Men understand that their genes are undoubtedly responsible for their bodies,
but these same genes make men pretend oblivion to the gene’s responsibility
for their minds:
thus do a puppet and a puppeteer live a lifetime, jammed up, jowl to jowl
in a cramped space, yet with the former able to feel himself a self determining entity (or at least pretending to:
a necessity for the mind to meet its responsibilities).
“Pa pa: did you notice how many times the word, responsibility was used
in what was just said?"
    “Obviously a sop to some readers, for have you not noticed:
      creatures who cannot fly love to read about those who can (in other words):
      it is why humans enjoy fiction: reading about interesting exploits in the lives of
      made up people to compensate for the lack of same in their own.”

A certain man, as he drove past churches, psychiatric clinics and the
storefronts of sundry soothsayers, suddenly was the sluiceway for this thought:
“Why do men invent a needless middle man, god, and ask him to cure their illnesses rather than just appealing directly to their brain who alone has the ability.”
And for readers up to it, ratchet his puzzlement tighter and ponder it thus:
“Why do men’s nervous system have its consciousness concoct the idea of god,
and then petition this self made invention to do something,
such as relieve their body of  a cancer,
which is normal responsibility of the immune system,
which is subject to the ultimate direction OF consciousness  --  what gives?
To what end does life have man’s nervous system pursuing such a circuitous course, and how could understanding the inexpressible answer to this
not be the understanding of everything.
 
 
 
 
 

One chap, while taking a break became the medium for this thought:
“For there to be free will, men would have to have had an original plan,
which would require first that they intended to be born,
and the acts in their lives that would closest suggest any freedom would be
those situations wherein one man attempts to sell something to another man,
even more precisely: con games.”
As he gazed off into the sunny sky, a trailing, slap-to-his-own-head idea appeared: “Strange yet strangely neat: the only human activity that even comes close to
meeting the requirements of a willfully conceived and freely executed act
would be one man’s attempted perpetration of fraud upon another.”
There would be no spot within all human culture that would be immune to the ramifications of this: pick any example you fancy from religion to art to education,
and ponder the nexus for yourself   --  it can be quite eye/I popping.
 
 
 
 

Re The Diverse Responsibilities Of The Penthouse And The Basement
In The Construct Of Man’s Nervous System.
Mind’s job is to plan: instinct does not plan:
hunger (for instance) instantly moves a man to search for food;
mind has no such essential needs to motivate it;
mind must provide its own.
    “PROVIDE? --  coming from where?!”
Okay: create.
 
 
 

The local god in one area told the beings in his charge to call him, Turd Face,
“Just,” he explained: “To help keep them humble,” but when they heard this,
they all thought: “Surely he means to help keep HIM humble.”
How difficult it is for talking creatures to comprehend in any instance,
the actual purpose of their words’ trajectory.
What understanding has a puppet of the sounds coming from his mouth;
regardless of how apt it may be in delivering the arrow,
a bow in the dark never realizes what the target is.
Words serve as planners,
but ordinary men are made to take them as accomplishments;
words are commonly shadows of matters not yet appeared,
and only a man who knows can see it.
 
 
 

Bunco Alert!
When you try to explain what you are,
you have become the swindler and the swindled.
“You mean simply that: the hearing of your mind is again enthralled by its speaking?!”
         Very good.
 
 
 

Said (or at least he wanted to say) one chap when he would seek to speak about
that certain-matter with a man he suspected understood it,
and who was given to some jocularity when conversing thereabout:
“When we converse on this subject (knowing my mind as I do):
perhaps it be best  --  we bring not in jest,”
for whenever he heard something related to the Great Search
(the most serious matter in all of his life) that made him want to laugh  --
he was much disturbed;
it seemed to him that nothing that would be really  pertinent to this
most extraordinary matter could in any manner be humorous;

Speaking in consideration of the mental and instinctive areas of
the human nervous system: a man with that certain hunger
is like a caboose trying to rearrange things so that it can pull the train:
a feat not possible in the congested confines of the city,
but one not totally inconceivable outside the normal urban limits.
Which reminds of a maxim popular with a people on another world:
“If you act uninterested  --  life will leave you alone.”
(FYI: the ancient, original version was: “If you act dumb…”)
And Now Today’s: Good News.
If you can enjoy being antsy and irritated  --
you can enjoy being civilized and ordinary.
And now: The Bad News.  Huh?!  --  what could be worse than that!
 
 
 

From the east stands came the cheer:
“Hey, Hey!  --  it’s in the genes!” countered from the west stands by:
“No, No!   It’s in the scenes  --  in which we’ve lived!”  --
and not withstanding the twin exhortations  --  the game never ends!  --
and none ever realize what has actually transpired, save the fifty yard line
(who by nature is silent).
“Pa pa: when I grow to fully fit my uniform, can I then shut up?!”
    “CAN YOU?  --  if you don’t --
      the effect of your blabber will be to rip it right back off of you.”
 
 
 

“Yea yea! --  it’s DNA!”
     “No no! – in conditions’ flow!”
Note: The Good, and Bad News for a man who knows is that he doesn’t listen to it.
Victory over the weak and unprepared is the norm –
thus do extraordinary triumphs go unreported,
(see what that tells you about the standing of your normal thoughts).