Politician Blamed for Planet's Hot Air

Quote:  “Talk about inconvenient truths.”  Peter Schweizer, research fellow at the conservative Hoover Institution, in USA Today.

Figure of Speech:  antistrephon (an-TIS-tre-phon), the boomerang figure. (From the Greek, “turning to the other side.” Alt. spelling: antistrophon.)

Al Gore, the globe’s global warming evangelist, flies around in a corporate jet to preach the “carbon-neutral lifestyle.”  (Paramount Classics, the studio that distributes the Gore film An Inconvenient Truth, buys renewable energy credits in compensation.)  He owns three big houses, none of which uses the utility companies’ more expensive “green energy” option.

Peter Schweizer, who wrote a book of “Profiles in Liberal Hypocrisy,” nicely emphasizes Gore’s hypocrisy with an antistrephon, a figure that uses the opponent’s argument against him:  “Talk about [insert opponent’s hypocritical words here].”

Gore’s lifestyle doesn’t make him any less right about the planet, but it does make him less persuasive.  Aristotle said that character is even more important than logic in an argument.  And practicing what one preaches is an essential part of a persuasive character.

So forget the melting ice caps and glaciers, ignore the record temps, the bug infestations, the hurricanes, floods and drought.  It’s a character thing.

Snappy Answer:  “You’re off the hook, climate-change deniers.  Al Gore is a hypocrite!”

Only Terrorists Wear Mullets

Quote:  “Let’s give a welcome to Macaca, here.  Welcome to America and the real world of Virginia.”  Senator George Allen on his “Listening Tour.”

Figure of Speech:  acyrologia (ak-y-ro-LO-gia), the disastrously wrong word.

S.R. Sidarth, an American citizen of Indian descent,  graduate of Thomas Jefferson High School,  senior at the University of Virginia, and worker for George Allen’s Democratic opponent, was aiming a video camera at the senator during a Republican rally.  Sidarth was the only dark-skinned person there, apparently.  So Allen naturally assumed he was a foreigner and gave him a playful, foreign-sounding name — which happens to be the genus of the macaque monkey.

The result is an acyrologia (“un-authoritative speech”), an embarrassing little figure that includes the malapropism.  

What did Allen mean to say?  Mulatto?  Macarena?  His staff claims he meant “mullet,” because Sidarth has an unusual haircut.  Why, then, did Allen welcome Sidarth to America?  Is there a more American haircut than a mullet?

Snappy Answer:  “You mean, welcome to your planet?”

For Best Results, Manipulate After Every Meal

Quote:  “You’re right.  Now will you please get me some toothpaste?” Figaro, in a passage adapted from his book.

Figure of Speech:  concessio (con-CESS-io), the ju-jitsu of argument.

As a writer, Figaro doesn’t have to shave every day.  (Marketers despairingly call a consumer like him a “low self-monitor.”)  He does have his standards, though, and hygiene is one.  A tooth-brushing crisis led to this exchange with his teenaged son.

I grab toothbrush and toothpaste. The tube is empty. The nearest replacement sits on a shelf in our freezing basement, and I’m not dressed for the part.

“George!”  I yell.  “Who used all the toothpaste?”

A sarcastic voice answers from the other side of the door.  “That’s not the point, is it, Dad?”  George says.  “The point is how we’re going to keep this from happening again.”

He has me.  I have told him countless times how the most productive arguments use the future tense, the language of choices and decisions.

“You’re right,” I say.  “You win.  Now will you please get me some toothpaste?”

“Sure.”  George retrieves a tube, happy that he beat his father at an argument.

Or did he?  Who got what he wanted?  In reality, by conceding his point, I persuaded him.  If I simply said, “Don’t be a jerk and get me some toothpaste,” George might have stood there arguing.  Instead I made him feel triumphant, triumph made him benevolent, and that got me exactly what I wanted.  I achieved the height of persuasion:  not just an agreement, but one that gets an audience — a teenaged one at that — to do my bidding.

No, George, I win.

That’s the point of concessio (“concession”), one of argument’s most powerful and least-used tools.  Arguments often fail because we try to score points instead of get what we want.  They also fail because we think manipulation must always a bad thing.  Yet Figaro manipulated his son and they both came away happy. 

And he says to himself, what a wonderful rhetorical world.

Snappy Answer:  “Will George fall for that again?”

New Airport Activity: The Face Toss

Quote:  “I’m throwing away my whole face.”  Traveler Julie Beasley in the New York Times.

Figure of Speech:  synecdoche (syn-EC-do-kee), the scale-changing figure.

Liquids, including cosmetics, are verboten on commercial flights following the announcement of a foiled terrorist plot.  So 31-year-old Julie Beasley finds herself tossing her Chanel lip gloss and lipstick into a trash barrel at the Phoenix airport.

She describes the act with a synecdoche (“to take one thing with another”), a figure that swaps parts for a whole or vice versa.  Bluehairs seem even more fond of “putting their face on,” substituting a body part for an arsenal of cosmetics.

Maybe the airlines should include makeup along with their peanuts.  Consider it a face-saving measure.

Snappy Answer:  “Then I’m not going near that trash can.”

The Democrats Find a New Way to Lose

Quote: “I know George Bush.  I’ve worked against George Bush.  I’ve even run against George Bush, but I’m not George Bush.”  Senator Joseph Lieberman.

Figure of Speech:  antistrophe (an-TIS-tro-phee), the last-word repeater; and the reverse innuendo, the self-inflicting rhetorical wound.

Six years after Al Gore tapped Joe Lieberman as his running mate, the senator lost a primary race against an anti-war candidate.  Lieberman ran a clumsy campaign; today’s quote is a good example.  During the candidates’ sole debate on July 6, Lieberman let loose an antistrophe (“turn-around”) a figure that repeats the last word in successive phrases, clauses or sentences.

Lieberman wants to distance himself from the president.  How does he do it?  By repeating the president’s name over and over and over.  Figaro calls this blunder a reverse innuendo, in which the speaker unintentionally makes a label stick by denying it.  Richard Nixon similarly did himself no favors when he growled, “I am not a crook.”  In denying the accusation, he repeated it:  a reverse innuendo.

George W. Bush, a far more sophisticated rhetorician than Lieberman, uses the reverse innuendo to his own advantage by repeating words that mean the opposite of what hurts his case.  Take Iraq.  Instead of saying, “We hadn’t anticipated the violent reaction to the invasion,” Bush said, “We are welcomed.  But it was not a peaceful welcome.”  A messy invasion becomes  a peaceful welcome — with an incidental “not” in front of it.  (For more praise of Bushspeak, click here.)

Snappy Answer:   “George Bush loves you anyway.”

A Sure-Fire Way to Convince Your Target Audience

Quote:  “Good people make good decisions. That’s why they’re good people.”  Wayne LaPierre, executive vice president of the N.R.A., in the New York Times.

Figure of Speech:  tautology (tau-TOL-ogy), the fallacy of proof by repetition.

Fifteen states in the past year have enacted laws letting citizens shoot to kill, even if they don’t fear for their safety.  Wayne LaPierre, the take-no-prisoners head of America’s gun lobby, defends the new laws with a tautology (“repeated words”), a fallacy that proves a point by saying the same thing in different words.

Good people make good decisions.  Who decides whether the decisions are good?  Good people.  What makes them good?  They make good decisions.  Care to go around again?  One such good person, a retired cop in Florida, shot his unarmed neighbor in the stomach and chest during an argument over garbage. 

Good decision, obviously.  In Red State America, if you want to be a good person, get a gun.  Already have one?  Good decision.

Snappy Answer:  “I’m a good person, Wayne.  Make my day.”