Garden of Rhetoric and Serious

This is my first trip to the blogger and my first submission for our class. I look forward to your comments/suggestions. Penelope

Garden of Rhetoric and Serious

After God completed Heaven and Earth, He became bored and decided to create man. His first attempt was not too shabby. He named his product Adam. Adam was not a curious person; he stayed in the general vicinity of an apple tree and basically hung out in the tree and under it. He was bored. Even the animals that ventured near him because of their curiosity soon left him because he said nothing and did nothing.

God wanted to kick the latest creation up a notch. He created another being—one that Adam could rap with. The creature would be soft, clingy, seductive, and willing to hang around and wrap. Poof! Oops! A lascivious, long, thin undulating creature appeared in the tree. It was Ramage—a real asp. At first the intruder startled Adam but soon the pair worked out a language and together they formed a society.

After an eon to two, Ramage became bored with Adam and asked God if He had time for a tête-à-tête to stretch his intellect a bit. Adam was not interested in intellectual pursuits. God wanted to keep the garden folks happy but he was busy with rearranging the planets in the firmament. Instead, He sent Archangel Kenneth to intellicize with Ramage.

Apparently Ramage’s strong suit was ontology. In essence, he had the inquiries and Archangel Ken had a certain set of properties that makes him distinguishable from every other creature. In order to have spirited conversations, Ram and Ken had to decide who would be the rhetorician—either Ram because of his sneaky, slithering ways—or Ken because of his innate knowledge of proverbial wisdom. Ken decided that because of his hierarchical position, that Ram should be the rhetorician.

“Fine,” said Ram. “How about we begin with proving opposites?”

“Okay,” said Ken. “Let’s check the future and begin with a fable. Ah, yes. Robin Hood. Mr. Hood and his cohorts live rent-free in the local forest of a kingdom. They are happy, carefree, and never hungry. However, life is not the same for the village people. Why, I am seeing a greedy ruler who demands nearly everything from these people so that her coffers overflow with riches.”

“Good heavens, Ken. How long is this fable?”

“Almost there. Mr. Hood takes it upon himself to steal from the greedy bitch and give it to the peasants. Thus, their hunger vanishes and the queen is none the wiser. I say Mr. Hood is a Good Samaritan. Do you agree, Ram?”

“Au contraire, Ken. Mr. Hood is stealing—taking something that is not his. Stealing is wrong and two wrongs do not make a right. How can Mr. Hood be good when he is being bad?”

After much discussion, Ken and Ram agreed to disagree and to revisit the subject in another eon.

marketing mayhem

Sad but true, we are all drawn to the bright colors on the television screen late at night during infomercial hour. I found persuaders to be interesting documentary, addressing many of the real problems of over saturation within our media. More times than you’d like to think, we are drawn into staring at the twinkling billboards along the road, we all do it we can’t help it, there seriously everywhere. But as millions of people compete for our attention, it’s extremely difficult to separate yourself from the others. So many of these advertisers stoop to morally sketchy means of getting our attention. By showing the inner workings of many big advertising firms the persuaders was really able to address some major issues in modern marketing industry both morally, and physiological. These sketchy extremes like building projection and other extents people are willing to go to capture our attention is really the disturbing truth behind modern media.

I’m an electronic media major here at Kutztown, big mistake that was. After two semesters of learning about pretty much everything the persuaders covered and then some, I’ve realized that this business is not for me. Marketing has always been closely tied to rhetoric, by the means of persuading a consumer to buy a product. It all seems too much on the BS side, and I’ve recently decided changing majors, to what I don’t know. Maybe if Ramage were around, he’d categorize me as more of a “serious” person, I don’t know. Damn, look what this book does to your sense of human. Just found myself cracking a Ramage joke…

Someday I Will Have One

I stood on the sidewalk for a long time, looking up at the imposing house in front of me. Some people might not of thought Ramage Manor was such a big deal, but to me it was huge. I wasn’t sure I would be able to find my way around in there. I was worried that I might bump into the furniture, knock decorations over, and generally prove what a clod I was. Ah well, I thought, maybe if I keep my eyes open and stay light on my feet I won’t completely embarrass myself. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and walked in.
The entryway was nothing to write home about, although the owner had been nice enough to include a rough map of the house. I gratefully moved on to the first room--the “Serious Room.” It was a very strange room indeed. I had never seen bars on the windows of a first-floor room before. Wondering what kind of view one got with those things, I went to take a look out.
“Ahem!” snorted someone behind me. Turning around fast, I saw an impeccably groomed butler looking down his impressive nose at me. “May I ask what you are doing by the windows?” he asked in a bored voice.
“I just wanted to see what was out there,” I replied.
“Why would you do that?” he asked, bustling over and snapping down all the shades. “Nothing you can see out there could possibly compare to what is in here. This is, I assure you, quite the loveliest room in the house.”
I looked around at the venerable old room, with its dark, heavy furniture and its cabinets full of china and other breakables. The dust lay thickly on the tabletops, and I asked the butler if the windows couldn’t be opened. “And let the breezes in here, stirring things up, knocking things askew? No, thank you,” he said with a shudder. “Honestly, if it were my decision, I would take those useless windows out, but the owner will insist on keeping them.” He gave a martyred sigh. “At least they stay shut and barred, so no one will accidentally fall out.”
“Well,” I said. “Nice as this room is, I think I’ll go have a look at the rest of the house, too.”
“Why?” he asked, seeming almost pained. “People keep believing the words of others, the ingratiating guides who tell them that here, or there, is where they should go. They’ll believe anybody.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I said.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Once everyone out there’s got through with them, they’ll believe anybody--and then they never believe me! It’s enough to drive one mad! This is obviously the only room worth seeing.”
“If it’s so obviously wonderful, why do you have to keep everyone from looking out?” I asked, gesturing at the shades. “Why not let them decide for themselves what they want to see?”
“I see,” he said. “You’re just like all the rest of them. You see a beautiful room and you’re not content to just sit in it, oh no. You want to tear it up and make it look like you think it should, just like all the rest of them, the unethical--”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said, heading for the door, “but if you really detest them that much, why do you stay in this house?”
As he spluttered his fury, I quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door tightly behind me.
Another butler was standing there, smiling crookedly. “Just got an earful from Himself, did you?” he asked, jerking his head back where I had come.
“And how,” I said. “Is he like that with everybody? Why does he even stay here?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” the butler replied. “I guess he just really likes that one room. However, I take it you would rather explore?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. I was now getting a chance to see the rest of the house, and it looked much more open and inviting than that one rather close and stuffy room. The ceilings were higher, the windows were bigger, and I could see many wide doorways opening between rooms. “Can I go anywhere I want?” I asked.
“Well, not exactly,” said the butler in a cautioning tone of voice.
“No?” I was surprised; the rooms all looked pretty open to me.
“Oh, no. You see, you’re in this room now, so the only rooms you could really go to are the ones immediately adjacent. I mean, you could go to those all the way over there, but you’d have to go through all the ones in between first, so you’d really be getting to the way-over-there ones from the ones right next to them. And obviously, once you’ve gone upstairs you won’t be able to get into any of these first-floor rooms until you’ve come back down.”
“But I can go anywhere in the house?” I asked, wanting to be sure.
“Theoretically,” he said, and smiled.
“Quite the Willy Wonka type, aren’t you?”
“That’s been said before,” he said wryly, making a little shooing gesture at me with his hands. “Enjoy your time here!”
Rolling my eyes playfully at him, I wended my way through the house, looking here, looking there. I rounded a corner and almost bumped into an agitated-looking young man who was walking very fast. “Sorry about that!” I said.
“Oh, it wasn‘t your fault,” he said, looking relieved to stop. “I was too busy looking around to see where I was going.”
“Nice house, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” he said. “I’m trying to find which room I like the most. It’s not any of these ones, though. Everyone always looooves these, and they all look too much alike. It’s boring!”
I looked around and noticed that these particular rooms were painted the same peach color, had the same white carpets, and the same sheer curtains on the windows. They were very pretty rooms, but I could see how one after another could get old. “Well, what about that one?” I asked, pointing to a room with diamond-shaped windows, multi-colored mobiles hanging from the ceiling, and a blue and orange tiled floor.
“Yeah, right,” he said with a shudder. “Like I’d go with that loony bin! Nobody likes rooms like that! What do you think I am, some kind of freak?”
I quickly reassured him that I thought he was just as normal as could be, and left him to his search.
I soon found myself in a large, circular room that had many doors leading off of it. As I walked around the edges, I glanced up at the sign over each door. The first sign said Rugged Individual Room. I opened the door to a room that was full of tall, muscular, rather stubbly men who were fist-fighting, firing off automatic weapons, or riding motorcycles and horses as fast as they could go in all directions. Fearing for my life, I quickly shut the door and moved on. The next door opened into the Vision of Perfection Room, populated with lovely young women and muscular young men who floated wherever they went in slow motion without a care in the world, seeming not to notice the euphoric background music that followed them everywhere. The Guy’s Guy Room smelled so strongly of beer that I didn’t even open the door. I just went on to the Sidekick, Bully, Hippie, Party Girl, Goth, Clown, Conservative, Precocious Rascal, Hipster, Comic Relief, Starlet, Bishi, and Patriot Rooms, none of which looked very interesting to me. The Blond and Brunette Rooms caught my attention for a few incredulous seconds, but I couldn’t bring myself to look in. By the time I got to the Brainy Scientist Without an Ounce of Sense Room, my patience was exhausted. “I don’t want to go into any of these rooms!” I said to no one in particular.
“Got you covered,” said a light voice behind my back. Whipping around, I saw the second butler opening another door, the door to the People Who Don’t Want to Go Into Any of the Other Rooms Room.
“Oh, aren’t you cute,” I said, folding my arms.
“Unashamedly,” he said, with another of his crooked smiles.
As I made my way back toward the front door, it occurred to me that parts of Ramage Manor had looked rather familiar. Where had I seen them before? Then I remembered: some of the rooms had looked very much like the rooms in a house I had designed earlier. I just hadn’t recognized them right away in the real world, with solid walls and neat furnishings. I decided I would definitely have to visit the place regularly. Yes, even the Serious Room. After all, it might not be the loveliest room in the house, but it was still worth a look.

