The kid pulled his uncle up on his knee and said:
“Come on old man, tell the one again that I love so well:
the one about when: ‘The dead shall live and the living die,'”  and his relative
tried to crawl back into the boy’s head before they were both found out.
Fact: Life does have a sense of humor,
but it is not open to those pursuing predictable activities.
(What could life possibly find amusing about that same old sad routine?! --
.....and we could get dirty and ask you the same question --
      .....but I guess it best that you do it to yourself.)
 

To hear men tell it: life is a truly melodramatic affair;
men, with strong apparent sincerity, express such a sentiment,
whilst blithely ignoring that life has made them to be melodramatic.
The maxim: “Monkey see, monkey do” is a whitebread version of
the original observation pertaining to men and their routine sight.         (You figure it out.)
 

When the feral become civilized; feelings begat thoughts; man became conscious,
only then did he acquire the concept of being naked,
and began clothing himself with the ideas life has stocked
in the collective mind of man.
Undercover, a rebel wants to get away --
and discover a brand new garden of eden --
and get naked all over again  --
and this time for REAL!
 

On the son’s deathbed, the father knelt down and whispered:
“For the last fifty years, every time you were poised to ask me something,
I was afraid it was finally going to be  --  That Question,”
and upon hearing this confession, the boy instantly sat upright  --  completely well.
    “Dear Dr. Exacto: Is: ‘totally cured,’ and: ‘completely well’ the same thing?
      Interestedly Yours,” etc.
“Dear I.Y: To understand this you need keep in mind the fact that
in all matters not involving machinery and flesh: men accept progress to be no more than being able to believe (pretend) that the circumstances of a certain matter
have returned to previous condition which they preferred over its more recent one.”
    “Well, pardon my disagreement, but what you’re saying in essence is
      that the dead would find simply coming-back-to-life to be progress!”
Okay: then what about the normally conscious emerging from the background world?
“Yes my boy: I was constantly hoping that at any moment you were finally going to
ask me about that inner condition wherein the actors and the stage are stuck together: your mental capacity & the thoughts ordinarily appearing therein have become as one; a theatre of the head wherein you experience no distinction between
what is observed and the mechanism in you doing the observing.
The knowledge needed by the nervous system rebel is not the kind men
normally think of as being outside of them, waiting to be learned or discovered;
the wake-up, set-me-free knowledge is not knowledge about something,
but knowledge of what knowledge truly is in man's special case.”
 

The Philosophy professor in the midst of a rant exclaimed to the class:
“Opportunity makes fools of us all” --   which so overheated one lad
that he had to leave class and go sit under a shady Economics instructor.
 

Men in the city found that a good way to distract from your own stupidity
is to frequently quote the words of others,
and when what they are doing was harmlessly pointed out to them,
every man-jack-of-them denied it (and with much vigor, it might be noted).
In private, stated one chap: “It’s either whine, or let somebody else do it for you.”
Fact: Without plagiarism  --  there is no culture.
(“Hell!” muttered another man: “There’s not even any sanity.”)
 

The New Verbal Math (Specifically): wya – wyn = ee  (which is to say):
the difference between what-you-are minus what-you’re-not  equals everyone-else.
 

Appealing to the gods is hoping for progress   --  and looking for a short cut.
Life has two different telephone numbers:
one of them private and unknown to 99.99999% of humanity.
(Truth is: even if they could call it, they wouldn’t know what to say
when they realized the other party had picked up.)
 

Although man’s collective mind speaks constantly of facts  --
it deals incessantly in facsimiles.
    (“What the hell do you want anyway?!  --
      there wouldn’t be any city fun rides if it weren’t for the sham ones.
      Go ahead!  --  wake up Sleeping Beauty and see what it gets you!  --
      for damn sure not a piece of ass.”
Well how bout that!  --  he almost had it:
you cannot wake up the imaginary and expect there will be anything left to hug.)
Some Dramatist News.
What’s best about writing all the parts is that you perforce control the whole stage.
    “And you’re really talking about the mind & the thoughts that Equity (read: life)
      allows to appear therein.”
(See: you can do more on broadway than kick up your heels and show your rump.)
 

Fools fret over kings, and children worry about priests  --
and every day they all dress up and play:  civilization-&-man’s-other-reality.
Rebels when young are interested only in playing doctor & nurse:
wanting things  --   as adults say they are  --  to pull down their panties
so they can see what is really going on.
On one world: Show & Tell is not just a kid’s game  --
and it doesn’t require more than one to play.
 

Opposing armies who may appear equal in numbers, armaments and provisions
are not actually equal  --  not if one of them doesn’t give a damn.
And the munitionist mathematician mused:
“Me minus the parody me equals: Whee! --  now I’m free.”
    “I am forced to interfere again, for you clearly cannot mean
      what you appear to be indicating.”
What strangles the average frog is trying to swallow past what his reptilian brain sees as the bewildering choices of: you either are what you seem to be  --  or you are not, in which case you can change and become something else.”
    “So?  --  where in that is a problem?”
The pedestrian pond dweller has neither the interest, nor gray matter gravitas
to deal with that strangest of landscapes wherein:
what you seem to be is also what you actually are.
The brains of those wired for life in Normalville are simply not able to imagine
what Sleeping Beauty would dream of.
(Aka: You can’t break out of flea prison while believing you are a flea.)
“That is a good one my boy: worth pursuing:
What kind of dreams would a character in a fictional tale have?  --
in actual fact, the question is right-off-the-bat funny:
how are you going to twist your mind around so that you can ever picture
a make-believe figure having dreams  --  Hah!  --  but you know what’s not so funny: realizing that, as improbable as the latter sounds  --
it is precisely what your affected, sense of an inner self does constantly.”
    “Jeeze!  --  how 'bout ending with something a bit more comforting!”
“All right: If you are sure that you can tell the difference between
the seeming you and a real  you   --   you are a bare-ass idiot.”
    “Phew!  --  well now I feel lots better!”
“My pleasure.”