Logic: Love is a Fallacy (Part VIII )( Last Part )

Five Grueling nights this look but it was worth it. I had made a logician out of Polly; I had taught her to think. My job was done. She was worthy of me at last. She was fit wife for me, a proper hostess for my many mansions, a suitable mother for my well-heeled children.

It must not be thought that I was without love for this girl. Quite the contrary. Just as Pygmalion loved the perfect woman he had fashioned, so I loved mine. I determined to acquaint her with my feelings at our very next meeting. The time had come to change our relationship from academic to romantic. "Polly," I said when next we sat beneath our oak, "tonight we will not discuss fallacies."

"Aw, gee, " she said, disappointed.

"My dear ," I said, favoring her with a smile, "we have spent five evening together, We have gotten along splendidly. It is clear that we are well matched."

"Hasty Generalization, " said Polly brightly.

"I beg your pardon," said I.

"Hasty Generalization," she repeated. "How can you say that we are well matched on the basis of only five dates?"

I chuckled with amusement. The dear child had learned her lesson well. "My dear," I said, patting her hand in a tolerant manner. "Five dates is plenty. After all, you don't have to eat a whole cake to know that it's good."

"False Analogy," said Polly promptly. "I'm not a cake. I'm a girl,"

I chuckled with somewhat less amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons perhaps too well. I decided to change tactics. Obviously the best approach was a simple, strong, direct declaration of love. I paused for a moment while my massive brain chose the proper words. Then I began:

"Polly, I love you. You are the whole world to me, and the moon and the stars and the constellations of outer space. Please, my darling, say that you will go steady with me, for if you will not, life will be meaningless. I will languish. I will refuse my meals. I will wander the face of earth, a shambling, hollow-eyed hulk." There, I thought, folding my arms that ought to do it.

"Ad Misericordiam," said Polly.

I ground my teeth. I was not Pygmalion; I was Frankenstein, and my monster had me by the throat. Frantically I fought back the tide of panic surging through me. At all costs I had to keep cool.

"Well, Polly," I said, forcing a smile, "you certainly have learned your fallacies."

"You're darn right," she said with a vigorous nod.

"And who taught them to you, Polly?"

"You did."

"That's right. So you do owe me something. don't you my dear? If I hadn't come along you never would have learned about fallacies."

"Hypothesis Contrary to Fact." she said instantly.

I dashed perspiration from my brow. "Polly," I croaked,"you mustn't take all these things so literally. I mean this is just classroom stuff. You know that the things you learn in school don't have anything to do with life."

"Dicto Simpliciter," she said, wagging her finger at me playfully.

That did it. I leaped to my feet, bellowing like a bull. "Will you or will you not go steady with me?"

"I will not," she replied, "Why not?" I demanded. "Because this afternoon I promised Petey Burch that I would go steady with him."

"Poisoning the Well," said Polly, "and stop shouting. I think shouting must be a fallacy too."

With an immense effort of will, I modulated my voice. "All right," I said. "You're a logician. Let's look at this thing logically. How could you choose Petey Burch over me? Look at me -- a brilliant student a tremendous intellectual, a man with an assured future. Look at Petey -- a knothead, a jitterbug, a guy who'll never know where his next meal is coming from. Can you give me one logical reason why you should go steady with Petey Burch?"

"I certainly can," declared Polly. "He's got a raccoon coat."

(The End)
Max Schulman

Logic: Love is a Fallacy (Part VII )( On Every Sunday )

Recap:

I thought I should gave Petey his girl back, then I decided to wasted
another night on it. I discussed with her some more fallacies next night.
Ad Misericordiam and False Analogy. And I thought she might have
learned something.

Doggedly I pressed on. "Next we`ll try Hypothesis Contrary to Fact."

"Sounds yummy," was Polly`s reaction. "Listen: If Madam Curie had not happened to leave a photographic plate in a drawer with a chunk of pitchblende, the world today would not know about radium."

"True, true," said Polly, nodding her head. "Did you see the movie? Oh, it just knocked me oput. That Walter Pidgeon is so dreamy. I mean he fractures me."

"If you can forget Mr. Pidgeon for a moment," I said coldly. "I would like to point out that the statement is a fallacy. May be Madam Curie would have discovered radium at some later date. May be somebody else would have discovered it. May be any number of things would happened. You can`t start with a hypothesis that is not true and then draw any supportable conclusion from it."