Thank goodness for drafts.

So, the following is the bulk of my unconventionally approached first draft. I have some work to do on it, but this is the jist of it. See you all in an hour!

Ramage and Jesus

As a Secondary Education major with a concentration in English, I am currently reading plenty of books. Some are textbooks with a concentration in grammar, others include short stories and poetry from various authors and others discuss the copyright laws that teachers are faced with in the classroom. Most of these promote intellectual thought, at least temporarily, some even evoke emotion, but there are only two books that I’m reading now that shake me to the core. Why, I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has to do with their similar approaches to material presentation.

What initially compels me to read these two books is the obligation from whatever source, whether it be my teacher or my Teacher, but as I read them, I feel inclined rather than required to continue. I won’t deny it; I am not always jumping for joy at the thought of leafing through the passages or even at the prospect of having to process what I’ve read. Unfortunately, however, both texts require me to do so, and in a fashion unlike my approach to my Introduction to Language textbook (next to no long term consideration). I’ll explain what I mean by beginning how these books differ.

The first book I’ve grown up on. My parents drilled it into me, telling me it was some sort of a lamp to my feet or a source of peace and strength or something. Some days I agree, other days I scoff at the idea, but nonetheless, I’m pretty thoroughly acquainted with this book. This book is pretty hefty, both in content and in size; it’s actually sixty-six books in one, whereas the other book only has six chapters. There are a bunch of characters in the first book, crazy, bold characters that fashioned a mold and forged a path for the rest of us. One of the characters, named Noah, actually built this insanely large ark and when everyone else died in the biggest flood in the history of man before and ever since, he and his family were the only survivors. Not to mention the rest of the animal population was saved too. This guy Noah actually brought a male and a female of every species and fit them on this ark with his family and they just floated around the world for forty days and forty nights.

Another character in this book actually lived to be 969 years old! The second book includes less than noteworthy characters, including an unremarkable salesman named Willy who unfortunately suffers a tragic end, and an allegorical character named the “Harley Guy” who represents everyone who falls into a consumer readymade trap. In the first book, there’s even a story about a rebellious guy named Balaam and his talking donkey who crushes his foot. Instead of a talking donkey, the second book has P-Dog, a dog who can’t talk; an inability which lends him his unconstructed identity. Ironic though, that P-Dog has a name, and the talking donkey doesn’t.

The first book I read every day, or at least try to, and attempt to uncover something profound in my reading each time. This is the kind of book that could be read 50,000 times with the potential to uncover something deeply different each and every time (or perhaps it’s the only book of its kind?). The second book I can’t say so much about, but it does get me to thinking. The second book I was just introduced to about a month ago, and unlike the first book, my parents would never understand its content and would never actually read it themselves for anything. Instead of perhaps leading me to the meaning of life, this book seems to want to lend me, or so the back cover disclaims, “equipment for living”.

Alright already, I’ll be frank. The first book is the Bible—the cornerstone and basis of my Christian faith. Reading it is highly recommended, encouraged, and basically essential for growth and knowledge of my faith. Like most books I read, some of it is boring, but most of it is fantastic, and all of it is essential. Every verse in every passage has a context and fits into the puzzle that is the self-proclaimed Word of God. It’s what you could call a user’s guide to a God centered life. The second book is not so legendary, but it does play a major role in my current existence, and coincidentally, it also happens to be the main topic of this paper. This second book is also a user’s guide, but this time, the basis is rhetoric rather than righteousness. As stated earlier, it only has six chapters, but these six chapters cover a LOT of ground. And this time, the author, instead of being attributed with the creator of the universe, is just little ol’ Doctor John D. Ramage.

What spurred me to make this comparison between the Bible and Dr. John’s Rhetoric: A User’s Guide was a question posed by one of my classmates about whether or not it is possible for a Christian to believe in rhetoric. So here I am, on a journey to answer that question, with God as my witness and Ramage as my guide.

I’ll begin with a quote by Ramage himself, “By forcing ourselves to accommodate divergent views, even if doing so forces us to challenge the beliefs and assumptions of our audience, we are forced to engage our creative powers and enrich our arguments (79)”. This quote is extremely representational of the internal conflict I am so often faced with concerning my faith and the attempt to share it with others. A major part of Christianity is evangelism, which entails sharing the knowledge and Truth that has been revealed to an individual, so, to an extent, a main aspect of Christianity involves persuasion. Ramage discusses persuasion in Rhetoric: A User’s Guide (“RUG”) and in support of the statement above expresses this thought,

No matter how secure people may be in their faith that their particular system is absolute and universal, no matter how strongly they may believe that everyone ought to join them in subscribing to their particular doctrine, getting others who do not share their beliefs to cooperate with them—and some form of cooperation is always required—or to adopt their beliefs means they must either use force or persuasion (70).

He goes on to warn against the dangers of coercive tendencies, and with that said, I can state my claim: Christians are the boldest rhetoricians out there.

In the beginning of RUG, Ramage introduces us to the Anti-Rhetoric Spokesperson, who states many different claims against the use of rhetoric, and reasons they think it should be abolished completely. These reasons include: Rhetoric is too messy. It can’t be tied down. It’s too unconventional. There’s no telling where it ends or where it begins. There’s no formula that explains it, no rubric to set it up against. It’s pure chaos. It can only exist in an imperfect world. It’s a sacrilege! It makes people do crazy things! Interestingly enough, most, if not all of these objecting claims reflect those posed against Christianity, throughout its existence. In Jesus’ time, the Jewish leaders who didn’t believe that Jesus was actually legit thought He and His followers were the most heretical things to hit the earth since, well, the Greeks. Christianity blew the law and the normal format of living which these guys were so used to out of the water. Healing someone on the Sabbath?! Unheard of! Not washing your hands before a meal? Claiming to be the Son of God?!! That’s more unethical than…than…RHETORIC for goodness’ sake.

The Pharisees (another name for the Jewish leaders) reflect that which Ramage refers to as the “serious” people. So concerned with the law, and with making sure they and others around them follow it completely, the Pharisees are like the serious people who are only in it for absolute Truth and are obsessed with methodology and rubrics and making sure everything they encounter fits their perfect mold. The reason Christianity posed such a culture shock was because for so many years the Jews had this doctrine, these laws, drilled into their heads, as though keeping them were the difference between life and death (which in some cases, it may have been), but when Jesus came along, He completely refaced man’s approach to God altogether. Suddenly there were exceptions to these stringent rules and suddenly these leaders were on the same playing field as the heathen.

Just as there still remains opposition to Rhetoric today, as there most likely always will be, likewise there continues to be opposition to Christianity. Current adversaries (which reflect Socrates and his Anti-Rhetoric efforts back in his day) claim that their way is the best way, and their humanistic perspective is centered on logical, tangible, inevitable evidence, with the most reduction of vague generalities possible. Faith, a main component of Christianity, can be said to be simply an emotional appeal, as it has no tangible evidence whatsoever, simply cannot be proven, and thus deemed unacceptable and useless. So therefore, from the very beginning to present day, Christians have had to fight for their place in this world of infinite opinions and perspectives, standing up for their claim even in the face of extreme, consistent adversity, just as rhetoricians have had to stand their ground against the Socrates, and his many variations, of this world.

Other option....I'm not sure...non-structured writing and I do not particularly get along.

I am not 100% sure where I am going with this. When I think of Ramage, I think of him taking us all into his Rhetorical world by force.


