peacefully, rightfully complain that the goal of Lincoln’s proclamation had not yet been fully realized. Furthermore, he knew the members of his audience (most of whom were both Christian and patriotic) and how to appeal to them.
King delivered his dramatic speech forty-four years ago, but just last Thursday, September 20, his name and his mission resurfaced in the news. The Associated Press (AP) reported a demonstration in Jena, Louisiana, where six black teens (the “Jena Six”) had been charged with the attempted murder of a white classmate, whom they allegedly beat up. Demonstrators, including Rev. Al Sharpton, protested the charges, declaring that, a few months earlier, three white teens accused of placing nooses in a tree on school grounds were only suspended from school, not prosecuted. The protestors claimed racial bias. Obviously attuned to good kairos, Martin Luther King III took the opportunity to compare the current issue with the civil-rights struggles of his father’s day. According to the AP, MLKIII said the six defendants may require punishment, but “the justice system isn’t applied the same to all crimes and all people.”
Now let’s project a bit. I have read that the Martin Luther King, Jr., Memorial – the first monument on the National Mall to honor a black American – is scheduled for completion in the spring of 2008. Furthermore, the forty-year anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., is April 4, 2008. Might we anticipate additional impressive demonstrations of kairos in the near future?
Carpe diem!
On August 28, 1963, civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr., executed one of the most recognized and remembered works of rhetoric in American history, his “I Have a Dream” speech. About 200,000 people flocked to the Lincoln Memorial to listen to King and/or to otherwise participate in the March on Washington, a demonstration held on the 100th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. Simply stated, the purpose was to achieve civil rights for black American citizens.
An ordained minister, and the son of a minister, King was a skilled and experienced orator who knew what it took to not only attract a crowd but also engage it. As exemplified in his “Dream” speech, he understood the tools of effective rhetoric and used them to his advantage. Before he ever stepped up to the podium or uttered a word on that August 28, King had carefully laid the groundwork by concentrating on kairos. How wise of him to set the stage for this event by selecting the 100-year anniversary of the signing of the proclamation that officially ended slavery in the United States. Focusing on that appropriate and fleeting window of opportunity allowed him to invoke an important historical event and to peacefully, rightfully complain that the goal of Lincoln’s proclamation had not yet been fully realized. Furthermore, he knew the members of his audience (most of whom were both Christian and patriotic) and how to appeal to them.
King delivered his dramatic speech forty-four years ago, but just last Thursday, September 20, his name and his mission resurfaced in the news. The Associated Press (AP) reported a demonstration in Jena, Louisiana, where six black teens (the “Jena Six”) had been charged with the attempted murder of a white classmate, whom they allegedly beat up. Demonstrators, including Rev. Al Sharpton, protested the charges, declaring that, a few months earlier, three white teens accused of placing nooses in a tree on school grounds were only suspended from school, not prosecuted. The protestors claimed racial bias. Obviously attuned to good kairos, Martin Luther King III took the opportunity to compare the current issue with the civil-rights struggles of his father’s day. According to the AP, MLKIII said the six defendants may require punishment, but “the justice system isn’t applied the same to all crimes and all people.”
Now let’s project a bit. I have read that the Martin Luther King, Jr., Memorial – the first monument on the National Mall to honor a black American – is scheduled for completion in the spring of 2008. Furthermore, the forty-year anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., is April 4, 2008. Might we anticipate additional impressive demonstrations of kairos in the near future?
Carpe diem!
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Commentary #3 (Aspasia)
Behind Every Great Man…(yada yada yada)
In her article, “sex, lies, and manuscript: Refiguring Aspasia in the History of Rhetoric,” Cheryl Glenn writes, “As part of the feminist challenge to the history of rhetoric, I want to reconstruct and refigure a woman whose texts, life, and manuscripts have been annexed by men: Aspasia of Miletus.”
The word that piqued my interest in the sentence quoted above was “annexed,” and Glenn did not disappoint in explaining how it applies to Aspasia.
First of all, Glenn tells us Aspasia was already a remarkable woman of extraordinary circumstances before she even relocated from Miletus to Athens. She had become educated at a time when Athenian girls did not read, much less attend school, and very few women were allowed to venture beyond the domestic domain of home, marriage, and motherhood.