"They ought to put Walter Pidgeon in more pictures," said Polly. "I hardly ever see him anymore."

One more chance, I decided. But just one more. There is a limit to what flesh and blood can bear. "The next fallacy is called Poisoning the Well."

"How cute!" she gurgled.

"Two men are having a debate. The first one gets up and says, 'My opponent is a notorious liar. You can`t believe a word that he is gooing to say'........... Nom, Polly, think. Think hard. What`s wrong?"

I watched her closely as she knit her creamy brown in concentration. Suddenly a glimmer of intelligence -- the first I had seen ... came into her eyes. "It`s not fair," she said with indignation. "It`s not a bit fair. What chance has the second man got if the first man calls him a liar before he even begins talking?" "Right!" I cried exultanty. "One hundred percent right. It`s not fair. The first man has poisoned the well before anybody could drink from it. He has hamstrung his opponent before he could even start.....

Polly, I`m proud of you."

"Pshaw," she murmured, blushing with pleasure.

"You see, my dear, these things aren`t so hard. All you have to do is concentrate. Think -- examine -- evalute. Come now, let`s review everything we have learned."

"Fireaway." she said with an airy wave of her hand.

Heartened by the knowledge that Polly was not altogether a cretin, I began a long, patient review of all I had told her. Over and over and over again I cited instances, pointed out flwas, kept hammering away without let up. It was like digging a tunnel. At first everything was work, sweet and darkness. I had no idea when I would reach the light, or even If I would. But I persisted. I pounded and clawed and scraped, and finally I was rewarded. I saw a chink of light. And then the chink got bigger and the sun came pouring in and all was bright.

                                                                                                                 (Next week last part,to be continue…)

                                                                                                                 Max Schulman

Logic: Love is a Fallacy (Part VI )( On Every Sunday )

                     Recap:

I discussed with her three fallacies; Hasty General-ization, Post Hoc. ,
Contradictory Premises. She rarely understood anything. But still she
liked it. So we decided to made another session next night.

I deposited her at the girls' dormitory, where she assured me that she had had perfectly teriff evening, and I went glumly home to my room. Petey lay snoring in his bed, the raccoon coat huddled like a great hairy beast at his feet. For a moment I considered waking him and telling him that he could have his girl back. It seemed clear that my project was doomed to failure. The girl simply had logic-proof head.

But then I reconsidered. I had wasted one evening; I might as well waste another. Who knew? May be somewhere in the extinct crater of her mind, a few embers still smoldered. May be somehow I could fan them into flame. Admittedly it was not a prospect fraught with hope, but I decided to give it one more try.

Seated under the oak the next evening I said, "Our first fallacy tonight is called Ad Misericordiam."

She quivered with delight.

"Listen closely," I said. "A man applies for a job. When boss asks him what his qualifications are, he replies that he has a wife and six children at home, the wife is a helpless cripple, the children have nothing to eat, no clothes to wear, no shoes on their feet, there are no beds in the house, no coal in the cellar, and winter is coming." A tear rolled down each of Polly's pink cheeks. "Oh, this is awful, awful," she sobbed.

"Yes it's awful," I agreed, "but it's no argument. The man never answered the boss's question about his qualifications. Instead he appealed to the boss's sympathy. He committed the fallacy of Ad Misericordiam. Do you understand?"

"Have you got a handkerchief?" she blubbered.

I handed her a handkerchief and tried to keep from screaming while she wiped her eyes. "Next," I said in a carefully controlled tone, "we will discuss False Analogy. Here is an example: Students should be allowed to look at their textbook during examinations. After all, surgeon have X-rays to guide them during an operation, lawyers have briefs to guide them during a trial, carpenters have blueprints to guide them when they are building a house. Why, then, shouldn't students be allowed to look at their textbook during an examination?"

"There now," she said enthusiastically, "is the most marvy idea I've heard in years."

"Polly," I said testily, "the argument is wrong. Doctors, lawyers, and carpenters aren't taking a test to see how much they have learned, but students are. The situations are altogether different, and you can't make an analogy between them."

"I still think it's a good idea," said Polly.

"Nuts." I muttered.

(to be continue…)

Max Schulman