Consider options other than merely “dogma” and “kookma”. My father was a kook—until he got cancer and thought it best to live with joy rather than fear. Before his conversion, I often told him that his kook theories contradicted each other. We eventually agreed, but we never stopped thinking—in agreement we thought more.
One doesn’t need to tell wild stories and run the streets naked to believe that presidents can be corrupt. Being sensibly calm and shoving one’s head in the sand are two different things. Don’t be a kook, but don’t be an ostrich either.