Why, Yes, I am Quite the Rhetorician.

My friend Allie asked me to post my speeches on here. So here you go.

Invective

I really hate cats. I don’t see any reason for their existence. All they do is crap in a box (which you keep in your house) or tear your furniture up. You can’t really engage them like you can a dog because of their overwhelming lethargy and apathy. Toss a ball to them and they look at you like you’re an asshole; talk to them and they look at you like you’re an asshole; pick them up and they do that cat scream and then after you put them down they look at you like you’re an asshole. Why would I feed and shelter an animal that thought that it were more superior than I when said creature isn’t even capable of flushing?

I think that the reasons I have these negative feelings for the feline family are purely genetic. Recently, when an unwelcome black cat started lurking about my grandma’s hydrangeas in our yard, she asked the family if we knew how she could cheaply acquire a BB gun. “I don’t want to kill it,” she said, “I just want to hurt it enough so it won’t come back.” When a neighborhood cat started crapping in my sister’s flowerbed, my dad suggested putting a saucer of antifreeze on the front porch. “And then you can sure as hell guarantee you won’t have that problem again,” he said. When I was young, some cousins of mine scooped up the neighbor’s small Siamese and shoved her in the mailbox. When I asked why one replied, “Because cats are stupid. And hopefully she’ll attack the mailman.” Hating cats is just in my genes.

Now I by no means condone feeding car fluid to unsuspecting kittens or attempting to attack your mail carrier by squashing a feline into the mailbox, because that’s just inhumane. Plus with the whole “antifreeze idea” you’d eventually have to dispose of a dead animal; and that’s just something none of us want to deal with. But I think Red Foreman from That 70s Show said it best: “Best-case scenario: you get the smartest cat there is. He still craps in your house.”



Encomium

In trying to pick a topic for this speech I wanted to praise something that has never let me down; something that I love; something that makes me really happy. So obviously, I’ve decided to talk about the Oreo cookie. For as long as I can remember, these dichromatic chunks of heaven have had a place in the pantry and my heart. I have many fond memories in which Oreos almost always play a part.

The Oreo is one of my favorite things because of its flawless time-tested construction. The cookies gently hug the cloud-like cream, juxtaposing one another, creating balance without compromising their value. Because of this duality, one can choose several ways of partaking of America’s favorite cookie.

We’ve all see the commercials where the cookie is twisted in halves, the cream eaten, and then the cookie soaked in milk to make a moist delight. Or perhaps you can be less adventurous and simply dunk the whole cookie in the milk. Or my personal favorite technique is to take a fork and stick it in the cream and then dunk the fork into a glass of milk. This ensures that the entire cookie gets wet but your fingers stay dry. Or if you’re feeling extremely daring, you can enjoy the cookie with peanut butter, which creates drama in the already-exciting treat.

The beauty of the Oreo is that it can be personalized. Just as we all have our own methods and habits in life, the Oreo can be eaten in our own ways. It is versatile enough to bend to us. But when all the chips are down, the Oreo is the same as it was when we were children. So whichever technique you employ to consume this culinary classic, remember that Oreos are the things of which memories are made. And memories are really quite delicious.