Back when I was shy, unassuming, and noticeably shorter, I received an invitation to join my school's debate team. After skimming it like the speedreader I was, I promptly discarded the flyer into the nearest trash can.  I thought to myself "Recycling will never catch on in states that don't pay!"  Naturally, my primary concern about joining the debate team had nothing to do with any apprehension toward arguing the finer points of international diplomacy, global warming, or the exhorbitant salaries of professional athletes.  No, I just don't like public speaking. Yes, present tense, because I haven't changed that much since in the past fourteen years: I'm still shy, unassuming, and I don't recycle.

[You know you're getting old when you can talk about how things were fourteen years ago.]

Irrational fear of public speaking aside, I still enjoy a watching a debate.  I can argue, too, but if you've been reading my blog for even a week, you can surmise that I'm not the arguing type.  There just aren't enough issues that'll cause me to be upset enough to convince you that you're wrong.  I'm about as likely to debate most things as you are to drive through a "do not enter" section of a one-way street:

"So, I think the legal age of consent should be sixteen, in all states."
"Yeah, well I've honestly never thought about that a day in my life.  And shhh, Sportscenter is on."

That's me, in a lively and heated debate.  Can't you tell?  Yet another reason why I'll never run for office:  not enough time for Sportscenter.

I'm not a fan of arguing until my heart rate skyrockets for a topic over which I have no control beyond having my own opinion, but I sure like to see other people do it.  They seem to like triggering the onset of a heart attack; I can think of better activities that have the same effect.  Now, far be it from me to gain much enjoyment watching other people fight, but I'll make an exception for the portion of the heated debate that is not-so-academic as it is personal and unstructured.  It's that part of an argument - especially between people who dislike each other, or don't have much life experience - when the facts have been uncovered and discussed (or ignored) - and now it's time for name-calling; argumentum ad hominem, galore.  No more statistics, Gallup poll fndings,  or "Well, in my experience..." or even "My brother always says..."

I remember one time in law school, I was shooting the 6 ball into a side pocket at some college bar I'll never visit again, when some debate ensued over... something like... whether John Kerry's supposedly cold-hearted intellectualism would make for bad diplomacy (really, people argue this in their free time, and not even for course credit).  A friend walked up to me asking what was going on:

Yo, what's this about, over here?"
"Well, not only am I having the pool game of my life, but those two having a political discussion while drinking.  Must be an election year."
"Aw, man, that's mistake number one. That's worse than going home with a stranger the same day as a bad break-up!"
"You're telling me.  Hey, I think you're just in time for one of them to insult the other's family. It's all downhill, after that."
"Yeah, I think one of them just said 'your face' or was it 'your mom'? It was one of those. Buy her a drink!"

Why do people resort to name-calling and the like in a discussion over conflicting opinions that are really of no consequence to anyone but the holders of those opinions?

Am I the only one who doesn't think agreeing to disagree is a sign of weakness of conscience or inability to persuade?

Really, though, I'm just terrified of public speaking, that's why I'm not a litigator; otherwise, I could be that guy on Law & Order making defense witnesses cry in court.  I'm capable of bringing out the feelings in people who have them.  Serious.

In other news, "Your Mom" is a fine prosecutor, these days.  It must be that she decided to have her drinks after arguing.

TheBigShowAtUD©

As kids, my sister and I would watch evening television shows with Mom.  Every night, though, she'd put us to bed earlier than we thought other kids had to go to bed.  I think was nine years old before I learned that television shows continued after The Cosby Show.  I definitely remember being thirteen when I asked my eighth grade friends in gym class "Did you guys know that the news comes on, AGAIN, at eleven o'clock?  Crazy!" (they knew, and they felt sorry for me). 

We'd often see bad commercials that left us wondering what was being advertised.  Shaking her head, Mom would look at us and say, "You two could make a better commercial than that one."  My sister and I would look at each other and wonder if she was praising our creative potential, or if the commercial was so bad that two children could do a better job.  We're still unsure. 

That's why I should be an ad executive or copywriter in my next life.  Having learned a few persuasion techniques in this life, I'll convince people that most ads are often too clever for their own good.  The purpose of advertising is to sell a product or a service; not to make me laugh or think "Oooh, that's creative!  Does SHE come with it?!" and then forget it two commercials later.  Commercials fail when they don't make me want to buy whatever the product or service is.  Imagine this conversation during a Monday Night Football game:


"Ha, look, it's that UPS guy drawing stick figures on that whiteboard."

"Yeah, this is my favorite commercial, ever."

"And, this is the best part... it's animated."

"That is so cool.  Oh hey, dude, don't forget to drop off that stuff at the Fed Ex box, down the street."

Low-cost shipping fail.

That's why I'll make ads that get results.  Imagine you've had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day:  Your Xanga traffic is down, no one is voting for your featured weblog submission, you didn't get a mini for your birthday, and your best friend just changed her Facebook relationship status to "It's Complicated" - without telling you, first!  That trollop!  You're sitting there at home, dejected, asking  Revelife "Why me?!" but then comes my obnoxiously loud WIDGET commercial, as a sign from [your favorite deity, the scientific method, or intellectual reasoning]. 

With every widget comes a truckload of promises to make you feel like a winner: your classmates will stop saying "That's what she said!" after everything you say; the love interest you never talk to will tell a friend to tell your friend to give you a note saying that you smell really good, today; and you'll be able to read it til your heart's content, because the field hockey team will stop shoving you into your locker before gym class.  Now, you can stop scaring your parents with obsessive violent video game-playing, all because you just want some real control in your life.

You'll jump up from your Goodwill couch and say "THAT'S WHAT MY LIFE IS MISSING!  A FREAKING WIDGET!"  What's a widget?  I don't know either, but having one will change your life, making you the envy of your school.  And - most importantly - Kanye will let you finish. 

[Can't think of a good ending that doesn't rhyme with "lamesauce."  10,000 credits, if you can.]

TheBigShowAtUD©