Aspasia’s intimate relationship with the briliant Pericles no doubt helped bring her to the attention of his socially prominent peers. At the same time, however, Pericles’ intimate relationship with the brilliant Aspasia apparently enriched his body of work, his academic stature, and his reputation as well. Because women were not invited into the male arena of rhetoric, Pericles was able to incorporate Aspasia’s work into his own, without qualms. Glenn reminds us that some sources have credited Aspasia with writing Pericles’ well-know funeral oration, elevating Pericles’ level of education through her instruction, organizing and operating “an academy for young women of good families…that soon became a popular salon for the most influential men of the day: Socrates, Plato, Anaxagoras, Sophocles, Phidias, and Pericles” (184), and basically ghost-writing a number of the rhetorical creations for which he took credit. If Aspasia authored as many of Pericles’ creations as has been hinted at by several scholars, then she truly personifies the old saw, “Behind every great man is a great woman.” The regret is that we can’t experience Aspasia directly and personally through her own words, her own work. Unless such gems are eventually uncovered, we’re left with only second-hand impressions from the men who annexed her texts, life, and manuscripts.
Work Cited
Glenn, Cheryl. “sex, lies, and manuscript: Refiguring Aspasia in the History of Rhetoric.” College Composition and Communication 45 (1994): 181-199.
In her article, “sex, lies, and manuscript: Refiguring Aspasia in the History of Rhetoric,” Cheryl Glenn writes, “As part of the feminist challenge to the history of rhetoric, I want to reconstruct and refigure a woman whose texts, life, and manuscripts have been annexed by men: Aspasia of Miletus.”
The word that piqued my interest in the sentence quoted above was “annexed,” and Glenn did not disappoint in explaining how it applies to Aspasia.
First of all, Glenn tells us Aspasia was already a remarkable woman of extraordinary circumstances before she even relocated from Miletus to Athens. She had become educated at a time when Athenian girls did not read, much less attend school, and very few women were allowed to venture beyond the domestic domain of home, marriage, and motherhood.
Aspasia’s intimate relationship with the briliant Pericles no doubt helped bring her to the attention of his socially prominent peers. At the same time, however, Pericles’ intimate relationship with the brilliant Aspasia apparently enriched his body of work, his academic stature, and his reputation as well. Because women were not invited into the male arena of rhetoric, Pericles was able to incorporate Aspasia’s work into his own, without qualms. Glenn reminds us that some sources have credited Aspasia with writing Pericles’ well-know funeral oration, elevating Pericles’ level of education through her instruction, organizing and operating “an academy for young women of good families…that soon became a popular salon for the most influential men of the day: Socrates, Plato, Anaxagoras, Sophocles, Phidias, and Pericles” (184), and basically ghost-writing a number of the rhetorical creations for which he took credit. If Aspasia authored as many of Pericles’ creations as has been hinted at by several scholars, then she truly personifies the old saw, “Behind every great man is a great woman.” The regret is that we can’t experience Aspasia directly and personally through her own words, her own work. Unless such gems are eventually uncovered, we’re left with only second-hand impressions from the men who annexed her texts, life, and manuscripts.
Work Cited
Glenn, Cheryl. “sex, lies, and manuscript: Refiguring Aspasia in the History of Rhetoric.” College Composition and Communication 45 (1994): 181-199.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Commentary #2 (Gorgias)
Don't Blame Rhetoric!
No offense, Socrates, but blaming Rhetoric for the ills of mankind just doesn’t make sense.
In Gorgias, you speak of Rhetoric as if she were a lying, conniving manipulator. You say she is a fake and a flatterer who doesn’t care about representing reality. You portray her as artless, irrational, and self-serving. In fact, you compare her work to “cookery,” a tasty but useless concoction that pretends to be something it is not.
However, your criticisms of this lady seem harsh and narrow-minded. The Rhetoric I know is genuine, honest, and real. Her talent is in a useful art, and she offers it to all who are interested in learning it. Yes, she is she smart – and often a smart-aleck – and powerful, too, but she does not force or even encourage evil actions. You seem offended that the Sophists have drawn from Rhetoric to build profitable teaching careers. Well, Socrates, not all of them were born with silver spoons in their mouths; and most people need to earn money to pay their bills.
Your tangent for blaming dear Rhetoric for the evil actions of corrupt orators who have misused her tools is ridiculous. After all, would one blame a loving mother, who has patiently taught her preschooler how to lace and tie his own shoes, for the mischief he performs later, secretly, when he ties his daddy’s shoes together, in a knot? Surely not.
Socrates, you have stated that honorable people are happy and that wicked people are wretched. You also maintain that “doing wrong is fouler than suffering it.” If both are true, then you can be sure that Rhetoric is a happy camper, perhaps even strengthened by the blows you and other philosophers have inflicted upon her.
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No offense, Socrates, but blaming Rhetoric for the ills of mankind just doesn’t make sense.
In Gorgias, you speak of Rhetoric as if she were a lying, conniving manipulator. You say she is a fake and a flatterer who doesn’t care about representing reality. You portray her as artless, irrational, and self-serving. In fact, you compare her work to “cookery,” a tasty but useless concoction that pretends to be something it is not.
