One day the ole man called all the kids around him and said, “Jeeze, all you little nippers have proved to be a real pain in the ole neural-kazoozer.” And they all laughed, and clapped their hands, and jumped about squealing and shouted, “We, know, we know, that’s why we’re us and you’re you!” And the oldster bit on his lip for a bit, and said, “Hell, I could have figured that out for myself.” (Then he squealed about for a little while.)
Race Update: Hormones are still ahead.
The first thing, every morning that some conservatively constructed men do is ask themselves, “Is this ‘every morning,’ and is this the ‘first thing’ I’m doing?” (After this, all seems to roll right along for them.)
To help lessen Plebian entanglements, you might care to note that, “Stop gap measures,” are the only ones available.
Over in one neural universe, on a certain skull planet, the kid and the ole man were sitting around the bare spot in the backyard when an uncle suddenly stood and declared, “No man has truly arrived until he’s written his autobiography.” And after a period of polite silence, the lad asked, “Dad, exactly what destination does he have in mind?” And the progenitor replied, “You should grant great leeway, latitude and indifference, to signals from side-track ancestors.” And the uncle said, “Okay, have it your way, but I’ll be back.”
You should realize by now that what might be operationally correct on an obscure hill-side site, may be irrational and fallacious down in the City, for instance, up in the Revolutionist Camp the following is said: “The greatest book ever written doesn’t make any difference.”