With Super Tuesday less than twenty-four hours away, a few friends and neighbors have asked me to "convince" them why they should or shouldn't vote for one or another of the candidates in the primary. I will, of course, do no such thing. But it is a good excuse to clarify, again, why I'm here, and what I am good for (on a good day).

It was Montaigne, whom I have claimed as a patron saint before, who wrote, "All I say is by way of discourse, and nothing by way of advice. I should not speak so boldly if it were my due to be believed." Even when I offer up my "free advice" I fully expect exactly no one to take it.

You know, when you're learning about composition in high school English class, they teach you that there are a couple of different kinds: expository and persuasive. I think of what I write here, and have written, even in my op-ed pieces in the past, as strictly expository. I think of it as stating the obvious, actually. If people find the obvious persuasive, well, I guess that's as much as we can hope for these days.

It's a definite sign of the times that we have great difficulty distinguishing between expository and persuasive writing, though. Even long-established scientific fact is openly contested these days. It's a political reality we inhabit, especially in a never-ending election year, and politics is all persuasion. In this context even stating the obvious ("um, eew, the President isn't wearing any clothes!") becomes a debatable "position" it is up to the one who stated it to defend. (Counter-arguments include: "it's cellophane, stupid," and "it depends on what your definition of 'isn't' is.")

It's easy to get confused between fact and opinion, between the obvious and the, um, seemingly so obvious that it surely couldn't be that obvious; it must be a trick! Pretty soon it all seems like spin. 

And it's true: everybody seems to want to convince you of something.  And marketers have convinced us that convincing us gives us power. But it's actually not that hard.  "Convince" is, after all, a clever euphemism for "fool." (Thus the pathological attention we give in all walks of life to the appearance of "authenticity.")

We've all had to learn to be "convincing." We've learned to "sell ourselves" in the eternal job interview that was once known as "life." We are told to "brand" ourselves (youch!). We market ourselves online for love and affection. Immersed completely in an environment where we're constantly being sold things, selling ourselves comes naturally. Being convincing is the new black.

Many feel that Barack Obama is more convincingly convincing than his arch rival for the nomination, Hillary Clinton. For others being too convincing makes you altogether less convincing than you would be were you actually less convincing.  And that's the only problem with trying to convince people of anything. When people demand to be convinced, the one being asked is seldom given the criteria required to actually convince them.

Convincing people, especially people with this "convince me" attitude, is a lot of work, as it turns out.  And even if you give them reasoned arguments, bullet points, pie charts and polls till you're blue in the face, in the end they'll come back at you with something like, "but you didn't make me cry."  Well, if that's all it takes I would've pinched you or pulled your hair or poked you in the eye and had done with it.  I mean, Christ.  Gimme a clue next time.  If you want someone to make you cry, just say the word.

I'm glad I don't have to worry about it too much, myself.  I don't like making people cry, although I don't mind if they pretend to be strong and then do it later in private.  But I especially am not going to try to convince anyone not to vote for a candidate they have their heart set on voting for.  They have their reasons, and I respect them.  And what will be will be. 

I will say, for myself, though, that getting a flier in my mail slot stuffed with shameless sixties nostalgia from a candidate who repeatedly insists he's not looking backwards, urging me to "Join The Movement," leaves me cold.   Not to mention the "mean girl" flipside of the invitation to join the cool Kennedy kids.  I have yogametrics for popularity, I don't need Obamametrics, thank you very much.

I try not to be cynical about things I need not be cynical about.  There are many, many things I'm not cynical about, in fact.  But there is such a thing as cynicism in the first place for a reason.  If you're uncomfortable with cynicism (or you're not really sure what it means) then skepticism is a healthy alternative.  I think of it as the vegan version of cynicism.  You won't hurt anyone being skeptical, and you don't have to eat anyone, either.  Including any crows.  Possibly your hat, but that's not so bad.  Mine is made of hemp.

Having said all that, I'm all for speaking your piece, doing your part, and letting the chips fall where they may.  If you persuade someone or other along the way, well, more power to you.  Maybe someday you can run for president, too.