However, your criticisms of this lady seem harsh and narrow-minded. The Rhetoric I know is genuine, honest, and real. Her talent is in a useful art, and she offers it to all who are interested in learning it. Yes, she is she smart – and often a smart-aleck – and powerful, too, but she does not force or even encourage evil actions. You seem offended that the Sophists have drawn from Rhetoric to build profitable teaching careers. Well, Socrates, not all of them were born with silver spoons in their mouths; and most people need to earn money to pay their bills.
Your tangent for blaming dear Rhetoric for the evil actions of corrupt orators who have misused her tools is ridiculous. After all, would one blame a loving mother, who has patiently taught her preschooler how to lace and tie his own shoes, for the mischief he performs later, secretly, when he ties his daddy’s shoes together, in a knot? Surely not.
Socrates, you have stated that honorable people are happy and that wicked people are wretched. You also maintain that “doing wrong is fouler than suffering it.” If both are true, then you can be sure that Rhetoric is a happy camper, perhaps even strengthened by the blows you and other philosophers have inflicted upon her.
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Saturday, September 1, 2007
Commentary #1 (Phaedrus)
Socrates in the Phaedrus: A Subtle Suitor?
From the beginning of Plato’s Phaedrus, the teacher Socrates seems to attempt – ever so gently – to win at least the intellectual affection of a student, the young man Phaedrus, who is in possession of a speech by the orator Lysias.
First, Socrates selects a lovely bucolic spot, near a cool stream and under a fragrant flowering plane tree – a pleasant background for listening to a speech and an ideal location for an intimate rendezvous. Then Socrates, a self-professed urbanite, insists he was lured to the country because Phaedrus had “found the charm” to get him there. Ostensibly, that “charm” is Lysias’ speech, but the teacher might also be drawn by the student’s personal charm. Socrates lies down in the lush grass to listen and invites Phaedrus to get comfortable, too.
Although Socrates makes no overt advances toward the young man, he frequently addresses him affectionately as “my dear,” “dear Phaedrus,” “my dear Phaedrus,” “fair youth,” “my good friend,” and “my friend” and refers to him as “the fair young Phaedrus.” Socrates’ use of these terms of endearment might reveal a fondness for – and perhaps an attraction to – the good-looking young man.
Furthermore, while Socrates’ glib criticisms of Lysias’ speech smartly address the topics of love and rhetoric, they might also serve to elevate this teacher’s stature in the eyes of an impressionable student. After Socrates complains that Lysias’ speech lacks an introduction and is arranged in a “helter-skelter” fashion, he submits his own well formulated ideas of how rhetoric should be practiced. The spirit of one-upmanship may not be blatant, but it is present.
While Socrates would seemingly like to win Phaedrus’ intellectual attention, he may be considering a physical relationship with the handsome young man as well. After all, loving bonds between adult mentors and attractive students (all males) were not only acceptable, but expected, in ancient Greek society.
From the beginning of Plato’s Phaedrus, the teacher Socrates seems to attempt – ever so gently – to win at least the intellectual affection of a student, the young man Phaedrus, who is in possession of a speech by the orator Lysias.
First, Socrates selects a lovely bucolic spot, near a cool stream and under a fragrant flowering plane tree – a pleasant background for listening to a speech and an ideal location for an intimate rendezvous. Then Socrates, a self-professed urbanite, insists he was lured to the country because Phaedrus had “found the charm” to get him there. Ostensibly, that “charm” is Lysias’ speech, but the teacher might also be drawn by the student’s personal charm. Socrates lies down in the lush grass to listen and invites Phaedrus to get comfortable, too.
Although Socrates makes no overt advances toward the young man, he frequently addresses him affectionately as “my dear,” “dear Phaedrus,” “my dear Phaedrus,” “fair youth,” “my good friend,” and “my friend” and refers to him as “the fair young Phaedrus.” Socrates’ use of these terms of endearment might reveal a fondness for – and perhaps an attraction to – the good-looking young man.
Furthermore, while Socrates’ glib criticisms of Lysias’ speech smartly address the topics of love and rhetoric, they might also serve to elevate this teacher’s stature in the eyes of an impressionable student. After Socrates complains that Lysias’ speech lacks an introduction and is arranged in a “helter-skelter” fashion, he submits his own well formulated ideas of how rhetoric should be practiced. The spirit of one-upmanship may not be blatant, but it is present.
While Socrates would seemingly like to win Phaedrus’ intellectual attention, he may be considering a physical relationship with the handsome young man as well. After all, loving bonds between adult mentors and attractive students (all males) were not only acceptable, but expected, in ancient Greek society.
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