One god advertised: “Goods And Services,” (though he knew he would only have to deliver on one count).
 
 

The more civilized you are the more you want to let your words do your
talking for you.
 
 

After hearing him out, the 5 dimensional one said to the 3:
“I understand what you want but there is nothing I can do for you, directly,”
which is man’s unrealized situation via that which his thoughts long for;
the-way-things-are into 2, will not go.
     (“But this does not stop the mind from trying to see matters in that binary light,
        right?”
Correct cubed.)
‘Tis gravely feared in some quarters that the hostilities will inevitably intensify between The Hordes Of Sugar & The Legions Of Fear, with only His Grace,
The Duke Of Directness capable of meaningful intervention.
 
 

One old veteran of the neural wars told his kid as he sent him off for his finishing city education: “Major in some area you thoroughly dislike, in that way if you ever receive any honors and recognition for your work therein, you will feel no doubt that you deserve the mutherfuckers.”
Intellectual achievements are what men make them: a glaringly obvious fact if thought about for an instant, yet one, if it were permanently installed in men’s ongoing awareness, t’would turn over everyone’s cultural cart.
 
 

To get a jump start on the next decade (and all the clay pigeon fanciers)
one group has unveiled as their new Official Credo:
“Words don’t start wars  –  tongues do.”
(Putting the human touch on anything always helps.
    “Amongst humans, you mean!?”)
 
 

Being funny once is no proof of anything.
 
 

One guy wears his mind like a badge of honor (well, that is until the clasp on the back came off).
And a father called out to a son who was in his room with the door closed:
“Are you playing with yourself again?”
    “Yes, pa pa.”
“And with the part I taught you to?”
    “Yes, pa pa.”
“Okay then.”
 
 

As a form of personal encouragement to keep his eyes/I’s bright,
one man privately queries his self continually: “Where is the humor in dying?”
 
 

There is a difference between what a man did and what he is remembered to have done (which has nothing to do with faulty memory).
Things which the mind can think should be similar may not be so:
a horse is not an equestrian handbook;
talk about a man is not the man.
Consider: At the core: What is the telling distinction between man’s silent,
physical reality and his verbal inner one?
How can sparrows continue to crash into window panes and not mention it.
 
 

A man in a coma is everybody’s friend.
 
 

The Spread: Even though the odds currently favor Captain Irony, it is thought by many to be too early to totally discount The Retribution Of The Philistines.
What but the human mind can picture a fight and then act as though it will not determine the outcome?  (And were it not for this singular talent  –
what would man do for entertainment after he has been adequately sexed.)
 
 

Sad comment overheard on a city bus: “You know, for years I trusted my mind
and treated it just like one of the family.”
 
 

Anyone besides the natural-born nervous-system-rebel who wants to sail-away  –
is nuts.
What ordinary people imagine they want to get-away-from is nothing --
think about that: Nothing.
    (“And that’s why it’s nuts!?”
Perzactly.)
 
 

One man said to his inner mental partner: “If you have adjoining rooms,
you will have adjoining thoughts,” a notion that clearly didn’t seem to bother the partner, but one that was secretly giving him the red-ass.
(“I’m gonna level with you,” the latter said in private, “I don’t like worth a diddley-damn, sharing my house!”
Who does!?   –  everybody, that's who!  –  every ordinary body, and that’s what it takes to be ordinary.
The man who-catches-on  –  lives alone.)
 
 

As per legend in one place: There was a day when the numbers became much agitated and frightened   –   fearful that men were about to see-through-them.
    (“My gawd!” thought words, “What if we’re next.”   But they quickly relaxed
       upon realizing their ever-safe position, inasmuch as men could not even think
       about either possibility without them.
“It is like being a form of clap that is the only apparent treatment for gonorrhea,”
noted a couple of adverbs.
Query: What can be neater than: Having-it-made!?)
Later a parenthesis asked if punctuation was to be considered part of words?
 
 

One day a guy in the park was struck with this:
“Okay: so men only do what Life tells them to do but, hey!  –
surely even Life can have a bad day.”
(No one he ever mentioned this to wanted to dwell on it.)
 
 

Even though binaries were swarming all over him, as he drew his
sword magnificent, Prince Precisusdeclared:
“Aside, you numerals: My quarrel today lies with words,”
and commenced to slice off his own head.
 
 

All of the clichés you have ever heard are true….except for two….who say that
they do not presently wish to be identified.
In the second-reality, privacy must be respected or what have you got?  –  chaos?
It is one thing to want to hide your ass, but quite another, your thoughts.
    (“I’m not sure I get that one – but then again, my mental activities are
       pretty half-ass to begin with.”)
 
 

As he listened to the programs he thought: “I like much of what I hear,
though I am not always certain what it is that I am hearing”  –
he then further pondered: “Is that the difference between being a listener,
and being part of  the programming?”  And one of the picket signs being paraded in front of the broadcast facilities read: “The airwaves are free  –  brainwaves are free  – and the Neural Network is large enough for all programs.”
The special-investigator (to finally crack-the-case) swallows completely
everything he has ever eaten, and becomes empty  –
and that is how you become part of the programming.
A would-be producer with a script  –  will never get a show on the air.
    “But you’re talking about the atmosphere found only on the certain-man’s world?!”
Profundomakeo!
 
 

In his discussion of a certain event, the kid opined that several causes, both internal and external, could have been responsible, and more specifically that they could have been working together or independently, and concluded his observation with a rhetoric: “Yes?!”  –  to which the old man replied:
“When someone reaches your level of perception the answer is always, Yes.”
 
 

You are not part of ThisGame if you do not have more fun in your mind than in
anyone else’s.
 
 

“A runny nose is not necessarily a sign of a runny mind?!”
    “No, but it could be.”
It appears to come as a real surprise to many what neurons are capable of dragging hormones into.                                                           (Pst!  –  remember: Do not be one of the many.)
 
 

Conversation heard in the city:
“If you don’t ride the range on a horse  – you don’t need a saddle.”
    “Hell –  if you don’t ride the range on a horse you don’t need a horse.”
(And on dark and cheery nights around some urban campfires, are told tales which claim that Captain Irony has an immortal warrior compadre: Super Obvious!)
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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