The three western modes of persuasion are as follows: ethos, pathos and logos. When even these ceased to effectively communicate an issue, I turned to a rock. David himself beat Goliath from the simple slinging of one to the temple. I’m not one to resort to such violence, but solve my problems other ways. So please, listen to my tale involving a pet of the week section and a rock named Louis.
I imagine a little context might be helpful. The Missourian, more often than not, publishes a “Pet of the Week” in its weekly diversion section. While this seems harmless enough, I fostered a pit of disdain for it. Not for your pet “Sparkles,” but for what “Sparkles” represents.
Not only were the facts about the animal superfluous beyond reason, they were taking up the space for what could have been left to promote one of Maryville’s sheltered or roaming animals. If you live in Maryville, you are aware of our vast array of roaming animals, cats in particular, if you live on campus. “Sparkles” represented the most heinous act that the diversions section has committed itself toward todate: willful ignorance of the truth.
So getting back to the story, I offered up my opinion to the newsroom in one of our weekly critiques. This fell onto deaf ears, and after much agitation of pets flooding our weekly newspaper, I had had enough. It was time to plan. It was time for a liberal dose of sarcasm and mockery. It was time to find a rock. It was time for Louis.
It took weeks to locate the rock, I spent much of my free time wandering local trails to find the right one. The googly eyes came faster, for Walmart had supplied them. The rock I chose was one that was sitting on top of a log. The question I kept asking myself was how it managed to get on top? Sentience was the only explanation. Thus, Louis, my beloved rock, was born.
I took it home, washed it off and moved along with my plan. In maintaining honesty, I kept my rock in my pocket for the remainder of two weeks. The pact between me and it grew over time. It became a real genuine friend of mine. I needed time to sit on my nest egg.
When the time came, Louis and I took our shot. With an email sent, and a smile across both of our faces, our plan was in motion. The individual responsible for the section replied willinging to our email, and accepted Louis as the pet of the week.
With all the cards laid out on the table, it was my turn to write the final piece of the puzzle. The long wait is over and I can officially say what I’ve wanted to say all semester. The effort sent forth putting a picture of a rock with googly eyes into the newspaper has been greater than that of promoting a weekly shelter animal.