An American Halftime

As a relatively avid football-goer, I sat down with the rest of the nation on Sunday night to watch the Superbowl game between the Giants and the Patriots. Like every year, I chose which team I wanted to win about five minutes before the game started — essentially during the national anthem. I spent the game rooting for my new favorite team, booing cajolingly at my friends/opponents, and laughing throughout the halftime show.

However, my favorite part of the Superbowl — more so than the football, and even more than the delicious food — is the commercials.

And one of my favorite Superbowl commercials of all time appeared during halftime at this past one: the Clint Eastwood / Detroit Chrysler commercial.

In class on Thursday, we discussed the Eminem / Detroit Chrysler commercial from last year's Superbowl.

This year's commercial differed in several ways from last year's. Rather than a focus on the city of Detroit, we witnessed a slow sweeping view of the people of Detroit. The father, knotting his tie, looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. A young girl, staring out the car window. Still photos of struggling Americans, of families just like us — feeling the same things we are feeling, experiencing these times just like the entirety of the nation.

Meanwhile, throughout the commercial, we not only hear Clint Eastwood's voice monologuing on the rough times American is seeing — we also see him walking down the football hallway, leading from the field to the locker rooms. He makes a strong connection between halftime of the Superbowl and halftime for America, saying, "It's halftime, America, and our second half's about to begin."

The makers of this Chrysler commercial drew on perhaps everything they could possibly have drawn on in order to most effectively boost this commercial's rhetoric.

We have the ethos of Clint Eastwood, an incredibly skilled and accomplished actor and director. We also have the ethos of Detroit, a city that's been to hell and back, and is still fighting strong.

We have the pathos of the American dream and the current American life, the pathos that we all feel when we see jobs being cut, or witness the overruling of bills that need to be passed. The pathos that we all feel as college students, nervous about seeking a job after we graduate — or as parents, worrying about the success of our endeavors — or as business owners or factory workers, anxious about the future of our corporations. We all share a common American feeling right now.

We have the logos of the commercial itself — the background music, the slow-motion shadow-lit figure of Clint Eastwood, the grittiness of his voice and the intensity of his words.

And perhaps most importantly, we have kairos. There could not be a more perfect time to air this commercial, what with our ever-changing laws and politics, the climate of our politicians' campaigns, and the upcoming presidential vote. Now is the most opportune time to remind Americans to fight for our country — to get right back up when we get knocked down. Sometimes, we need reminded that though we all may have opposing beliefs, societies, and families, we are all one, together. Thanks, Chrysler, for the reminder.


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Question for you: what was your favorite Superbowl commercial this year?

What's going on, Walt?

I've recently downloaded an app on Facebook called Washington Post Reader.

This app allows you to easily scan through the latest breaking and headlining stories of the day or week. It also posts on your profile what stories you have recently read, and allows you to see what your friends have been reading, as well.

For the past day or so since I've had it, I've been addicted -- it's so simple to use, and allows you to get a taste of what's going on in the world, which is something that can be so difficult in school when your schedule consists primarily of sleeping, eating, classes, and hanging out. It can be tough to watch the news or grab a paper.

As I was perusing myriad articles whilst I should have been doing homework, I stumbled across a rather eye-catching one in particular.

Disney Parks' Craziest Staff Rules

(http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/01/25/disney-parks-craziest-corporate-rules-beards-ok-tattoos-still-out.html)

I'd been to Disneyworld once before and had loved it, and generally adore the Disney movies as a whole -- my interest was piqued.

As I glanced at the different rules, I didn't find them altogether crazy. The list consisted of the rules:

1. Conservative eyeglasses
2. Neutral, short nails
3. Classic hairdos
4. Short mustaches
5. Ear piercings only; no visible tattoos

(You can read the whole article here!)

They didn't seem so harmless at first. It makes sense for Disney, like all companies, to want to promote a certain vision of itself. However, then it clicked—

By staff of Disney parks adhering to these rules, are they helping to promote a strong sense of Disney's visual rhetoric? Is this like hidden ethos or something?

Children go to Disney parks to see, meet, and experience their favorite Disney characters, films, and TV shows. These different forms of media act as role models to children across the country, and the world. In a way, these rules of Disney staff seem to promote an idea that staff, because they interact with children on a daily basis, are to appear as role models, as well.

If this is the case, then what exactly are we teaching our children with these rules? That it's not acceptable to have thick pink-framed glasses? That glittery red nail polish is somehow unethical? That having a streak of blue-dyed hair speaks unwell of you, and having a nose piercing is totally the creme de la creme?

For a company such as Disney, whose films support uniqueness in everyone, and the importance in standing apart from the crowd, they sure seem to enforce a type of conformity within their own circle of people.

