Occasionally, I'm forced to slam people's barely functioning brains into the plate glass window that I like to call
reality. It's not something I want to do, or particularly enjoy, but as Dave Grohl famously sang, "This is a call."
What often comes of such action is the accusation that I'm somehow a pessimist, mostly because I'm not willing to let a feel-good story get in the way of facts and critical reasoning. Or perhaps because I'm unwilling to let others, often with suspect motives, do my thinking for me, spoon-feeding questionable facts as truth. Or finally, it may be because I have so little respect for established "authorities" that I'm always skeptical of information, regardless of its supposed source.
I fail to see how any of that is pessimistic. I'd rather be skeptical than a sycophant for supposed authorities who render truth on high, blind to their motives, which often run counter to those of the public at large.
Bear with me, if you will—this play will ultimately come back 'round to its opening scene (but not until Part III).
More after the jump.