I would make a horrible attorney. I hate to argue. Obviously then, apologetics is not my bag. I like to state my case once, and leave it at that. If you don’t agree, fine. Just stop arguing about it.
I’m a presuppositionalist. In fact, you could call me a hyper-presuppositionalist—more roto-tillian than Van Tillian. What is, is, and it’s obvious. All truth is based on a few self-evident facts that are as plain as the nose on your face, and if you can’t see that, I probably can’t help you.
I’ll give you a couple of examples of how my arguments go. Let’s pretend I am a college professor . . .
There once was a scholar from Esser
Whose knowledge grew lesser and lesser
It at once grew so small
He knew nothing at all
And now he’s a college professor
. . . One morning, as students are filing into the classroom, I am regaling some of my more manly students with riveting tales of my hunting adventures around the globe, when in walks Ms. Teensy Eyequeue, who has just come from professor Hillary Steinem’s Obnoxious Liberalism 101 class.
Teensy: I think killing all those beautiful animals is horrible.
Me: If you don’t kill them, they won’t lie still on the grill.
Teensy: I’m a vegetarian.
Me: If God didn’t want us to eat animals, why are they made out of meat?
It’s as simple as that.
And then there are those who think there has to be a winner of every argument.
Me: As I was saying . . . non curat de minimus lex . . . and, as Socrates said, . . . and so, . . . hypotenuse . . . cogito ergo sum.
Pug Blowhard: Dude, . . . blah blah blah blah . . . yer just, like, totally bogus.
Me: Adversus solem ne loquitor.*
PB: No way. Blah blah blah blah . . . blah blah blah blah . . .
Me: “ ”
Because I have gone silent, PB now believes he has won the argument. Later, observing that I am continuing as before, unchanged in spite of his stunning rhetorical victory, he resumes the attack.
PB: So, you’re still going to do that even though you know I’m right?
Me: I never said I agreed. I just stopped arguing.
AP: Dude, yer like so passive-aggressive.
Me: Call it what you want, Dr. Freud. One of us knows when to shut up and stop arguing, and the other is a moron. Which one do you think you are?
AP: Alright, wiseguy . . .
Me: Age. Fac ut gaudeam.†
There you have it. Apologetics for curmudgeons. It won’t make you any friends, but it will save you a lot of time.
* Don't speak against the sun (don't waste your time disputing the obvious).
† Roughly, Go ahead. Make my day.