What Happens When Rhetorical Questions are Answered
Who knew?
A friend of mine recently mentioned that he likes to watch people squirm by honestly answering the casual ‘How are you doing’ question (or its many variations) that is constantly tossed our way. As a member of the “Good, and you?” club, I attempted to envision what it look like if I had the courage to do the same. Perhaps something like the following.
Random friendly person: “How are you?” Me: “I’m just trying to make it through the day without falling into the rabbit hole of existential doubt or getting swallowed up by depression. And you?”
If you’re like me, you find that imaginary conversation amusing because ‘How are you?’ is not usually asked earnestly, it’s more commonly used as a rhetorical question that naturally follows “Hello”.
A rhetorical question, rather than seeking information, is an inquiry merely for effect and doesn’t require an answer, which is what makes an answer all the more amusing. Case in point, I recall an interaction from high school that went something like this:
My Science Teacher: “…it’s like comparing apples and oranges, I mean how many oranges are in an apple?” Me: “Three and a half!”, which prompted some muffled laughter from those close enough to hear. (Sadly, this was the pinnacle of my comedic career.)
On the other hand, sometimes receiving a response to a rhetorical question is not only not required, but it is not desired, and definitely not considered comical. In addition, it could cause the asker (in this case an anonymous parent, definitely not me) to feel a mounting frustration. Listen in.
Parent: “How many times have I told you not to jump on that?” Child: “Fourteen times today, ten spoken, three yelled, and one muttered in quiet despair. In total, one thousand three hundred and sixteen.”
Now that we have completed our comprehensive course on this compelling literary device, I have imagined some well-known rhetorical questions being answered. Enjoy.
Shylock: “If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh?” Solanio and Salarino: “Wherefore art the needle and feather, that we might put thee to the test?”
Speaker: “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” His beloved: “If thou really wanteth to, however, a summer’s day couldst beest unbearable, and I couldst bethink of thousands or more romantic things to be compared with. Nay, cometh to bethink of ‘t, I prayeth thee, don’t compare me to a summer’s day at all, in fact, I bethink we shouldst go our separateth ways!”
Langston Hughes: “What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?” Me: No it does not. Raisins don't have a lot more drying up to do, maybe a better metaphor would be that deferred dreams dry up like the toes of someone who has fallen asleep in a bathtub.
@ 2022, Rob Dods
