Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Velvet and Blenders
I began reading the Bernays and Lippmann articles with a bad attitude. Maybe bad attitude isn't the right choice of words...perhaps disappointed is a better word? I hate e-reserves. As someone who is very into highlighting and circling, e-reserves bothers me because I can't make all my little notes on the text. Why not just print them out, right? Well, I'm cheap. Paper is in high demand in my apartment, (as some professors can attest to who have received papers from me with old papers printed on the backs of them) and I get even more disappointed printing out 7 page articles I will probably only look at a few times. So what does this have to do with audience approach and rhetorical situation? In regards to the pro-propaganda Bernays, we've all been on the other side of advertisement and media manipulation. Watching that late night infomercial could be the reason you are now a less-than-proud owner of a blender. Bernays believes that the situational circumstances of a political candidate like Coolidge, or the fashion industry and its growing taste for velvet make voters and consumers the masters of their own domain. He presents propaganda as educational, in the case of margarine. He said margarine was getting a bad rap because people were misinformed on its ingredients, so thankfully for the nutritionists and doctors who set everybody straight on what really goes into the greasy spread, the margarine industry could prosper once again. In the case of the velvet, Bernays says Americans didn't know what an elegant textile they had on their hands with velvet. They just needed the approving nod of the French couture to give them they push they needed for it to become popular and successful. How does this relate to my aforementioned example of the blender and e-reserves. Relax, I'm getting there. Let's say you saw that same infomercial for the blender at 2:00 in the afternoon as you were on your way out to class. You might not have bought that blender. You would have had other things on your mind, like did I grab all my books? Do I have my keys? But at 2:00 in the morning, you're bored, trying to go to sleep, and the only thing on is that persuasive commercial about the blender. So you get it, because the host has made some really good points and it is only three easy payments of $19.99...As for e-reserves, if these articles were in a book, I could've made notes and highlighted like I like too. My post probably would have been a lot better without these annoying examples about velvet and blenders, and then you wouldn't have to read such a boring post. :-)
Thursday, February 22, 2007
The H Word
The H word! Someone remind me of the H word that Dr. Mahoney put on the board today because I didn't write it down!
That is what Bernays article reminds me of. He seems to be saying that to persuade public opinion you must get certain groups to agree with something and by doing that, it is possible to get other groups to believe the same thing. First, sell a new product to upscale companies and convince important people to wear or use it, then the general public will see that this product is important in some way and that to be great too, or fashionable, or smart, they should buy it.
Yeah.
And for Lippmann, all I could think of was voting, or not voting- as it is. I voted as an immature, partially lazy 19-year-old and went with the popular opinion of those surrounding my life. I was scared about war and scared that it would come here if we took the guy who started the whole thing out of office, but I didn't look up any facts. I didn't worry about who said they would lower tuition, or participate in the important things that will help the environment, or even what Kerry intended to do about the war. I went with my gut-- my gut and those around me who felt the same way. Lippmann's article was right and so I listened and when he mentioned that most people admit that they don't really care about the election, I agreed.
Each of these men has a strong idea about how the general public thinks, what they think about and who has the power to change their thought. It isn't my favorite kind of reading, but looking at what I've learned, it was pretty interesting.
That is what Bernays article reminds me of. He seems to be saying that to persuade public opinion you must get certain groups to agree with something and by doing that, it is possible to get other groups to believe the same thing. First, sell a new product to upscale companies and convince important people to wear or use it, then the general public will see that this product is important in some way and that to be great too, or fashionable, or smart, they should buy it.
Yeah.
And for Lippmann, all I could think of was voting, or not voting- as it is. I voted as an immature, partially lazy 19-year-old and went with the popular opinion of those surrounding my life. I was scared about war and scared that it would come here if we took the guy who started the whole thing out of office, but I didn't look up any facts. I didn't worry about who said they would lower tuition, or participate in the important things that will help the environment, or even what Kerry intended to do about the war. I went with my gut-- my gut and those around me who felt the same way. Lippmann's article was right and so I listened and when he mentioned that most people admit that they don't really care about the election, I agreed.
Each of these men has a strong idea about how the general public thinks, what they think about and who has the power to change their thought. It isn't my favorite kind of reading, but looking at what I've learned, it was pretty interesting.
YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Persuaders really opened my eyes to see how stalkerish the advertising industry is. These people profit off of obsession, its kinda freaky! The advertising industry is like an annoying nerd trying desperately to get our attention.The poor guy, like advertising, hopes that you will want him! He wants you to fall madly in love with him and never EVER let him go. This guy is very determined though and will try anything possible to win you over. First he thinks " What can I do that hasn't been done before?" He sees where others have failed and tries to develop new ways of getting your attention. You on the other hand, are not impressed, you simply ignore the annoyance and move forward. Next the guy asks other girls what they like (surveys), find out as much information about you and even go as far as to get outside help, all in the name of making you want him. He says things like "all girls want me and so should you!" he might even try to appeal to your sensitive side, like telling you that he loves everything you love. All of this guys tactics may get your attention but doesn't make you want him anymore.
The problem isn't that the guy is undesirable . The problem is that he tries way too hard and becomes annoying. Because he behaves this way consistently, he's predictable, and because he gravels at your feet constantly, you feel like you are the shit! The solution: act like he doesnt want you! If he stops graveling at your feet, and makes you feel like your the loser, not him, then he will make you want him. It's that whole reverse psychology thing; make them feel like they aren't wanted and it will pique their interest. I know this sounds horrible.
This should be worked out in the advertising world. One of the most succesful businesses Abercrombie and Fitch are pros at creating an elite image. They don't flood you with Ads, they dont make you want them. In the process, you do want them. Maybe the Advertising of the future will be no advertising at all.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Bernays & Lippmann
Well just to add a few words about these two, I think that both of them approach the audience well.
They appeal to the audience by giving the consumer what they want. Take for example the vegetable shortening section of Bernays. Jewish people did not use/buy this product because it did not fit in with their dietary requirements. In response to this, the company changed the ingredients and had it approved by religious officials.
I personally feel that this type of action does in fact persuade people of the Jewish religion to buy this product.
A part of Lippmann that was very interesting was the line that stated "Thus the genius of any illuminating public discussion is not obscure and censor private interest but to help it sail and make it sail under its own colors.
When you think about and contemplate this notion, it is what the public wants. They want to know about obscured and censored information because we as citizens find it appealing! When President Clinton had an affair in The White House, everyone wanted to know about it. They wanted to know all the details. If that is what the public wants....they are going to get it!
Good Stuff!
They appeal to the audience by giving the consumer what they want. Take for example the vegetable shortening section of Bernays. Jewish people did not use/buy this product because it did not fit in with their dietary requirements. In response to this, the company changed the ingredients and had it approved by religious officials.
I personally feel that this type of action does in fact persuade people of the Jewish religion to buy this product.
A part of Lippmann that was very interesting was the line that stated "Thus the genius of any illuminating public discussion is not obscure and censor private interest but to help it sail and make it sail under its own colors.
When you think about and contemplate this notion, it is what the public wants. They want to know about obscured and censored information because we as citizens find it appealing! When President Clinton had an affair in The White House, everyone wanted to know about it. They wanted to know all the details. If that is what the public wants....they are going to get it!
Good Stuff!
Persuaders
So I have to say that I thought this movie was going to be boring and that I was going to have to strain to stay awake. But in all actuality it was pretty good. It was very interesting to see how advertisers do everything in their power to make us, the consumers, give in and purchase whatever they are selling. What was also pretty interesting and at the same time very scary was the great deal of research that goes into pulling the consumer in.
Well all in all, the movie was very infromative. Now when I go places I look at ads and I watch commercials and I start to think about the movie.
Well all in all, the movie was very infromative. Now when I go places I look at ads and I watch commercials and I start to think about the movie.
The Persuaders!
Love this movie. I thought it was informative as well as being entertaining. It is crazy to think that everything we see on TV, in the streets, on highway billboards; everything we hear on the radio..is all to get us to buy something or to do something. Thinking about the concept of advertising, could you picture not having any type of advertisements anywhere?? I could not picture walking in Time Square with no crazy neon lights scream at me, no taxi drivers displaying the next big play on Broadway, or half naked people advertising underwear!
I found that this movie not only demonstrated the long man hours put aside to come up with a measly slogan for white bread, or a way to emotionally connect to viewers to buy cheerios. Although I have always known that millions of dollars a year are spent to show consumers why their products are the best, but I never knew that some company's actually treat it as a science!!
I would have to say that at certain points in the movie I found myself more pissed off then anything. The way the companies treat their consumers makes me think that they really do not have the best interested in the people that buy them, all they are really concerned with is whether or not they will beat out their competitors. I can just see a bunch of suites sitting around an office from different company's bragging about the new commercials that are coming out and how many billions of dollars they spend on trying to appeal to the public.
Further more, I would just like to add that just because they have babies in cheerios commercials does not mean I'm going to buy cheerios. Just because an air line appeals to females on a independent and emotional level, doesn't mean i am going to take it. (Besides me who thought that there advertising in no way explained that it was an airline??)
With that i will end my discussion.....See you in class
:)
I found that this movie not only demonstrated the long man hours put aside to come up with a measly slogan for white bread, or a way to emotionally connect to viewers to buy cheerios. Although I have always known that millions of dollars a year are spent to show consumers why their products are the best, but I never knew that some company's actually treat it as a science!!
