They Just Happened to Be There When I Fired Them.

Quote:  “…you said something that struck me:  that sometimes it just came down to these were not the right people at the right time.  If I applied that standard to you, what would you say?”  Senator Lindsay Graham to Attorney General Alberto Gonzales.

Figure of Speech:  paromologia (pa-ro-mo-LO-gia), the sacrifice-fly figure.  From the Greek, meaning “partial agreement.”

Why were the 13 district attorneys fired?  For “cause,” Gonzales said at first.  He later switched his story, admitting that the motive was political.  Now he offers the Dick Cheney “He Was In the Line of Fire” defense:  they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Senator Graham, a Republican and a former prosecutor himself, takes that point and flings it back at Gonzales’ head as a paromologia:  Might one reach the same conclusion about you, Mr. Gonzales?

A form of concession, the paromologia grants the opponent’s point only to use it against him.  The other guy feels like he just got smacked with his own boomerang — or, as rhetorically trained William Shakespeare put it, “hoist with his own petard.”

Snappy Answer: “If you’re referring to these hearings, Senator, I can’t agree more.”

 For more on using your opponents’ words, see page 98 of Figaro’s book.

Speechless Speech

Quote:  “I cannot begin to convey my own personal sense of loss over this senselessness of such an incomprehensible and heinous act.” Charles W. Steger, president of Virginia Tech, in Time.

Figure of Speech:  adynaton (a-DIN-a-ton), the loss-for-words figure. Also spelled adynata. From the Greek, meaning “powerless.”

A senior on this quiet university campus killed at least 32 people with a pair of handguns, leaving the place — the whole nation — in shock.  President Steger responds with an adynaton, a figure of thought that amplifies his language by proclaiming its inadequacy.  His words express how poorly words express.  (See another use for the adynaton here.)

You usually find the figure in demonstrative rhetoric, the speech of values.  That’s the rhetoric President Steger uses.  But people are beginning to question how the university handled the crisis; that’s forensic rhetoric, the language of crime and punishment.  And soon, deliberative rhetoric will have its say — political speech that determines what’s best in the long run.  If the student purchased those handguns legally, you’ll hear this rhetoric very soon.

Snappy Answer:  None. We grieve with you.

See more on the three types of rhetoric on page 27 of Figaro’s book.

And He Makes Fun of Other People’s Looks?

Quote:   “A cleaning lady.”  Disgraced talk show host Don Imus, referring to African-American journalist Gwen Ifill.

Figure of Speech:  meiosis (my-O-sis), the shrinking figure.  From the Greek, meaning “shrink.”

Don “nappy-headed ho” Imus finds himself banished from Talkshowland for racially insulting the Rutgers women’s basketball team.  As many websites have pointed out for years, this wasn’t the first time.  Imus  is a card-carrying epithetist.

Take his slur of PBS broadcaster Gwen Ifill.  Take his slur of PBS broadcaster Gwen Ifill.  She refused to appear on his show, accusing Imus of racism.  What, me, a racist? Why, that cleaning lady!

That’s a meiosis, a labeling figure that literally belittles a person or thing.  Here in New England we call a lake a “pond.”  That’s a meiosis.  The flattering trend among clothing retailers to apply a size 8 label to a size 10 dress:  that’s a meiosis as well.

Our bloviated, chest-thumping society could actually use more understated language.  But when you sling a meiosis at people of color, get ready for a pink slip.

Snappy Answer:   “A corpse.”

For more on labeling, see chapter 12 of Figaro’s book.

We’re Sorry, But Soap Is Not a Cause

Quote:  “Are you pro-age or anti-age?”  Slogan for the beauty brand Dove.

Figure of Speech: false dilemma fallacy.

Selling soap has a new wrinkle:  Dove’s campaign for “real beauty,” which shows nude women of a certain age.  Being a fan of real beauty, Figaro applauds the imagery.  But he hates the slogan.

Dove joins the inane politicization of everything.  The beauty-product site has a link to “join the debate,” for crying out loud.  What debate?  To paraphrase Donald Rumsfeld, age happens.  Asking whether you’re pro-age or anti-age is like wondering where you stand on gravity.  

The Dove campaign commits the fallacy of the false dilemma, one of logic’s most insidious tricks.  It gives you two choices when you actually have many choices or none at all.  The harm comes from our instinct to join a party rather than consider the issue.  You’re either for them or against them — either liberal or conservative, Rush Limbaugh Dittohead or Al Frankenstein, pro beauty soap or anti beauty soap.

Figaro is all for boosting the self-esteem of fifty-somethings.  But he remains an age agnostic.

Snappy Answer:  “I’m anti-vanity.”

Feel Free

Quote:  “That is one of the mistakes a lot of people make — believing that uncensored speech is the most free, when in fact, managed civil dialogue is actually the freer speech.”  Blogospherian Tim O’Reilly, quoted in the New York Times.

Figure of Speech:  antanaclasis (AN-tan-a-CLA0sis), the repetition that changes. From the Greek, meaning “breaking up against.”

A few prominent bloggers are trying to come up with a code of conduct for the Web.  The rules include banning anonymous comments and reserving the right to delete nasty ones.  Those who consider the Internet the last bastion of freedom find the proposed rules repugnant.

One of the code authors, Tim O’Reilly, counters with an antanaclasis, a figure that repeats a word and attaches a different meaning the second time around.   It’s a great way to redefine an issue.  Uncensored means free, right?  Not if you define freedom as a form of “civil dialogue.”

But the issue here isn’t freedom; it’s whether we can argue properly.  Until we learn how, self-respecting bloggers  will have to use the delete button.

Snappy Answer:  “So less freedom means more freedom. Thanks for clearing that up.”

For more on civility, see page 273 of Figaro’s book.

Doing Pop

Quote:  “The strangest thing I’ve tried to snort? My father.  I snorted my father.”  Rolling Stone Keith Richards, quoted in the British music magazine NME.

Figure of Speech:  synecdoche (syn-EC-do-che), the all hands on deck figure. From the Greek, meaning “swap.”

The ancient rocker, bored with blowing his mind, indulged in a hit of old man by mixing some of his ashes with cocaine.  Frankly, we’re not impressed.  It’s not like Richards snorted all of Dad — just enough to represent him.

That is what makes today’s quote a synecdoche, one of the central figures of speech.  A part stands for the whole, or vice versa, turning a “hand” into a sailor and the White House into the presidency.  Richard’s self-abusive synecdoche transformed a bit of funereal ash into an entire paterfamilias.

It’s a nice dose of rhetoric;  the Greeks agreed that figures can affect an audience like a psychotropic drug.  But what works even more like a drug, the great rhetorician Homer Simpson said,  is drugs.

Snappy Answer:  “So ‘Sister Morphine’ isn’t a metaphor?”  (Thanks to Slate for this snap.)

 For more on the mind-blowing effects of figures, see page 82 of Figaro’s book.

Update on Wednesday, April 4, 2007 at 05:29PM by Figaro

This just in:  Richards woke from his revery and said he was just kidding.   We think he’s kidding about his kidding.

 Also, we made a major blunder, attributing his dad to the wrong figure.  It’s a synecdoche, not a metonymy.  Figaro must have been smoking something.