Proecthesis (pro-ek’-the-sis): When, in conclusion, a justifying reason is provided.
I am a man. My hair is three feet long. It is black and shiny. It is what it is, in terms of length, because I suffer from Scissor Phobia—a rare condition passed down through generations. My father was blessed due to the long-haired hippie movement of the 60s and 70s. But when the movement died out, He was left with 5 feet of hair. As former hippy friends cut their hair and wore suits to work as bankers and brokers, he felt increasingly isolated.
He was reading “National Geographic” one day, thinking about having a pet emu, when he came to an article about a Chinese acrobat troupe. Part of their act was to hang from their hair and spin around in circles. He found the troupe’s website—they were called “The Jade Pandas.” They were remarkably open about how they did the “Spinning Hair” maneuver.
My father threw a rope attached to his hair over the limb of a tree growing in his backyard, and everything went well until he tried to spin. He waved his arms and kicked his feet. Nothing. Then, he got the idea of weaving bungee chords into his hair and winding them up. He got a little spin out of that, but not enough to impress an audience. At last, he landed on an electric motor—battery powered. He made a fake watermelon to house the motor. He put a disk on the motor’s shaft with holes drilled in it where his hair could be threaded. He was ready. His first gig was on a local community cable TV show “Trending Trends.” The host was Carlisle Shif who had a skin condition requiring that he slather his body with cortisone three times a day.
The stage hands helped my father up on the scaffold where his motor was set up. It was the first time he tried it. He wove in his hair into the disk and everything was ready to go. The switch was flipped. The motor was running way too fast. My father was parallel to the floor. His hair was coming loose from the disk. He flew into the studios, knocking over a camera and Carlisle too. The switchboard lit up. The 6 people who had been watching were “impressed” and “amazed.” Nevertheless, my father gave it up. He started seeing a therapies and after five years he got a haircut.
I’m in therapy now. One of the exercises is to run with scissors pointed at my heart.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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