I would have to say that at certain points in the movie I found myself more pissed off then anything. The way the companies treat their consumers makes me think that they really do not have the best interested in the people that buy them, all they are really concerned with is whether or not they will beat out their competitors. I can just see a bunch of suites sitting around an office from different company's bragging about the new commercials that are coming out and how many billions of dollars they spend on trying to appeal to the public.
Further more, I would just like to add that just because they have babies in cheerios commercials does not mean I'm going to buy cheerios. Just because an air line appeals to females on a independent and emotional level, doesn't mean i am going to take it. (Besides me who thought that there advertising in no way explained that it was an airline??)
With that i will end my discussion.....See you in class
:)
The Persuaders Response
When I found out we were going to watch a movie on advertising and persuasion, I wasn't really quite sure what to expect. Don't we really know the basics anyway? But right as the movie began, within the first few minutes, I realized how much our lives are driven by advertising. My MySpace page has an add for a cellular phone company, I pass at least a dozen billboards on my way to class in a mere 2o minutes, and everywhere I look around my room I see labels on many things displaying a bright and vibrant name. One never really realizes how much advertising surrounds us because I think we have become immune to it. We are so used to seeing advertisements, billboards, and signs for one thing or another. There is really no way to escape it anymore, especially in America.
One other thing that definitely struck a chord with me was the use of the term "cults" in reference to consumers. But as the movie went on and was discussing "Song" and their recruitment of new employees, I saw that the employees seemed to be a part of this cult as well. At "Songapalooza", the new employees were extremely hyped and excited about working for Song (almost to the point of annoyance). "We ARE Song." and "We've always had Song inside of us." were some of the phrases used by these employees. I half was expecting them to vacation in Jonestown and drink some grape Kool-Aid.....
Not that the whole movie annoyed me, this is not my point. I was very interested and intrigued by the entire film. But "Songapalooza" really stuck in my head.
'Til Tomorrow.....
Kristin
One other thing that definitely struck a chord with me was the use of the term "cults" in reference to consumers. But as the movie went on and was discussing "Song" and their recruitment of new employees, I saw that the employees seemed to be a part of this cult as well. At "Songapalooza", the new employees were extremely hyped and excited about working for Song (almost to the point of annoyance). "We ARE Song." and "We've always had Song inside of us." were some of the phrases used by these employees. I half was expecting them to vacation in Jonestown and drink some grape Kool-Aid.....
Not that the whole movie annoyed me, this is not my point. I was very interested and intrigued by the entire film. But "Songapalooza" really stuck in my head.
'Til Tomorrow.....
Kristin
The Persuaders and then some
As I was sitting there watching The Persuaders I kept thinking that I should be bored or something. An in class video that can keep my attention? I was surprised. The whole concept of advertising is so disturbing and extremely interesting. The fact that there is a place somewhere that has everyone's information stored in massive computers is very creepy. The whole part with Rapaille was cool. That there's a code for a certain product, just a simple word. The amount of research that goes into the posters, commercials and billboards is astonishing. As word the "Song" airline-I've never heard of it. It's sad the amount of time and money those people put into the commercial, they had such an elaborate idea. Maybe they should have thought to put an actual plane in their ad.
As for the eReserve articles flashes of my Mass Comm class came back to haunt me. We learned about Edward Bernays and being the father of public relations. I think that both articles are describing the persuasion of people's thoughts and ideas. Maybe it is coercive or maybe it just falls short of that, but they are definetely playing with our minds. Perhaps because Bernays is related to Freud or maybe it is just that easy to get into the public's mind. In any case it was very interesting to read all the different PR and advertising cases in both articles. I think that both authors approach their audience as just something they can mold, they recognize that they have their own thoughts and beliefs and they take that into account when tailoring advertisements to them. Mainly, they are just objects that they can play with and make them think a certain way. The Bernays article discussed removing prejudice as being a key part of manipulating public opinion. I think that's true. Prejudices shape the way we think of certain things and certain ideas as well. By removing prejudice or accepting a prejudice of something then the advertiser or PR agent can market their product or their thought directly to you. I'm out of ideas now. All that's left to say is that I keep coming back to my Mass Comm class and our Disney project that we had to do. If ever there was anyone that shaped the minds of the world it was Walt Disney, perhaps he read Bernays or Lippmann's work.
Very interesting.
As for the eReserve articles flashes of my Mass Comm class came back to haunt me. We learned about Edward Bernays and being the father of public relations. I think that both articles are describing the persuasion of people's thoughts and ideas. Maybe it is coercive or maybe it just falls short of that, but they are definetely playing with our minds. Perhaps because Bernays is related to Freud or maybe it is just that easy to get into the public's mind. In any case it was very interesting to read all the different PR and advertising cases in both articles. I think that both authors approach their audience as just something they can mold, they recognize that they have their own thoughts and beliefs and they take that into account when tailoring advertisements to them. Mainly, they are just objects that they can play with and make them think a certain way. The Bernays article discussed removing prejudice as being a key part of manipulating public opinion. I think that's true. Prejudices shape the way we think of certain things and certain ideas as well. By removing prejudice or accepting a prejudice of something then the advertiser or PR agent can market their product or their thought directly to you. I'm out of ideas now. All that's left to say is that I keep coming back to my Mass Comm class and our Disney project that we had to do. If ever there was anyone that shaped the minds of the world it was Walt Disney, perhaps he read Bernays or Lippmann's work.
Very interesting.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
hmm...
So, when we first had to sit down at watch this movie I really didn't think much of it. In the back of my mind, of course I know what is going on with advertisers and their schemes to suck us into spending all of our hard earned money. However, when I am buying a new pair of shoes that I definitely don't need just because they are "in" right now, I try not to admit to myself that I have become a victim of the plots and schemes they create.
It's a little scary to watch that movie and see an "insider's view" of what it takes to create a campaign for a product. So much time and effort will go into a three minute commercial that it almost doesn't seem worth it. (Obviously, it IS worth it because these companies are still in business..) Personally, I will always use Tide laundry detergent because that's what my mom always used and I don't know anything else. I hate plain cheerios, so having a cute little baby and grandma will do absolutely nothing for me because I can't stand the taste of them. The only thing a commercial like that will make me do is say "awww, look at that baby." I'm pretty sure that's not what theyre going for.
And as far as the SING airline is concerned, I would NEVER ride on a new airline because of technical difficulties and the like, especially nowadays. It doesn't matter how amazing your commercial is, I'm going to fly on the airline my dad told me to fly on, because I trust him more than some airline dude. And for the record-I've never even HEARD of Sing airlines! psh.
I feel pretty stupid right now, actually, putting it out there that I hate they're way of thinking and saying I think it's unnecessary. Companies think it is necessary because "if you don't advertise at all, you'll go out of business." Which I agree with, however for the most part, everyone has made up their minds and there isn't really much you can do to change that. It's like all those political commercials the day before the election...pretty much everyone has made up their mind already and one measly commercial is not going to sway their vote. *sigh*
It's a little scary to watch that movie and see an "insider's view" of what it takes to create a campaign for a product. So much time and effort will go into a three minute commercial that it almost doesn't seem worth it. (Obviously, it IS worth it because these companies are still in business..) Personally, I will always use Tide laundry detergent because that's what my mom always used and I don't know anything else. I hate plain cheerios, so having a cute little baby and grandma will do absolutely nothing for me because I can't stand the taste of them. The only thing a commercial like that will make me do is say "awww, look at that baby." I'm pretty sure that's not what theyre going for.
And as far as the SING airline is concerned, I would NEVER ride on a new airline because of technical difficulties and the like, especially nowadays. It doesn't matter how amazing your commercial is, I'm going to fly on the airline my dad told me to fly on, because I trust him more than some airline dude. And for the record-I've never even HEARD of Sing airlines! psh.
I feel pretty stupid right now, actually, putting it out there that I hate they're way of thinking and saying I think it's unnecessary. Companies think it is necessary because "if you don't advertise at all, you'll go out of business." Which I agree with, however for the most part, everyone has made up their minds and there isn't really much you can do to change that. It's like all those political commercials the day before the election...pretty much everyone has made up their mind already and one measly commercial is not going to sway their vote. *sigh*
Friday, February 16, 2007
My Proustian memory
One warm fall evening, about two weeks into my freshman year of college, I followed some of my roommates down Main Street to a party. The keg was in the shower and cups were cheap. I wasn't a big drinker at the time, so by the end of the night, when I had imbibed somewhere around 9 beers, the whole world was flopping around like a water bed in an earthquake. To make matters worse, I hadn't eaten a thing since lunch.
That was perhaps the drunkest I have ever been--and I was up all night paying for it. Puking, retching, whatever you want to call it, I was in a bad way. A few years previous I got really sick when I left my house for a weekend, then, not knowing the power went off for two days, ate spoiled food out of the fridge when I got back. But after 9 beers, I was sicker.
Just about the only thing I remember from that whole warm night is being sick. Wave after wave of wrenching nausea sweeping over me as I prayed to the porcelain god. It lasted for hours. Every minute hunched over the bowl is clear in my mind's eye. And not just the physical act of being sick, but the feelings, emotions and all the horrible internal sensations that went along with it. That swelling from deep down that builds and rises, no matter how hard you try to stop it. That piercing pain that bridges the time between heaves. That feeling of emptiness that lingers long after your gut is completely evacuated.
I've been sick a few times since. Hard nights out, stomach flu, more goddamn food poisoning, etc. But none of those instances really brought back the awful feelings of that night quite as vividly as The Persuaders. Not the movie--the subject.