Is allowing a staff member at Disney, with a stud in her nose and long blue nails, to commandeer a guest shop such a bad thing at all? Should we be instilling a belief in young children that it is, in fact, a person's appearance that determines his or her heart? Or should we perhaps focus on something, I don't know, a little less superficial? Your call, Disney.

I Believe in the Worn-Down Passenger Seat of an Eighteen-Wheeler:

Soon to be on the moon?

Recently, in Florida, Republican presidential candidate Newt Gingrich proposed his grandiose plan to — if he were elected president — and lucky enough to be elected for two consecutive terms— build a permanent colony on our moon by the end of his second term. In addition to this, he suggested we would also conduct regular flights to Mars.

Sound a little crazy to you?

Yeah, same here.

Let's consider both sides of this proposal. Firstly, we can't condemn Gingrich for such an idea. Many times, the question of, "If we have the technology to visit the moon, why haven't we done so in 40 or 50 years?" has popped up in conversation on NASA and its future. It absolutely makes sense for us to return there at some point.

But is now — or rather, eight years from now, at the end of Gingrich's imaginary second term — the time for such a project?

As of right now, our country is:

• in debt
• in budget deficit
• still spending money where we probably don't need to

Should we throw an extra trillion or two in to build a colony on the moon?

Newt Gingrich thinks so.

But guess who else thinks so?

Gingrich's audience in Florida — those US citizens to whom he was speaking.

(http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/01/26/newt-gingrich-gets-angry-again-in-florida.html)

Newt Gingrich may have some interesting ideas, but I'll never consider him uninformed or unintelligent because — get this —

Gingrich's audience was chockfull of citizens who had lost their jobs as a result of the space shuttle Atlantis's final deploy in the universe.

Imagine: in summer of 2011, after Atlantis lifted one last time, and the idea of astronauts seemed utterly absurd, you lost your job. Now, a presidential candidate is promising a colony on the moon and flights to Mars. Not only would you most likely gain your job back, you would also be involved in an incredibly huge and intense space race. Sound good?

It would to me, too.

Gingrich did his research. He clearly knew who he was talking to, and used effective, blunt, precise language and delivery to win over the crowd in Florida.

I see someone's been reading Rhetoric and Civic Life.

The Power of Proofs

When I first learned that each member of our class was responsible for creating and maintaining a blog specifically on rhetoric in our lives, I was convinced mine was going to be a bust.

Rhetoric, I thought, was going to be a subject on which it was incredibly difficult to blog.

Rhetoric, it seemed, was something used only by politicians and people of a high social standing — in other words, the untrustworthy.

But rhetoric, as it turns out, is something I use on a nearly daily basis. The simplest of conversations can contain plenty of rhetoric.

Take into account a discussion had by my mama and I just today. Over the course of a few hours, I did my best to convince her that our traveling to Cancun this summer would be an amazing decision.

(My cousin graduates high school this May, and her requested graduation gift is for our whole family — cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings — to spend a week in Mexico.)

My mama, however, displaying her confidence and skill after years of arguing with her favorite and only child, took her time pointing out many reasons why this trip could not be had: time, expenses, work — you name a reason, she used it. As the minutes of intense rebuttal droned on, I was sure my side, which very much so favored the trip to Cancun, could not withstand.

(http://www.roamintl.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Cancun2.jpg)

Really though, how could you say no?

However, I remembered from the Rhetoric and Civic Life textbook, and from the second day of class, Aristotle's three types of rhetorical proofs: ethos, pathos, and logos. Ethos played on character, pathos on emotion, and logos on logic.

And boom, there it was. I was now armed with the power of rhetoric and could hold my own in this familial battle of reason.

Once it was my turn to speak, I worked strategically. I would work from pathos to logos to ethos, then back to logos, and finally ending on pathos — my mama is always a sucker for the emotional debate.

I stood firm by my points.

1. You and I haven't had a vacation since middle school — we've never even left the country! — and this could be a really fun time for the both of us. (pathos)
2. We have until June to save our money — and hey, I'll pay for my plane ticket! (logos)
3. You know I'm a very responsible adult-like person, and would use this trip not only for fun, but also for sightseeing and investigating the culture. (ethos)
4. Actually, I've even already checked out the price of flights and accounted for meals and activities for our week there. It's totally feasible. (logos)
5. Finally, do you know how long it's been since our entire family has been in the same location for more than a few hours? I can't even remember a time. This will be an amazing bonding experience for the whole family, supplying with memories and laughter for years to come. (pathos)

...As my mama started calling relatives and figuring out flight details soon after our conversation, I considered it a well-wrought victory. Thanks, Aristotle — you're the best.

So next time you're caught on the losing side of an argument, whip out Aristotle's three rhetorical proofs. Statistics say you'll be in for a very happy result.

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