Blog #8

Firstly, this revision corrects most (well, all that I could find!) of the grammatical and awkward transitional errors I made in the last draft. Sometimes, having nine-and-a-half fingers causes me to make small typos, but I suppose that’s a lame excuse for such simple mistakes. It took more effort to correct some instances when I wasn’t concise, or when I was too wordy. I’ve found that it is helpful for me to review my writing a couple of weeks after I’ve looked at it last, since I can read it more objectively.

In my last draft, I also left out a key part of the Toulmin argument—rebuttals. I went back and deleted some needless sentences and added a criticism of Thompson’s claim, and how it could have been more successful.

However, in comparison to the last third draft of the last assignment, this revision went relatively smoothly. Perhaps my mistakes were easier to fix this time? I went through all the criticisms I got for my second draft and adjusted my paper, yet I still feel not as confident as I would like to be about my paper. I know that this draft is definitely better because of the errors I corrected, but is it good enough? I don’t really know what “good enough” is. Because I know that it probably can’t reach perfection under every criticism, but I can keep working on it.

While I feel like my thesis is definitely clearer and directly supported in this draft, I’m not sure if my paper can suddenly go from “able” to “masterful” in one go. I guess that depends on the reader’s opinion.

Supergeeks

Clive Thompson’s column, titled Count on Geeks to Rescue the Earth, in Wired’s September issue defends and supports the geek mystique. Using a variety of rhetorical techniques, Thompson argues successfully for geeks’ capacity to help millions of people rather than simply focusing on individuals, due to their problem solving skills, even with mass amounts.

The article begins with a description of a geek’s role model, the utterly rich, famous, and smart Bill Gates. In this description, Gates symbolizes the quintessential geek, a “nerd’s nerd—someone who seems perennially uncomfortable around people and only at ease dealing with the intricacies of software code” (Thompson 62). How then could such a person uncomfortable around others be able to help millions? Perhaps Thompson assumes that Gates isn’t directly interacting with people, handing them packages of food or building their schools, but rather the rich, wise icon behind the dollar, the mastermind behind the plan. In Thompson’s eyes, Gates is “practically a social cripple,” but also a geek who isn’t overwhelmed by large numbers as normal people are when they hear millions crying for help. This example of Gates, the quintessential geek and philanthropist, supports Thompson’s main claim through the Toulmin model that geeks are capable of saving the world.

By directly relating Bill Gates with the term “geek,” Thompson uses a warrant to assume the reader’s knowledge of geeks. In other situations, such as in more scholarly articles and texts outside of “geeky” magazines such as Wired, the term “geek” might need to be defined clearer. However, Thompson chooses to draw a from a warrant of the reader’s assumption of the term in a culture where a geek is defined as intelligent yet lacking social skills. This warrant works so well that Thompson doesn’t even need to explain the definition of “geek,” as geek is implicitly defined synonymously with Bill Gates.

Other than Bill Gates, Thompson does not show other real-life examples of geeky philanthropists. Thompson’s argument could have been more successful had he identified other examples of rich geeks saving the world. There are also other flaws in Thompson’s argument. Thompson also assumes that Wired’s readers are geeks themselves, since he creates a claim that many geeks probably won’t challenge (since the claim is favorable to them). Perhaps more scholarly readers would question his assumption of geeky characteristics, yet Thompson doesn’t address this, as he also avoids rebuttals in his essay.

Since Thompson doesn’t address rebuttals in this article, one wondered if geeks, with all their social incapability, would typically be people likely to be empathetic for starving and disease-ravaged peoples across the globe. Actually, Thompson is supported by other sources on this issue—geeks really do harbor aspirations to promote positive change in the world. According to Warren Bennis and Robert Thomas in Geeks and Geezers, geeks (defined by the same stereotype Thompson uses) typically want to make a difference in the world as found through interviews with geeks between the ages of 25 and 30. A lot of people aspire to be successful and rich, but “personal wealth carries real social obligations” (Bennis and Thomas 59). Thompson is also supported by Bennis and Thomas’ argument that innately designed in the geek is the aspiration to financial success (possibly to outdo their brawny high school counterparts), but once that success is achieved, a sort of obligation or duty appears on the geek’s shoulder: to educate, feed, and heal the world.