Jean-Paul Sartre said, "l'enfer, c'est les autres," or, "hell is other people." I think he was close. After watching The Persuaders, it's clear that hell is other people selling you things.
Minimum Wrage
That was perhaps the drunkest I have ever been--and I was up all night paying for it. Puking, retching, whatever you want to call it, I was in a bad way. A few years previous I got really sick when I left my house for a weekend, then, not knowing the power went off for two days, ate spoiled food out of the fridge when I got back. But after 9 beers, I was sicker.
Just about the only thing I remember from that whole warm night is being sick. Wave after wave of wrenching nausea sweeping over me as I prayed to the porcelain god. It lasted for hours. Every minute hunched over the bowl is clear in my mind's eye. And not just the physical act of being sick, but the feelings, emotions and all the horrible internal sensations that went along with it. That swelling from deep down that builds and rises, no matter how hard you try to stop it. That piercing pain that bridges the time between heaves. That feeling of emptiness that lingers long after your gut is completely evacuated.
I've been sick a few times since. Hard nights out, stomach flu, more goddamn food poisoning, etc. But none of those instances really brought back the awful feelings of that night quite as vividly as The Persuaders. Not the movie--the subject.
Jean-Paul Sartre said, "l'enfer, c'est les autres," or, "hell is other people." I think he was close. After watching The Persuaders, it's clear that hell is other people selling you things.
Minimum Wrage
Thursday, February 15, 2007
This again?
I never thought I would ever find anything relating to the "Art, design, and visual culture" class I took my freshman year. But, there it was, branding, and "No Logo."
And I really shouldn't be trying to type this while wrestling is on.
Any, this movie only made me hate branding and advertisers more than I already did.
~Chrissy
And I really shouldn't be trying to type this while wrestling is on.
Any, this movie only made me hate branding and advertisers more than I already did.
~Chrissy
Tom's Fresh Eggs- Feel the comfort of a home cooked breakfast with eggs from Tom's back yard
They have figured it out. We want to belong. We group together and what better way to say "I am with them" then to wear the same sneakers?
I enjoy the feeling I get from wearing Victoria's Secret PINK pj's, my identity= cute/sexy just like the models, or my expensive leather purse- my identity is sophisticated adult. I dig into consumorism and enjoy every minute... well, almost every minute of it! I laught when I saw the paper plated commercial used as an example. I was deffinitly into that commercial and like the idea of family and friends happily having a picnic, but I'm sure if I was to do that, I'd pick up some paper plates from Dollar Tree-- hell yea! And that's what I mean-- we aren't all that sucked in and it's funny to see professionals talk about how advertisers are scared and trying to find something new and trying to sell, sell, sell!
I do agree with the idea of 'clutter.' Way too much, but that is why I live in a small town and not New York City. We usually eat eggs from my uncle's chickens-- how's that for a brand? It is all about where you settle yourself and how much you want to buy into fancy, non-survival products.
I had to watch some on-line b/c I was sick Tuesday, but it's very interesting and I can't wait to see the rest!
I enjoy the feeling I get from wearing Victoria's Secret PINK pj's, my identity= cute/sexy just like the models, or my expensive leather purse- my identity is sophisticated adult. I dig into consumorism and enjoy every minute... well, almost every minute of it! I laught when I saw the paper plated commercial used as an example. I was deffinitly into that commercial and like the idea of family and friends happily having a picnic, but I'm sure if I was to do that, I'd pick up some paper plates from Dollar Tree-- hell yea! And that's what I mean-- we aren't all that sucked in and it's funny to see professionals talk about how advertisers are scared and trying to find something new and trying to sell, sell, sell!
I do agree with the idea of 'clutter.' Way too much, but that is why I live in a small town and not New York City. We usually eat eggs from my uncle's chickens-- how's that for a brand? It is all about where you settle yourself and how much you want to buy into fancy, non-survival products.
I had to watch some on-line b/c I was sick Tuesday, but it's very interesting and I can't wait to see the rest!
Those Persuasive Bastards
Isn't it a sick society in which we live where billions of dollars each year are spent not only trying to get people to buy things but doing so by providing readymade identities through products? Products!! Things that are so much not a necessary part of human survival, but advertisers tell us they are and we lap it up and whip out our visa cards. Not everyone acts this way mind you, but enough people that consumerism thrives and product labels are the cultural icons of America. Can any one of us imagine living without the nuisance of advertisements telling us that we can, and should, be better people and that buying a thing or using a service will enable us to do so? Or that a particular product will allow us to be perceived by others as a certain classification of person? Everyone in this country is so damn hungry and most are that way simply because they've been cultured to be. What are they hungry for? Self satisfaction? Cultural acceptance? Advertisements create false desires, situational wants based on availability. I am reminded of the studies about overeating that demonstrate how people with more food in front of them will naturally eat more than those provided with enough food to create a feeling of fullness. The overeaters lose sensitivity to how much food it takes to satisfy hunger and the entire eating experience becomes mental, focused mainly on the pleasure derived from taste and the act of consuming. It becomes a round-and-round of more, more, more and I can't get enough, much like advertisement. People end up buying more things they don't need and may not even want simply because advertisers learned enough about human desires to present their products in a desirable manner and damn, that Taco Bell Burrito on TV sure looks good even though it's 11pm and I had dinner a few hours ago.
I'm not excluding myself from consumers; I listen to my IPod, write on my Mac laptop and drive a Volkswagon, but I try not to think of who I am based on the products I use and buying things that aren't absolute necessities doesn't really appeal; I would be even more poor than I am now if I bought things simply because they were there to buy. I strongly believe that experience plays a major part in creating identity because if all of those products and material belongings got thrown in a bonfire, I would still be the same person without them.
So that's my tangent on advertising; it gets to be a touchy subject.
(You guys are lucky, I didn't even get into how we spend so much money on advertising when there are millions of people across the world starving and picking through trash in order to stay alive...maybe some other time)
I'm not excluding myself from consumers; I listen to my IPod, write on my Mac laptop and drive a Volkswagon, but I try not to think of who I am based on the products I use and buying things that aren't absolute necessities doesn't really appeal; I would be even more poor than I am now if I bought things simply because they were there to buy. I strongly believe that experience plays a major part in creating identity because if all of those products and material belongings got thrown in a bonfire, I would still be the same person without them.
So that's my tangent on advertising; it gets to be a touchy subject.
(You guys are lucky, I didn't even get into how we spend so much money on advertising when there are millions of people across the world starving and picking through trash in order to stay alive...maybe some other time)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The Persuaders
I found this video to be quite interesting. It exposes a part of the advertising industry that is seldom explored, and then proceeds to dig even deeper into that. I especially liked the part involving Clotaire Rapaille and his theory that good advertising requires an understanding of a "code." This code relates to the basic functions of human nature, and it's rather fascinating how this can be tapped into by anyone who can crack it.
I also found it kind of funny that "Song" or whatever airlines had this big plan of developing a soul/community type thing, and though I recall the commercials, I had nooooo clue Song ever existed until watching this video.
Funny.
I also found it kind of funny that "Song" or whatever airlines had this big plan of developing a soul/community type thing, and though I recall the commercials, I had nooooo clue Song ever existed until watching this video.
Funny.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Products of Persuasion
I thought the movie in class has been extremely interesting so far, and am looking forward to seeing the rest of it on Thursday. I've taken notice of all of the advertisements that surround me all the time, specifically on the 4 hour drive up home. I tend to look at the ad boards on the side of the turnpike and then think about that product for a while, usually until I see the next ad which allows me to think about that product. It's really a good way to use up a few hours! We can't escape advertisements, and we can't escape the effects that they have on us. From the time we are born we are surrounded by it, therefore we all really are just products of persuasion.
The other thing that interested me about this film so far is how hard companies try to seemlessly fit their advertisements into the everyday lives of their viewers. Fitting their product name into television shows, or simply having a commercial that runs more like a small film seems to be a brilliant idea of getting their name out there to people like me who turn the channel every time a commercial break comes on, or my grandfather who's number one comment always seems to be "they tell you it's a half-hour program, but 20 minutes of that is nothin' but junk!" But even though that advertisement time gets complained about, it must be affective because the day after the superbowl, yeh, we know who won, but GoodMorning America spends more time discussing the best and worst commercials during the game than the amazing athletic talent. So to end, I thought that I would share the link to my favorite television commercial. It's for a credit card company but it runs like a small film, it has a tv personality in it, and it's filled with absolutely adorable animals.. and you have no idea what the product actually is until the very end.... good advertising.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5LR-IZbbc0
The other thing that interested me about this film so far is how hard companies try to seemlessly fit their advertisements into the everyday lives of their viewers. Fitting their product name into television shows, or simply having a commercial that runs more like a small film seems to be a brilliant idea of getting their name out there to people like me who turn the channel every time a commercial break comes on, or my grandfather who's number one comment always seems to be "they tell you it's a half-hour program, but 20 minutes of that is nothin' but junk!" But even though that advertisement time gets complained about, it must be affective because the day after the superbowl, yeh, we know who won, but GoodMorning America spends more time discussing the best and worst commercials during the game than the amazing athletic talent. So to end, I thought that I would share the link to my favorite television commercial. It's for a credit card company but it runs like a small film, it has a tv personality in it, and it's filled with absolutely adorable animals.. and you have no idea what the product actually is until the very end.... good advertising.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5LR-IZbbc0
The Persuaders!
Well... I love this movie so far!
I have just caught a glimpse into the crazy world of advertisement and i am happy to say that I am not studying to be in buisness!
