All viable machines, systems and processes must have a built-in degree of tolerance; room for slight movement of the individual parts; if the mechanics of a living structure fit too tightly, it cannot move and grow, thus you should be clear:
there is no perfectly-put-together machine, but always a matter of one with expected variations within a known structure.
All machines, systems and processes  –  including consciousness  –  must have a built-in degree of tolerance, but in the latter instance, little is it utilized.
A mind that knows what’s going on must be as losse as IS what is going on.
 
 

The Final Word On Conspiracies.
There is a group who secretly runs the world, but even they don’t know who they are.
 
 

The secret lawman’s code was: Never give a large gun to a man with a small dick.
(It proved so useful that after things had calmed down, a few men later tried to find
an application for this concerning thoughts and men’s mental capacity.)
 
 

The only thing words can do for the certain-man is release him from the grip of words.
(Well, that and privately entertain the hell out of him.)
 
 

The constant cry for “More education” is but a mechanical reflection of Life’s intent to expand the upper end of the human nervous-system.
 
 

As long as you acquiesce to the desire to identify yourself with some group of humans, you heed the call of dreams and neural normalcy & necrophilia.
 
 

 As understanding increases, you see that in man, Life has a never ceasing growth process and realize you have no business being a critic thereof.
 
 

The standard nervous-system consciousness of man can study its own lower level operations (like an elevator repairman looking down a shaft), but this neural “I” cannot so scrutinize itself; a man must somehow raise the height of this focusing tool so that the normal “I-functions” can then be analyzed as a lower level activity.
To get on top  –  you can never stop.
“I did not conquer Everest  –  I grew it.”
 
 

You can only be impressed with ordinary men as long as you do not recognize
the human condition and potential.
 
 

A cutesy couple was exhibited as exemplary of mortal love: she waited tables
while studying ballet and he dug ditches and played his music at night;
they admitted they did not possess much, but had each other  –  which was enough; they said they were just ordinary-folks  –  except for their singular, undying love,
and they did seem rather ordinary, after all, she had the bruises to prove it.
Some who witnessed this display later wondered if it was actually about passion between two people or the relationship inside of one person between their consciousness and the thoughts that naturally assault it in an otherwise guise.
 
 

The ordinary often speak of an inherent-contradiction in a situation or idea
when it is really a matter of them being blind to some of the forces at work therein.
(Not by chance does the word irony start with the letter “I/eye”.)
 
 

You can only be impressed with ordinary men as long as you do not know
your own condition.
 
 

The few must make that which presently to them seems too drastic,
gradually acceptable, via neural overload.
    (“Come here you slacker mule,” hissed a man at his mind,
     “you haven’t begun to be even half loaded up!”)
An extraordinarily firm hand is the certain-man’s invisible tool (and also one he finds hilarious).
 
 

Men supportive of second reality muses (art, religion, politics, morality)  consistently condemn the use of crude-speech in referring to their fields;
the more vaporous the petticoats, the more they need be raised above the street.
     (“You mean: that’s the way it seems?!”
When you’re talking about man’s intangible realm, what else can you mean.
       “It’s really hard to remember that……isn’t it.”)
 
 

More About Life In Capacity.
Only those who get away, have the final word (and since they're gone, the remaining prisoners can't hear it).
 
 

There were once two groups of would-be Evolvers who longed for the mythical,
but difficult to find land of Gnu; the first group studied and debated ostensible maps thereto and endlessly dreamed of what it might be like,
while the second crew took a different approach and began to construct such a place at their present location.
Everyone dislikes a smartass (unless you don’t realize what he’s doing).

When a man understands how the tongue speaks without a script,
there is nothing he does not then understand about man.
 
 

A metaphysical traveling cosmic entity relayed this episode:
“Once while visiting a village on earth (at the urging of the town elders)
I addressed the people on those general matters of the arcane and afterwards
one took me aside and said: ‘Though you surely were unaware of it,
several times in your comments you used profanity,’  ‘The hell you say!’  I replied,
but he insisted that, due perhaps to fatigue or some unconscious urge lurking in me, that I had indeed interspersed my spiritual words with quite profane ones,
‘What a load of shit,’ said I  --  and left.
It's a perfect example of why I don’t like to fuck with these cuntheaded humans!”
Moral: At a certain level, the significance of words changes.
 

There are two ways to not-care about the meaningless: naturally, and through superior understanding, and as with everything else possible for a human to experience,
only one of the two has value for the certain-man.
 
 

If you don't understand that men speak without a script,
you understand nothing about man.
Only dense ocean fish are impressed by the ability to breathe saltwater.