Tuesday, April 8, 2008

You've Been Lip Serviced

Most people don’t know this, but my wife is a master of persuasion and champion debater. And being a graduate of a state college public speaking class, I am well aware of the tools used against me when we are forced to go toe-to-toe in a verbal sparing match. They are the 3 Greek elements of persuasion, as set forth by Aristotle himself, and I’m sure you will all agree that he was one deep thinking SOB.

The three elements are as follows:
Ethos (Credibility or Ethics) means convincing by the character of the speaker, or persuading by appealing to one’s ethics.
Pathos (Emotional) means persuading by appealing to one’s emotions.
Logos (Logical) means persuading by the use of reasoning.

My wife, like all females, has never tried to use Logos. Before you ladies freak out and blow an ovary, let me say it is not my intention to offend. Females cannot be faulted for this. It’s just that they are born without the part of the brain that produces the logic hormone. We can no more expect them to use logic as we can expect them to pee accurately standing up. They’re just not built that way.

She is also unable to use the element of Pathos. This time however it is not due to a lack, but rather an over production of the element. When she attempts its use, words and noises fly out of her mouth in an uncontrolled barrage of inflammatory nonsense, which undulate in pitch, volume, and intensity. It's like watching one of the mutants, from the X-Men movies, as they first discover their powers and unwittingly cause large amounts of destruction.

As for Ethos, well, she uses it on a very limited basis.

So how can she possibly be a persuasive speaker, you are probably wondering. It is because she has discovered and capitalized on the forth Greek element;
Hyperbolos: persuading by the use of ridiculous exaggeration.

Allow me to illustrate with an excerpt from our most recent debate.

Situation: We are at the local Dell Taco to appease my wife’s “cravings.” This locale is equipped with a play area for kids, which my daughter disappears into the moment we arrive. Halfway through our meal…

Wife: Where’s Maggie?
Me: She’s playing.
Wife: Where? I can’t see her. Can you see her?
Me: She in one of those tubes. She’s fine.
Wife: Go find her.
Me: Go find her? Honey, there’s like 50 miles of tubing in there. It could take days. She’ll come out when she gets hungry.
Wife: There’s an outside exit in the play area. How can you be sure she didn’t open the door and run out into the street and is about to get splattered by a giant semi from Hell?
Me: What?
Wife: She’s probably in the back of a windowless van, gagged, bound, drugged, and helpless, with you sitting here stuffing your face, while her captors are forcing her to shoot up heroin and smoke crack and do acid.
Me: That’s a lot of drugs.
Wife: She could be getting high and watching pornography right now.
Me: Huh?
Wife: Maybe she’s in a shipping crate, on her way to war-torn Africa where she’ll be given a gun and forced to participate in the latest ethnic cleansing campaign and kill mindlessly while, simultaneously being forced into a life of child prostitution as the tribe passes her around like some kind of soulless plaything, and pushed to the brink of existence till she is nothing more than an empty shell, a vague memory of the cute, rosy-cheeked girl we once knew and one day, as she teeters on the edge of a monstrous African cliff, before she leaps to her own demise upon the jagged rocks below, she will utter one… last… word.
“DAAAADDYYYYY!!!”
Me: *gulp*
Wife: You’d never be able to forgive yourself. You’ll sit around in a constant state of morbid depression, getting old, fat, ugly, bald, stupid, and retarded. Unmovable. You’ll burst into uncontrollable, seizure-like, fits of weeping every time you think about the day you chose a burrito over your own daughter. Hmmph.

And with that last “hmmph,” I was defeated; once again bested by the Queen of Rhetoric. I promptly ran to the play place certain I was too late.

As it turns out, she was only playing on the slide. Not a windowless van in sight.

24 comments:

Babe in Boysland said...

Being a woman myself, and apparently not possessing logic, my reaction should be to immediately take offense- surprisingly, I find myself humored by this ridiculous and enormously fabricated conversation. However, my husband I know would whole heartedly agree with this exchange and claim he'd heard me utter the exact same words.

kacy faulconer said...

Ow! There went my last ovary.

HaLaine said...

You and my husband should sit down over a root beer and talk about how your wives have mastered the art of Hyperbolos. He always never says that I always talk about him never doing things every single time.

Nissa said...

Oh man- she's good! Even I was scared reading it.

"Daaaadddyyyy" hahaha Love it!

Jen said...

Hey. Whatever the heck works!

p.s. I LUV your new header - does it come as a poster?

Kim Dubois said...

Kat has Del Taco cravings? Is there something you haven't told us?

Anonymous said...

It has been said of my dad that he'll only sit down and eat at places that have a drive-through window. From the sound of it you only eat at places that have playgrounds.

BBC said...

loved your post! i don't think anonymous knows your humor very well, eh? anyways, it always appears that you have a remarkable memory when it comes to conversations! do you tape record all of your conversations for the purpose of regurgitating them on your blog???? hilarious!

Cyndi said...

Becca's right. I was wondering if you had that conversation down verbatim myself!?! If not, I am greatly amazed at your magnificent memory!

Christian F said...

You FUNNY!!! I like!!!

The UnMighty said...

Anonymous,
You bad grammar. You go back to grade school.

Unknown said...

Unmighty, I seem to remember some of these on going debates from a couple that lived above me at a time in the past. She might have been the same woman you're talking about. To bad my memory is clouded, i was eating Del Taco.

By the way, congrats on a third.

Salt H2O said...

Your wife is money.

Most Rev. Gregori said...

As Archie bunker used to say to Edith; "I talk to you in English, but you are hearing me in ding bat."

So the problem is, she is speaking to you in ding bat, and it translates badly into English. It never pays to argue or debate with a woman, you can't win.

Oh, by the way, the Simpsons are ok. Thanks for stopping by my blog.

crazy4danes said...

Loved your post! :) And I love your wife!!! :D Awesome!...

and ps...thanks for stopping by my blog today

Mars said...

It's like you photocopied this blog directly from the fleshy tablets of my heart!

Christie said...

I'd say your wife pretty much defined the female psyche in that one conversation. Never ever question her authority again.

Bringhursts said...

Kat's a genius. That's all I have to say. Don't argue with me on that point.

Daisy Paige said...

Your wife is good. Any chance she offers lessons?

Thanks for the comment on my blog today, but rest assured Josh would never leave moldy bread for me. He'd definitely want that extra protein.

Jewels said...

Whoa. She is good. Does she teach, too? I would kill to get a desk in that class.

theriddle said...

pop an ovary? Reading your blog on the joys of parenthood and then your wife's new announcement made my night.

footballcrucible said...

Hey Ben this is Spencer aka Joan's husband. You know the guy Joan always talks about. Hey you missed out! go to www.princess.com/romance and look at the last video "Practice Makes". You could have blown that guy away with a funnier video plus then you would have won the cruise! I know too little too late.

Jason said...

Hey brother,
Thanks for visiting. Only my buddy would need a dental practice to cover his surfing habit. He's got a rep. to uphold.

I love your conversation with the wife over the inevitable horror of not attaching a low-jack to our kids so they can play in a McDonald's ball pit.

Take it easy.

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