Category Archives: dirimens copulatio

Dirimens Copulatio (di’-ri-mens ko-pu-la’-ti-o): A figure by which one balances one statement with a contrary, qualifying statement (sometimes conveyed by “not only … but also” clauses). A sort of arguing both sides of an issue.

Protagoras (c. 485-410 BC) asserted that “to every logos (speech or argument) another logos is opposed,” a theme continued in the Dissoi Logoiof his time, later codified as the notion of arguments in utrumque partes (on both sides). Aristotle asserted that thinking in opposites is necessary both to arrive at the true state of a matter (opposition as an epistemological heuristic) and to anticipate counterarguments. This latter, practical purpose for investigating opposing arguments has been central to rhetoric ever since sophists like Antiphon (c. 480-410 BC) provided model speeches (his Tetralogies) showing how one might argue for either the prosecution or for the defense on any given issue. As such, [this] names not so much a figure of speech as a general approach to rhetoric, or an overall argumentative strategy. However, it could be manifest within a speech on a local level as well, especially for the purposes of exhibiting fairness (establishing ethos[audience perception of speaker credibility].

This pragmatic embrace of opposing arguments permeates rhetorical invention, arrangement, and rhetorical pedagogy. [In a sense, ‘two-wayed thinking’ constitutes a way of life—it is tolerant of differences and may interpret their resolution as contingent and provisional, as always open to renegotiation, and never as the final word. Truth, at best, offers cold comfort in social settings and often establishes itself as incontestable, by definition, as immune from untrumque partes, which may be considered an act of heresy and may be punishable by death.]

I was like the riddle: What is big, but also small? A shadow. But that’s not all I am. I am a cook. I am a brother. I am a benchwarmer. I am a consultant. In fact, I put the “con” in consultant. Twelve years ago, I came up with the idea for making up fake emotional maladies, convincing people they were suffering from them, and then “magically” curing them, sometimes overnight. I even invented an “organic compound” that would bring them around and maintain them. It was highly addictive, so almost every client created a permanent cash flow. I was busted by the FDA, and also by the Fed for criminal deception: posing as a licensed health care provider.

I did 2 years in an ultra-low security prison jokingly called “Hotel California.” It was for starched white-collar criminals. We ranked above the permanent press white collar criminals who were mostly tax “fraudies” and embezzlers. The “Hotel” had a golf course, tennis courts, a bar, a drag strip, a vape salon, a gambling casino, and numerous other amenities. It was initially built in anticipation of Ricard Nixon’s incarceration. He evaded justice, so the Fed opened the prison anyway, designating it for high-class offenders who could afford the rent.

I was still determined to go after emotionally disturbed people, where maintenance, not curing, was all that could be done. If I could get 100 clients on the hook, I’d get rich. Accordingly, I studied to be a licensed psychologist while I was in prison. I got on online degree from “Clownfear College of Psychology” located in Guatemala, but accredited by the American Association of Accreditors LLC, located in Panama, New Jersey. My residency was conducted with my next door prisoner. He had been convicted of selling shower-curtains with built-in spy cams. His major market was hotels, motels, and professional voyeurs. His specific crime was “equipping, aiding, and abetting weirdos in the conduct of their weirdness.” He suffered from agoraphobia: he wouldn’t leave his cell. In my internship, I worked with him for a year before he finally put one foot outside his cell. As soon as his foot hit the concrete floor, he had a heart attack and died. And then I thought: if I specialize in agoraphobics, I won’t even need an office! I can do everything over Zoom while they stay in place.

I wrote a book entitled “Your Outside Chance” and sold it on Amazon. It posed as a self-help manual, but it actually worked to keep agoraphobics entrenched in their illness. In collaboration with a corrupt Amazon book packer, I developed my client base from the people who purchased my book. Since I was on Zoom, it did not matter where they lived, but I settled in New York City, where the “Association of Agoraphobics” estimates there are 12 agoraphobes per block in Manhattan alone!

I use a sort of music therapy. During our sessions I play my clients music encouraging them to get outside. Lou Reed’s “Take Walk on the Wild Side” is a favorite along with “Viva Las Vegas,” “Kansa City,” “Walk Like a Man,” and a bunch of others, and for the romantics, “Walk Away Renee,” “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” “Harvest Moon,” and hundreds more. My clients keep coming because I am “encouraging and supportive,” but it is an act. I have clients who have hung with me for eight years now—a steady cash flow paving the way to a wonderful retirement.

Now, I’m branching out a little. I’ve developed a special product for my fellow specialists. It’s called “Bad Dog” and makes the sound of a growling rabid Pit Bull. It also contains a spy cam. It can be mounted across the hall from the client’s apartment. When the coast is clear, you can make it growl viciously by remote control. When the client hears it, it affirms the client’s belief that it’s dangerous “out there.”

I haven’t been out of my own apartment for six years. The convenience of Zoom has drawn me away from actual embodied interactions with other people. I am happy here in my little nest of solitude. When the cleaning lady comes on Wednesdays, I hide in my bedroom closet until she leaves.

I often sit and stare at the bathroom wall. I think, “John, your life is one big whopping lie, and that’s the truth.”

Definition and commentary courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text by Gogias, Editor of Daily Trope.

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