It was just like any other Tuesday night. I had just left my advanced comp. class and was fumbling to find my keys as I made my way across the dimly lit parking lot. It was 9 pm and dark, not just normal dark, ominous dark. I felt a presence as I was approaching my car, but shrugged it off as paranoia. I pressed the unlock button on my key and proceeded to open my driver’s side door. The last thing I remember is tossing my purse carelessly on my back seat, and then everything went black. When I came to my face was squashed up against a window with trees and houses whizzing by. I looked around attempting to assess my surroundings and realized that I was in a car, a car that wasn’t mine. As I turned to see the driver a sharp pain shot through the back of my head. I winced and felt what seemed to be a giant goose egg protruding out of the back of my skull. The man sitting next to me, driving the car, did not seem to notice I had regained consciousness. "Who the hell are you?" I asked with a combination of fear and curiosity. "It doesn't matter who I am, we are here to talk about you." He said. "Me, what the hell for!?" I replied more confused than anything else. "I have seen you around.” He said with a slight smirk. “Well that is just great, so what, are you going to kill me now?” “What!? No I am not going to kill you, I want to do is educate you.” He replied. “Excuse me? You felt the need to knock me unconscious and kidnap me so that you can educate me?” I said, half annoyed, half interested. “ Maybe this would make more sense if you knew who I was. I am John D. Ramage.” He said. “Whoa. You are the pompous ass that wrote Rhetoric: A User’s guide?” I said. “Yes and no. Yes I wrote that book and no I am not a pompous ass. You and I just need to have a talk, I think it is fairly clear that you would benefit from further explanation.” He said, calmly. “I would like and think I deserve a chance to explain myself.” “Fine, dude, whatever, but next time just suggest we get coffee or something else less painful and illegal.” I remarked. “Ok, I’ll keep that in mind, I just figured a cynic with a false sense of identity would appreciate my tactics.”
“False sense of identity huh, well listen to you, you do not even know me.” I said. “Oh Jamie please. I know you better than you think.” He replied.

My memoir of sorts . . .

I first stepped out onto the path towards the land of Ramage with feelings of reservation. I was like a small child riding on a plane by themselves to their eccentric great aunt’s house, whom they’ve never met before; nervous, somewhat meek, and without a hope for at least some semblance of an enjoyable stay.

Yet, I was determined to slog through it all, regardless of my dim expectations. I would make it through Ramageland to tell the tale. Reluctantly, as I sat in my dorm room and picked up Rhetoric: A User’s Guide. Flipping the crisp white pages to the first chapter, I began reading and stumbled across the border into the capital of Rhetoric.

Going into this strange place full of John Ramage’s thoughts and philosophies, I had no idea what to expect. My definition of rhetoric was very vague, and sometimes the dictionary definitions I looked up were even more so. I often found myself wondering why rhetoric’s true identity was so elusive. Arriving in Ramageland, where rhetoric was such a crucial part of life, I was very nervous owing to my lack of expertise in the subject. I was firstly accosted by an official who referred to himself as the Anti-Rhetoric Spokesperson. It was strange that Ramage would hire someone whose job it was to preach the evils of rhetoric, while he himself was, as far as I knew, a pretty big fan.

“Beware the rhetorical thought, the rhetorical argument. Beware rhetoric!” He said passionately in a voice rheumy with age.

“Um, isn’t Ramage for rhetoric, though?” I asked.

The Spokesperson waved his fists in feeling and agitation.

“That is what John wants you to believe! I however, bring tidings of the truth, and not just the truth, but the absolute truth!”

I decided that it would be unwise to interject at this point.

“Rhetoric is a low-budget pseudoscience; its methods can’t be formalized or routinized and its conclusions are uncertain.” (2) “Rhetoricians are constantly wandering around it circles because they can never come to a definite answer. It is silly and unproductive, I say. Why mess with the stuff when you can have the truth!” He again eagerly brandished his arms in a physical exclamation point, as if I hadn’t gotten the idea already.

He continued to lecture to me that rhetoric usually advocated lying, depended upon corruption in order to thrive. As I continued to read this section, though, I found that in learning why some people disliked, even loathed, rhetoric, I gained a clear insight into what rhetoric was and I was able to form my own opinions on the topic and come up with a definition that would suit me personally. Perhaps Ramage wasn’t so crazy in offering me the perspective of someone who was against rhetoric.

I was rescued just in time by Ramage himself and was given a tour of Ramageland guided by his own views on just how rhetoric was utilized and what it meant to us as people. I was introduced to two types of people who lived there – the rhetorical person, and the serious person. These two groups were polar opposites. The men were arguing, descending a set of stairs that lead up to a building that resembled a courthouse, garbed in robes of green and white.

“I’m telling you, if we could just work this out somehow,” the man in green was saying, “we might be able to compromise. Just think about it.”

The other man was obviously nervous about this idea, as he needed his pure white robes with his hands.

“I don’t think so. That’s not what it says in the books, and that’s not how we were told to go about things. It’s a bad idea. No, no, no.”

I had no idea what they were talking about, but just from overhearing their conversation I could understand the difference in their personality types.

I wandered down the foggy streets, following Ramage, his voice trailing off into the damp grayness in the air. Most of what he said was lost on me as he tossed out metaphor after metaphor until they began to lose their meaning. I began to contemplate whether or not this would ever make sense to me, and if I should just give up and leave, until we came to a noble looking white marble building with massive carved pillars garnishing its face, protecting the grand double doors that reached to the second floor. A series of fountains welcomed anyone who chose to walk down the path to such a glorious looking estate.

Ramage had finally seemed to notice that I was no longer paying attention. Realizing what had caught my eye, he said, “Ah, this is the Manor of Identity. Care to stop for a visit?”

I nodded my assent. Now here was something that looked at least mildly interesting. The doors swung open wide as we approached them, and on crossing the threshold I caught a glimpse of the spectacular foyer with a sweeping double staircase.

“This is probably one of the most important grounds we have in this city for studying rhetoric, but very few know about it,” he started to explain.

I braced myself for another long-winded speech full of twists and turns and metaphorical obscurity.

“ . . . Arguably the most important function served by rhetoric is the work it does in service of identity formation,” he told me. (33) “This is where it all takes place – identity formation that is, in terms of rhetoric.”

He began to ascend the stairs and led me through another set of doors at the top. The next room we entered was long and dark. The only light was that which was filtering through the windows on the wall facing the outside in a half-hearted sort of way, thanks to the thick fog. The wall opposite the windows held three mirrors enormous in size, stretching from floor to ceiling. Their silvery glass was perfectly clear and unblemished.

“Here we have the dimension room,” Ramage explained. “It holds everything that constructs a person’s identity. Go ahead and step in front of one of the mirrors.”

I walked to the one closest to me, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

Hmmm...Ramage as a possibly volcanic mountain

I liked this idea but I am not sure how far I can take it. I was going to have different peaks and lookout points be the stops, and various rocks and animals be obstacles and I really am not sure.

I had been aching for a challenge for quite some time and figured that this day was as good as any. My friends were all busy, but that wasn't going to stop me. After all, I am an independent woman, right? So there I was standing at the foot of Mt. Ramage wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. I have heard the stories. Some people follow the given path the whole way up, while others opt to blaze their own trail. Sometimes you make it out and sometimes you don't. A couple of people jumped, but more were pushed. Mt. Ramage is not for the faint of heart. I wasn't scared. Those people were just weak, I thought to myself.

Over the summer, my best friend and her fiance made me a propossal that I couldn't refuse. Well i could have...but the money aspect helped make my decision crystal clear. They asked me to jump on board and help then start up an ADULT ENTERTAINMENT company.


I would never have in a million years thought that this would be my first job straight out of college....but how many college grads have the oppertunity to be Head of the Public relations/ Marketing department of a company.... NOT MANY, almost none. Not to metion that adult entertainment is a BILLION $ A YEAR INDUSTRY.

So i was estatic and ready for the journey ahead, never once thinking that RAMAGE would play a part.


So as part of my job training I thought that it would be a good idea to start to research exactly what type of PR/Marketing I would have to do to help make this buisness a sucess. I had sold all of my previous PR books back...you know who's thinking bout saving books when you can get $35 dollars to spend on hair, clothes and mama's.


I had a pretty good idea of the things that i should do, but like "serious people" I was looking for some step by step directiopns on what I should do.

And thats when I took a trip to see my old foe Ramage, having been introduced to him before I knew that he may have some answers for me. Knowing that he is a rhetorician, I knew that he would never come out and TELL ME WHAT I NEEDED TO DO.. BUT HE WOULD POINT ME IN THE DIRECTION OF WHERE I NEEDED TO BE.

So I put my previous feelings aside and decided that I would use everything that he had to offer, no matter how big or small. Deperate times call for desperate measures and proceeded to enter the wacky world of ramage. First Stop Chapter I.

