I discovered a melted ice cream cone on the sidewalk.

A friend suggested that some poor soul had dropped it there.

“You’re a simpleton,” I retorted smugly.

I’m well versed in the arguments for the origins of Sidewalk Ice Cream.

Skepticism is my strong suit.

I relish every opportunity to showcase my talent.

“Where is the evidence for an ice cream dropper?” I asked.

My friend looked blank.

Confused even.

Typical…

He’s not used to having his beliefs challenged.

“Do you even know how ice cream is made?” I queried.

“From milk?” he replied.

Yes! He really said that!

When the word ‘cream’ is even in the name!

And he expects me to take his theories seriously?

“You aren’t qualified to comment on this subject,” I assured him.

“There’s a Dairy Queen right across the street,” he said.

He just didn’t get it.

“So what?” I replied, giving him some rope to hang himself.

“So, maybe somebody got ice cream at Dairy Queen and dropped it!”

His voice was pinched.

He was getting emotional.

That’s what happens when you don’t have facts.

“Or maybe an Otter,” I said.

KABOOM!

He had no reply.

Patiently, I explained the theory.

“Otters have been observed, by scientists, using simple tools.”

“Using simple tools demonstrates the potential to use more complex tools.”

“Like, say, an ice cream churn.”

“Surely an Otter is capable of turning a crank.”

“Cream, sugar and salt can be found in abundance in this region.”

“It’s not impossible that these elements came together in a churn.”

“The otter came along, turned the crank and…presto!”

I motioned toward the ice cream when I said ‘Presto’.

Desperately clinging to his discredited hypothesis, my friend asked,

“What about the cone?”

Sigh.

I give up.

You just can’t force people to think.

He will turn their own tongues against them and bring them to ruin;

all who see them will shake their heads in scorn.

All mankind will fear; they will proclaim the works of God

and ponder what he has done.

Psalm 64:7