Final Draft forRamage Paper

My Adventure in Ramageland

I have just returned from a very strange land, one not many know about, and an even stranger adventure. Several days ago I was sitting outside reading a book by John D. Ramage entitled Rhetoric: A User’s Guide, expecting another boring text with trite formulas to follow. I opened the cover and a man walked up to my study spot and said “Hello.” I looked up a little annoyed; I had already procrastinated on reading the chapter, and was ready to get it over with. I replied with a half smile, trying to hint I was more interested in my book than a conversation with a stranger. He did not catch the hint, or did he, but insisted that his words be heard? Whatever the reason, he stayed put. “My name’s John,” he said extending his hand. With a sigh I closed my book, not understanding why I was so easily persuaded to talk with a complete stranger. He did not seem like an ax murderer, so I returned the handshake.
As soon as our hands met, the world around me started to spin, and I was swept through a whirling vortex which transported me to a place I was very unfamiliar with. The structures around me were warped, the buildings and scenery a grotesque image of what I was used to being around. John was standing to my left, a triumphant smile on his face. “Welcome to Ramageland,” he said “My world of rhetoric.” A world of rhetoric, I thought. What does that mean? And what exactly is rhetoric? I asked him these questions and he babbled on and on about examples that I soon lost interest in, but the basic outcome of his lengthy explanation was he did not answer any of my questions. I frowned, feeling that I was getting no where fast. Was he not giving me a straight answer because he would not, or was it rather that he could not? I had been in this world for only a few seconds, but was quickly discovering this place was far different from my normal world that consisted of a set list of rules and regulations. I asked him how to get back home to which he replied, “You must find your own way, I am merely here to guide you along.” I was starting to really dislike this guy and his vague philosophical speeches. Aren’t guides supposed to tell you where to go? Or are they there simply to help you figure things out for yourself? At any rate, he was making me think far too much, and I needed a straight answer. Before he left he made the comment “Try understanding one thing in terms of another.” He then quickly disappeared from my sight in one big poof!
I began walking on a linear path, not wanting to curve around the various twisted roads that surrounded me (I’m not very good with directions and I did not want to get turned around or lost) and looked to my left. Two children were dancing along the street. One named Act, and the other Motion. I decided Act was much better than Motion, because Act could come up with new moves, even though most of Act’s moves were based off of Motion’s. I soon came upon a sign that read “At every step, I freely choose among options, though I am not free to create all the options from which I choose” (14). The sign pointed to a curvy road, leading me off the straight path that I had been following, but I was feeling adventurous, and figured the straight path would not get me out of this place. As I continued around my path, I came upon a cluster of people, separated in to two groups. One group stood under a sign that said “Serious,” and the other group beneath a sign that said “Rhetorical.” After listening to the two groups conversing with one another, I found that they did not get along very well. In fact, the Serious people hated the Rhetorical people, and I learned the Serious people rarely make a visit to this world of rhetoric.
The groups were discussing topics that had limitations. The Serious people were arguing that because every option you make causes a limitation, you travel where you have to go and have no choice in the matter. Free will is only an illusion. However, the Rhetorical people were saying that because you chose the options that give you limitations, you are choosing your own path, and there is no set course. The Serious people needed a definitive answer, but the Rhetorical people were happy with out one. They asked me my opinion, and by the end of the conversation, I found myself persuaded by the Rhetorical people. Not everything can be classified as black and white, and some questions are to be left unanswered. Perhaps this is what John was trying to teach me. He did not define rhetoric because it is not one of those black and white questions. I was beginning to see what he meant by understanding one thing in terms of another.
The Rhetorical people pointed me on another path that led to a river. As I walked along I heard two men arguing. I walked over to them and the man on the right introduced himself as Paramenides and the man on the left introduced himself as Heraclitus. Paramenides continued with his argument that the river is the same, no matter what happens. Heraclitus disagreed, saying that the river is never the same. I thought about it and suggested that the river is like a human. Although we are constantly changing appearances, we are still the same person. I was proud of myself for the metaphor and Paramenides was glad that I took his side. “You appear to be fitting in a little better,” John said as he appeared by my side. “One thing in terms of another,” I stated.
I continued along my path, leaving the two men to continue their arguing, when I heard a rumble in the distance. A gang of bikers riding Harleys cruised around me in a circle and asked if I wanted to come along. A salesman persuaded me to by a Hog, something that I never considered a practical means of transportation. You can not use them in bad weather, or to transport friends, and then there’s the flying off the bike and dying part, but the salesman used pretty words and I was hooked. We were soon blazing down Readymade Road rocking out to the song, Born to be Wild. The group seemed antisocial, but I was able to connect with them. The feeling of freedom was astounding. Sadly, my ride was cut short, because the salesman sold me a bad bike and the pack would not wait up for me. I guess rhetoric is a weapon that can be used for good or bad. That salesman only wanted to make a sale, and had manipulated me into making a purchase. I suppose persuasion can be good or bad, depending on the person, wielding the tools of rhetoric.
This last thought made me question my identity. Who am I? Hopefully I wasn’t going through a mid-life crisis at age nineteen. I was beginning to be glad that I had come on this trip, because I was learning a lot about myself. I was also learning a lot about rhetoric, which at the beginning of my journey seemed impossible. As I made my way further down the path I finally made it out of the wilderness and back into a city. Great, I thought, I should be able to find a way home from here. As I was walking into the city, I came across some ruffians in a back-ally. One of the men pulled out a gun and coerced me into giving him my Harley that I had been pulling along. After running away I felt that it was not too big of a loss. It did not work anymore anyway. Won’t he be in for a surprise? Was I using rhetoric as a means to persuade him that the bike was actually worth something? I didn’t really care at that point and was ready to make my way home. I had been in Ramageland too long for my liking and I was beginning to miss home.
I walked by a coliseum at the center of the city. What on earth is that doing here? I thought. There was a lone warrior standing in the middle of the arena, slashing his sword at a non-existent enemy. I asked him what he was doing, to which he replied “I cannot leave until I have conquered my foe.” I felt sorry for him, was he doomed to an ever lasting existence of fighting for his freedom, and to never have any kind of impact on the world? Much like rhetoric, I thought. If there is no audience to wield the weapon against, rhetoric becomes useless, with no one to listen to your beliefs.
Throughout my journey in Ramageland, I have come to discover much about rhetoric. It is more than just a tool of persuasion as so many people think. It brings together a person’s values, beliefs, and ideals along with the power to change the world. John could not define rhetoric for me in the beginning of my journey, because each wielder of this tool uses it differently. It is certainly not something a text book could easily define. John popped by my side again and asked if I enjoyed my stay in his world. I couldn’t say no, I had learned a lot from the experience. I’m glad I decided not to take the straight path at the beginning of my adventure and learned a lot from straying away from the illusion of truth. I made my way to center city, still contemplating the enlightenment I had just discovered. I raised my hand and somewhat reluctantly caught a cab back to reality.