Evidence from Geeks and Geezers also supports Thompson’s claim through logos. Within the article, Thompson also employs logos to further develop his claim. If the reader wasn’t convinced before, Thompson also goes into more detail, using facts and opinions from the psychologist Paul Slovic’s research in human empathy. The facts described show that people are 50% more likely to give to one starving individual than to a group of people with the same problem. This statistic brings more factual credibility to Thompson’s argument, simultaneously using logos and ethos. Thompson goes on to say that “we’ll break the bank to save Baby Jessica, but when half of Africa is dying, we’re buying iPhones” (62).

Using words such as “dying” and “mass tragedy,” Thompson also uses pathos to invoke empathetic emotion in readers for the needy and struggling people worldwide. Thompson descriptively notes the conditions of disease-ravaged peoples and naturally, readers feel sorry for these people and want to give, yet know they cannot help people as rich geeks can.

Monetary gifts to the world, such as those given by Bill Gates, have helped to tackle long-term social problems such as AIDS, hunger, and poverty. According to Thompson, only geeks like Gates can view the large numbers and determine solutions for such huge problems, solving them with a “moral algorithm: Preventable death=bad; preventable death x 1 million people= 1 million times as bad.” Though Thompson could have made his argument more successful by providing more examples and addressing rebuttals, he is successful in his argument, warranting the reader’s understanding of the term “geek,” supporting his ideas with the instance of Bill Gates and the research of Paul Slovic. Thompson is convincing using Toulmin arguments to show how geeks have another potential, more than just solving mathematical problems, the potential to improve and change the world.

Works Cited

Bennis, Warren G, and Robert J. Thomas. Geeks & Geezers. Boston:

Harvard Business School Press, 2002.

Thompson, Clive. "Count on Geeks to Rescue the Earth." Wired

September 2007: 62.

Blog #7

First of all, my third draft of Assignment #1 is clearly better because my teacher says it’s improved. Without this feedback, I was still relatively confident that my essay improved, since I systematically reviewed each paragraph and each sentence, for its support towards my final argument. For each paragraph and sentence, I asked myself, “how does this help my argument?”
It is usually very beneficial for my writing if I do this, since I tend to just write without direction, occasionally pressing “enter” to start a new paragraph at whim. During revision I have the chance to actually think about these things, rather than trying to revise as I think about what words to type.
During revision I also reread my essay for colloquial terms, another tendency in my writing. Even in academic work, I tend to write like I am talking instead, using very casual words. Also, I tend to forget how each sentence I write contributes to my argument, as I take tangential routes. When I digress, I leave more room open to question, or what I like to call doubtful “holes” in my argument. This is where I’m most likely to overgeneralize to patch holes over, without adequate specific support.
However, the revision I am most proud of is my stronger statement of a claim in the introduction, when I originally left my claim vague and open to assumption. This was fixed using the groundbreaking copy and paste tool at my discretion. My thesis has improved, somewhat. At least I can now locate it in my introduction. I’ve done all I can do, for now. The next step will be to wait a few days, weeks, until I can come back to this essay with a fresh start and begin to revise it, word by word.

Blog #6

The Timeless Personal Possession of a Jaguar

A September issue of Wired features a two-page Jaguar advertisement: “THE NEW XJ; powerful, aluminum, 400-HP V8 engine. Sleeker, lightweight aluminum body. Luxury transformed by design.” A side view and a frontal view of the vehicle are partially shown synecdochially, with a dark, mysterious, backlighted afro-headed woman lurking in the background. By using both conscious logos, such as the technical description of the car, and also unconscious pathos, such as the woman’s appeal, Jaguar successfully gets its point across—the new XJ model is a possession worthy only of those who are willing to pay the price for luxury and fulfillment. Those who cannot afford it can only dream of possessing such a high-social-status securing object. This argument speaks to set apart the Jaguar by maintaining a luxury status, gathering consumer interest in order to eventually sell Jaguar cars to wealthy people, while men drool over the thought of owning one.

Once the general grandeur of the entire aesthetically-pleasing and intriguing advertisement has sunk in, the reader can finally come to their senses and examine the images and text with more thought. The text is placed on the first page, justified on the left center, embellished by no added bells and whistles, yet sophisticated and sleek like the product Jaguar is trying to sell. Obviously, in this advertisement, less is more. Jaguar’s graphic designers clearly employ design principles, including contrast, repetition, alignment, and proximity, in order to make the visual more appealing and therefore more persuasive to the reader.

The reader can also be persuaded by text. The persuasively appealing argument for Jaguar’s excellence seems to be coming from a luxury car expert (but also a skilled rhetorician), in its technical description of the vehicle. The implication of an expert’s opinion helps Jaguar’s argument establish credibility and ethos.

