The Rant

A discussion about ranting might start with a peek into our own respective lives. Perhaps we'll share, in the coolness of the moment, those things that have triggered some overheated harangue, something that overpowered the mind only to later blow away like sudden, violent weather. 

Ground zero might be phone-tree hell, "Your call is important to us so just press one for more options . . . .  and then . . . . . and then . . .  and then (finally) now please press six to drop dead." Or, perhaps, the trigger is some shouting head opinion piece eliciting a shoe thrown at the screen. The trigger may be trivial, the effect transitory, and the result harmless unless, of course, potentially more consequential if experienced behind the wheel.  

The Stoics saw such anger as temporary madness. Seneca, in his essay on anger, counseled resistance to its very beginning lest it betrays us and our capacity for reason. Without the ability to recognize and direct our emotions, we become a slave to them. Not for nothing were they labeled stoic. And, yet, perhaps this very spasm of outrage represents some animal force that is most scalding if held inside (A Philosophy Of Anger).

Ranting may serve a number of purposes, often requiring an audience. Organized protests can be a kind of rant theater. The club recently experienced the attempted disruption of its hosted on-line presentation by a city council member on the subject of homelessness. A club member pointed out the spectacle amounted to performance art. The actors sought to manipulate by wearing the mask of outrage.

Public figures employ the rant to rally passion. One needn't even understand the words to appreciate the power of the demagogue e.g. just listen to Hitler's original rants as he inflamed the passions of the people. On the other hand, the eloquent rant may serve to galvanize the possible e.g. Churchill's "We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds . . . we shall never surrender." So much, of course, depends on the art of the delivery as one might contrast Churchill's masterful oratory to the infamous (Howard) Dean Scream: one saved a continent; the other sank a candidacy.

The ultimate existential rant, though, must be Dylan Thomas' poem "Do not go gentle into that good night" for it challenges man's last mortal act, that of his passing.The last hurrah of the ego structure is to "rage against the dying of the light" as experienced by the wise man, the good man, the wild man, the grave man, and then finally by his father.

It's a reminder that time is short but, If nothing else, makes for a fine tombstone epitaph.