Welcome to Rhetoricville, U.S.A

On an ordinary Tuesday night, as I finished up reading the third chapter of John D. Ramage’s book entitled, “Rhetoric,” my mind was in a whirlwind of new thoughts and a million different perspectives (as usual). Amidst these thoughts, I fell right to sleep. This is where the REAL journey of rhetoric began…
As I awoke, I felt the soft, warm sheets of my bed and felt a bit disoriented but comfortable as could be. I was drifting off to sleep when oddly enough; I heard the old yet familiar tune of an old carousal softly in the distance. My heart began to beat a little faster as I opened my eyes in confusion. “WHAT?!? Where am I?!?” I screamed…no one answered. This must be a bad dream, I thought, as sat on my bed, in the middle of an amusement park. I closed my eyes completely frightened, hoping to this was all a dream and I would wake up, laughing at the bizarre situation, in University Place. I closed my eyes tightly for several minutes, and nothing happened. There I was, stuck in the same place I woke up only minutes earlier. Frustrated and confused, I got up from my bed and walked towards the odd melody that is getting louder and louder as I got closer. Before me was an old carousal. All of the sudden as the carousal turned I spotted a man in a suit come around the turn. I was struck cold with confusion and fear when this cheery man came up to me and shook my hand. We struck up a conversation and I asked him where I was and how to get back to Kutztown. He answered simply by asking me, “well the route home depends on whether you are a serious person or a rhetorical person, so, what are you?” Completely thrown off by his question, I gave him a blank stare, and realized that this question was posed in the book I was reading before I fell asleep. Without much thought, and wanting to get home, I answered, “Well I suppose I’m a rhetorical person.” The man just pointed towards the direction of a door labeled “RHETORIC” in large lettering. I turned back to the man in the suit and he waved me on while saying, “Enjoy your trip! I hope you find out where you’re going!” As I walked through the door I walked right into a town that looked as if it could be named “Pleasantville.” Amazed at my completely new location I turned back around only to find the door behind me completely gone- as if it never existed. So I walked on the road ahead, searching for a sign of some kind, or someone to direct me.

: ) hope everyone enjoyed the first section... comments are welcomed!

Ramageland ideas....

So, I was at work, as usual, thinking about how I am going to write this paper, and what creative way I can do this....and, in between taking orders for cheesesteaks and baked ziti, I realized that, since I spend so much time at the wonderful Cub Cafe, I might as well just attempt to transform that into my own little Ramageland. I know we're supposed to have some kind of a draft written, or started by now, but I'm still in the planning stages, so this is the best I got.

I think it might actually work though...I'm figuring that I can transform the people who come in to eat and make them fit the examples and descriptions that Ramage gives in his attempt to help us understand rhetoric. There will be rhetoric and anti-rhetoric customers, that guy who always tries to persuade (or coerce) me into giving him an extra tender on his fried chicken wrap, and I'm pretty sure that I can even fit P-dog in there too...I am actually pretty determined to get P-dog in there somehow.

~Amber~

Rampage Island

A vacation that started out as a simple minded trip turned suddenly into an intense journey through and unfamiliar island. As the plan glided on the shimmering glass like mirror of an ocean, I felt content. I was finally away from it, the forty hours a week of working at a home improvement store, plus six colleges classes, and pile of homework were about to be the farthest things from my stressed mind. It was time to relax and that was what my intentions honestly were to do. As I stepped off the plan and looked at the dock sign I felt myself shiver. The sign read, “Rhetorically Correct.” I silenced my thoughts of suppressed memories from my second night of this English class I once took. Could I remember what exactly Rhetoric was?

My boyfriend Jon gently grabbed my hand and a very quiet gentleman led the way. It was our tour guide for the next three days. Who in their right mind goes to an uninhabited island for spring break? Rhetorically I will not answer my own question, thought with a giggle. My thoughts however were interrupted by our tour guide who said, “Welcome to Ramage Island, as you probably have figured out already it’s a rhetorically correct place at all times.” Jon just smiled at me and we followed the tour guide to a little grass hut. We were to rest for a bit and get ready for our long three day hike to the other side of the island for that is where the plane would eventually be picking us up at.

About an hour later our tour guide came for us and told us we would be hiking down Anti-rhetoric valley. I could not help but think of Dante’s Inferno, “was this hell.” There was no running water, no inside restroom, and worst of all the plane had left already. Garnished by two water bottles each, a back pack full of rope, granola bars, a pair of sneakers each, extra set of clothes, and a first aid kit; we were on our way to rhetorical analysis.

Our gifted tour guide who had yet to introduce himself led the way very fiercely. He chopped the branches and grass in the path way with a rustic knife that read “interpretation” down the side of it. “There will be four challenges in the valley that you will have to overcome to get through,” he said with a snickering grin. Jon laughed in amusement and I slowly half smiled. The first challenge was straight in front of us, a small lake that we desperately needed to cross. A very solemnly voice came out of no where and said, “Rhetoric is a pseudoscience (Ramage 2).” I pondered back to that one class I had gone to, was rhetoric real? “Yes, Rhetoric is alive and well,” I proclaimed. I knew in the back of my mind they were all awaiting my explanation. “It’s alive and well,” I boasted, “It’s all around us each and everyday in how we present ourselves, speak, and write.”

Then I almost fainted, the lake parted as if I was Moses and we began to walk through it. Once across the lake I realized that I really did believe in miracles. We were now miles away from our original landing site and knew that there was a long mission ahead of us. Jon then politely began to inquiry about our tour guide, “where are you from, what is your name?” Our tour guide smiled and introduced himself finally, “I’m John D. Ramage, this island was named after me,” he boasted. “I’m the only person on this island and I’m your guide through rhetoric”. Astonished, I screamed for help. Jon held me tightly for a moment. Ramage then continued, “If you do not listen to me and follow my strict lackadaisical instructions you will be lost here for months trying to find your way out of rhetoric. Along your way you will go through Anti-rhetoric valley, up Identity Mountain, and down Readymade slope. Pay attention and you will succeed on your long journey; if you don’t you’ll be lost in rhetorical confusion for life.”

Well, I guess it was time to continue following our esteemed leader/tour guide. We followed Rampage for three hour through the bitter wilderness before I needed to take a tiny break. Rampage said, “Keep up slacker, and if you need a break answer a question for a short relief from the hike. Who are you, Rachel?” I pondered for a moment in my head and thought of something to make my presence known. Then before I could open my mouth he said, “Identity is contained with in and is shaped by help from social interactions: break’s over.” Frustrated I made a trite face at him and continued to sit. The next thing I knew Ramage was gone. For an hour we looked for him concernedly, and then we realized I had not listened to him. This was test and we were going to pass and our next obstacle was starring us straight in the face. A poisonous snake pit lied in front of us, we no where else for us to go we strategically tried to plan a course of action.

Any suggestions

Magic Kingdom or Rhetoric Park

The tall steel structures gleamed against the ray of sunlight and the faint tune of a catchy jingle had mobs of patrons mindlessly walking to the entrance of the park. Joyous screams and giggles echoed over the fence that separated me from my day at one of the most exciting amusement park east of the Mississippi River. My fingers crumbled the dollar bills in my pocket as I stood in the single file line that weaved out from the ticket-booths. We shuffled, one step at a time, until a voice beckoned, “I can help the next person in line!” The man hidden behind the glass simply stared until finally I found the courage to ask for one ticket so that I could enter the park. “That’ll be $32.73.” I slipped the bills beneath the glass and in exchange he pushed a small book back towards me. Blue binding that continued on to the cover was met with a clashing gold banner with “Rhetoric Park” printed in bold letters. “Enjoy your day here at Rhetoric Park,” said the man from behind the counter. The gates were only a few steps away and as I began walking away from the ticket booth, my spot was soon replaced by another wide-eyed college student eager to give their summer earnings for a chance to spend the day in Rhetoric Park. As I continued with the crowd into the park I began thumbing through the pages of the book where maps, show times, and rules littered each page. The park was split up into different sections and after familiarizing myself with the locations of all the rides I decided to start my day off in Identity Isle.
Identity Isle was situated in the back of the park and with each footstep my anticipation grew of what I might find there. Upon entering this section of the park I quickly saw a line had formed in front a tall roller coaster. Those standing in the maze that lead to the loading station were jittery with excitement. I took my place in line and soon realized that small signs were placed every few feet. “This ride is not for those with heart conditions.”
“This ride is not for pregnant women.”
“This ride is not for children under the age of 12.”
“This ride is not for those with a fear of heights.”
As I passed each sign I wondered, “Who is this ride for?”

Ramage to the Rescue?

It had been a long day. One of those days when you just want to go home, curl up with a blanket and a hot cup of tea, and watch your favorite movie until your eyelids fall heavy with sleep. Work was difficult. What else is new? I was walking down Broad Street, becoming ever closer to the comfortable haven I call home. It was a nice evening; the air was cool, crisp. I hugged my jacket a little tighter as the breeze blew by and glanced to my far right. Something had caught my eye.

A large group of people, some holding multi colored signs with pictures of Plato on them, had gathered in front of a building. Subconsciously, my feet turned toward the direction of the group; I wanted to take a closer look. The building they marched in front of seemed never ending. The architecture was long and strange with thick glass windows that were almost impossible to see through. I glanced over a few heads to try and make out the name of the wondrous masterpiece that was etched over the front door.

“Ramage’s Rhetorical Reasoning, Inc.” I read aloud, “I’ve heard of this place.”

“And destroy it we must!” a strange character obnoxiously hissed in my face. I had gotten dangerously close to the group, without noticing, and had finally realized what was going on; it was a protest.

“Speak from the heart! Never compromise!” Another shouted hastily, grabbing my arm and dragging me further into the crowd. People began swarming in my direction. The next thing I knew I had a sign in my hand and was following the crowd in the protest they had formed.

