Kairos and Comic Timing

Today in class, we talked about an aspect of rhetoric that we experience almost every day: kairos. Kairos, in short, is the golden opportunity for something. An example was used in class of getting into an argument with somebody, and then HOURS LATER thinking of the perfect comeback to something they said. While it can be aggravating when you miss a good opportunity, utilizing kairos in a great way is one of the most rhetorically powerful things a person could do. Something about getting the timing of a statement precisely correct makes it that much more powerful.

This concept especially holds true in the realm of comedy. Any comedian worth his weight in laughs knows the utter importance of kairos in any act. Timing is the x-factor that can either murder your jokes, or send you to the moon on a wave of fame and fortune. All of the most famous humorists have been masters of comedic timing. One of the most lauded comedians of all time, Rodney Dangerfield, was very well known for his mastery of kairos utilization. Here is an example:




Here you can see his rapid-fire delivery best at work. Rodney's style was that so his punchlines would come out before the audience even had a chance to comprehend the buildup. If you pay close attention, there is a half-second pause in between the delivery and the crowd's reaction due to his speedy verbalization. This adds to the effect of the jokes due to another property of good comedy; wording the joke so it takes a second or two for it to click in an audience's head.

Comic timing as good as Dangerfield's can be taught in some cases, but some people just have an inherent knack for it. Below is an example of one comedically-gifted person (my personal favorite comedian, TJ Miller), and a bunch of not-so-gifted individuals. DISCLAIMER: there is exactly *one* use of a foul word in this clip, so if you are offended you can skip past it and read my reflection:




In this video, Miller remarks on a conversation he had with a man who implied that he drank champagne "erryday". After lampooning the man's use of this word, the audience started to respond "erryday" to everything Miller said. The first time, it is agreed upon that it was kind of funny. After repeated usage, however, the kairos diminishes exponentially, eventually leading to Miller making fun of an audience member who kept trying to force the phrase into conversation, and even sarcastically referring to the "golden opportunity" of using "erryday", in turn recognizing the bad use of kairos by the woman.

Clips like these show how powerful the use of kairos can be in a rhetorical setting. You don't even have to be a comedian to be able to utilize kairos--as long as it is used effectively, it can do great things for you and the idea that you are trying to get across.I would like to end this post with a very short example of a kairotic situation where a spectator brings a trumpet to a parade and absolutely knocks the comic timing out of the park. Enjoy:

How to Speech "right". Get it

I'm someone who is at home in front of an audience. Be it singing in front of auditoriums full of people on stage or blurting out an almost-funny joke in the middle of a crowd, I have never really been afraid to put myself out in front of people. This lack of stage fright is weird to many people, and my friends find it too good to be true. Many of my classmates posted about being nervous for their speech, which makes it all the more admirable that they did so gosh darn well with their speeches. What I lacked in nerves, though, I made up for in procrastination. In this regard, this speechwriting assignment was a learning process for me.

Throughout high school, I was a bad procrastinator. I know many people say this about themselves, but it was especially apparent in my case. I would start my weekend homework at midnight on Sunday night, and usually end up finishing it 5 minutes before class started, if at all. In high school, it was easier to get by while doing this, but college is a whole different monster. I started my speech at, like, 11 p.m. the night before, and WOW was that a bad decision. Let's just say it was one of my latest nights yet, even considering the fact that I'm a chronic night owl. In some ways I'm almost glad I did this, however. It taught me a very important lesson about assignments and time management.

This assignment also taught me how to write an effective speech. In high school, I never took into account the rhetorical strategies that I was using when writing essays or lectures. Now, every time I write I will pay close attention to the interplay between the ethos, pathos, and logos of my rhetoric. Up to this point, I was a firm believer in only using logos to convey my message (even though I had no idea what the word logos meant; nor did I know that it even existed.). This class made me realize that ethos and pathos are very important as well-pathos perhaps even more so. When speaking to a crowd, you can't just throw cold facts at them and expect them to no stare out the window the entire time. All of history's best speakers used language, volume oscillation and dramatic pauses to give their listeners the "chills" that accompany an effective and historic speech. From now on in my writing, I will make sure to utilize all three corners of the rhetoric triangle. Who knew that I would actually learn things at Penn State?

Rhetoric in Debate

I'll admit it. I'm a man who loves to debate. Some may even call me slightly argumentative at times. My personality type is the most prone to debate as well (check out the first post on my personal passion blog once it is up). With this in mind, it is obvious that I was intrigued when, in Chapter 3 of our RCL text, the topic of debate sprung up. My curiosity piqued, I soldiered on and read the chapter in one quick sitting--slightly unheard of from me, let alone most college students in general. In it, I found very interesting points; the first being that many modern Americans tend to distrust any sort of rhetoric, associating it with conniving politicians and other schemers. Granted, this is a character-type that has been explored many times in fiction, from Iago in Othello to Wormtongue of Lord Of The Rings fame. This distrust also goes along with the fact that, when engaged in a debate, the American values facts and references over any artful use of the language. However, I believe that we should open up and utilize rhetoric the way the ancients did.

While we cite tired commonplaces in argument, ancient rhetors made their viewpoints clear through inventive use of language. Through this, debate becomes a more productive matter, as opposed to a disruptive one. While engaged in argument, I've always tried to use my own logic to get my point across. Maybe it's my hatred of all-things overdone, but I've always felt that referencing a mental library of common knowledge and beliefs during debate serves only to shut down any invention involved in the matter. Another problem with the contemporary style of debate is that it tends to eventually lead nowhere. I agree with every statement Jon Stewart made while on the set of Crossfire, an episode which was referenced in the text. He made clear what debate had devolved to on that show: two talking heads spouting and shouting empty facts without even listening to the points being made by their opponent.

These men and women on the show were engaging in a form of debate with questionable merit--a form where neither party went into the ordeal planning to even listen to the other. When this is the case, there is no point in arguing to begin with. In ancient Socratic seminars, discussions involved two parties coming together and bouncing their ideas back and forth. The two parties would alter their thesis slightly after each round of discussion until the group reached an inevitable compromise and/or conclusion. Nowadays, debate only ends after the two participants get tired of yelling, or after the allotted 24 minute time-slot runs out. Can you see why I call for a return to the ancient ways?