Ordinary men are not interested in knowing what is going on
as long as they can make fun of others not knowing.
Ordinary men&minds do not care whether what they think about life is correct
as long as they can criticize what other people think.
Ordinary men are not only not interested in knowing what is really going on,
they are not even able to realize that they don’t know.

A man said to a neighbor: “Staying alive is only perceived as a challenge
when you believe you are dying;
same with being maximally conscious --
only after a worm is told he is small does he become uneasy about his size,”
and the neighbor countered:
“But men and the matter of consciousness are surely not the same,
for in your example of the worm,
it had no real cause to feel differently about itself after someone commented on its size since that was a matter about which it could do nothing,
wherein with man and his consciousness, he can at every given moment
have a quite direct effect thereon merely by the concentration of his attention,
and thus any negative feelings about himself he experiences
from having the poor quality of his common state noted are not without justification.    What do you say to that?!”
“I was obviously unaware of who I was talking to.”
When talking to other people,
men are always aware of precisely who they are talking to,
but when they talk to themselves
(the routine activity in ordinary men’s brains that they call, “thinking”)
they have no such awareness  --
they do not even identify the activity as, talking-to-themselves  --
but if for a moment, you got them to agree to this description,
they would then insist that they are completely aware of who they are talking to
in their minds -- to their self!  --
a cerebral trompe l'oeil, the failure to recognize which,
divides discretely the certain man from everyone else with a cortex.
Staying alive is only perceived as a challenge when you believe you could be dying;
same it be with staying maximally conscious (or need it be noted) same it SHOULD be, for the would-be rebel.
En passant: you ever consider the fact that only such a man is in the position of apparently beating up on himself for some fault (in this instance, his mental laziness) with the beating-up requiring more effort than would have been originally needed to save him from the laziness he is now beating himself up over?
“Pa pa --  is there no way out of this conundrum?”
      “Stop talking to yourself like that, boy!”
Ovulation without representation is premature calculation;
your, it-came-with-the-car mind gives birth to highway thoughts far too freely to suit the driving needs of the hot-rodded, certain man      --      OR:
one man used to think-about-things  --  until he finally realized how limited was his, think-about-things motor.
“But pa pa --  how can a piece of machinery ever recognize its own condition?!”
      “My my!  --  I obviously was not fully aware of the quality of who I was talking to.
        Come ‘ere lad, and let me squeeze the rest of the juice outta ya!”
Only two types talk to themselves: men asleep and dreaming,
and a man who's awaked  --  but had a momentary relapse.
Ordinary people at the movies want to comment on what they see on the screen;
the certain man lets the traffic flow freely by his house
with any related noise coming entirely from the traffic.
The exhaust of man’s collective mental traffic will harm you only if you breath it  --  which  will cause you to react to it  --
which will cause you to feel you are choking on it  --
which causes you (for safety’s sake) to sink into a less than fully conscious condition.
The certain man  --  for his own physical good  -- stays as conscious as possible.
In the cemetery (if your hearing is adequate) two varieties of voices can be heard: those still bitching about their lives, and the certain man’s corpse still whistling dixie.
 
 
 
 
 

“Son, the certain man despises upkeep,
and strives above all to keep expenses to the absolute minimum.”
    “Are you speaking here in metaphor, or symbolism?”
“In the latter for sure lad  --  if I’ve ever heard it.”
On one of the city radio stations was heard the following public service announcement:
“There are two hobbies that all citizens should pursue: staying alive, and: having fun.
We now return to our normal: boring programs,
disheartening news, and embarrassing advertising.”
(Man!  does he have the routine mind down pat or what!)
And one of the speakers in the park who calls himself: The Downhome Philosopher offers up this: “A man that don’t want nuthing could be in for a pleasant surprise.”
Civility & Partisan Rigidity Reconsidered.
A sneer is as good as a smirk, but a bullet  --  better still.
(While favoring needed correction, but disdaining firearms,
one man kept handy instead: harsh personal opinions.)
And when never-predictable, rolling waves of oceanic depression
would threaten to swamp his little limbic craft,
this one old salt would hike up his pants and sing:
                                              “Oh --  get out the oars,
                                                I’m again in the thores.”
(it is assumed he meant, “throes” but realized at the last moment that it did not rhyme with oars  --  but: such is a poet's life at sea  --  see?!)
And one kid offered his wisdom to an even younger sibling: “The way I see it is:
the only possible reason to ever forego a pleasure is to  --  let it ripen.”
‘Twould be useful if a man could look at his mental operations with the same objective detachment with which a woman can an erotic photograph of her body.
Liberated consciousness could hold dramatic, pseudo hostility toward one thing only:  neutered intellectual capacity  --
“Yes,” says the herd, “We may be mentally impotent, but at least it comes naturally, and therefore we don’t have to suffer over it --
(like those smarty-ass certain men types do,” they added under their breath).
A lad asked his dad:
“Since (in a sense) everything men do in the physical world-of-survival is a power-play of one sort or another, could there be a parallel in man’s intellectual activities?”
and in a loud, theatric voice the elder replied:
“Could there?  --   COULD THERE!”
 
 
 
 

Says one man to everyone he meets: “I hold you personally responsible” --
and thus far everyone hearing it has been instantly enlightened by it.
 
 
 
 

True originality of thought will take you far  --  if  you have a plane ticket.
 
 
 
 

One man one day finally had this appear in his brain:
“While I’m no genius, it’s still become pretty plain to even me
that it’s some kind of super waste of time for me to use my mind to just keep thinking  the same old things over and over again,”
and a reader instantly emails:  “Point of order!
The stomach can live quite nicely on a most repetitive diet  --  so why not the brain?!”    It can sir  --  and therein for the few lies the heartbreak & indigestion.
 
 
 
 
 

“Pa pa, can you explain what, being-asleep, and being-awake are
any simpler than you have previously?”
    “Always --  but that is supposed to be one of your jobs.”