| − | The metaphor of a "slippery slope" conjures up images of the danger of coming too close to the edge of a cliff. One step in itself may not cause you any harm, as it merely brings you down the slope a bit. But if you take enough steps toward the brink, you will reach a point where the slippery ground makes you lose your balance and tumble down over the precipice.
| + | A "'''slippery slope'''" argument is a common rhetorical device which suggests that a seemingly innocent small action will lead inevitably to a disasterous result. An argument of this form is '''invalid''' as there is no necessary logical connection between its premise and its conclusion. Indeed, it barely has any formal structure beyond if p, then q. Whilst it is therefore a [[logical fallacy]], its emotive appeal remains a depressingly effective way of convincing those who don't know their ''modus ponens'' from their elbow. |
| | *You are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated by the presence of a pool table in your community.... I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. And I call that sloth, the first big step on the road to the depths of degraday—I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle! An' the next thing ya know, your son is playin' for money in a pinch-back suit. And list'nin to some big out-a-town Jasper hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. One fine night, they leave the pool hall, headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry! Libertine men and scarlet women, and ragtime, shameless music that'll grab your son and your daughter with the arms of a jungle animal instinct: mass-steria!<ref>Willson, Meredith (1957), "Trouble," from ''The Music Man''</ref> | | *You are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated by the presence of a pool table in your community.... I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. And I call that sloth, the first big step on the road to the depths of degraday—I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle! An' the next thing ya know, your son is playin' for money in a pinch-back suit. And list'nin to some big out-a-town Jasper hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. One fine night, they leave the pool hall, headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry! Libertine men and scarlet women, and ragtime, shameless music that'll grab your son and your daughter with the arms of a jungle animal instinct: mass-steria!<ref>Willson, Meredith (1957), "Trouble," from ''The Music Man''</ref> |