Breaking Ties with Blissful Baboons

There comes a time, dear reader, when a man must look upon his fellows and, with a heavy heart, sever ties with those who persist in proving themselves as impervious to truth as a frog to feathers. These are the sort of folks who bask in the warm, comforting glow of ignorance, like pigs luxuriating in mud—except that pigs, to their credit, usually know where the mud ends and the trough begins.

Such individuals take to propaganda the way a duck takes to water, swallowing it down with a gusto that would make a pelican blush. Spoonful by spoonful, they are fed their daily dose of polished pretense by the same media that wouldn’t recognize an honest day’s reporting if it came up and bit them on the seat of their trousers.

But oh, how they revel in it! The wallop of it, the zing, the righteous sensation of being entirely, emphatically wrong, yet convinced beyond all reason that they are the paragons of enlightenment.

To argue with such a person is to wrestle with a tar baby—entertaining for spectators, perhaps, but maddeningly futile for the participant. It is best to walk away, head held high, and let them enjoy their blissful ignorance, untroubled by facts or the pesky nuances of reality.

So, cut those ties, my friend, and let them wallow. Wide is the world, and the truth is durable, while fools are plentiful—you’ll never run short of them.