I had to look up "begging the question" for seemingly the millionth time, because A) I'm not Bryan Cross, and 2) I've used it wrongly in that informal sense of "raising a question" at least 72 trillion times. It means assuming the point in question in dialogue, and using that assertion to prove a further thing. It's a type of circular reasoning. Fascinating stuff. I wonder how many times I've gotten angry in a discussion because I begged the question, or failed to ask my partner if I had recapitulated his statement or point accurately? (And listened for the reply) I don't have time to argue much anymore, so it probably seems as if I'm calming down. At least on my social network of choice. But it isn't so.
You can see why the informal usage of the term would come about. The prudent way of phrasing a question in this type of setting would be "Whether..." and in such a way to produce a yes or no answer, if you get that far. And that lends itself to, "This begs the question whether..." Arggghhh!
I didn't come here to tell you that. I wanted to talk about music. I was listening to pop music again like always (or almost always) and it's as if the ghost of Kevin Bacon lurks everywhere, because I started with the Eagles, and I ended with Edie Brickell last night. What? Anyway, I find it humorous that music critics like to suck up to semi-obscure bands and artists that supposedly blazed the trail for a much more popular person that they feel the need to diminish. It's so predictable. On the other hand, they inexplicably tell you when the height of that person or band's popularity was, as if it should matter. If Dan Fogelberg was doing music that he loved in 1997, and he had the freedom to keep doing it, it doesn't matter who else likes it or not. On the other hand still, we're not obligated to hate something because it's popular. I've told you that there's a special bond between the artist, and his or her true fans. Once you trust them entirely, your taste is of secondary concern. You ride along just to see what the music means to the person or people. In short, you are friends. It matters to you, because it matters to them.
Take Garth Brooks, for example. I'm one of his friends in this sense. He took a big risk in 1999 with the "Chris Gaines" thing. (It only takes a little bit of effort to understand that he was to play a movie character, and the album was the character's greatest hits.) But it was a huge commercial failure, especially in light of the fact that Garth is usually trading the all-time best-selling solo artist in the US with Elvis on any given week. But I'm telling you, the Chris Gaines album is the best one he's done. Yes, it's literally a pop album by the universe's biggest country singer. I understand that it's jarring. But I stand by it. I sing every word on that album. If I had the chance in Vegas to talk to Garth, that's exactly what I'd have told him.
I listened to a bit of Kenny Loggins this morning, from the Leap Of Faith album. I will eventually listen to the entire album, and probably multiple times, because that's what I do. "Conviction Of The Heart" is a great song. It's catchy, it's earnest on a grand scale, and lyrically, it's one of the most profound songs I've ever heard. It's almost a let-down when you realize toward the end that it's advocating environmentalism. In any case, what do I care that this album was the beginning of the end of his commercial fortunes? Nothing. If Kenny is being Kenny, I call that a win.
You can see why the informal usage of the term would come about. The prudent way of phrasing a question in this type of setting would be "Whether..." and in such a way to produce a yes or no answer, if you get that far. And that lends itself to, "This begs the question whether..." Arggghhh!
I didn't come here to tell you that. I wanted to talk about music. I was listening to pop music again like always (or almost always) and it's as if the ghost of Kevin Bacon lurks everywhere, because I started with the Eagles, and I ended with Edie Brickell last night. What? Anyway, I find it humorous that music critics like to suck up to semi-obscure bands and artists that supposedly blazed the trail for a much more popular person that they feel the need to diminish. It's so predictable. On the other hand, they inexplicably tell you when the height of that person or band's popularity was, as if it should matter. If Dan Fogelberg was doing music that he loved in 1997, and he had the freedom to keep doing it, it doesn't matter who else likes it or not. On the other hand still, we're not obligated to hate something because it's popular. I've told you that there's a special bond between the artist, and his or her true fans. Once you trust them entirely, your taste is of secondary concern. You ride along just to see what the music means to the person or people. In short, you are friends. It matters to you, because it matters to them.
Take Garth Brooks, for example. I'm one of his friends in this sense. He took a big risk in 1999 with the "Chris Gaines" thing. (It only takes a little bit of effort to understand that he was to play a movie character, and the album was the character's greatest hits.) But it was a huge commercial failure, especially in light of the fact that Garth is usually trading the all-time best-selling solo artist in the US with Elvis on any given week. But I'm telling you, the Chris Gaines album is the best one he's done. Yes, it's literally a pop album by the universe's biggest country singer. I understand that it's jarring. But I stand by it. I sing every word on that album. If I had the chance in Vegas to talk to Garth, that's exactly what I'd have told him.
I listened to a bit of Kenny Loggins this morning, from the Leap Of Faith album. I will eventually listen to the entire album, and probably multiple times, because that's what I do. "Conviction Of The Heart" is a great song. It's catchy, it's earnest on a grand scale, and lyrically, it's one of the most profound songs I've ever heard. It's almost a let-down when you realize toward the end that it's advocating environmentalism. In any case, what do I care that this album was the beginning of the end of his commercial fortunes? Nothing. If Kenny is being Kenny, I call that a win.
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