So far, i think that this movie has already showed me that advertisement is everwhere!!! and not just in the way i think it is. It is in so many places that i block it out. Half of the things that some of these big corporations try to use for advertisement ( does white bread make you feel lonely)??? {What?? Are you serious??? } just do not go together and inreturn oviously does not sell their product!
I am looking forward to watchin more of this movie on Thurs.
See you all then!
I have just caught a glimpse into the crazy world of advertisement and i am happy to say that I am not studying to be in buisness!
So far, i think that this movie has already showed me that advertisement is everwhere!!! and not just in the way i think it is. It is in so many places that i block it out. Half of the things that some of these big corporations try to use for advertisement ( does white bread make you feel lonely)??? {What?? Are you serious??? } just do not go together and inreturn oviously does not sell their product!
I am looking forward to watchin more of this movie on Thurs.
See you all then!
Thursday, February 08, 2007
For your consumption and comment
I wanted to read my whole essay aloud today because it doesn't really get to the meat until later. So in lieu of that, here is the final copy. I'd like to know what everyone thinks, so please leave your comments. Also, I think everyone did a fine job presenting their work in class today. It takes a fair amount of bravery to lay yourself bare like that, no matter what the circumstances. Bravo.
And really, you should all check out my personal blog, too. minimumwrage.blogspot.com. You know...feed your head.
“An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise.”
—Victor Hugo
Ramageland is not a place that you journey to; it’s a journey itself. Like El Dorado or Shangrila, the point isn’t to get there, it’s to quest. I’m slouching toward Bethlehem in front of my laptop. There is dust between the keys and on the screen that glows in the afternoon glare.
This is Super Bowl Sunday. Today kicks off with partly cloudy skies and a 50 percent chance of misanthropy. It’s raining in Miami. Tornados tore through the peninsula two days ago destroying what CNN’s Soledad O’Brien pointed out were, “not just mobile homes, but regular homes, too.” Poor Floridians are getting soaked today because their roofs were flicked off like paper footballs by the finger of God, and a few miles away Shannon Sharpe wears a $2,000 Italian wool suit while pontificating about latter day gridiron saints. Bad vibes abound for this, our most sacred right of Americana. The Great Magnet is offering us a foreboding message, and we are almost certainly ignoring it.
What kind of tact must football commentators exhibit to call the shots objectively—as they see them? Ignore the nastiness down the road. Focus on the struggle here, on this field of green. There will be losers, yes, but there will be winners, too, and that’s more comfort than those poor Floridians in Wesh-Lake county can offer an audience. No one can control what the weather does, but these teams…they have coaches. Ignore the nastiness down the road. It’s an exercise in rhetoric. Remember that people tune in to see football, not worry about their common man.
Today culminates my journey through Ramageland. Two cups of impossibly bad coffee and an uneasy motivation got me out of bed this morning, and now I’m shuffling through memories of 101 pages, deciphering what they meant and how I dealt with their after effects. Sorting all this into a respectable essay is all I care about today. Not football, not food, not tomorrow. Just a respectable essay. Ramage probably spent hundreds of days like this writing Rhetoric. Today might be my last time directly discussing the book, but it’s the first time I can look at it in hindsight. So regardless of whether or not I liked Rhetoric, it’s now in my mind forever and will subtly influence my consciousness until I die. For the rest of my life, Ramage will be in hindsight.
How to begin? Since our blog chronicled our real-time reactions as we searched for Ramageland’s illusive boarder, a reflection on the journaling progression seems appropriate.
* * *
It’s 11: 47 in Kutztown. Snow comes down silently, falling on the warm asphalt of the street and melting instantly. Each unique flake, God’s personal handiwork, is obliterated with heat upon contact with the ground. One flake after another, the snow comes down in waves—torrents blown on by gusts of wind which swirl like miniature cyclones. Silently. It comes down heavier and heavier until, as I watch from my window, the house across from me disappears in the blizzard-like conditions. But the air is warm. The road is warm. And no matter how much snow falls on Noble Street, those little masterpieces are reduced to nothing, one by one, when they reach their destination. They dance in the air and disintegrate on arrival.
In the midnight darkness I can only see what happens in the cone of light cast by our streetlamp. The snow floats in and out of the beam, churning like water in the wake of a boat until it crosses the boarder of light and disappears into the darkness. For all I know, it doesn’t even exist.
It’s deprivation time. Decrease all external stimuli. Focus. Just like the first two chapters, the only way I’ll get through this is by shutting out the world. And what do I expect to get out of reading Rhetoric: A User’s Guide? Pearls of knowledge uniquely and expertly crafted by some “all knowing” being. They’ll flutter down like snow from above, swirling in a delicate ballet on the night air, just waiting to be appreciated. Then they’ll land lightly on the asphalt of my mind and be destroyed. Melted with extreme prejudice. So in the end the ground is changed, but it’s wet, not covered with snow.
When I think of what Ramage has done to our class, my mind repeatedly wanders to Lawrence of Arabia, the classic book by Alistair MacLean chronicling the heroic struggles of someone who was decidedly not Peter O'Toole. The real-life Lawrence redefined what "endurance for a cause" meant—and still means—to educated Englishmen. He grew up in luxury and comfort, but enlisted in the army and helped the Bedouin Arabs throw off their Turkish oppressors during WWI. To do this required extended treks through pure deserts lasting for months on end sometimes. All their food had to be carried with them, as nothing edible lived in the sands of Arabia. All their water had to be carried, too, as liquid was just as scarce as sunshine was plentiful. Their missions were to stir up rebellion, blow up bridges and rail lines, spy when they could, and try their best to make it back alive. Meanwhile, the Turks were doing everything they could to kill Lawrence and his mischievous band of scoundrels. This was an Arab fight, to be sure. But Lawrence suffered and struggled through it nonetheless.
Why do I bring all this up? Well, like I said, Rhetoric and the story of Lawrence of Arabia are inextricably linked in my mind. I see it like this:
Our class struggled through a long and arduous journey (30 pages somehow seems like 50 or 60). Danger lurked around every corner (paper cuts, depression, alcoholism, etc.). We were driven on by fear (Failure with a big, fat, juicy F) and the desire to squash our enemies (don't know about you, but I don't like being dumb). Plus, there was the constant battle with insanity (yes).
But of course there were a few differences between our class and Lawrence of Arabia. The main one being that we dragged our feet a hell of a lot more than Lawrence did. We bitched and moaned and complained about 10 dollar words at every opportunity. We cried about not "liking" the author. But Larry wandered a scorching desert for half a decade in constant fear of starvation, fatal dehydration, sunstroke, and being gunned down by an extremely hostile enemy. In fact, he fought on the very same sand that beige-speckled American troops are fighting on to this day. So, our connection with the deserts of Arabia is actually stronger than most college-level Americans admit to, or even realize. Considering this, it makes complaining about suffering through Ramage's cruel vocabulary seems weak and extremely unbecoming of our typical zeal as students. As a result, the tone of eng230.blogspot.com has been timid and whiny, to say the least. Of course it’s also insightful, thoughtful, and funny, but not brave. What I'm trying to say is that I hope we see the trend going from postings of "feelings" to postings of "convictions."
* * *
It’s called Stendhal syndrome. Sometimes when a person sees art that is exceedingly beautiful, overwhelming or touching, they suddenly become lightheaded. Their heart starts beating faster and they get dizzy, hallucinate or get confused. Rarely, people lose consciousness or even suffer heart attacks.
I doubt anyone has ever been affected with Stendhal syndrome while reading Rhetoric or anything else by Ramage. So I find myself asking why we, as a class, even bothered reading this monstrous work?
It’s because of the different approach Ramage takes in describing the process of writing. Rhetoric not only shapes what we say and how we say it, but is also largely ignored in other English classes. Why not kill two birds with one jerk’s book? It’s a beautiful thing, efficiency.
Nothing Ramage suggests in his book is controversial. As a result, there is little room left for contention of any kind. He’s not presenting new ideas, only describing old ones—ideas that have been intrinsic in people since the dawn of man. Every person is familiar with and uses this thing daily, yet rarely even recognizes its existence. Rhetoric is an abstract idea which flows through and permeates every aspect of communication, pushing and pulling messages, directing attention and diverting emphasis. It’s like the vapory mist of a fog; often ignored despite demanding caution for what it potentially harbors. And as a result, a large part of why Rhetoric is so hard to read is because it’s about something that’s disregarded for its difficulty.
But now, as I wait to for the Great Spectator Bowl to get started, I can look back and appreciate all the frustration Ramage put me through. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t something I looked forward to. And maybe being done with it has shifted my outlook on the whole agonizing process. Nonetheless, I’m glad I slogged through.
The overall benefit of being exposed to something new is immeasurable. As much as anything, the mere recognition that some books and writers out there operate on a hyper-literate level is worth the effort and time involved. It puts things in perspective, and I am better for having read it.
So welcome to Ramageland. We haven’t arrived anywhere, but we’ve embarked on a journey to the heart—the very essence—of what makes civilization possible. I’m sitting in the same seat that I started in. Slouching. Ramage’s words will never leave me, for good or ill. I’ll be reading Rhetoric metaphorically for the rest of my life. And if there’s one thing I think we can all agree on, it’s that a journey through Ramageland is a journey through hell. So like Winston Churchill said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
And really, you should all check out my personal blog, too. minimumwrage.blogspot.com. You know...feed your head.
“An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise.”
