A student at Temple University, Jon Plester, in his article, “Please Donate to My Kickstarter So I Can Buy a Hot Tub,” emanates witty, sarcastic humor. He uses a warped sense of logic to explain an illogical request: “donations” from strangers to fund his purchase of a hot tub in his apartment. Being that this Kickstarter is merely a joke, it could be said that his target audience is people similar to himself. He has written this article for entertainment, using an intelligent, sarcastic, and self-deprecating tone. It seems that college students with similar personalities and attitudes to Plester’s would most enjoy this article.
Plester begins his “persuasive letter” with a brief introduction and the main purpose of his “plea”. That being said, the first rhetorical aspect displayed is ethos. In the very first sentence, he describes himself as fitting into a number of insignificant roles of many others’ lives, for example “meeting attendee, or break room meanderer.” He suspects that most of these people do not consider their relationship with him to be anything more meaningful than a possibly familiar face. His wish is mitigate his apparent lack of friends, as he claims,
“I don’t have many of [friends].
I don’t know why.”
As his explanation of his solution (the hot tub) progresses, his projected outcome becomes more and more wildly exaggerated. By the end of this section, he asserts that his hot tub will bring him friends in a “flock.” He continues to say that he will have: “So many friends, heck, I won’t even know what to do with them all.” The increasing ridiculousness of his statements is indicative of the sarcastic tone throughout the article.
After giving reason for his plea, he describes the model of hot tub he wishes to install in his studio apartment: the AquaRest AP-600, 5-person, 81-Jet Spa. He explains how having four close friends--as he will call them, “brothers”--is the ideal number of people he would like to share his hot tub with, “no more and no less.” He justifies this amount when references a bit of pop culture, perhaps to attract more people, or simply to indicate a television series he watches: “Four, coincidentally enough, is the same number of friends that actor Vinny Chase has in the HBO television program Entourage.” He follows by presenting the features of said model of hot tub. These include 19 hydrotherapy jets and a heavy-duty, “virtually indestructible,” outer wall. Then he appeals to those with back problems; the “therapeutic lumbar arch supports achy backs,” as he read on the AquaRest website. He continues with the theme of increasing exaggeration in the logos, ending his paragraph by proclaiming, “This could be life changing for him.”
Lastly, Plester lists incentives for donors. One might say this is his biggest draw for pathos, though this “audience” is one of the imagination. For these nonexistent donors, he describes rewards promised in return for various increments of money given to his “fundraiser.” Of course, as the amounts of money become larger, the “prizes,” per say, become more and more outlandish. They begin with the reward for a $10 donation: “You may spend an evening with me and my newfound brothers.” Then the increments continue to $250, in which he promises, “We will all go to a big time movie premiere in Hollywood!” Then, “We will end the night with a couple of smoking hot babes, relaxing inside my AquaRest AP-600!” However, in the final sentences of the campaign, he takes a sudden turn. He says that cannot make any promises regarding the use of his hot tub-- exclaiming, “Get your own AquaRest AP-600, you leech.” This contradiction makes it clear, once again, that this campaign is entirely in jest.
All in all, the sole purpose of this article was entertainment--a bit of comedy for his audience: the sarcastic, witty, college student.
I don’t know why.”
As his explanation of his solution (the hot tub) progresses, his projected outcome becomes more and more wildly exaggerated. By the end of this section, he asserts that his hot tub will bring him friends in a “flock.” He continues to say that he will have: “So many friends, heck, I won’t even know what to do with them all.” The increasing ridiculousness of his statements is indicative of the sarcastic tone throughout the article.
After giving reason for his plea, he describes the model of hot tub he wishes to install in his studio apartment: the AquaRest AP-600, 5-person, 81-Jet Spa. He explains how having four close friends--as he will call them, “brothers”--is the ideal number of people he would like to share his hot tub with, “no more and no less.” He justifies this amount when references a bit of pop culture, perhaps to attract more people, or simply to indicate a television series he watches: “Four, coincidentally enough, is the same number of friends that actor Vinny Chase has in the HBO television program Entourage.” He follows by presenting the features of said model of hot tub. These include 19 hydrotherapy jets and a heavy-duty, “virtually indestructible,” outer wall. Then he appeals to those with back problems; the “therapeutic lumbar arch supports achy backs,” as he read on the AquaRest website. He continues with the theme of increasing exaggeration in the logos, ending his paragraph by proclaiming, “This could be life changing for him.”
Lastly, Plester lists incentives for donors. One might say this is his biggest draw for pathos, though this “audience” is one of the imagination. For these nonexistent donors, he describes rewards promised in return for various increments of money given to his “fundraiser.” Of course, as the amounts of money become larger, the “prizes,” per say, become more and more outlandish. They begin with the reward for a $10 donation: “You may spend an evening with me and my newfound brothers.” Then the increments continue to $250, in which he promises, “We will all go to a big time movie premiere in Hollywood!” Then, “We will end the night with a couple of smoking hot babes, relaxing inside my AquaRest AP-600!” However, in the final sentences of the campaign, he takes a sudden turn. He says that cannot make any promises regarding the use of his hot tub-- exclaiming, “Get your own AquaRest AP-600, you leech.” This contradiction makes it clear, once again, that this campaign is entirely in jest.
All in all, the sole purpose of this article was entertainment--a bit of comedy for his audience: the sarcastic, witty, college student.
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