Aporia (a-po’-ri-a): Deliberating with oneself as though in doubt over some matter; asking oneself (or rhetorically asking one’s hearers) what is the best or appropriate way to approach something [=diaporesis].
You’ve heard of a Leprechaun. What about a Supercon? His empire of lies stretches around world. The is no rainbow or pot gold—there’s just a thick fog and a crock of shit.
What is the power he has over people? How does he get them to join him in his mad conspiracy theories and everything else? How does he get people to march on the capital with bullhorns blaring, beating up police, and breaking windows?
I believe it is his hair and dentures. His dentures are as white as shaved ice. Each tooth is an idol to a god or goddess of oral hygiene and beauty, and together, to the Smile God that they all share a common interest in as the Oral Pantheon. They have no fillings or gaps, or other defects deemed unsatisfactory by the One Great God of human beauty.
His dentures project an air of respectfulness, like an expensive car or a boat. This “Denture Power” attracts people like an expensive car or a boat. There is longing that, like a magnet, pulls people along is his wake. One problem he has with this, is people following him can’t see his dentures from behind and their desire for him begins to wane. This is where his hair comes into play.
Combed and stiffened, it looks like a complex freeway clover leaf, feeding into a circular race track running uphill into a wing, finally ending in a wave rolling back to the top of his head. His hair can be seen and work its magic from 360 degrees. No front or rear, its bright blond aura is everywhere. Its intricate comb-job belies the fact that it is a pile of hair—its greatest power stems from this fact: it looks like Mt. Sinai. One can imagine Moses climbing it, undaunted by the stiffener and the comb-rows. One may believe that his hair has a sacred aspect; that it may feed his brain with divinely-mandated commandments, that may supplement or alter the original ten. So there is a quality of piety aroused by the hair, and a feeling of religiosity from following the hair. The First Commandment has already been changed: “You shall have no other hair before me.” Some theologians have objected. They are missing and it is feared they have “climbed the stairway to heaven.”
So, the entanglement of religion and beauty through perfect dentures and a mountain of blond hair induces fervent allegiance to the bearer of the teeth and hair. if somebody stole his dentures and shaved his head, his reign would come to and end. A plot to do just this was uncovered in New York. A small cabal of dentists and hairdressers was conspiring to take the teeth and the hair. Their plan was to rush the stage at a rally, carrying M-15s, rope, and a folding chair. As soon as he was tied to the chair, the dentist would remove his dentures. Then, the hairdresser would fire up his rechargeable clippers and shave the villain’s head. Sitting there toothless and bald, it was the conspirators’ hope that the scales would fall from the audience’s eyes and they would rush the stage and kill him. Well, it wasn’t meant to be, The conspirators’ lair in the back room of a local Speedy Lube was raided by local police before they could execute their plan. When the conspirators raised the hands they were shot for making threatening gestures. One was found with his middle finger raised.
Well, there you have it. Is this what happens when truth speaks to power? Are we stuck with beautiful teeth and mountainous hair as inducements to vote for their bearers? Is democracy in trouble?
George Washington had wooden teeth and wore a wig. He did a damn good job. What is the significance of this?
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.
The Daily Trope 