—Victor Hugo
Ramageland is not a place that you journey to; it’s a journey itself. Like El Dorado or Shangrila, the point isn’t to get there, it’s to quest. I’m slouching toward Bethlehem in front of my laptop. There is dust between the keys and on the screen that glows in the afternoon glare.
This is Super Bowl Sunday. Today kicks off with partly cloudy skies and a 50 percent chance of misanthropy. It’s raining in Miami. Tornados tore through the peninsula two days ago destroying what CNN’s Soledad O’Brien pointed out were, “not just mobile homes, but regular homes, too.” Poor Floridians are getting soaked today because their roofs were flicked off like paper footballs by the finger of God, and a few miles away Shannon Sharpe wears a $2,000 Italian wool suit while pontificating about latter day gridiron saints. Bad vibes abound for this, our most sacred right of Americana. The Great Magnet is offering us a foreboding message, and we are almost certainly ignoring it.
What kind of tact must football commentators exhibit to call the shots objectively—as they see them? Ignore the nastiness down the road. Focus on the struggle here, on this field of green. There will be losers, yes, but there will be winners, too, and that’s more comfort than those poor Floridians in Wesh-Lake county can offer an audience. No one can control what the weather does, but these teams…they have coaches. Ignore the nastiness down the road. It’s an exercise in rhetoric. Remember that people tune in to see football, not worry about their common man.
Today culminates my journey through Ramageland. Two cups of impossibly bad coffee and an uneasy motivation got me out of bed this morning, and now I’m shuffling through memories of 101 pages, deciphering what they meant and how I dealt with their after effects. Sorting all this into a respectable essay is all I care about today. Not football, not food, not tomorrow. Just a respectable essay. Ramage probably spent hundreds of days like this writing Rhetoric. Today might be my last time directly discussing the book, but it’s the first time I can look at it in hindsight. So regardless of whether or not I liked Rhetoric, it’s now in my mind forever and will subtly influence my consciousness until I die. For the rest of my life, Ramage will be in hindsight.
How to begin? Since our blog chronicled our real-time reactions as we searched for Ramageland’s illusive boarder, a reflection on the journaling progression seems appropriate.
* * *
It’s 11: 47 in Kutztown. Snow comes down silently, falling on the warm asphalt of the street and melting instantly. Each unique flake, God’s personal handiwork, is obliterated with heat upon contact with the ground. One flake after another, the snow comes down in waves—torrents blown on by gusts of wind which swirl like miniature cyclones. Silently. It comes down heavier and heavier until, as I watch from my window, the house across from me disappears in the blizzard-like conditions. But the air is warm. The road is warm. And no matter how much snow falls on Noble Street, those little masterpieces are reduced to nothing, one by one, when they reach their destination. They dance in the air and disintegrate on arrival.
In the midnight darkness I can only see what happens in the cone of light cast by our streetlamp. The snow floats in and out of the beam, churning like water in the wake of a boat until it crosses the boarder of light and disappears into the darkness. For all I know, it doesn’t even exist.
It’s deprivation time. Decrease all external stimuli. Focus. Just like the first two chapters, the only way I’ll get through this is by shutting out the world. And what do I expect to get out of reading Rhetoric: A User’s Guide? Pearls of knowledge uniquely and expertly crafted by some “all knowing” being. They’ll flutter down like snow from above, swirling in a delicate ballet on the night air, just waiting to be appreciated. Then they’ll land lightly on the asphalt of my mind and be destroyed. Melted with extreme prejudice. So in the end the ground is changed, but it’s wet, not covered with snow.
When I think of what Ramage has done to our class, my mind repeatedly wanders to Lawrence of Arabia, the classic book by Alistair MacLean chronicling the heroic struggles of someone who was decidedly not Peter O'Toole. The real-life Lawrence redefined what "endurance for a cause" meant—and still means—to educated Englishmen. He grew up in luxury and comfort, but enlisted in the army and helped the Bedouin Arabs throw off their Turkish oppressors during WWI. To do this required extended treks through pure deserts lasting for months on end sometimes. All their food had to be carried with them, as nothing edible lived in the sands of Arabia. All their water had to be carried, too, as liquid was just as scarce as sunshine was plentiful. Their missions were to stir up rebellion, blow up bridges and rail lines, spy when they could, and try their best to make it back alive. Meanwhile, the Turks were doing everything they could to kill Lawrence and his mischievous band of scoundrels. This was an Arab fight, to be sure. But Lawrence suffered and struggled through it nonetheless.
Why do I bring all this up? Well, like I said, Rhetoric and the story of Lawrence of Arabia are inextricably linked in my mind. I see it like this:
Our class struggled through a long and arduous journey (30 pages somehow seems like 50 or 60). Danger lurked around every corner (paper cuts, depression, alcoholism, etc.). We were driven on by fear (Failure with a big, fat, juicy F) and the desire to squash our enemies (don't know about you, but I don't like being dumb). Plus, there was the constant battle with insanity (yes).
But of course there were a few differences between our class and Lawrence of Arabia. The main one being that we dragged our feet a hell of a lot more than Lawrence did. We bitched and moaned and complained about 10 dollar words at every opportunity. We cried about not "liking" the author. But Larry wandered a scorching desert for half a decade in constant fear of starvation, fatal dehydration, sunstroke, and being gunned down by an extremely hostile enemy. In fact, he fought on the very same sand that beige-speckled American troops are fighting on to this day. So, our connection with the deserts of Arabia is actually stronger than most college-level Americans admit to, or even realize. Considering this, it makes complaining about suffering through Ramage's cruel vocabulary seems weak and extremely unbecoming of our typical zeal as students. As a result, the tone of eng230.blogspot.com has been timid and whiny, to say the least. Of course it’s also insightful, thoughtful, and funny, but not brave. What I'm trying to say is that I hope we see the trend going from postings of "feelings" to postings of "convictions."
* * *
It’s called Stendhal syndrome. Sometimes when a person sees art that is exceedingly beautiful, overwhelming or touching, they suddenly become lightheaded. Their heart starts beating faster and they get dizzy, hallucinate or get confused. Rarely, people lose consciousness or even suffer heart attacks.
I doubt anyone has ever been affected with Stendhal syndrome while reading Rhetoric or anything else by Ramage. So I find myself asking why we, as a class, even bothered reading this monstrous work?
It’s because of the different approach Ramage takes in describing the process of writing. Rhetoric not only shapes what we say and how we say it, but is also largely ignored in other English classes. Why not kill two birds with one jerk’s book? It’s a beautiful thing, efficiency.
Nothing Ramage suggests in his book is controversial. As a result, there is little room left for contention of any kind. He’s not presenting new ideas, only describing old ones—ideas that have been intrinsic in people since the dawn of man. Every person is familiar with and uses this thing daily, yet rarely even recognizes its existence. Rhetoric is an abstract idea which flows through and permeates every aspect of communication, pushing and pulling messages, directing attention and diverting emphasis. It’s like the vapory mist of a fog; often ignored despite demanding caution for what it potentially harbors. And as a result, a large part of why Rhetoric is so hard to read is because it’s about something that’s disregarded for its difficulty.
But now, as I wait to for the Great Spectator Bowl to get started, I can look back and appreciate all the frustration Ramage put me through. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t something I looked forward to. And maybe being done with it has shifted my outlook on the whole agonizing process. Nonetheless, I’m glad I slogged through.
The overall benefit of being exposed to something new is immeasurable. As much as anything, the mere recognition that some books and writers out there operate on a hyper-literate level is worth the effort and time involved. It puts things in perspective, and I am better for having read it.
So welcome to Ramageland. We haven’t arrived anywhere, but we’ve embarked on a journey to the heart—the very essence—of what makes civilization possible. I’m sitting in the same seat that I started in. Slouching. Ramage’s words will never leave me, for good or ill. I’ll be reading Rhetoric metaphorically for the rest of my life. And if there’s one thing I think we can all agree on, it’s that a journey through Ramageland is a journey through hell. So like Winston Churchill said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
Monday, February 05, 2007
The most amazing tale ever told....
Maria Bernardo
Paper #1: “Rhetoric and the Rhetorical Situation”
February 2, 2007
2007: A Rhetorical Odyssey
English 230-020: Advanced Composition
Dr. Kevin Mahoney
2007: A Rhetorical Odyssey
The sun is down and the evening quiet, my soul is not at rest. Over and over I replay the images that I have been subjected to in the past weeks, like some Clockwork nightmare haunting me in my waking moments; it is hard to believe that I have made it out. I used to love basking in the sunlight, book open in my lap as I sat next to a window or, on a warm day out on my deck sipping coffee and expanding my knowledge. Then a dark cloud with no silver lining was cast over my happier days of reading. The dark cloud and the burning droplets of acid rain it spewed down upon my once sunny day, “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric.” I was brought to tears as my windows were boarded shut, seeing as though I could not read this book with any outside distractions. There were no distractions to be had though, in the wake of the firestorm brought by this bastard book, my sunshine and roses turned to brown grass and dust. The overbearing shadow of P-Dog, standing over me, myself, the fire-hydrant, and P-Dog with leg lifted peeing down nonsensical affirmations that I could not understand, seeing as though I could only plead one-sidedly.
