One
day whilst privately conversing with his self a man noted:
“I
may not be a genius, but at least I'm not a pinhead.”
“But if (as you admit) you're not all that
intellectually
acute,
how can you know that for sure?”
“Well
thanks for making my day!”
One
man’s regular mind said to his real thinking:
“I
don’t need you when I'm right,” which caused the latter to muse:
“This
is going to entail more work than I originally imagined.”
There
was a pianist whose basic working unit consisted of him and a bassist,
but
when the gig could afford it, he would insist on adding a drummer,
explaining:
“Since
rhythm is the root of all music, how can you not have a
percussionist
when
one is available?!” – and when the venue could not bear the
additional
cost, he would say to to his self: “Since rhythm is so elemental
to music,
the
listener’s own bodies will supply the absent drummer.”
After
hearing him say this, and pondering the matter at some length, the
pianist’s
mind felt certain there was a slippery allegorical lesson in there
somewhere.
A
would-be neural rebel asked his self:
“Has
working to awaken made you any smarter?” – and his other he
replied:
“Hey,
don’t be asking me hard questions like that!”
The
ultimate act of posturing is defending yourself against unfair
criticism.
You
present testimonials when you have no proof.
(By the by: there is no proof for any intangible matter.)
Note:All
criticism of a normal person is unfair.
Said
a father to a son:
“The
observations of a pinhead require no response – they
are their own.”
Ponder
this: why are men only interested in quoting serious comments,
memorizing
stern speeches, and repeating serious poetry,
and
not in doing so regarding the humorous?
One
reason that a man-who-knows is never particularly popular is that
he
doesn’t have it in for anyone.
Predicting
the second-reality is problematic, the first --
outright foolish.
Waiting
several hours to seek
medical attention for his severed leg caused
one man to waste much
blood,
“But not as much as I did for the years I allowed my neurons to work as
they inherently wanted to.”
(Priorities my friend – priorities.)
Another
advantage that making movies has over living your life is that in the
former,
when you run out of emotionally charged scenes in the script, you
can go immediately to shooting in very dark conditions.
After
hearing the side effects of a medication described as:
“Dizziness,
blurred vision and disorientation,” a man thought:
“Well,
that explains it! – someone is giving me drugs at night while I'm
asleep.”
This
fax just in from a reader:
“Something
bothered me all last night: in yesterday's News
you reported an item
that
said: 'Life can absorb a lotta crap' --
were you referring to me?!”
One
chap so defines guilt: “Guilt is the too-tight cotton under shorts I
wear
during
the week, but replace with sexy silk ones on the weekend.
(Then of course back to the mundanies on Monday.”)
Second-Reality
Verbally Revealed Yet Again.
Since
you can't actually live in it, there is no way to mistreat the
Gingerbread
House.
“Hey,” said one of the King’s messengers, “don’t blame me – the truth IS obnoxious.”
A
lad asked his dad:
“Must
I think what everyone else is thinking?”
“You make an initial error in your question in that it treats what
occurs
in
ordinary men’s minds as their thinking;
their consciousness acts as a mechanical medium for the thoughts which
Life
wants them to experience, so: yes, you must (quote)‘think’
what everyone else does
IF you want to be part of normal humanity.”
(Alternative
Ending:
“You
know of course, that was not what I was asking.”
“Yes, but just answering, ‘No’ wouldn’t have given me a chance to speak
at length.”
In
the city, men concocted the concept of one-way-streets to compensate
for
the fact that they all seemed to be so anyway.
(“Well I'll be damned if I'll have my ass kicked by a mermaid without
at
least
retaliating to the extent of putting a name on the creature.”
There you have second-reality’s eternal, desperation-swipe.)
Kyroot’s
Fairy Tale For The Day.
There
was once a man whose thinking was SO original that
no
one could even tell he existed.
The
End.
J
Jan's
Daily
Who-Said-That!?
News
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