Invading the Bleak Wasteland Called Can Ah Dah

Quote:  “A horde of squat, swarthy creatures who live in darkness and shun the light are laying siege to the good people of ‘The Lord of the Rings’ today.  Inhabitants of Middle Earth call these creatures Orcs.  Inhabitants of the theater call them critics.”  Michael Riedel in the New York Post.

Figure of Speech:  syncrisis (SIN-crih-sis), the not-that-but-this  figure.  Also isocolon (i-so-CO-lon), the figure of equal clauses.

A four-hour, over-hyped, $23 million theater production of the most tedious fantasy ever written premiered in Toronto.  Surprisingly, critics ripped it to little magic shreds.

The Post sums up the matter in a syncrisis (“to compare”), a figure that weighs things side by side in similar clauses.  It’s similar to an isocolon, which pairs up clauses with the same length and some of the same words.

The writer’s ironic use of the syncrisis has almost become a journalistic cliché.  Write a definition (“horde of squat, swarthy creatures”).  State the obvious object (“Orcs”).  Then name a startling second object (“critics”).

Being a journalist ourselves, we highly recommend it.

Snappy Answer:  “Inhabitants of corporations call them tech support.”

Does the Maiden in the Tower Count as a Co-Owner?

Quote:  "The majority reminds us, in high tones, that a man’s home is his castle, but even under the majority’s rule, it is not his castle if he happens to be absent, asleep in the keep or otherwise engaged when the constable arrives at the gate. Then it is his co-owner’s castle." Chief Justice John Roberts.

Figure of Speech:  catachresis (cat-a-KREE-sis), the metaphor gone wild.

Can police search a house if one spouse says "come on in" and the other says "keep out"? No, replied the Supreme Court in a 5-3 vote.  Justice Roberts dissented, putting his zippiest writing in a footnote.  He used a catachresis ("bad use"), which stretches a metaphor to the breaking point.  Most rhetoricians consider the catachresis to be a vice, but Roberts used it ironically to ridicule the majority’s silly commonplace.

The Supremes’ footnotes just went up a rhetorical notch.

Snappy Answer:  "Go and boil your bottom, sons of a silly person."

And the World Did Breathe a Meaningful Sigh

Quote:  "And the world said, disarm, disclose, or face serious consequences … and therefore, we worked with the world, we worked to make sure that Saddam Hussein heard the message of the world."  President Bush at yesterday’s White House Press Conference.

Figure of Speech: conduplicatio (con-du-pli-CAT-io), repetition of one word in succeeding clauses.

What, asked Helen Thomas, former Press Corps dean and aging thorn in Bush’s side, was the "real reason" he took us into war?

The same president who had told the world to get the hell out of his way answered with a biblical-sounding figure.  His conduplicatio ("doubling with") repeated "world" for emphasis, like a church bell sounding a full peal of values.  This tactical repetition is the secret behind the Bushism — the fractured rhetoric that language snobs scorn but that helps Bush cling to his base.

He used this conduplicatio masterfully, turning a planet into a divine right.

Snappy Answer:  "Failure to disclose.  Now, that’s a reason for regime change."

Black and White and Red All Over

Quote:  "Political panda-ring." Andrew Rice in Slate’s "Today’s Papers" column.

Figure of Speech:  paronomasia (pa-ro-no-MAY-sia), the pun.

We’re taught to groan at a pun, but it can be cute and doubly meaningful — the rhetorical equivalent of a pair of pandas. 

Andrew Rice’s pun, or paronomasia ("rename alongside") sums up a particularly hairy international situation.  Having tired of lobbing an occasional missile at Taiwan, mainland China is now using an even more nefarious psychological weapon: adorable wildlife.  Beijing has offered a pair of pandas to Taiwan, and 80 percent of the Taiwanese can’t wait to get them.

But their government is balking.  "The pandas are a trick, just like the Trojan horse," fumes one politician.  He accuses Beijing of attempting to "destroy Taiwan’s psychological defenses." Exactly.

Snappy Answer:  "China sure has them bamboozled."

Other figures that let you say two things at once.

And Now Congress Pauses for a Word from Its Sponsor

Quote:  “The Senate advice provision does little more than restate current law, which has left workers to fend for themselves without the type of quality advice they so desperately need.” Kevin Smith, spokesman for House Majority Leader (and boner maker) John Boehner, in the New York Times.

Figure of Speech:  red herring, the fallacy of distraction.

The House and Senate passed different versions of a pension “reform” bill that was supposed to stop corporations from robbing workers of their own pensions.  Instead, both houses weakened the law by allowing companies to contribute less.

John Boehner comes to the rescue by meeting your need for … advice.  Investment firms are forbidden from advising 401(k) customers on their own products, for obvious reasons.  Boehner wants to lift that restriction to help his fellow Americans and the securities industry, which happens to be his biggest donor.

What does this have to do with employers squandering their workers’ retirement?  Extremely little.  It’s a red herring.  The fallacy—named for an aromatic bait that apparently threw bloodhounds off the scent—brings up an irrelevant topic to distract you.  Mr. Smith’s herring replaces a major national scandal with a minor scandal, in an attractive rhetorical wrapping.

Snappy Answer:  “You’ve reformed the EPA, the Clean Air Act, Congressional ethics, Medicaid, and now pensions.  Can we reform you?”

Slap a Bloody Saltie on the Barbie

Quote:  "Where the bloody hell are you?" Slogan for Australian tourism campaign, in USA Today.

Figure of Speech: hysterologia (hys-ter-o-LO-gia), the preposition interrupter.

British censors have banned a TV ad welcoming them Down Under.  The offense isn’t the campaign’s bikini-clad women, or the "hell" (carefully lower-cased in the print ads), but the use of "bloody."  Once upon a time, the word referred to Jesus’ wounds on the cross.  

Now here’s where we get really word-wonky.  The hysterologia ("later speech") emphasizes a word by shoving it between a preposition and its object.  So where the bloody hell is the preposition in that sentence? "The hell" actually means "in hell," turning "the" into a preposition.

The moral is, if you want to add some zing to your profanity — and make bluenoses respond hysterically — cuss hysterologically.

Snappy Answer:  "I’m with you, mate."

 Other figures of interruption and rhythm.