I began my painstaking journey through John Ramage’s “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric” on Wednesday January 17th, already two weeks ago. It is hard to believe on my voyage home, from which I had set sail off of a devastated beach, that a mere two weeks
Bernardo 2
ago my journey had just began, seeing as though it has felt like decades of eternal unanswered questions and pure hatred for the one called Ramage. As you can tell from my blog postings over the past two weeks, I fell into a seemingly endless whirlpool of question and fear. The only thing that got me through was the knowledge that I was not alone. It seems that I was not the only one. I am not the only survivor! I met the other survivors, and spoke with them, discussed with great pain and some breakdowns, the cruel burden of carrying “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric” in our book bags as we climbed the Everest of Barnes & Noble rejects.
Now in the aftermath of this nuclear abomination, my peers, my comrades and I are left to sift through the ashes of the world we once knew. A cloud of dust covers what was once a playground of knowledge, and left behind is the cold shell that represents the pain and horror of the past two weeks. When I first found myself in the company of the other survivors all we could do was recap our journey, starting at the beginning, Chapter One. I was running through a dense forest, I didn’t know where to, but I was scared, and the sweat was stinging my eyes. I hopped over broken branches and tripped over stones, left bloody and broken I began to weep, “What does it all mean?” I wondered. Sitting in the thick undergrowth I held myself, rocking back and forth, when it seemed all of the trees began to rumble and shake with laughter. They were laughing at me! “Silly fool,” they said, “You won’t make it out of here alive! You should just turn around and sell the book back while you can still get a full refund!” I began to panic, I did not know which way was up, I threw up a little in my mouth. Then the words like vines started creeping towards me, locking onto my ankles and trying to pull me into the ground.
Bernardo 3
“The law is considerably more ‘methodical’ than rhetoric and has in place procedures that operate almost like algorithms to resolve routine legal issues with little or no intervention by human agents.” (Ramage, 22) “No!” I screamed despairingly, “Please, no.” I thought, this is the end, and then I remembered my father’s words. “Maria, stop being such a goddamn baby and get your work done! I’m not paying for you to fail out of school.”
That was what I needed, the kindest, most gentle words my father has ever spoken to me gave me the strength to move on. Armed only with my orange highlighter, the machete of this jungle book, I freed myself from the grip of the tangled words and sentences. Slicing away conjunctions like and, or, and but as I slowly made my way through. My highlighter, I held in front of me like a Saber, I heaved it heavily, slashing sentences to pieces. “Whatever was meant by those who wrote the words originally is exactly what they should mean today.” (Ramage, 23) It fell before me and shriveled. Just then “…by those who wrote…” started thrashing about like a worm with it’s tail cut off, so I took my highlighter in both hands and stabbed right through the middle like a samurai defeating his enemy. I bent down on one knee, and smelled the ground, like a wolf, I was part of this jungle now. I began to run again, but this time, I knew where I was going, I had to find my way out. I cut through the brush very slowly and carefully, afraid that I might fall again and that would surely be the end of me. I could barely see the way it was in the gloom of this forest, but night was quickly approaching. It was getting colder, I was hungry, I had to stop and set up camp for the night. What terrifying night terrors waited in the shadows, lurking behind trees and under rocks? I set up a fire
Bernardo 4
and warmed myself by it; I pulled out my flask of Southern Comfort, for the only comfort my sorry heart could feel. Then my stomach rumbled, so I went through my knapsack and found my slow cooker. Seeing as though there was no Burger King in site, slow-food was the only way. I set the slow cooker over my fire and watched it heat up the pork ‘n beans I had brought along. Ripping off a chunk of Italian bread from the loaf I looked above at the umbrella of tree leaves.
“The production of fast food is, in short, the culinary version of motion.” (Ramage, 31) I heard it whispering in the wind, it was just my imagination I thought. “The production of slow food, meanwhile, is quintessentially and act.” (Ramage, 31) I panicked. Was I hearing things? Was the forest mocking me again? “Who said that?! Is anyone out there?” I looked all around me, I seemed to be alone. All alone in the darkness, the whispering wind the only voice around me, I looked around the camp, checked inside my tent, nothing. I was imagining things. Insanity would be my own downfall; I had to find my way out. Then out of the darkness, a low, growling sinister laugh, followed by “Each meal, or ‘case’ as it were is an expression of the local conditions, ‘the circumstances’ as it were, as well as being like all meals of the same name.” (Ramage, 31) I doused my fire, took my bread, flask and pork ‘n beans into my tent and zipped it up tight, I ate and fell into a restless sleep.
The bombs woke me up. I heard explosions all around me “And yet arguably the most important function served by rhetoric is the work it does in service of identity formation. Who we are, who we wish to be, and the amount of control we have over either of those tow matters depends significantly on our rhetorical skill.” (Ramage, 33)
Bernardo 5
the bombs screamed as they devastated the forest around me. I left my camp as it was, risking nothing, not even picking up my trusted highlighter as I ran as far away as I could from the ringing explosions. I found a stream somewhere in the forest, I began to follow it. Surely it would take me to civilization, a civilization that you did not need an entire Webster’s dictionary to communicate with. As I followed the stream I felt the ground rumble around me, I knew I was being followed, by something huge. Frightened I turned
to find myself face-to-face with the one they call “P-dog” a maniacal giant. Its tongue was forked and hung out of its mouth like a wild fishing lure. Its fur was matted and mangy, and it had fangs as thick as boulders, and as long as branches. And God, don’t get me started on that breath, for Christ’s sake, like gargle or something.
I’m not going to lie, I was scared shitless. I tried to reason with it, pleading, and arguing one-sidedly, “Hey listen, I know we could work something out. If you don’t eat me, I’ll buy you a beer, would you like that? Um, yeah, there’s no bars around here though, soooo…well I’m sure you know your way around here pretty well right? Hows about you show me how to get out of here, and I’ll take you to a really great bar I know of, it’s got outdoor seating right next to a fire-hydrant, you’d love it!” But it was apparent that P-dog had nothing to say to me had nothing to say to me, it just stared, head tilted to the side and tail thrashing. Finally P-dog let out a terrible roar that nearly made me pee a little. I picked up a rock and threw it, as hard as I could, in between P-dogs glowing red eyes. That only made it mad. I didn’t know what to do, so I jumped in the stream and began swimming as fast as I could away from this giant. I could hear its footsteps running along the bank, snapping saplings in half like a Kit-Kat bar. I went
Bernardo 6
under the water in an effort to get the giant away from me, and it worked. P-dog sat dumbly on the bank for a few moments, then caught sight of a squirrel and went chasing it into the heart of the forest.
I came up for air gasping and coughing, I struggled to keep my head above the murky water. I treaded water seeing where my options led, the stream forked off in two. To one side was a raging rapid bubbling and gurgling, “Before there’s an agent or a rhetorical act, there’s a scene, a particular time and place and a context, that gives rise to both.” (Ramage, 96) The other side was smooth and calm, and seemed to be saying “Follow me to safety,” in its wake. I swam to the calm side and climbed upon the shore, feeling invigorated from the cold water and the chase that nearly ended my life. I followed the stream for hours, and the sun, high in the afternoon sky peaked through the branches, like a laser show of speckled warmth. I walked further and the light grew stronger, I knew I would soon be home. Then out of nowhere I hear soft speaking, but it wasn’t the incoherent babble of the trees and stream, it was something I could actually understand. I broke into a swift jog and the speaking got louder, I was able to make some of it out. “…it seems as though this is the last of our Ramage headache! We can only hope.” one voice said, “It’s a trap, Ramage isn't going to let up with his relentless testing of our collective patience!” another rambled insanely. I heard someone scream, “My face is melting!” I was running now, towards the voices, towards civilization, towards my fellow survivors that had some how made it through.
I came to a clearing which led to a once beautiful beach, which now lay in ruins in the aftermath of the firestorm. Sitting around some burning debris, something that looked
Bernardo 7
a lot like books burning, many over-priced books with flames licking and dancing on top of them, were the survivors. I fell onto my knees in the sand and began to cry tears of joy. I gathered the sand around me and hugged it, but stopped abruptly seeing as though I got sand in my bra and after not showering for 2 weeks in the forest I was quite uncomfortable. I was greeted with cheers and smiles, the other survivors hugging me and saying “I can’t believe we made it. We are alive, poor Johnny went blind, but goddamnit we are alive!” There was a small group, about three people, sitting about a quarter-mile up the desolate beach arguing and shaking. “Who are they?” I asked one of the survivors. “Oh, them, they are the enjoyers.” She did not have to say anymore, I could see it in here eyes as a single tear trickled down her face. Then ahead in the horizon I saw the gleaming masts of the S.S. Mahoney coming to save us from the wreckage of “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric.”
Paper #1: “Rhetoric and the Rhetorical Situation”
February 2, 2007
2007: A Rhetorical Odyssey
English 230-020: Advanced Composition
Dr. Kevin Mahoney
2007: A Rhetorical Odyssey
The sun is down and the evening quiet, my soul is not at rest. Over and over I replay the images that I have been subjected to in the past weeks, like some Clockwork nightmare haunting me in my waking moments; it is hard to believe that I have made it out. I used to love basking in the sunlight, book open in my lap as I sat next to a window or, on a warm day out on my deck sipping coffee and expanding my knowledge. Then a dark cloud with no silver lining was cast over my happier days of reading. The dark cloud and the burning droplets of acid rain it spewed down upon my once sunny day, “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric.” I was brought to tears as my windows were boarded shut, seeing as though I could not read this book with any outside distractions. There were no distractions to be had though, in the wake of the firestorm brought by this bastard book, my sunshine and roses turned to brown grass and dust. The overbearing shadow of P-Dog, standing over me, myself, the fire-hydrant, and P-Dog with leg lifted peeing down nonsensical affirmations that I could not understand, seeing as though I could only plead one-sidedly.