“What is this all about?” I asked the person next to me nervously. I wanted very much to leave but was too intimidated and remained in my place.

“These rhetorical scum bags are trying to convince people that what we say is too serious. Every time we are able to get people to follow our ways they are taken by the Rhetoricians and convinced that there are many other options. They think they know everything, they know nothing! GRAVITAS, GRAVITAS!” he continued shouting, a few others joined in.

“Conform to us, we will win!” a women whispered in my ear. “It is time. We know the way. You will be happy with us. You will be pleased.”

Unsure and belittled, I stumbled along. As another strange hand grasped onto my arm I closed my eyes. This had to be a bad dream. I was being pulled in two different directions, but didn’t resist either of them.

Just a beginning....

Here's a beginning for I what I think will become my Ramage paper....Keep an open mind:)

My heart pounded with anticipation as I stood in line at the airport waiting among the many tourists to begin my long, strenuous journey to Ramageland. I slowly unloaded my possessions onto the conveyor belt and stepped through the lighted archway. Now that I was considered safe to travel, I made my way to the terminal where I nervously awaited the departure of my flight.
“Now boarding, flight 123 en route to Ramageland,” a voice bellowed over the loud speaker. This was it; the beginning of my long journey. I boarded the plane and took my seat cautiously, observing all safety precautions. A man sat next to me. He was a tall, lanky character with thin wire glasses, gray hair combed perfectly to the side, and a pale complexion. He wore a collared shirt with a tie and a sweater vest. I introduced myself first.
“Hello,” I said. “My name is Erin.” He glared at me skeptically for a moment as if he was unsure if he should reply.
“My name is Anti Rhetoric,” he replied. “I’m a serious man. I am on my way to Ramageland to take part in a debate against rhetoric and the problems it causes in society.”
“Interesting,” I said with a slight grin on my face. I was headed to Ramageland for the direct opposite reason. The purpose of my voyage was to gain a better understanding of Rhetoric and its uses in every day society. Now I was quite nervous about my trip. After all, how comforting could it be sitting next to such a inflexible person?

Ahh this paper.

So this is just a random excerpt that I made up, that will eventually fit somewhere into my paper...or not. But its just an idea of where I might go with the paper.


When you think of your journey to the beach and your experiences you have while at the beach, it all amounts to this beautiful moment in time. Although getting there may be difficult, your final arrival is worth it. You have this moment encompassing sound, vision and smell, which takes over your body and allows you to fully, be aware of that moment. Perfect clarity is defined in this moment. For me, this moment in my travels was when Ramage and I talked about identity. Although the road had been difficult up to that point, we both shared this moment of clarity while learning about how rhetoric affects identity. Ramage and I were standing on the beach, watching the waves roll in, and that’s when it hit me how large and overpowering, yet accessible rhetoric is.

Read with a sense of humor..

Day 247. I’m still here. The doctors don’t know what to tell me anymore, as I don’t know what to do with myself either. I’m bored. When your sick, sick like I am, you think a lot. Not just thinking like, I wonder what’s for dinner today, but I mean solid thinking. You think a lot about what you did with your life, who you are and what your life will be like when your external body gives. My mind and soul feel healthy, only my body isn’t on the same level. Tomorrow Reverend Teitsworth will make his weekly visit. My family sends him to me weekly because they really don’t know when I’m going to go. I think by sending the Reverend weekly, my family can say they and I were ready when it does happen.
Day 248. I feel my body is weaker but I can tell today is not the day. I press the button to call the nurse but she doesn’t come right away. I’m not surprised she didn’t come quickly, after day 156 the nurse’s stopped coming so soon because they realized I really don’t need anything and that I’m just messing with them for my own immature pleasure. After 10 minutes, when I could of already been dead, the nurse comes in, sees I’m fine, and says “good morning”, she informs me that the Reverend will be here in a couple hours. I swallow my spit, sigh, and sit in my bed and do my daily thinking.
I hear a knock at the door as a man, who I have never seen, walks through the door with his dog on a leash. He is short and stocky. His hair color is brown as his hairstyle is shaggy. He wears olive-green cargo shorts and his socks come up to his shins. A black t-shirt with the words “Choose Rhetoric”, are worn across his chest. I think to myself, “Who is this Jack Black looking guy? And what’s with the dog?” He introduces himself, “Hello sport! My name is Ramage, I’m waiting for a friend of mine to get out of ER and I’m pretty bored.”
Ramage sits in the chair next to my bed. I’m intrigued and confused by this character never the less, I allow him to sit as I listen to what he says, I mean what else do I have to do today? He asks me who I am and I respond confused, “Um, okay… My name’s Renee and I have been in this hospital for 248 days. Do you need something?”
He stops me dead on and says, “No, who are you?”
“Okay… I’m Renee, I’m supposed to die soon but before I was in this hospital I was an advertising manager for Harley-Davidson Motorcycles” I said.
“Ohhh one of those! You looked like one those. When I walked through the door, I wasn’t sure, but now… Yes, I see it.”
I laughed to myself, the ignorance of this man, coming into my room and telling me I’m “one of those”. I state inquisitively, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh nothing, just you guys over at Harley really know how to sell those bikes. You know, telling the consumer, you can be just like ‘Easy Rider’ even though we all know those unemployed characters would never have the money to get one of your bikes. You allow the consumer to feel like they have some kind of “edge” and still maintain a cultural status.”
That caught me off guard, yeah that was pretty much our marketing scheme, but how did Ramage catch that? I respond, “Well, Ramage, they are just bikes, its not like these bikes are who those people are it’s just something they enjoy, a hobby.”
Ramage smirks at me, “Oh no my friend, it is who they are, their consumer-readymades, this is all a matter of Rhetoric.”
“Consumer whats, Rhetoric?” I say.
“Consumer ready-mades. Consumer ready-mades are the consumers who buy your Harley bikes. They could easily buy a cost, fuel-efficient Ford, but they choose not to. They want the bike. They see the men and woman riding the bikes, with there hair blowing in the wind and riding off into the distance. The people who buy your bikes, either consciously or unconsciously wants that same experience. That is why they buy your bike. And as far as Rhetoric, this conversation of who we are and the underlying meanings behind what we say and do, this is all rhetoric. ”
“You know Ramage, I doubt this matters to you, but just to let you know, I’m dying. I do not appreciate you talking about my job as if I sit there and try to manipulate consumers; it’s a business. On top of it, your views don’t matter much to me, I have already thought about the meaning of life and identity, I’m done with thinking.”
“Well that’s about the most interesting thing I heard all day. We’ll if you’re so convinced in your ways, you must not mind enlightening me then.”
What a cocky guy, he reminds me of myself so I don’t mind him being here.
“Alright Ramage, so if who we are is only a matter of what we consume, and we don’t own things they own us, then what about people who aren’t consumers like us?”
“Well Renee, who are is also to say who we are not. But it’s the fact that your not just one thing, this is what I mean by rhetoric. Some may feel our identity stems from only genes; others feel it’s a matter of experiences that shape who we are. Me, I feel, it is everything. Part genes, part experience, its hard to say where the gene aspect ends and experience begins. We are never one solid thing, only serious-people think that way, are you a serious person?”
“Serious person? Well no, I play random jokes on people all the time; I feel I’m never that serious. What do you mean, serious?”
“I mean, do you think one-dimensionally? Do you believe in many truths, one truth, what do you think?”
“Well I believe in the Bible, in Jesus Christ. I don’t think one-dimensionally but I try to base my actions off of the way the Bible says I should. I’m not a “Jesus freak” and sometimes my actions will stray away from what I think I’m supposed to do, but no, I do not feel anything is set in stone.”
“Well than you’re a rhetorical person.”
I guess at this point my confusion about rhetoric was fading. I believe Ramage is trying to say with the use of Rhetoric nothing is one certain way. Things can be interpret many ways. But I was still confused as to what the point was to all this rambling conversation. The way I was always taught in school was to not be ignorant and to be open to all views, but in a world where things need to get done in light-speed time, there needs to be some sort of unity or at least a common opinion among society in order to get anything accomplished in this world. So instead of letting Ramage ask me another life-meaning question, I decided to ask him the next one.
“Well, Mr. Ramage, if were supposed to look at all angles of a situation in the hopes to make a truly efficient and educated decision, then how is anything going to get accomplished in society if were all arguing about the way we should approach a situation?”
Ramage chuckles, “Smartass. To me, it is not about arguing about everything, its just about being open to everything. Being aware that not everyone thinks the same way. Yes, we do need to agree on some things in order to get food into our stomachs and clothes on our backs, but I think we can all agree that we need food to survive, right?”
“Right.”
“So yes, if we all agree we need food to survive, society will come together to satisfy that need. But with rhetoric, it’s not about trying to be difficult, it’s about seeing the gray area between what is thought to be black and white situations.”
“Alright, alright, I understand Ramage. I will keep all this in mind. You have given me a lot to think about. I never was a one-dimensional thinker, I always thought I was a two-dimensional thinker, never a gray-thinker.”
“Yeah rhetoric can be tough to swallow, but once your introduced to the idea you begin to see and think of things differently.”
As Ramage finished that sentence Reverend Teitsworth grazed through the door, Bible in hand.
“Well Ramage, I wish we could stay and chat, but it’s that time of the week.”
“Yeah, its cool, I gotta go check on my friend anyway, chances are he is still sitting in the waiting room with blood dripping onto the floor.” Then Ramage sarcastically says, “But is he really bleeding? Is blood who he is?”
“Shut-up Ramage, you have a good one.”
Ramage nods at the Reverend as he walks down the hall in the opposite direction of the way to ER. That Ramage guy was pretty interesting. Just when I thought I knew how I wanted to look at life, Ramage comes in and changes it all. Let’s just say I had a few questions for Reverend Teitsworth.

