For the Sake of Argument
I love to argue. I’ve known that for a long time. Those who know me (and those who wish they didn’t) will agree.
I’ll argue about anything. I’ll argue about whether the sky is blue. I’ll argue about things that are objectively known, as if they were not. A roommate will reach for his phone “Well, we can settle this right no — ”
“NO.” I’ll shout, leaping across the room to swat his device away.
A belief I’ve held for a few years now is that any argument you present should rest upon whatever information you have at immediate recall. You could be arguing to a room of doubters that Barack Obama was, in fact, the 44th President of the United States (he was). If you can’t substantiate it on the spot, without the aid of technology, then you’re out of luck. From henceforth, Barack Obama is the 38th President of the United States, because I just counted them all up from Washington to Adams to Jefferson to Nixon to Bush to Clinton to Bush to Obama while you were trying to connect to the WiFi. Boom. 38th. Oh, you just looked it up? Sorry pal, we’ve moved on.
Is this a good system for verifying fact? No. Of course not.
What it is, however, is an unparalleled mental and verbal exercise. If you can convince a dorm room of people that Michael Jackson died in 2001, for instance, imagine what kind of work you can do with a stance that is actually true, or in an argument that truly matters (in that it isn’t a skirmish over some trivial information). Some will say that this noble activity — argument for its own sake — is mere “bickering.”
No one is actually getting anything out of this, you’re just being obnoxious.
You just can’t admit that you were wrong.
Whatever. It’s nothing that I haven’t heard before.
Just realize, that while I’m debating the optimal sleeping strategy (resting on the left side, pillow under head, hand under pillow, pillow between legs) or whether LeBron James’ obnoxious behavior at his son’s basketball games is justified, I’m always honing my abilities.
Many are the hours I’ve spent on topics as mundane as these, and worse, because when I debate, no matter the topic, no matter my level of knowledge, I’m sharpening my wits and strengthening my ability of recall.
It’s about thinking on your feet.
Because when it comes down to a moment when it truly matters, when I have to argue a point of true political and moral pith, I’ll be all the better for having spent all that time debating nonsense with my roommates.
I’ll take that cutlery of mine and I’ll carve you to pieces, and you’ll thank me for it.
And the next time that I spend four hours arguing about whether Sabra hummus is better than Cedar’s, you might think about taking a side.
LeBron is a good father, Sabra hummus is best, and my DMs — as they say — are open.
