The "self-own" as retroactive genre

The screengrabbed tweet below is a clean example of a genre that is sometimes called a "self-own". 

(Screenshot by Twitter user David Harrison @davidlharrison)

The tweet itself has suffered a fate which is known as being "ratioed" on Twitter. Being "ratioed" means that the number of comments to a tweet strongly outpaces the number of likes and retweets. It's not a good thing, because it invariably means that the tweet has been met with a storm of negative replies (a positive respondent would also like and sometimes retweet the tweet.)  As I am writing this, the tweet has risen to 1,300 likes and 305 retweets, which is quite good, but also to a staggering 6,700 comments—which is downright awful. 

The replies are merciless. They point out that the Hotel Imperial in Vienna is a Mariott Hotel, and thus American owned. They point out that Austria's government up till recently was closely allied with the far right. They point out that the Austrian government cannot be held responsible for the state of elevators in Austrian hotels, because they are privately owned, since Austria is nowhere near a socialist country. They point to the staircases. Also, there is incivility going on. Loads and loads of often highly original incivility. it's all very entertaining—and very well deserved.

Without speaking of it as a genre, Merriam-Webster's listing of "Words We're Watching" includes this beautiful description of the self-own: 

On social media, people will often try to put themselves in positions where they look smarter than the person with whom they are arguing, only to have it blow up in their faces. They might, for example, inadvertently highlight evidence that contradicts their point, or simply present themselves in a way that comes off as more pathetic than the person they are trying to upstage. It is during such instances that we become witness to the glorious phenomenon of the self-own. (here) 

One could almost think that the description was written for Luntz' tweet; and it's a very good genre summary. The genre label "self-own", thus, describes a social action that backfires badly and in which a person tries to do one thing, usually something not very pleasant, only to experience a well-deserved backfire. The person has tried to "dominate" (the word is, again, from Merriam-Webster's description) someone or something, but finds that the only person being dominated is himself or herself.

Now, it's fairly clear that the genre of the self-own is not one, most people would actually attempt. In Rhetorical Genre Studies, a movement I seem to belong to without having ever actually applied for membership, we usually see genres as recurrent forms of discursive action. You need something done, and the genre is your way to do it. 

All this is well and good in most cases, but there are interesting exceptions. The self-own is one such exception. It is a retrospective genre label, one that is attached to an utterance after the fact; once it becomes clear that the utterance has actually turned into a self-own.

One of the key concepts in contemporary genre theory is Anne Freadman's rightfully famous concept "uptake", it describes genre use as based on an inherent "bi-directionality". The fundamental idea is that the genre identity of a given utterance is never completely fixed, but can be modified by later genre uses. The self-own demonstrates this by being a genre that can well-nigh only be applied after the original genre use. As Freadman describes it, a genre use invites certain uptakes, but cannot fully secure them. The genre identity of any given utterance is thus subject to a negotiation—and at times an interpretive power struggle. 

The self-own is by its very definition an agonistic genre, as it not only retroactively defines the utterance in a negative light, but portrays the person making the utterance as a someone who has brought the backlash on herself or himself, and who deserves the backlash to the full. Frank Luntz is a case in point.

There is however, at least one way—and dare I say: a very sensible one—in which a genre user can use the existence of the self own pro-actively. It has to do with securing and inviting uptakes. The Luntz tweet invited the uptake that turned it into a self-own, even if that uptake was unwanted. In the process it failed to secure the positive, affirming uptake it was aiming for. However, it remains fully possible to stop and think before speaking. And one thought might be: "does this utterance invite uptakes that would turn it into a a self-own". This line of thinking is highly recommended as it can lead to all kinds of good things—genre wise, discursive, socially, and otherwise. 

But, of course, if you are the kind of person liable to post bigoted stupidities, hoping for reflection and discursive pre-meditation may be too big a genre ask. 

Elderflower cordial. The ultimate Danish summer-hygge thingy—a recipe with visual aids

No collection of genres is complete without a recipe—that broad, yet strangely poignant, genre for culinary action.

So, here is my favorite summer recipe—elderflower cordial. There are a truckload of different recipes going around. Fortunately, the best one is also the simplest. Here is what you do. 

You take an elderberry tree in bloom. Like this.

You collect a lot of flower heads. If you have access to volountary child labor, you are free to employ said child labor—under supervision—at this stage.

You then get out a large pot, and cut the elderberry flowers into slightly smaller pieces removing leaves and bugs from the mix, and put them in the pot. 

How many flower heads? Well, how many did you cut down? They do not take up a lot of space, and the taste only suffers if you use too few. I use a lot. 

Then it looks like this:

You add a lot of sugar. 

How much? Well, how much can the pot take? Then it looks like this. There are five kg of sugar in there. Some people will tell you to use brown sugar; I much prefer white. 

The trick here is a relation of ingredients. The amount of sugar your pot can take determines how much you can make. For each kg of sugar you need one lemon and 40 grams of citric acid. Remember to look around a bit for the citric acid. The price may vary wildly. Some people will tell you to use oranges. Don´t; it's a weak concept.

You add the citric acid, then it looks like this.

You slice the lemons and add them. Remember to use organic ones. You most definitely don´t want the pesticides from the non-organic ones in your cordial. Then it looks like this. 

I want to emphasize that you should not—I repeat: not—add the voluntary child labor to the cordial; no matter how eager to join in said child labor appears to be. Mine is all for going in head first.

Then you boil a lot of water. It looks like this—but I guess you more or less knew that already.

You then pour the boiling water over the elderflower-sugar-lemon and citric acid in the first pot. Notice, that there's likely to be a lot of bubbles, so stay safe. Notice also, that there will be a lot of air pockets hiding in the sugar, so if you stir, you will cause the cordial to bubble, and allow the water level to drop so you to add more water. You'll need it; the cordial is very strong as it is.

(At this point, keep volontary child labor at a safe distance; it may be too eager for its own good.)

I have no picture of this. I was pouring boiling water... 

But when the water has been poured it looks like this—and smells like heaven.

You put a lid on; let it cool down, and leave it in a cool place 4-5 days. Stir a few times a day. I have no pictures here, as I've only just made the cordial.

After that you pour it through a fine sieve and bottle it. Press the lemons and the elderflowers in the process. There's a lot of good cordial hiding in them. Remember to use a preservative or it will spoil. Some people freeze it instead; which is fine I guess. Except for the time I tried, and it leaked into my freezer. I had no idea what the word "sticky" actually meant before that.

Anyway, you dilute it with ice cold water and drink it. It's likely to be very strong, so have a sip before you serve it. If you add sparkling water instead, you have what my wife calls "champagne for alcoholics"; it's very good too, but definitely sharper. Some people will mix it into other drinks, but that's beyond my expertise. Do try—and tell me about it.

This, a summer day in the garden, and good company is as hygge as it gets for me.