We recently stumbled upon a book that can only be described as a dazzling gem of cognitive chaos: Logically Fallacious: The Ultimate Collection of Over 300 Logical Fallacies by the illustrious Bo Bennett, a social psychologist. Initially, we were draped in skepticism—after all, listicles are infamous for their thoughtless brevity—but then we encountered a line that hit us like an unexpected coupon on a luxury item:
This book is a crash course, meant to catapult you into a world where you start to see things how they really are, not how you think they are.
If that isn’t a tagline for Farnam Street, I don’t know what is. Great artists *definitely* steal, right? Or was it “borrow”? We’re unclear, but either way, let’s dive into the fallacy pool and flail around for a bit!
No True Scotsman
This little nugget of insanity makes for a delightful conversational game. Imagine someone making sweeping declarations about who is or isn’t a “True Scotsman.” It’s the logical equivalent of playing peekaboo with reason.
Example: “No true Scotsman would drink a lukewarm lager!”
“But I just met a Scotsman who enjoys his pint at room temperature!”
“He must not be a True Scotsman!”
Voila! Circular reasoning at its finest. It’s like trying to argue with a narcissistic mirror—self-affirming and utterly unyielding.
Genetic Fallacy
Here’s your backstage pass to the “genetic fallacy,” where the pedigree of the arguer trumps the argument itself—as if credentials could perform a magic trick and render an opinion superior by birthright.
Example: “Of course Joe thinks unions are good; he’s the president of Local 147!”
Problem? Joe’s wardrobe choice doesn’t inherently impact union benefits. Evaluating his argument based solely on his affiliation is like judging a book by its cover while ignoring what’s inside—the plot twist might just surprise you!
Failure to Elucidate
Ah, the “failure to elucidate,” where clarity takes a vacation and vagueness runs rampant. This is when someone fluffs up their explanation with words that sound impressive but mean absolutely nothing.
Example: “The Secret operates on the vibration of sub-lingual frequencies!”
“What are sub-lingual frequencies?”
“Oh, just energy waves existing below our consciousness.”
Problem? If this were a comedy show, the audience would be in stitches and wondering, “Did he just say anything at all?” Spoiler alert: they didn’t.
Causal Reductionism
Ah yes, the seductive allure of causal reductionism—a logical sultry siren, leading us to oversimplified conclusions. Great for conspiracy theories, not so much for rational discourse.
Example: “Warren Buffett’s success can be attributed to his father being a Congressman. I’m clearly at a disadvantage here!”
Reality check: Buffett’s success is likely tied to a complex web of factors, not just his dad’s career choices. But hey, simplicity is comforting, right? Just ask anyone in the fast-food industry all about bad digestion!
Fallacy of Composition/Fallacy of Division
These twin blunders are like two sides of a bad coin that keeps flipping the wrong way. The fallacy of composition assumes that what’s true for the parts is true for the whole, while the fallacy of division does just the opposite.
Examples: “Your brain is made of molecules, and molecules aren’t conscious, so your brain must not be the source of consciousness.”
“Wall Street is shady; thus, my neighbor Steve, who works at Goldman Sachs, must be a crook.”
Problem? In both instances, you’re ignoring the delightful nuances of emergent properties. Just because your mind is comprised of subatomic particles doesn’t mean it’s purely mechanical, and just because Wall Street has a reputation doesn’t mean your neighbor is up to no good. That’d be like blaming all chefs for Kitchen Nightmares—unfounded and utterly unfair!
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Still intrigued? Dive into the tome yourself. It’s like a buffet of bad reasoning, perfect for picking apart fallacies you encounter daily. Because let’s face it: life is complicated, but comedy is relatively simple—and irony is everywhere, just waiting for someone to point it out!
