Wüstling

Someone once said to me that a cynic is a grown-up optimist.  Once I'm sure you (or other not-quite-grown cynics) would have cast out the same words with different intent, in exaggerated hope that they might be heard and make a difference -- and now they're cast in irony, mocking the world no more than they mock the self for wanting the world to hear.  And yet the mob lives for those pleasures, does it not?  Should we feed it, or leave it starve and see what takes its place?