50-48 #20: A WORLD ENDS WHEN ITS METAPHOR HAS DIED

(Originally published 2/17/08)

50-48 #20: "A WORLD ENDS WHEN ITS METAPHOR HAS DIED." SO SAYS ARCHIBALD MACLEISH, AND I HAVE NO REASON TO DISBELIEVE HIM.

Dear 50-48 subscribers,

A word of advice: never stroll casually into a romantic rendezvous after outbidding your cyber-peers in an online sex auction. Also, never agree to become the prize in said auction if you aren't equipped with the requisite gonorrheal and/or pregnancy inhibitors. In fact, it might be good advice just to avoid online sex auctions all together.

I know what you're thinking: Easier said than done. Even now, your mind is probably drifting lazily, wistfully back to the bygone days of your youth, when you logged in as Spermicide 69 and put down 13 dollars on a certain Taiwanese bathing beauty, only to be lowballed (economically) by Johnny Muttonpenis or some such philandering internet asshole. Now you simply bid for the cooling catharsis of revenge, never expecting to actually find your prize in Room 112 of the local Quaker State Inn.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. Though I have never really understood the "can of worms" analogy (Why would anyone want to open a can of worms? Who is canning these worms? If the worms would have more value to a fisherman and/or worm enthusiast while alive, wouldn't it be better to put them in a breathable bag? Or perhaps leave the can open from the beginning?), I can safely say that online sex auctions are a can of worms better left closed.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: The author of this email was not one of the six winners of the online sex auction referenced in the link above, and therefore cannot be the father of the woman's child. When questioned about his participation, the author simply mumbled something about being lowballed by Johnny Muttonpenis. He then walked clumsily away.]

All of this comes by way of metaphor, highlighting indelibly that the Razorbacks have been fucked six times over this week.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE: For the theory underlying the praxis here, see Paul Ricoeur (1913-2005), who argued in the structuralist tradition that metaphor could indeed convey truth when properly applied. It wasn't just rhetoric. Ricoeur differentiated between poetic and philosophical discourse, but denied the logical empiricist notion that poetic discourse (and thus metaphor) could not confer truth statements. Metaphor was alive. It was just as real as the cigarette burn you put in the passenger seat of your mother's car back in high school. In The Rule of Metaphor, Ricoeur qualified his position by acknowledging the fundamental difference between the semiotics of words and the semantics of discourse. Semantics, he argued, treats sentences, which can reach beyond the structural limits of language and reach individual truths. Something—I don't know what, exactly, because I am no philosopher—is beautiful about seeing sentences as beyond the bounds of the language they employ. There is a romance to the dogma that makes it easy on the mouth and on the throat. In a series of lectures at TCU in 1973, Ricoeur described a concept of the metaphor that not only discovered meaning, but actually created new meaning. Transferring meaning to a representative subject (in this case a metaphor) counter-transfers meaning back to the original source. Therefore, a comparison becomes two unique value statements able to exist independently of one another. And all the colored girls say do, da do...do do do da do do do.]

Hogball had two difficult road tests this week, but we as fans chose to interpret them as opportunities to separate ourselves from the field. Wins at Tennessee and/or Mississippi State would have not only put us in first place in the SEC West, but would have provided one or two quality road wins to display for the NCAA selection committee. There was, entering Wednesday night, reason for optimism.

Then that optimism was crushed. Then it was crushed again. In keeping with our metaphorical theme, we could say that it was as if we were seeing a simulacrum of Hogball, a representative of Hogball, but not Hogball itself. It was as if we were watching someone play Super Mario Brothers, but instead of seeing the computer-generated images of mushroom conquest, we instead saw the whole thing in stop-motion lego animation. [Well, that might not be the best example. Stop-motion lego animation is incredibly satisfying. How about this? It was as if we were desperate, unappealing women who turn to the internet to find dates, all in a grand ploy to streamline the rejection process. (AUTHOR'S NOTE: No offense, Chet.)]

Still, as frustrating as the two losses were, they are to be expected amongst the vagaries of a long season, where conference road wins are difficult for even the best teams. We could, in our pension for disappointment and our already souring stomachs, have found a way to cope with Hogball's ineptitude. But then we looked around and saw more heartbreak staring us right in the face, much like a little girl, ever taking aim at us with rocks at the ready. As if it were a game. As if it were fun. [AUTHOR'S NOTE: It IS fun. Click on the link and give it a try.]

The shibboleth of Hogball has been ever-present since the glory days faded away, but witnessing Arkansas track become a shibboleth in its own right is almost too much to bear. The greatest dynasty in the history of sports faltered last season, and they are faltering again early in 2008. And if that isn't enough to depress the ever-living shit out of you, our formerly-ranked women's basketball team is now on the precipice of becoming tournament ineligible. The mighty are falling all around us. Rome is burning (á la 64 anno domini), and the ghost of Hootie is the Nero of our darker days.

But never fear! All is not lost! Basketball season still has weeks to go, and we are, even with our two losses this week, securely within the cope of the broader tournament bubble (surprisingly). Not only that, but those dexterous homeopaths known to us as the Gymbacks defended their top 10 ranking against the Kentucky Wildcats on Friday night, securing Arkansas perhaps its only victory of the week. God bless those lithe little girls and their soothing flip-flopery. (You can watch the match in its entirety, if you are so inclined. CLICK HERE.)

And so, it seems, balance beams and uneven bars can save us from the tug of the black hole of metaphor. I am almost positive that Ricoeur never accounted for either of them in any of his deeper discourses. So be it. The Razorbacks have been stumping linguists for years. (EXAMPLE: Woo Pig Sooie.) This week we will craft a new theoretical apparatus around our dwindling basketball season. LSU comes to Fayetteville on Wednesday. The boys travel to Kentucky (former home of Coach Jonathan Pelphrey) on Saturday. We need wins. We need exposure (the Kentucky game will be on CBS). We need to surround ourselves in a metaphor of success.

They can become real, those metaphors. They can change us. They are the online sex auctions of our darker days, and it is only left to us to choose the partner we so desire. Here's hoping she's disease-free and barren.

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