Figures of Speech Served Fresh

 “Ask Figaro” has been heating up lately, with rhetorical analyses of hot Russian spies, bashed mailboxes, biblical mysteries, gushing oil, and gushing, oily politicians.  Explore it all here or ask a question of your own in the form at the bottom.

I see a maggot looking back at me and I’m thinking, “These are anaerobic, flesh-eating larvae that the flight attendants don’t have to sit with.”

Donna Adamo, passenger on a maggot-infested US Airways flight

epiphoneme (eh-PIH-fo-neem), the memorable summary. From the Greek epiphonema, meaning “proclaim upon.”

Continuing with epiphonemes: we’re seeing them everywhere. A great epiphoneme says, “It all boils down to this.” In this case, it boils down to the rotten meat a dopey passenger stored in an overhead bin. You can’t blame the airline (full disclosure: Figaro consults for Southwest Airlines), but poor US Airways had to put up with a raft of “mother@%#*ing maggots on a mother@%#*ing plane” jokes.

The best epiphoneme goes right to the edge of hyperbole, and possibly an eensy bit beyond. Technically, maggots do not have the optic equipment to stare at people, and they would not eat the flesh of passengers unless the plane were held on the tarmac long enough for corpses in coach to rot. Adamo nonetheless makes a very strong proclamation: maggots are not one of the finer airline amenities.

Figaro has been getting quite a bit of mail noting that the BP chairman’s “small people” gaffe constitutes a trope, not just a figure of speech. So what kind of trope is it, they ask?

“Small people” is a metonymy, a trope that takes a part or characteristic of something and uses it to define the whole. Small people’s position in society is itty-bitty, a characteristic that’s used to define the people themselves.

“The little guy,” on the other hand, is a synecdoche—one person used to describe a type or group of people. Of course, the “little” part of the guy is a metonymy as well…

Whew. It’s getting tropical around here. In general, if you something isn’t literally true—the “small people” in America seem to get larger every day—then it’s probably either a trope or a lie.  And what are the other tropes? You’ve certainly heard of ‘em:  metaphor and irony.

A Figarist posted the inevitable question on Ask Figaro: does the BP chairman’s gaffe have a rhetorical name? Why, yes, it does, and Figaro is big enough to tell you what it is.

Dear Figaro,

Aside from being appallingly classist and culturally inept, is BP’s chairman remark on how much BP loves the “small people” of the Gulf Coast a figure of speech?

Kaine

Dear Kaine,

Chairman Carl-Henric Svanberg, a Swede, clearly meant “the little guy” when he said “the small people.” The mistake is a soraismus (so-ray-IS-mus), a clumsy mix of languages. That’s Greek for “loading up a pile of caca.”

The incident reminds us of the time many years ago when famous Italian journalist Oriana Fallaci interviewed  Henry Kissinger for an Italian magazine. Trying to impress the beautiful reporter, the plump, German-born Secretary of State described himself as a lone cowboy “leading the caravan” and entering the “village” alone. The American press gave Kissinger a lot of well-deserved grief for that interview. But in fairness to Kissinger, he probably actually said “wagon train” to Fallaci (carrozza in Italian) as well as “town” (villago).

Svanberg’s gaffe simply eliminated the incompetent middle man.

Is it unfair to attack Svanberg for his soraismus? Maybe. But the quote does amply illustrate BP’s reckless arrogance. Besides, a corporate chairman should be sophisticated enough to earn his giant’s salary by vetting his rhetoric. Figaro is available to help for a big person’s fee.  Meanwhile, we say, ridicule away.

It is this kind of Blind Faith — which is ironically the name of an actual rig in the Gulf — that has led to this kind of disaster.

Congressman Edward Markey at the oil disaster hearing

Parenthesis, the insertion. From the Greek, meaning “insertion.”

The BP catastrophe wouldn’t happen on our rigs, say the chairmen of Exxon Mobil and Chevron. Anticipating their comments, Ed Markey came up with the best quote at the hearings.

We don’t think of a parenthesis as a figure of speech, but that’s exactly how it started its career. Parentheses aren’t punctuation; those little half-circles denote them. Used deftly, they can add an eyebrow-raising “oh-by-the-way” to a sentence, reinforcing a point in a way that makes it seem inevitable.

Markey did this by working backwards. His staff discovered that Blind Faith is the name of a rig; presumably in honor of the great blues-rock band, not their philosophy on safety. He uses the phrase as if it’s his own, then parenthesizes the rig.

Result: great irony. Great parenthesis. Rotten oil execs.