I began my painstaking journey through John Ramage’s “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric” on Wednesday January 17th, already two weeks ago. It is hard to believe on my voyage home, from which I had set sail off of a devastated beach, that a mere two weeks
Bernardo 2
ago my journey had just began, seeing as though it has felt like decades of eternal unanswered questions and pure hatred for the one called Ramage. As you can tell from my blog postings over the past two weeks, I fell into a seemingly endless whirlpool of question and fear. The only thing that got me through was the knowledge that I was not alone. It seems that I was not the only one. I am not the only survivor! I met the other survivors, and spoke with them, discussed with great pain and some breakdowns, the cruel burden of carrying “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric” in our book bags as we climbed the Everest of Barnes & Noble rejects.
Now in the aftermath of this nuclear abomination, my peers, my comrades and I are left to sift through the ashes of the world we once knew. A cloud of dust covers what was once a playground of knowledge, and left behind is the cold shell that represents the pain and horror of the past two weeks. When I first found myself in the company of the other survivors all we could do was recap our journey, starting at the beginning, Chapter One. I was running through a dense forest, I didn’t know where to, but I was scared, and the sweat was stinging my eyes. I hopped over broken branches and tripped over stones, left bloody and broken I began to weep, “What does it all mean?” I wondered. Sitting in the thick undergrowth I held myself, rocking back and forth, when it seemed all of the trees began to rumble and shake with laughter. They were laughing at me! “Silly fool,” they said, “You won’t make it out of here alive! You should just turn around and sell the book back while you can still get a full refund!” I began to panic, I did not know which way was up, I threw up a little in my mouth. Then the words like vines started creeping towards me, locking onto my ankles and trying to pull me into the ground.
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“The law is considerably more ‘methodical’ than rhetoric and has in place procedures that operate almost like algorithms to resolve routine legal issues with little or no intervention by human agents.” (Ramage, 22) “No!” I screamed despairingly, “Please, no.” I thought, this is the end, and then I remembered my father’s words. “Maria, stop being such a goddamn baby and get your work done! I’m not paying for you to fail out of school.”
That was what I needed, the kindest, most gentle words my father has ever spoken to me gave me the strength to move on. Armed only with my orange highlighter, the machete of this jungle book, I freed myself from the grip of the tangled words and sentences. Slicing away conjunctions like and, or, and but as I slowly made my way through. My highlighter, I held in front of me like a Saber, I heaved it heavily, slashing sentences to pieces. “Whatever was meant by those who wrote the words originally is exactly what they should mean today.” (Ramage, 23) It fell before me and shriveled. Just then “…by those who wrote…” started thrashing about like a worm with it’s tail cut off, so I took my highlighter in both hands and stabbed right through the middle like a samurai defeating his enemy. I bent down on one knee, and smelled the ground, like a wolf, I was part of this jungle now. I began to run again, but this time, I knew where I was going, I had to find my way out. I cut through the brush very slowly and carefully, afraid that I might fall again and that would surely be the end of me. I could barely see the way it was in the gloom of this forest, but night was quickly approaching. It was getting colder, I was hungry, I had to stop and set up camp for the night. What terrifying night terrors waited in the shadows, lurking behind trees and under rocks? I set up a fire
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and warmed myself by it; I pulled out my flask of Southern Comfort, for the only comfort my sorry heart could feel. Then my stomach rumbled, so I went through my knapsack and found my slow cooker. Seeing as though there was no Burger King in site, slow-food was the only way. I set the slow cooker over my fire and watched it heat up the pork ‘n beans I had brought along. Ripping off a chunk of Italian bread from the loaf I looked above at the umbrella of tree leaves.
“The production of fast food is, in short, the culinary version of motion.” (Ramage, 31) I heard it whispering in the wind, it was just my imagination I thought. “The production of slow food, meanwhile, is quintessentially and act.” (Ramage, 31) I panicked. Was I hearing things? Was the forest mocking me again? “Who said that?! Is anyone out there?” I looked all around me, I seemed to be alone. All alone in the darkness, the whispering wind the only voice around me, I looked around the camp, checked inside my tent, nothing. I was imagining things. Insanity would be my own downfall; I had to find my way out. Then out of the darkness, a low, growling sinister laugh, followed by “Each meal, or ‘case’ as it were is an expression of the local conditions, ‘the circumstances’ as it were, as well as being like all meals of the same name.” (Ramage, 31) I doused my fire, took my bread, flask and pork ‘n beans into my tent and zipped it up tight, I ate and fell into a restless sleep.
The bombs woke me up. I heard explosions all around me “And yet arguably the most important function served by rhetoric is the work it does in service of identity formation. Who we are, who we wish to be, and the amount of control we have over either of those tow matters depends significantly on our rhetorical skill.” (Ramage, 33)
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the bombs screamed as they devastated the forest around me. I left my camp as it was, risking nothing, not even picking up my trusted highlighter as I ran as far away as I could from the ringing explosions. I found a stream somewhere in the forest, I began to follow it. Surely it would take me to civilization, a civilization that you did not need an entire Webster’s dictionary to communicate with. As I followed the stream I felt the ground rumble around me, I knew I was being followed, by something huge. Frightened I turned
to find myself face-to-face with the one they call “P-dog” a maniacal giant. Its tongue was forked and hung out of its mouth like a wild fishing lure. Its fur was matted and mangy, and it had fangs as thick as boulders, and as long as branches. And God, don’t get me started on that breath, for Christ’s sake, like gargle or something.
I’m not going to lie, I was scared shitless. I tried to reason with it, pleading, and arguing one-sidedly, “Hey listen, I know we could work something out. If you don’t eat me, I’ll buy you a beer, would you like that? Um, yeah, there’s no bars around here though, soooo…well I’m sure you know your way around here pretty well right? Hows about you show me how to get out of here, and I’ll take you to a really great bar I know of, it’s got outdoor seating right next to a fire-hydrant, you’d love it!” But it was apparent that P-dog had nothing to say to me had nothing to say to me, it just stared, head tilted to the side and tail thrashing. Finally P-dog let out a terrible roar that nearly made me pee a little. I picked up a rock and threw it, as hard as I could, in between P-dogs glowing red eyes. That only made it mad. I didn’t know what to do, so I jumped in the stream and began swimming as fast as I could away from this giant. I could hear its footsteps running along the bank, snapping saplings in half like a Kit-Kat bar. I went
Bernardo 6
under the water in an effort to get the giant away from me, and it worked. P-dog sat dumbly on the bank for a few moments, then caught sight of a squirrel and went chasing it into the heart of the forest.
I came up for air gasping and coughing, I struggled to keep my head above the murky water. I treaded water seeing where my options led, the stream forked off in two. To one side was a raging rapid bubbling and gurgling, “Before there’s an agent or a rhetorical act, there’s a scene, a particular time and place and a context, that gives rise to both.” (Ramage, 96) The other side was smooth and calm, and seemed to be saying “Follow me to safety,” in its wake. I swam to the calm side and climbed upon the shore, feeling invigorated from the cold water and the chase that nearly ended my life. I followed the stream for hours, and the sun, high in the afternoon sky peaked through the branches, like a laser show of speckled warmth. I walked further and the light grew stronger, I knew I would soon be home. Then out of nowhere I hear soft speaking, but it wasn’t the incoherent babble of the trees and stream, it was something I could actually understand. I broke into a swift jog and the speaking got louder, I was able to make some of it out. “…it seems as though this is the last of our Ramage headache! We can only hope.” one voice said, “It’s a trap, Ramage isn't going to let up with his relentless testing of our collective patience!” another rambled insanely. I heard someone scream, “My face is melting!” I was running now, towards the voices, towards civilization, towards my fellow survivors that had some how made it through.
I came to a clearing which led to a once beautiful beach, which now lay in ruins in the aftermath of the firestorm. Sitting around some burning debris, something that looked
Bernardo 7
a lot like books burning, many over-priced books with flames licking and dancing on top of them, were the survivors. I fell onto my knees in the sand and began to cry tears of joy. I gathered the sand around me and hugged it, but stopped abruptly seeing as though I got sand in my bra and after not showering for 2 weeks in the forest I was quite uncomfortable. I was greeted with cheers and smiles, the other survivors hugging me and saying “I can’t believe we made it. We are alive, poor Johnny went blind, but goddamnit we are alive!” There was a small group, about three people, sitting about a quarter-mile up the desolate beach arguing and shaking. “Who are they?” I asked one of the survivors. “Oh, them, they are the enjoyers.” She did not have to say anymore, I could see it in here eyes as a single tear trickled down her face. Then ahead in the horizon I saw the gleaming masts of the S.S. Mahoney coming to save us from the wreckage of “A User’s Guide to Rhetoric.”
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Ramage paper
Hey everyone, this is a very rough draft of the begining of my paper. Hope everyone has a good weekend!!
My front porch was covered in a thin layer of snow so dry it looked more like packing peanuts. So far, January’s attempt at a winter filled with two-hour delays and sledding had come up short. In an hour, the morning sun would melt the snow off the roads just in time for my thirty-mile drive to Kutztown.
