Chesterton once commented that a madman is not someone who has lost his reason; he is a man who has lost everything but his reason.
Once there was a man who was driven by emotional forces, largely invisible to him. He was deeply insecure, and so he went from one fractured relationship to another. He had been married three times, he had had numerous girlfriends, none for longer than three months, and had also drifted from job to job, each job ending in a spectacular fireworks display in his manager’s office. He had trouble getting along with his neighbors, and he was the kind of person who always received poor service in restaurants. Of course, he thought it had something to do with the waiters, but the common element in all the difficulties had come to the restaurant with him.
He had two remaining friends from college who persevered with him as long as they could, but with each passing year it became more difficult for them. They were talking about it one day, and one of them observed, “You know, John’s behavior [the man’s name was John] is profoundly irrational, but whenever I have tried to talk with him about it, all he will give me is rational arguments. And his arguments are always tightly woven, consistent, believable, and, if I did not know the situations first hand myself, compelling.”
“I know,” the second man said. “And it seems to me, as the years go by, the layers of argument are just getting thicker and thicker.”
“What is a friend supposed to do in situations like this? If we confront him, he will spin out a detailed argument concerning our treachery before breakfast tomorrow.”
“I know. And I don’t want to wind up with a web site dedicated to all my faults. I still feel bad about what he did to his mom.”
The two friends resolved that they would figure out some way to talk to him about this problem within a couple months. But unfortunately, John guessed that something was up and he cut them off before anything was ever said.