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Buridan’s ass is a supposed paradox of medieval logic pertaining to an unlikely protagonist in the form of an Ass. A very unfortunate ass. The ass, after a prolonged period of neglecting itself (no roast bales of hay and two carrots in this journey), is placed equidistantly between two piles of food and water. Hay, hay, one assumes. But, like all good parables, all’s not well at the The dilemma for the ass is that absent any reason to choose one pile over enough it is destined (and indeed will) perish. To opt for one pile rather than the other would be irrational as there is no causal reasoning for its action. This supposition therefore negates any form of deliberation and eventual, if not desperate, action in devouring the delicacies on offer. A perfectly (rational) balanced ass is not, therefore, equipped to survive. Is there a moral to the story? Where is the innate instinct to survive? Overruled by stupidity or lack of the cognitive assertions that separate us from the beasts? The ass is certainly no hero or heroine. There will be no place in that pantheon in the sky reserved for this ass. Perhaps, centuries of philosophising over the dilemma are missing the point. Maybe the fact that the ass is balanced is key to its problem and therefore the key also to its solution. Intrinsically, an imbalanced ass would have chosen one pile over another. Either from madness or the very nature of its imbalanced schizophrenic existence. It’s taken me seven hundred years since its inception for this deduction. My thoughts have probably been dormant for the first 670 years (or maybe not!!) but who can deny Mr ass a transformation. In essence the ugly donkey blossoming into a beautiful white unicorn. 
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