A father said to a son:
“In a meaningless way (as all such mental excursions be)  you could say
it is sad that the passionate political, religious, social beliefs of men are so foolish,
in that from one view they are ordinary people’s version of  trying to wake up."
 
 

The main job of city thinkers/philosophers is to continually make note of the obvious
as though it is a brand new discovery.
 
 
 
 

Standing atop the highest local elevation, a man declared:
“From this day forward I shall not  --  repeat: shall not
be responsible for the likes of me!”
 
 
 
 

A man said to a son:
“I feel it my duty to warn you that if you begin to take life too seriously
you run the risk of becoming a mystic & wanting to have transcendental experiences.”
    “And if I don’t?”
“You’ll never become one.”
In the number three slot and rising on the rebel’s Hit Parade is a song entitled:
“It’s Never Too Late ‘Til It’s W-A-Y Too Late! --  And Even Then It’s Not:
‘Cause It Could Just Be Old Mister: ‘Too-Early’ Coming At You
From The Opposite Direction.”

Scientific rather Than Artistic Analysis Of The Above:
Timing is everything!  --  so much so that hormones don’t even have a word for it.
A Transportational Approach Also Thereto:
It is to the weakest wheels on illusory carts that the grease of seriousness
must be most richly applied.

One urban area had a guy with a really loud voice yell out to everyone every morning:
                                                                “Life in the city,
                                                                  is gritty and earnest,
                                                                  so take subtle thoughts,
                                                                  and throw ‘em in the furnace.”

Question: How can you distinguish reputable reports men leave
of how they achieved enlightenment from bogus ones?
    By ignoring them all.
The certain man’s journey is the only one known to mortals that if described  --
     disappears.
“Ah hah!” cries a man in the city: “So that’s how he gets from here to there
with them both being inconceivable!”
    To you?!
“Of course: ‘to me’ you twit: in whom else would I have any interest!”

Legend says there was once a man who apparently could not differentiate between “and” and “but,” but it did not seem to make any difference in his life,

The gap between what you think you know and what you think you do not know
is filled by what everyone else thinks they know.
 
 
 
 

Standing atop a ladder set on the highest local elevation, a man announced:
“From this day onward I shall no longer take any shit from the likes of me?"
and immediately inquired as to whom all this might include, and instantly reported:
“To me all --  that’s: whom all:
who the hell else can give me shit that matters to me?!”
    “You mean that seems to matter to you.”
“Certainly!  --  what else IS there that matters!”

Neurons can sure give you a headache  --  if you listen to ‘em;
hormones can give you every grief possible without even a, “Howdy do.”
The rebel quickly learns which sound of gunfire to take seriously
(if he doesn’t, he’ll keep on keeling over from imaginary hits same as everyone else).
“What a sight my boy: just look out there: as far as the eye can see  --
a field of pretend dead men.”
Before they fired him (for what they in desperation termed: “Inner impertinence,”)
one man at the animal shelter would ask anyone who stopped in
why otherwise perfectly wild creatures would turn themselves in to city authorities.
Makes you wonder: Who really  has the least sense of humor: neurons or hormones?
To be fair and accurate: the biggest namable culprit in this regard
is not normally mentioned: the collective life of man itself  --
now that’s  who has no sense of humor at all!  --  which is why the certain man
always has to leave town to have a good laugh.
One guy’s favorite song used to be:
“Oh, You’ll: Never Get Away, Never Get Away, Never Get Away!”  until he got away.
Funny how a man who suffered over having shingles in his dreams
never again thinks about them after he awakens  --   and how triply funny that
no one sees this is true regarding everything in man’s mentally conceived reality,
the simple realization of which hands you the cure for all ills men find therein.
“You mean that they imagine they find therein?!”
      “Like: what else is possible, you blubber brain!”
And one rebel gave his Great  Search its own name: “So What Else Is New?!”