Avoiding the occasional patch of ice, I headed back inside to pack my book bag for my Tuesday/Thursday itinerary: Ramage’s book for Advanced Composition and a 3-ring binder filled with Grimm and Feminist fairy tales assigned for Rhetoric of Literature. Before the start of my current semester of college, I wouldn’t have had a clue how the two related. A week into the courses, I realized they both made it quite clear that I knew absolutely nothing about rhetoric. Tossing the books into my pink bag, I recalled how both professors had asked on the first day of class for a definition of the term. One hundred and one pages divided into three mind-boggling chapters of Ramage-rambling later, I realized my understanding of what rhetoric really was hadn’t improved at all. Beyond explaining what a rhetorical question was, I was lost: stuck in the mumbo-jumbo of Plato’s lack of cooking skills and President Bush’s State of the Union speech. If Rhetoric: A User’s Guide was meant as a round trip-ticket to “Ramageland”, I had clearly missed the bus.
The cliché about how important first appearances are rings true in a lot of scenarios, including text. What, other than confusion, could I expect from an introductory textbook which refuses to give a simple, direct description of the subject at hand? I’ll save my accolades of unique tactics for fictional writing. Instead of clarifying rhetoric, Ramage spends the first eight pages playing devil’s advocate. His anti-rhetoric spokesman was a better persuader than the pro-rhetoric: if I had picked up the book outside of class, I wouldn’t have wanted to read past page two.
I tossed my bag onto the toasted marshmallow colored sofa and hunted for the business card my mother gave me the night before. Between classes I would call PJ’s, a pet store in Manheim, to find out how much they’re charging for a long-haired Chihuahua puppy. Maybe I would sit up with my new puppy like Ramage does with P-Dog and contemplate her potential to act and how behavior restricts her ability to have a fully-functional identity. I doubt it.
My front porch was covered in a thin layer of snow so dry it looked more like packing peanuts. So far, January’s attempt at a winter filled with two-hour delays and sledding had come up short. In an hour, the morning sun would melt the snow off the roads just in time for my thirty-mile drive to Kutztown.
Avoiding the occasional patch of ice, I headed back inside to pack my book bag for my Tuesday/Thursday itinerary: Ramage’s book for Advanced Composition and a 3-ring binder filled with Grimm and Feminist fairy tales assigned for Rhetoric of Literature. Before the start of my current semester of college, I wouldn’t have had a clue how the two related. A week into the courses, I realized they both made it quite clear that I knew absolutely nothing about rhetoric. Tossing the books into my pink bag, I recalled how both professors had asked on the first day of class for a definition of the term. One hundred and one pages divided into three mind-boggling chapters of Ramage-rambling later, I realized my understanding of what rhetoric really was hadn’t improved at all. Beyond explaining what a rhetorical question was, I was lost: stuck in the mumbo-jumbo of Plato’s lack of cooking skills and President Bush’s State of the Union speech. If Rhetoric: A User’s Guide was meant as a round trip-ticket to “Ramageland”, I had clearly missed the bus.
The cliché about how important first appearances are rings true in a lot of scenarios, including text. What, other than confusion, could I expect from an introductory textbook which refuses to give a simple, direct description of the subject at hand? I’ll save my accolades of unique tactics for fictional writing. Instead of clarifying rhetoric, Ramage spends the first eight pages playing devil’s advocate. His anti-rhetoric spokesman was a better persuader than the pro-rhetoric: if I had picked up the book outside of class, I wouldn’t have wanted to read past page two.
I tossed my bag onto the toasted marshmallow colored sofa and hunted for the business card my mother gave me the night before. Between classes I would call PJ’s, a pet store in Manheim, to find out how much they’re charging for a long-haired Chihuahua puppy. Maybe I would sit up with my new puppy like Ramage does with P-Dog and contemplate her potential to act and how behavior restricts her ability to have a fully-functional identity. I doubt it.
This is more or less the intro to my paper. I'm still kind of working on where to go from here so I'm open for suggestions or any useful criticism!
--Heather.
Before I can start reading Ramage, I have to transport myself into an alternative place in preparation for my journey. I first viewed entering this journey as a time for learning and relaxation. I wanted to immerse myself into an educational world of straight-forward rhetoric and the different ways it could be used, interpreted, and identified. I went into my journey an eager pupil prepared for what my teacher had to throw at me. Little did I know that what was being “thrown” at me was more than I had bargained for.
I entered the introduction (so misleadingly named, I may add) prepared with my mind open and consciousness wholly intact. I was prepared to tackle rhetoric with all of the might in me. I was prepared to prove to Ramage, my professor and leader in my journey, that I was, in fact, a student like no other he had seen before. A student filled with desire to engulf herself in the subject matter and a student who had grasped the concepts well enough to successfully exhibit the application of everything she had learned. I was a devoted soldier prepared for battle and ready to fight for my cause. If I only had known how gruesome the battle of Rhetoric: A User’s Guide by Ramage would be.
Upon entering my classroom, or stumbling across the first few lines of text, my wide eyes and excitement about my journey toward fully comprehending rhetoric were met by an unexpected change of scenery. This wasn’t the cozy classroom of students, such as myself, ready to begin an introductory lecture and discussion session by our well-respected and compassionate professor. This was quite the opposite. I had unknowingly just enrolled myself into the military. I was in boot camp.
I walked through the door and was handed my uniform and mission, but was never equipped with the weapons, or any means necessary for that matter, to complete my task. The other soldiers and myself were thrown onto the battlefield of rhetoric blind and unequipped, forced to dodge the never-ending bombardment of extensive vocabulary words, confusing tangents, and ridiculous comparisons. I was devastated. This isn’t what I had signed up for.
The introduction, or as I like to think of it, the beginning of the never-ending war of Ramages’s lessons of rhetoric, was brutal. Ramage was there, present in a physical sense at least, barking off orders. He was our drill sergeant. The teacher I had such high expectations for morphed into an ugly, unfair dictator who was completely inept from even the slightest form of human compassion. He was brutal to say the least.
I became depressed when I learned that the Introduction wasn’t even the real battle. This was just basic training. Disheartened and mentally wounded, (I could say physically too because not only did I suffer from a huge blow to the ego for not entirely comprehending the text/battle, I suffered from a few paper cuts as well) I forged on. I made my way out of the Introduction, slowly but surely and not without the aid of a few packs of cigarettes (you could attribute that to the physical damage too, because God knows my body needed something to pull me through. I swear, Ramage forced me to do it!) I graduated from basic training and was now entering the real battle.
Our battalion traveled out of “The Way of Rhetoric” (those left of us at least) and we apprehensively approached the next phase of our war. The first true battle, Rhetoric and Identity. I realized from the basic training that I shouldn’t form any type of expectations when entering something new, but I was appalled at how much more gruesome this battle would be. This was the real stuff, this was the blood and guts, what people died for (metaphorically speaking of course, I myself had done this a few times already)
--Heather.
Before I can start reading Ramage, I have to transport myself into an alternative place in preparation for my journey. I first viewed entering this journey as a time for learning and relaxation. I wanted to immerse myself into an educational world of straight-forward rhetoric and the different ways it could be used, interpreted, and identified. I went into my journey an eager pupil prepared for what my teacher had to throw at me. Little did I know that what was being “thrown” at me was more than I had bargained for.
I entered the introduction (so misleadingly named, I may add) prepared with my mind open and consciousness wholly intact. I was prepared to tackle rhetoric with all of the might in me. I was prepared to prove to Ramage, my professor and leader in my journey, that I was, in fact, a student like no other he had seen before. A student filled with desire to engulf herself in the subject matter and a student who had grasped the concepts well enough to successfully exhibit the application of everything she had learned. I was a devoted soldier prepared for battle and ready to fight for my cause. If I only had known how gruesome the battle of Rhetoric: A User’s Guide by Ramage would be.
Upon entering my classroom, or stumbling across the first few lines of text, my wide eyes and excitement about my journey toward fully comprehending rhetoric were met by an unexpected change of scenery. This wasn’t the cozy classroom of students, such as myself, ready to begin an introductory lecture and discussion session by our well-respected and compassionate professor. This was quite the opposite. I had unknowingly just enrolled myself into the military. I was in boot camp.
I walked through the door and was handed my uniform and mission, but was never equipped with the weapons, or any means necessary for that matter, to complete my task. The other soldiers and myself were thrown onto the battlefield of rhetoric blind and unequipped, forced to dodge the never-ending bombardment of extensive vocabulary words, confusing tangents, and ridiculous comparisons. I was devastated. This isn’t what I had signed up for.
The introduction, or as I like to think of it, the beginning of the never-ending war of Ramages’s lessons of rhetoric, was brutal. Ramage was there, present in a physical sense at least, barking off orders. He was our drill sergeant. The teacher I had such high expectations for morphed into an ugly, unfair dictator who was completely inept from even the slightest form of human compassion. He was brutal to say the least.
I became depressed when I learned that the Introduction wasn’t even the real battle. This was just basic training. Disheartened and mentally wounded, (I could say physically too because not only did I suffer from a huge blow to the ego for not entirely comprehending the text/battle, I suffered from a few paper cuts as well) I forged on. I made my way out of the Introduction, slowly but surely and not without the aid of a few packs of cigarettes (you could attribute that to the physical damage too, because God knows my body needed something to pull me through. I swear, Ramage forced me to do it!) I graduated from basic training and was now entering the real battle.
Our battalion traveled out of “The Way of Rhetoric” (those left of us at least) and we apprehensively approached the next phase of our war. The first true battle, Rhetoric and Identity. I realized from the basic training that I shouldn’t form any type of expectations when entering something new, but I was appalled at how much more gruesome this battle would be. This was the real stuff, this was the blood and guts, what people died for (metaphorically speaking of course, I myself had done this a few times already)
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