Once upon a time, a Warlock dreamed that he confronted a monstrous Fallacy. The Fallacy was terrible yet beautiful. The curve of its tail was as smooth as a salesman’s lie; the ridges on its spine were as jagged as a stock market graph; its claws were as sharp as a crooked deal; its eyes shone like diamonds, and its scales like gold coins; for it was an economic Fallacy.
It was a magnificent Fallacy, but it was the Warlock’s sworn duty to refute it. He called it out, and battle was joined.
The Fallacy buffeted him with hot air and low blows, but the Warlock had firmly bolted on his skepticism, and the monster found no chink in his logical armor.
He slashed out with the Sword of Truth, and the Fallacy retreated, bleeding platitudes. He shot witty barbs at its vulnerable points; most bounced off its coins, but one struck home, and the Fallacy fled, mortally wounded.
The next morning, the Warlock was pleased to read tall newspaper headlines screaming the refutation of that very economic Fallacy. But he was less pleased to read that nonetheless, certain tyrants did not fall, nor certain wars end, nor were certain policies rescinded, yet. Though intellectually, the bubble had burst, politically it was not yet the end of the Fallacy’s era.
The Warlock’s Cat mewed, “What did you expect? Instant success? That too is a Fallacy.”
Moral: First win the argument, then the fight.