Simultaneously, logical arguments or logos are used to support Jaguar’s claim. The text demurely argues logically for Jaguar in its implications: perhaps a lightweight aluminum V8 engine is simply better, sleeker. The text does not explicitly say this, but a thoughtful reader might conclude that a lightweight body could improve speed or acceleration, and possibly even save fuel.

Arguments such as these show Jaguar’s motivation to provoke interest, spread acclaim, and appeal to viewers. A claim similar to this advertisement reads on the US website: “Here is a carriage of consequence. Crafted to perform and please. A personal possession, extremely well-finished.” Viewers’ interest is provoked by the intriguing “carriage of consequence,” and also acclaim is spread by the craftsmanship and special design of the Jaguar. Viewers are intrigued by the appeal of a possession that is “personal” to them, designed to fit their needs. While these issues all contribute to Jaguar’s motivations, Jaguar cannot as an end simply seek to sell cars.

Not everyone can afford cars like these. Jaguar vehicles range from $65,750-$116,00 each. If simply selling a lot of cars isn’t Jaguar’s true goal, what could be the real intent of this advertisement?

Jaguar’s true intent lies within societal constraints. People seem to believe that sophisticated, expensive (and therefore rarer), unique objects are more valuable than common ones. This principle helps to set apart the Jaguar and helps to elevate the company to a luxury status. Also, this constraint helps to induce customer longing for Jaguars, by setting the vehicle on such a high standard. Even the symbol of owning a Jaguar implies that one is at a certain point of financial security and well-being. When someone accumulates wealth enough to reach this point, they reach a point of self-actualization, achieving status, power, and financial ambition, as enhanced by the advertisement’s suggestion that owning a luxury Jaguar vehicle would equal achieving this goal.

Throughout many advertisements and not just those of Jaguars, there seems to be a consumer need or exigency for objects to be special, set apart, and dignified, regardless of whether or not the consumer has the money to spend. This issue reoccurs in many advertisements that seek to distinguish or make an impression of a product on the viewer in order to set apart the product from the rest, creating a lasting memory, including slogans such as “a diamond is forever,” or “think different.”

While the rich contemplate the acquisition of a new, well-finished, “personal possession,” other readers gaze longingly back at the contrasting face of a smirking vehicle: its eyes—the headlights, the mouth—the grille. Suddenly, the face of the Jaguar becomes more than just a car, a machine with identity, like Stephen King’s Christine. There seems to be a tendency to see human qualities in objects, as Scott McCloud explains in The Vocabulary of Comics. “We humans are a self-centered race. We see ourselves in everything. We assign identities and emotions where none exist. And we make the world over in our image” (McCloud 203-204). Perhaps seeing the human traits in the Jaguar makes the vehicle personal like the online advertisement describes.

Still, the only human visible in the advertisement remains the shadowy, black afro-headed woman in the background. She appeals even less personal than the car, possibly to distinguish the car’s personality, and only her lips and a hint of a nose can be distinguished from her frontal silhouette. Perhaps, Jaguar decided not to show her eyes in order to keep her from being too personal and too human, while revealing the dewy sensuality of her lips. Also, the text could be describing her also: “powerful…sleeker…lightweight…” This woman is portrayed as an object, like the car, appealing to a male audience (but not limited to), and also to arouse mystery. Her body is not used to sell the car, but rather her mystique. She invites and intrigues the reader to seek after a higher life—a luxury, even into obsession. She inspires emotion—not the typical emotions than scantily—clad women inspire when standing next to a car, but rather a sophisticated sensuality, a kind of pathos argument done sleekly and sublimely that readers don’t consciously notice until they stop to ponder it.

The elements in the advertisement—the shadowy woman, the aesthetic and personal appeal of the vehicle, the persuasive and logical appeals of the text, and the motives behind the sophisticated Jaguar company—all work simultaneously to create a successful argument. If the readers aren’t able to purchase one or two of these luxurious vehicles, they will sigh and place the Jaguar on a high pedestal with all other difficult-to-obtain aspirations—which is exactly what the Jaguar Company wants them to do.

Works Cited

“Jaguar US.” Jaguar US. 2007. 15 Sep 2007 http://www.jaguarusa.com/us/en/home.htm

McCloud, Scott. “Vocabulary of Comics.” Visual Rhetoric in a Digital World: A Critical Sourcebook. Carolyn Handa, Boston: Bedford/St. Martins, 2004. 194-208.