Falling Asleep on the Job: A Guide to Understanding Ramage

Here is the first page and half of my paper. I know it's a corny but I was really struggling with ideas on how to attack the travel narrative idea. I really appreciate any criticism you guys might have.

For the past month and a half, my life has revolved around my job as a desk receptionist for University Place. My once vast vocabulary has been reduced to the four words “keys and ID’s please.” For those of you have never lived on campus at Kutztown University and are unfamiliar with the life of a D.R., let me fill you in a little. I get to sit on an obnoxiously high chair that makes me look extremely powerful behind a desk and make sure that everyone trying to come in the building does in fact live there. Considering I most always work night shifts and there are very few things we are allowed to do while on duty, the job can get very boring in a matter on minutes. Good thing I had my good old pal John D. Ramage to keep me entertained.

It had to be at least 4:30 on a Monday morning when I finally decided to pick up my used but seemingly untouched copy of Rhetoric: A User’s Guide by Ramage. I was at working at the front desk trying to remember what daylight was like and longing for human contact. As I flipped through the pages of Rhetoric and struggled with paragraph after paragraph of the first chapter, I could feel my eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. Suddenly I was startled by a strange looking man standing in front of me. I was very confused considering it wasn’t even five in the morning yet and the majority of our residents are either teenagers or in the twenties tops. “Um, can I see your keys and ID please?” is what I had been trained to say.

“ID? Oh you mean identity? You see there are three dimensions that help to construct one’s identity…” I had to cut him off; I was starting to get worried. With my job I was used to rambling drunks but never before had I witnessed anything like this before.

“Sir what is your name, do you live here?”

“Ramage, my name is Ramage and live here? Haha! Of course I don’t live here. If you come with me I’ll show you my home.” I thought about his offer for quite some time. I mean I would get fired in a heartbeat if anyone noticed that I had left the desk during a shift, but I was having such a hard time grasping the concepts of Rhetoric and this guy claimed to be Ramage so maybe hearing him out face to face would help me write my paper. After all, the creepy Public Safety man had already done his rounds for the night and neither of my bosses would be around until morning.

“Alright I’ll go but just for a little bit.”

“As I was saying, everyone’s identity consists of three unique parts: the given, the readymade and the constructed. Come with me to page 42 and you’ll see what I mean.”

Ok, I promised myself I would get this done before it was time for class, and so far it seems like I will make it...

Ramage seems to get steadily more and more confusing as I read on. I kinda get his point about the given, the readymade, and the constructed. Given is who we are biologically-my parents genes gave me brown hair and blue eyes, my dad gave me his height, and unfortunately, his metabolism. These are the things I cannot control. That part all made sense. The idea of the readymade confuses me. I get his point about it being the influence that employers, marketers, etc have on us, but I can't seem to figure out how exactly this works. Is he referring to our desire to look a certain way, dress a certain way, or think a certain way because that's how we're supposed to be? That's the only sense I could make of it anyway.

The constructed personality makes sense-I've found myself more than once either saying things or doing things in a way that people I know and spend a lot of time around speak or do things. I tell people all the time that I don't think I really have a unique personality but that I take pieces of other people's personality and mold them all into my own. This is, I guess, my constructed identity. Then again, I could be really off and just sound a little crazy right now.

I liked his use of P-Dog as a means of showing the way that we assign identities to people or things that we don't have one-on-one experience with. We imagine people or things to think or act a certain way, even if we don't know for sure that they really do. His example of the one-sided conversation with his dog reminded me of my niece who, at 6 months old, everyone in the family seems to really "know:" She's cold, she's tired, she doesn't like that, blah, blah, blah. Just like the dog, these are all things that we can make educated guesses about, but no one really knows what she is thinking or feeling because she can't verbally express these things. She may not be crying because she is tired, no matter how many people insist that is the case. She doesn't yet have an identity, she only has the given.

When Ramage talks in the third chapter about the continuum in which he designs

coercion (propaganda)-----persuasion w/ coercion (legal reasoning)-------persuasion w/purity (literary texts)

I got a little confused as to why and how this works. As usual, he was absolutely no help at making me understand (he overtalks everything and I get lost really easily), so I tried to reason it out for myself. Coercion is seen as bad because it is the pushy form of persuasion-like propaganda, the creator isn't just trying to get us to see their point of view, they're trying to make us act in the way they want us to. They take away an aspect of our free will. Legal reasoning is a step above because it is meant to be persuasive, but uses coercion only to win a case, not to take away our own opinions and beliefs.

Literary texts are described by Ramage as being a form of purer persuasion. While a text tries to get across a certain message, it does not shove a point-of-view in the readers face, rather, the author attempts to make certain points in a gentle and more general manner. It is more polite, and much more subjective in place of a coercive stance of "this is how it is, conform to it, the end."

I think the distinction between coercion and persuasion is important, but irrelevant. It is important to see the differences between being given a choice, with a little nudge in a particular direction and being being told basically 'do/think this or there will be a negative consequence.' Yet, it doesn't matter in the end. Knowing the difference between the two doesn't make the choicelessness of coercion any easier to combat, and it also doesn't change the fact that persuasion gives us some room to breathe and make a real choice. They are what they are.

I am pretty sure that none of that made a lot of sense, or at least, not as much sense as it did in my head.

~Amber~

Posting during the battle...

So, I have finally managed to find some time to post to this blog. Oddly enough, this post comes during one of my most busy days, Keystone layout day.


Being the News editor of the Keystone lends itself to a wonderful world of work. Piles and piles of work. Edit this article, write that article. The beat goes on.

Before I continue with an extended bitch fest of how much I enjoy being in the Keystone office from early morning Tuesday to early morning Wednesday, I'll stop myself.

I had almost forgotten about this class until today. Missing it two weeks in a row has thrown it to the back of my mind. I suppose tonight's class will be crunch time to make up for the lost hours of academic enlightenment. At least we'll have a lot to talk about.

I'll see you all in class.

-Dale

Hi, my name is (insert catchy but descriptive noun here)

Yes, I am also confused on what was due this week, so I felt that blog would be the best bet. As I continued with the reading of Chapter 2 I was pleased with what I read. Ramage's ideas of identity were eye opening. I would imagine that most of us would love to skip the awkward screaming your name to someone at a party and instead just blurt out a noun that would in turn cover all the intricate details that make you, you. As a high school student, I did what most kids my age did and got a part-time job at the local grocery store. Until then I only gave my name to people upon meeting them for the first time but when forced to wear a name tag, my name became public to every hungry shopper during my five hour shift. No big deal, right? Wrong. I think this is a feeling that only makes sense if you've been through it. When some weird old man says, "Hi Erin, working hard?" it catches you off guard. At first, I would run through my mental roll-a-dex trying to match a face with a name until I realized that this person didn't know me at all. It was during these little encounters that made me realize how personal your name really is.
So, what would have happened if I decided to just pick a name and put it on name tag and what name would I choose? Over my four years of working at the grocery store, I used names as Lousie, Rosa, Muffin, Karen and found great joy in having people address me simply by what I had decided I wanted to be called.
I think Ramage brings up a great point that our identity can be described by what we are but it is also important to describe ourselves as what we are NOT. When reading this section, a simple Bible passage came to mind. At many weddings the reading goes, "Love is never jealous it is not boastful" and so on and so on, listing all the things that love is and what it is not. I agree with this notion that it is just as important to know what we are not as a way to know what we are, for lack of a better description.
Happy reading!

???

Is the paper really due tonight? Does anyone know?

returning to Ramage

The night before a paper is due it's probably not the best idea writing to the professor and class that you're confused when the paper is due or what to write about. By the sound of the last few posts, I'm not the only one, who's unsure. But back to Rhetoric...

Continuing the reading, I found the second chapter to be double as interesting as the first. Further into the book, Ramage's writing becomes much more relevant to the individuals self identity. Comparing who we are and how we understand our dimensions of identity. Relating to his readers on a personal level, or for me at least. Ramage continues to impress me through his use of complex metaphors while continuing his casual rant for example his motorcycle readymade argument. His look into the similarities between rhetoric and advertising makes also make me wonder if he has any type of marketing background. All in all, the book seems to really address some interesting ideas by giving insight into the authors own experience.

Two assignments and confused chapter one and two and what is due?

