Never judge a book by its cover or even by the first few dozen pages. It is a statement well heeled in logic, the magic of the percentage game and above all rooted in the vice of the naive. Pragmatism, it is said, is the need of the hour, but only the naive can ignore ominous portents. It takes a lot to prepare for a drought when all the pragmatics believe only in the rain. All things considered, someone here is delusional and I would rather err of the side of cold cynicism.
What is a challenge worth when there is no prize in the end to make up for the travails? Would a cynic dare enough to be cynical about cynicism in itself? If I am not me and you are not you, then why should we matter in a scheme where disbelieving is the key to survival. Would you disbelieve the disbelief in itself, when that would mean that you believe in the disbelief?
What good is a treasure if it is not used at the most opportune time --today?-- for tomorrow it might just turn to coloured stones. A pragmatic surrenders, a cynic fights to his own dumb death. An idea lives surrogate in gestation for a tomorrow that might not arrive or the idea dies for a tomorrow that might just be stopped. If both are wrong, then where does the ideal state - a state of perfect imbalance- reside? Guess we would never know.