fandomhigh | Debating, Friday September 14

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Debating, Friday September 14

After a couple awkward teacherless minutes, Chuck walked through the door. He acted as if nothing had happened, going to the board and writing:

Generalizations

Chuck tapped the board under the word. “When you know a little about your opponent, you can use that to your advantage. Like they say, “a little bit of knowledge is dangerous…” to your foes. Take these two,” he looked at Jim and Willow, “I had them in class last year. Even though I don’t know them very well, I could say that Willow’s eagerness to study denotes a lack of personal life and a need to compensate to fill that hole in her heart. Or that Jim’s newfound inability to take notes means he will do poorly in school and end up a cubicle drone, endlessly shuffling papers.”

He rounded on Turtle. “I’ve heard her talking about stock options on the radio. Thus, she’s missed out on her entire childhood, and is doomed to have a massive breakdown in adulthood. Unstable.”

Chuck nodded toward Jeff. “He seems a little nervous. I’m guessing that he has some terrible secret, probably involving arson. Yeah, he’s an arsonist.”

“Then there’s the Asian kids.” Namine and Haruhi were next. “I could say that I’m fully expecting A’s from them, and if they’re doing poorly, that they ought to lay off on the Chinese cartoons.” He saw Namine’s sketchbook, and ignored any conventions of her style to say: “Point made.”

“Blonde jokes will never fail to make your opponent feel devalued.” He pointed to Cher. “She looks like a bottle blonde,” to Annette, “she’s probably the rich spoiled kind,” to Charlie, “vacant blond, obsessed with appearance. Probably a moody water sign, too,” he turned to Meg, “and since she’s the fourth person to be listed, this one probably follows the crowd all the time.”

“It’s not just hair color. Judging by appearance is just generally a good idea.” He turned his accusing finger to Zim. “The green kid looks like he’s from Mars.” He nodded to Ronan. “He looks like a Goth, and probably has a very active fantasy life, filled with swords and spears and dungeons and dragons.” He pointed to Mel’s shoes. “Her mom probably also wears combat boots.” He turned to Valentine next.

And stopped.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, shook his head, and said “Too easy. I won’t even bother.”

Finished with the insults, Chuck returned to the board. “Now, I’ll bet some of you are a little mad at me. After all, I’ve solidly won each tiny argument I just started. You all lost. Losers.

“The point of this exercise is twofold. Number one-” He wrote these on the board, “- I want you all to know how it feels to have these expertly crafted paper bullets grazing your vital organs. This shows how powerful these can be in an argument. Number two- It’s an example, so you can use them yourselves. And Number three- I don’t want any of you to forget how it feels to lose an argument, how humiliating and how the need for vengeance will spread in your mind.

“So in this next class exercise, I want you to partner off and take out the resulting need to win on your opposition. Hit them with a sweeping generalization, then give them a chance to recover and try to sling one back at you. ”

He turned back to Valentine. Chuck didn’t feel that the poor kid had suffered quite enough yet. “I also have an extra credit opportunity. For next week’s class, you all can come up with generalizations why board-face here is unreliable and his arguments are bad, based off of his appearance and small things about him. Remember class, work small! An argument with a lot of support is nice and easy. But a thin argument where you have to grasp to connect things? That takes talent.” He clapped his hands. “Get going!”

OOC:~~You can start arguing when I blow the whistle...~~ TWEEEEEET! Have at them!

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"A lot you know, Turtle Wexler," Annette said back, a bit of ice in her tone.

"Aren't our sweeping generalizations supposed to be insulting, Annette?" Turtle smirked. "That's just truth right there; I do know a lot. I guess digging anything below the obvious is too much work."

"I don't normally insult people Turtle, so I would have to guess that you would win in this situation here on generalizations. I can't help it if you just think certain things that aren't obviously true." Annette's leg was killing her. She couldn't think properly.

"I knew that it was true that you would come up with the lamest comeback in probably the whole class," Turtle pointed out.

"It might be the lamest but it is true and you know it. You don't have to lie to be insulting." She frowned then looked mildly sheepish. "I, uh, forgot to give you something yesterday." She reached down into her bag and pulled out a hymnal and handed it over to her.

Turtle took it from Annette cautiously, as one would when they were receiving something from someone they'd just got into a totally intense fight with and pretty much swindled nine hundred bucks from. Very, very carefully with a heck of a lot of suspicion. Turtle's confusion didn't improve once she saw what it was.

"...A church book?"

"I think that's what it is yes." Humm-dee-dumm.

"Why would you give me a church book?"

"It's my penance," she whispered real real low.

"Peanuts?" Turtle strained to hear. "What?"

Maybe those pulls to her hair messed up Annette's brain or something; she wasn't making any sense.

Annette rolled her eyes and looked straight at Turtle and said, "PENANCE." There. She ought to have heard that.

"Ohhhh," Turtle nodded, rolling her eyes. It wasn't her fault Annette had problems with annunciation again. "Penance. Right. For what? I thought you were supposed to be, like, all perfect and stuff? What the heck would you do wrong?"

Her eyes widened; obviously Turtle hadn't been listening to the radio and how damn slap happy Annette was over that. No telling what Turtle would have said to her by now. Come to think of it, she never said anything yesterday. Annette was just too freaking lucky right about now.

"Stuff," she said, because she wasn't offering any juicy tidbits. No way.

Of course Turtle hadn't been listening to the radio. She had three new employees that she had to set up files and 401ks and potential stock options and the cross-world paperwork for governmental employee benefits were horrendous, so it was practically all she'd been doing in her spare time that wasn't spent with Jeff.

Turtle rolled her eyes. "That's the lamest answer ever, Annette. What happens if I refuse to accept the book unless you tell me? Then you can't do your penance."

"It's simply out of my hands then. You took the book. What you do with it after that is not my concern. My penance was fulfilled when I handed it to you - you took it - I'm forgiven. End of making me feel lame, Turtle." She snickered. "Obviously you don't know anything about confessions and how penances work." Said Miss Perfect Catholic School-Girl.

Of course she wouldn't. She was raised in a Godless mixed religion household. Turtle arched an eyebrow at Annette, knowing perfectly well what she could do with the church book, but Annette would have to turn back around first. "Obviously," she said. "I only bother knowing about useful stuff."

(*dies laughing*)

"Then go to hell. See if I care. I can tell you one thing though: Lucifer has a much better business aptitude than you do. On a much larger, wider scale. You'll never survive."

"Clearly, then," Turtle said, "you haven't seen the numbers for the Devil's Nest."

"No. But I've chatted with the devil myself and let me tell you, he's not one to mess with. Who cares about numbers when you are talking about eternity."

Yup. Definitely dealing with a crazy blonde here.

"I'm a capitalist, Annette," Turtle said, as if that answered everything.

Annette snorted. "Capitalist shmapalist. Doesn't matter when you're dead."

"Exactly," Turtle said, and left it at that, because she wasn't feeling up to a religious debate today.

Although this was debating class, so now Turtle was starting to feel like she should do it anyway. Ahhh, what a conundrum.

"Glad you could find it in you to agree with me about something." Hah!

Annette moved. Winced. "Ow."

Turtle hid a small smirk. "Trouble moving, Annette?"

"A nine hundred dollar moving problem, Turtle, thanks for asking."

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