So, I've read chapter one and two, but I'm confused on why my blog from chapter one is not posted. (Also does anyone know what is do this week? The syllabus says a paper, but I do not know how to set up it up or actually respond to it. )I'm going to type it over and maybe I'll find it later on the blog. Anyways, I find Ramage's views on Rhetoric to be very interesting and enlightening, however there are parts that tend to lose me.
In chapter one I really like how he included where the idea of Rhetoric derived from, and the different myths including the Greek myth which i found very interesting. Greek myth stimulates my mind I'm a big fan of it because I think the stories are really out there. When I had Professor Featherstone we really based a lot of discussion on Rhetoric so i have a lot of views on the subject. I reallize that Rhetoric is not just a basis of writing, reading, language, and expression; it also has a lot to do with social interactions, public displays, and origin. I have a lot of respect for this topic.
Rhetoric gives us purpose in our writing because it helps us defend our words, and come up with complete thoughts instead of random objectives. In chapter one I found Ramage to be a bit drab in a few places but it really started to pick up towards the end of the chapter; it had a lot of examples of decisions, being impartial, and knowing what language is really saying. It kept my attention span, but chapter one was a bit of review from a previous class.

Chapter two:
Well, I would have really never came up with the examples that Ramage came up with for Rhetoric and Identity. I realized that they were both different unities both I did not grasp that the fact that they need each other to survive and how they relate to each other in different aspect of life, language, and individuality. I took this chapter as an eye opener to the world of "true identity" and Rhetoric as the universal language.
I love the rules and principles this chapter sets up. In the idea of the example of Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman," it brings up this construct of Identity through society and finding ones ultimate place (Ramage 56). Right after this example it gives the example that of willie and the manipulation mankind places on so many in society and how they respond(57). Basically it goes on to say that no one person can take full credit for their identity because it takes society to help scalp ones ideas, values, and social relations. That was the part of the chapter i really took to heart and will affiliate with this chapter.
If anyone finds my other blog on here about chapter one that would be great or if you can tell me what is due that would be awesome.

This Is A Title.

First of all, I would like to agree resoundingly with everyone who has expressed confusion about the syllabus and what we are expected to do next. Every time I look at or think about that syllabus I get nauseous. That probably wasn't what y'all wanted to hear, but really, I hope you know how reassuring it was to find out that I'm not the only one who's confused. Moving onto Ramage:

As Jamie said before, reading the section on identity shredded my belief in individuality, but I'm used to that. There's this certain tone that will do it for me every time. The first time this happened, I had to think pretty hard about the ramifications, and what I could do about them, or accept the idea of myself as an easily manipulated drone. The thoughts I had then fit in with what I felt Ramage was saying now, so I jotted some of them down. (Apologies for any incoherence.)

The struggle between individuality and conformity plays out in how our society treats people perceived as going to too much of an extreme. If you are exactly perfectly normal, you are boring, and you should take measures to make yourself more interesting. But not too interesting, and not in ways that are not widely socially accepted. In other words, you have to assert your indiduality, just like everybody else. Diane Lane does this when she moves to Italy in Under the Tuscan Sun. Her friends are shocked, shocked, that she would buy a house in Tuscany, but the viewer is not. Nothing about the story is likely to challenge the viewer, or to geniunely offend. Movies written for a young adult audience often show bright-eyed young teens horrifying their parents by leaving the dry, unfulfilling world of chemistry or boxing or classical ballet to do something new, something different...like singing. Or playing in a rock 'n' band. Exactly like every other young rebel in every other young adult movie. Very few stories are told about bored teenagers who reject chemistry in favor of cults, or depressed women who leave behind their stuffy, proper lives to make extremely vague independent films about the mysticism of bees. We are not not supposed to root for people like this...they're weird. All that remains for the would-be rebel is doing safe, widely accepted things that will only be scorned by un-photogenic people that we never really liked anyway.

It was quite depressing for me to think that any reasonable way for me to assert my individuality (and most of the unreasonable ways as well) had already been done countless times before. Ultimately I had to decide that looking at your life relative to other peoples' was as depressing as it got.

Deliberately deciding to do something because everybody else is doing it is sad, but so is choosing not to do something because it's been done. I do try to live in a way that is palatable to the people around me, but I try never to pursue originality for its own sake. Of course, making this decision lands me squarely in another Cultural Readymade (what it's called, I'm not sure), but it's one where I'm comfortable, and it's where I want to be. That is what's most important to me.

Rhetoric and IDENTITY...if there is such a thing

Ok, so reading this sort of made me depressed. I feel what he is saying and agree with most of it, but it crapped all over my image of myself as unique individual. The text, to me, seemed to be leaning toward the idea that no one really has a unique identity. Even the "constructed identity" which is the one we have the most "control" over is limited to "available models". The whole chapter made me think about how my entire life has been dictated by other people. Not cool.
I took Culture and Media with Dr. Schwartz a few semesters ago and I really wish I could remember more about that class, but anyway, it had a lot to do with the consumer readymades that Ramage discusses. By the way if you have not taken it, you should, it is freaking interesting. I really hate advertising and all the b.s. subliminal messaging and I especially hate how it actually works. I also really like propaganda, so I found the consumer readymade section most intriguing. I really liked when Ramage talked about how advertisements sort of satirize themselves so that critics really have nothing to criticize. It's like self-deprecation for ads. Make fun of yourself first and then people won't make fun of you. I also found his discussion on ads and association interesting. It immediately made me think of those Axe commercials. The commercial never directly says, "Hey wear this stuff and multiple women will have sex with you" but it might as well. I really freaking hope that no guy actually thinks a body spray will make them more attractive to women. I also found it interesting when Ramage brought up the fact that sales people and people in general with categorize you in terms of what you purchase. Ramage mentions cars and I was totally on board with that. Every time I see a mini-van I think soccer mom, or at the very least parent. When I see a really nice car I think either retired guy, or stuck up yuppie who is overcompensating for an area cough cough in which he lacks. Ramage talks about how people who buy practical cars are lumped into the practical people category and that really savvy salespeople can tell what other kinds of product you would like based on that one purchase. That is freaky. People cannot really be that predictable, can they? I guess.
I personally found the "given identity" the most depressing of the bunch. It seems like the killer of all dreams. I know that a lot of statistics will tell you that most people deviate a step or two either up or down from the class in which they were born. That sucks. It makes me feel helpless that something I had absolutely no control over will have such an impact on my life. Not that my parents do bad for themselves, I just hate the idea of not having every available option at my disposal.
As I was reading I really started to think about the idea of the "self-made man" really is ridiculous. Is it even possible? If you want to get technical about it you can't be self made because your parents "made" you, and I am sure people who claim to be self-made actually have a trust fun they don't tell anyone about (Donald Trump) or have screwed a lot of people over to get where they are. When it comes down to it you can only get as far as other people let you. If people did not buy your products you would go bankrupt. No one is self-made because you need other people to define yourself, you need someone to measure yourself against.
Since I am going to be an educator I really related to Ramage's section on education and testing. Despite the OVERWHELMING evidence that standardized tests do not give an accurate measure of intelligence, they are still the way we measure intelligence. It is so ridiculous. With NCLB teachers aren't even teaching anymore, they are simply teaching how to take a test, so say goodbye to critical thinking. Grrrrrr.
Honestly while reading this chapter I started thinking that I can understand why people have identity crises all time. At work you are supposed to be one way, at home another, at school another, you buy what people tell you and measure your appearance against unattainable lies, and put your SELF worth in the hands of others. I am surprised we don't all have breakdowns right now. My biggest issue is the workplace readymade. I have left jobs because I refuse to compromise my identity. Which I am not sure if that is a good or bad thing. But I will be damned if I end up like Willy Loman. I think Ramage is pretty accurate with his "multidimensional" identities, but I still have to think that people are slightly more complicated.

lazy sundays

So, the syllabus seems to be confusing the hell out of everyone, including myself. I'm going to start with assignment part one as my blog post and I'm assuming that assignment part two is our rough draft? ah I don't know so if anyone could clear me up on what is required in the rough draft it would be much appreciated! Ok now for a little Ramage… : )

We must first ask ourselves, what makes up an identity of a person? Is it what they do for a living? Is it determined by factors such as likes or dislikes? I feel as though Ramage produces a clear explanation of identity in terms of considering all aspects- both inherited or acquired (pg. 42). The description of identity as being “multidimensional” made a lot of sense. In fact, I found it to be a good way to create a definition of identity. The readymade identity made me a little aggravated that others could determine a person’s identity off of assumptions that effect each person in somewhere public, such as the workplace. It can even effect what we think of ourselves because we care what others think of us and let people make their judgment call on who they think we are. However, the dimension I found to be most interesting was the constructed identity, which is our determination of ourselves that we have been ascribed to since birth. We follow the basic models around us and choose to follow or reject them for ourselves. I was curious about the given identity because it seemed to be the one that was the most disappointing. Basically, after reading the text, I felt as though the given identity limited us to what goals we are ALOUD to create in life. Ramage basically reveals that everything in our life is affected by “genetic family structure; the time, place, and circumstances of our birth; and our pasts,” and those boundaries represent what we are able to partake in during our life.

