One podiatrist regularly tells patients who come in with relatively minor foot problems
that one of their legs must be amputated immediately!
He says he does it just to see how much crazy crap people will put up with.
(He says he was inspired by the way his natural born thoughts treat the rest of
his consciousness.)
 
 

One weekend when they had been drinking and it seemed safe,
local conditions asked life:
“Tell me the truth: what’s your game?” and received the reply:
    “It’s weird how everyone assumes I know that; do they know what their game is?
      If they’re my creation and I can't instill in them the answer to this,
      how do they still figure that I know?”
      (Conditions made a mental note to limit his future chit chat to totally frivolous matters.)
 
 

Conversation.
“When you don’t know what’s going on --   stare.”
    “Which is one thing you don’t have to be taught, huh?!”
“Indeed  --  just the opposite (that is): if you ever DO want to know what’s going on.”
 
 

Two Explorers Meet.
“What is the most frightening sound you’ve ever heard: a tornado approaching? --
a volcano erupting?”
     “Men repeating ritualistic prayers.”
 “Well pardon me!  --  I took you for just a physical investigator."
 
 

In the rarified realm of the independent thinker:
the streamlining of ox carts into sports cars paralleled the reduction of
paragraphs into sentences  --  then them into curt maxims (such as):
History is predictions made after a car wreck.
 
 

The god in charge of one locale opined:
“A real man would be one who (if there was a god) wouldn’t beg him for anything."

 
 

Men find silence appropriate in situations they call sacred
for the same reason they find it threatening.
(“Figure that one out, Monsignor Stout!”)
 
 

One man fixed his computer’s email so that it would only send  --  and not receive.
(And his mind said: “Don’t get any bright ideas, bub!”)
 
 

Taking a good look at himself in a mirror, a man sarcastically snarled:
“Who does my creator apologize to!”  --
and a voice replied: “First questions first:
who do you thank for your ability to objectively criticize?”
Strange Fact: Everyone believes there are things wrong with them,
but no one is puzzled by their perfect power to judge such.
Would you expect a bulldog to ever note: “Man!  am I ugly!”
Stranger Fact: People don’t really mind being dumb & in the dark  --
as long as the fact doesn’t somehow seep into their own awareness.
    (“That doesn’t sound strange to me, but more like something to be thankful for.
         [You people who think all the time about stuff are too weird for me!”])
 
 

Conversation II.
“What is the most frightening sound you’ve ever heard?”
    “Me responding to questions like this.”
 
 

The ultra simple, but most rewarding fact is that if you don’t understand what’s going on, joining a church or political party makes you believe that you do
(via the organization’s assumed, collective wisdom).
 
 

Thus one man explained his failure to go to movies:
“It annoys me to hear people speaking words they don’t mean,
and pretending to be what they’re not  --  people acting,” and someone replied:
    “What you’re describing though are not good actors:
      with them you can’t tell that they are acting,”
and a third man added: “Yeah, like ordinary people living their everyday lives,”
and the first guy said: “They annoy me too  --   and for the same reason.”
 
 

One priest would only hear people’s confession in Spanish (which he didn’t speak).      Okay, he wasn’t a priest, but an enlightened man.
     “That’s nothing: I know one worse: I heard about a guy who made his brain
       talk to him in French (which he  --  you can figure out the rest.)”
 
 

Catching on to what’s going on is like finding the final piece to a puzzle   --
which then makes it possible for you to see that the puzzle has never been
what you’d imagined it was.
("Better late than twelve dollars a pound," notes one guy.)
 
 

A man who published a newspaper that printed stories no one else did
received this letter from a reader:
“I think that all of the events you recount occur in your own head,”
to which the publisher mentally replied (in a somewhat sarcastic tone):
“Well, duh!  --  where do you think all writers get their stories!”
 
 

Men employ numbers to describe and run their world of technology;
they will likewise resort in desperation when trying to explain their cultural world,
(it goes like this): “Okay; I don’t understand enough about the matter under discussion to have anything meaningful to say, so let me quote these statistics which will hopefully distract you from the fact that I'm a dumb ass.”
This is also the unacknowledged value-added of all cultural criticism (as per):
“Not only does this Angelcopter I have helped create  --  not fly,
I have no idea why we expect it to  --  but,
if you will be so kind as to join me in forgetting about that one minor problem
I will offer an entertaining, literate critique of the entire affair.”
Man’s ever-changing, ever-alive spiritual/artistic/intellectual realm
is unique to this universe and reality: a piece of intangible machinery,
(thus with no matching material fuel)
that is kept running solely by never-ending, unwitting debate about this fact.
 
 

One man sums up city people’s attitude toward personal failure in what he calls:
The Cinderella Exculpatory Syndrome whose core tenet can be thus expressed:
"My foot's not too fat  --  the slipper's too small!"
(Why do you never hear: “My ideas are not inadequate  --
my brain is simply too small to handle them.”)
 
 

At their privileged dog track, noted Pancho to Senor Q.:
“What here is magnifico is that the races run whenever we want them to,
and with only outcomes that we desire,”
which Don corrected: “You mean: appear to,”
“Si --  of course  --   and within the safety and confines of our mind.”
 
 

One man suggests that a boon to understanding the complete game would be to expeditiously adopt this model through which to conduct your investigation (to wit):

* No artist's work can be something to him foreign, so the head cannot be denser than that of its creators.
        ("Now there's something disturbing to think about!")