Excellent! Today we are in the future. It all looks very fine, I dare say. The walls are still standing, and the bland art that hangs upon them appears unperturbed. Inoffensive platitudes greet my in my email. The cyborg terror birds appear to be teleporting into the office supply rooms and back to their home nightmare dimension with ease. (They seem interested only in stealing a ream of paper and packets of paperclips, presumably for their nesting season, items which is we use less and less of anyway.) These larcenous squalls are over quickly, and will fade as the brooding begins in earnest.

Today I read a bit of James Thurber. Prior to today, I believe I only read his most famous short story and nothing else. Regret upon regret. My first leafings through a collection of his writings and drawings was rewarded with a jovial reference to the demise of Ambrose Bierce. I recognize something of my voice in his. An echo, anyway. The understanding that logic is not mandatory to embark upon the path to truth. 

Yes, logic, that ontological train ticket clutched in the grubby fist of a rotund schoolchild. Don't let go, they tell you, or else you will be lost. Naturally, they rely on the fear of being alone, and do not point out that you will be lost, but with a great deal of company lost with you. I'd say roughly half of people get by without using logic at all, and those that do make use of it may not do so for days at a stretch. They are not fools;  as long as the scaffold of the world is mostly truth they will not fall. 

Truth will set you free, they say, but logic never got such marketing.