Finally Getting the "Gist" of This . . .

Well, due to my tendency to be extraordinarily scatter brained, here is my entry for the first part of this assignment, almost a week past its due date. Go me! Is the 2nd half supposed to be our paper, or is it another blog post? I’m confused, although it looks as though I’m not the only one. Also, I apologize if some of the formatting is messed up in this, as I typed some of my ideas down in word and then just wrote the whole post in there, so I wouldn't lose track.
Anyways, I thought that this chapter was actually quite enjoyable. The philosophy and ideas behind what identity is and how we shape it, as well as how language and rhetoric shape it were, dare I say it – fascinating.
Upon being introduced to this chapter, we are given some factors that help to determine what makes up one’s identity. Ramage explains that language makes up a large portion of our identities:

“It is this interdependence between identity and language – our capacity to use
language as a means of representing our identity to others and in turn to
interpret others’ representations of themselves – that makes rhetoric such a
powerful tool for understanding, forming, and preserving identity.” (34)

We use language as a major means of conveying to other people who we are, and how we came to be the people we are at that present moment.
Further on, we read that Rhetoricians view identity as an on-going process, a continuously changing being, rather than a predetermined definition of our selves, bound to fate – uncontrollable and indefinite. (36) Human beings are constantly refining their identities in an unending paradox of conflicting ideals – to remain unique, yet conforming to society’s norms and remaining a functioning, respectable member of their communities.
I really liked Ramage’s inclusion of the Shakespeare poem to explain the use of metaphor in describing someone’s identity in a well-rounded and complete way – defining what someone is and is not in order to get the full “gist” of the identity, or what Burke calls the paradox of substance. (39)
The gist of something, according to Ramage, is a take on the meaning of the subject. We can change the “gists” of ourselves to our advantage, portraying different aspects of our identities to fit the different types of people we are talking to (employers or peers) and the situations we find ourselves in. This eventually leads us to the idea of the three dimensions of identity; the given, readymade, and constructed.
The given identity is simply the parts of ourselves that we inherit from our parents and our environment. For most the time, we have no say in how our given identity is formed. The place where we grow-up and our familial situations, even the time period, can constrain our choices. If I had been born over 100 years ago I would probably not be attending a university simply because that was just not a thing women did. Maybe I could change that, but chances are it would not happen.
The part that really interested me was the readymade dimension, which includes three sub-divisions: the workplace, commercial, and cultural. This division includes identities that are created by others. We are provided with models that we aspire to be like – the dutiful businessman, the “tough” biker guy, a devoted house-wife. The work-ethics of society, as well as advertising and the media, have a really powerful hold on people’s identity via the use of rhetoric. By writing books and carefully constructed advertising tactics, companies can turn people into devoted consumers or employees merely by catering to their identities, or providing encouraging models.

According to the third idea of Constructed Identity, we build ourselves according to the certain societal “models” of our time, as well as within the limits we are born with. There is no such thing as an original belief or thought. Our decisions are heavily based on what others think. However, we are given the choice to choose sides, to pick a “model” and stick with it. While we may not be entirely unique in our ways of thinking, we are given a choice to decide on what we believe in and how that changes us as people.
Overall, this chapter gave us a clear glimpse into just how rhetoric and language can manipulate people’s identities, and how one can harness this knowledge in order to get others to perform for their own advantage. If you can be responsible for your identity and which models you conform to, and upon mastering rhetorical language, you can be a very powerful or influential person.

confused....?

Ok, I was just looking at the syllabus and trying to figure out where we should be. I'm a bit confused. I was wondering if anyone is clear about the paper? I know that I definitely need to discuss rhetoric and Ramage in class before I will be prepared to write any sort of paper. I hope I'm not the only one. Ok well I just wanted to voice my confusion. Bye for now...

I think I'm addicted to sunflower seeds.

I'm going to be honest--not having class tonight was kind of a relief. Not that the circumstances for the cancellation are at all what I'd like them to be. I hope Mrs. Mahoney is alright!

I'm glad I'm not the only one who is confused about the paper assignment. I don't want to be unprepared, but I hope next week we can all clear things up with everything together. Are we really supposed to have a paper written? For now, I'm just going to blog here, and post for assignment part 1 for today and assignment part 2 can follow later on. Hopefully not too much later though.

As for assignment part 1, I think each of us can relate to what Ramage says about identity. We are, or have been, college students who have been faced with the search for identity at one point in our lives or another. Some of us are still going through an identity crisis or transformation as I post this blog. Do we really consider what it is that we are going through though? Do we really ponder over the components that make us individuals? Have we ever stopped to assess the determining factors that make us who we are? I thought it was interesting how Ramage broke identity up into three parts--these parts encompassing all that identity could be. Like many have said before me in their posts, Ramage broke up identity into three categories: the given, the readymade (which include workplace readymades, consumer readymades, and cultural readymades), and the constructed.
It is tough to say that one constructs the entirety of their identity, although this can be a common misconception. This is the reason why Ramage includes the given, and the readymade as an identity category. The given is nothing we can change necessarily; it's our inevitable past and upbringing (or lack thereof), which we did not determine for ourselves. The readymade, I feel we have a bit more control over--we usually have a choice in what profession we pursue and thus what workplace setting we place ourselves in. What we cannot control, however, are the perceptions that people have as a result of our choice of occupation, which is where I believe Ramage was driving at.
So many of us would like to claim that we were special, or different from anyone else in existence today. But the truth is, we share so many common threads, that we all just make up the same piece of fabric that is humanity. Granted, we might have different hues or shades, but our overall makeup us basically the same. Even the so-called "Rugged Individualist", who thinks he goes against the rest of all the grain, he is aligned with all the other rugged individualists who share his ambitions. Everyone wanted to be a Marlboro man, tough, daring, and self-made, and because of this, they all did became the Marlboro man--the same Marlboro man. If everyone who bought a Harley were a genuine individualist, they'd put the bike up for sale as soon as they saw one pass on the highway, for the sake of maintaining their personal individuality. This reflects Ramage's idea that "...in order to possess an identity in the fullest sense of the term, one must possess the capacity to say no to some of the given and ascribed elements (63)." So for those of us who are still trying to forge their own paths and determine their own personal identities, let us develop the ability to say no to that which shouldn't be part of us or contribute to our betterment and yes to that which evokes our passion and drive for success. Let's break the mold and make a statement. Embrace that which you've been given and who you've become as a result of your experiences, but at the same time, challenge yourself to discover what really excites you or ignites your thriving for living.

Until part two...

For behold, I have reached new depths of patheticness.

Hi everyone. I'm Laura, the Lowest of the Low. The latest of the late. A girl's gotta have some distinction.

I'm told that I have a dry sense of humor, and I know I'm very sarcastic. I frequently deadpan so well that people take me seriously (the poor things). A lot of my time is taken up helping my parents with their two foster children. I don't make friends very easily, but I don't really like the idea of being popular--it would interfere with my ability to be lazy, and we can't have that. I'm usually pretty happy as a loner, doodling and reading and playing Sudoku. (Also I procrastinate and have a terrible memory. Not that you could tell that.)

A lot of the things that Ramage said in the first 32 pages of his book made a lot of sense to me. Sometimes he knocked me for a loop and got me started thinking in new directions, and many other of his ideas helped clarify things that I had been turning over in my mind for a while. I agreed with his statement that a good rhetorician has to be willing to question even their most deeply held beliefs or they risk becoming dangerously Serious.

Also, Ramage’s talk of Plato resonated with me. As I read the Anti-Rhetoric Persona’s nostalgic accounts of how Plato would render his Rhetorical foes useless with the shining light of Truth, I remembered starting to read some Dialogues (I gave up 30 pages in, so wordy!) and getting frustrated because none of the narrator’s opponents ever said what I would have said. Sometimes I could have sworn that they saw exactly where the narrator was leading them and what arguments he would use to do it, and consented to be led there anyway. That wasn’t my first experience with debators putting unethical, irrational, or weak arguments into their opponents’ mouths, but it has never ceased to frustrate me. (I just learned the term ‘strawman’ recently and it made me so happy.)

I liked Ramage’s explanation of Theodore Roethke’s statement: “I find my way by going where I have to go.” Trying to figure out of destiny or free will is dominant is an excellent way to tie your brain up in knots, but it seems like they would have to reach some sort of compromise. The closest I was able to come to summing that compromise up was that every choice is yours to make, but you have to make it. Even deciding not to choose is a choice. That led me nicely into Ramage‘s idea that while humans are theoretically free to do whatever they want, every choice they make is chosen from a limited selection of choices and affects the possibility of certain choices down the road. What I took from that was that people spend their entire lives creating more and more rules and boundaries, imposing limitations on themselves. And sometimes that idea evokes thoughts of quiet desperation, but more often I find myself thinking, “There’s really nothing wrong with that. We need boundaries in our lives or nothing would make sense.” As Ramage says, “[W]hatever one knows from the past is irrelevant to a world that changes totally moment to moment.”