Expeditio (ex-pe-di’-ti-o): After enumerating all possibilities by which something could have occurred, the speaker eliminates all but one (=apophasis). Although the Ad Herennium author lists expeditio as a figure, it is more properly considered a method of argument [and pattern of organization] (sometimes known as the “Method of Residues” when employed in refutation), and “Elimination Order” when employed to organize a speech. [The reference to ‘method’ hearkens back to the Ramist connection between organizational patterns of discourses and organizational pattern of arguments]).
I was looking at my butt in the mirror feeling angry that I had been given a butt the size of a beer keg. I don’t know who they are, but I feel justified in hating them. I’ve had my butt covered with tattoos to distract from its immensity. There’s a rocket ship blasting up my butt crack—it is green and yellow with a beautiful red and purple flame. What is super special is Elon Musk waving with a big grin out a porthole. The rocket is aimed at my tramp stamp which is an Uber cab. It’s there to remind my dates to find me a way home after we’re done with the evening’s activities. Then, I have a Smiley Face on each cheek. Each one is 3” in diameter and has a laughter chip implanted. If you pat my butt it laughs.
And this is what shocked me: there’s a small fresh tattoo of a pepperoni pizza on my lower left cheek. I had never seen it before and I do not know how it got there. I don’t even like pizza and it throws off my butt’s tattoo symmetry. I don’t think I would’ve commissioned such at thing, but maybe I did. Maybe I just don’t remember getting the tattoo, maybe I was drunk, maybe I was knocked unconscious, maybe I have multiple personalities. Bad memory, drunkenness and unconsciousness are out of the question. I have a photographic memory! I don’t drink. And I had no pain in my head recently from being slugged or fed sedatives. That leaves multiple personalities. I did find the remnants of a pepperoni pizza in the trash. There were also 6 pepperoni sausages under my pillow in my bedroom and 2 packages of mozzarella cheese in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Last, there were 3 packages of pizza dough hidden under a board in the living room. So, what do I do now? I guess I’ll get another pizza tattoo on my lower right cheek. Symmetry is important to me—I need balance on my butt.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text by Gorgias.
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