The Fallacy
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certain wars end, nor were certain policies rescinded, yet.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.
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