When a man took his best friend (who was a dog) to the vet for a check,
the animal expert said to him:
“Now that your pal is beginning to age,
for his own good you should put him on a highly restrictive diet I have developed,”
and for a time he did (which the canine had no choice but to begrudgingly accept);
then one day he looked at his friend and thought:
“What is life to an animal but living,
and enjoying those few basic activities that make it possible:
so why should he not have those things which his own nature silently shows that
he prefers without the interference of humanly conceived theories and prescriptions.”

One middle aged, sized and seized man
serves up the following explanation for his life and condition:
“My brain has continually had such astonishing thoughts
that the rest of me simply couldn’t keep up.”
 
 
 
 

Being human is not necessarily a fatal flaw
(unless of course you plan to continue along such a course).
 
 

In one city they still tell of one guy whose potential for vileness was such that
no house was fully of ill repute until he had visited it.
    (“Are we really talking about houses here, or minds?”)
 
 
 
 

For those still confused over the connection:
if thinking is to consciousness as the past is to the future, then consider:
you can think about thinking, but not about consciousness.
Question: Why, in certain places in the city does traffic seem to go faster,
and in others, slower, and in still another area, appear stopped altogether?
 
 
 
 

One man (always concerned about costs) who had been (as he put it):
“Experiencing severe personal problems in his life”
when told of the available alternative of death,
had one question: “Who pays?”

Hormones said: “We compete to  --  stay alive!”
and neurons said: “We compete to.....to.....to.....(?)”

One man had a plan,
he called it: The Man Plan,
he called it: The Man Plan ‘cause he
didn’t know where it actually came from.
 
 
 
 

And this story just in:
A pig, (or does that say: “pig farmer”?  --  it’s hard to make out....okay):
Either a pig or a pig farmer said to his son: "Remember my boy:
when anything does go right in your life  --  a little angel dies."

And one of the city irregulars sends along this report from his weck of the noods:
“No possession is worth having if you don’t ultimately resent it.”
   (“Is he using: ‘possession’ as a synonym for: ‘idea’?  --  and is he being sardonic?”)

Note: The one thing upon which all men could decisively agree they can never discuss.
   (“Question, if I may:
     in the city, why do they even bother with the word: ‘justice’?”
Now there!  --  talk about sarcasm covering for lack of comprehension!”)
 
 
 
 

The Mythical Quest  -- As Ne’er Seen By Un Mythical Eyes.
A real knight is his own: lover-in-distress;
                                           dragon-to-be-slayed (and of course),
                                           ultimate rescuer  --
all of this made possible by the fact that: Life itself is alive,
and men’s mental concept of it: An endless tale on a carrousel.
    (“’Made possible?!’”  snorted Merlin: “Try: ‘made inevitable.’”)
 
 
 
 

Item: A man with a map is half way home.
Second Version: A man who believes he has a map is inclined to make only half efforts to actually go anywhere.
Third Time: A man who has swallowed his map is half dead,
and thus has little need to travel anywhere anyhow.
   (“Is this why the more alert never say where they’re headed?”)
 
 
 
 

The city Bureau Of Mines & Bridges received a letter from a man seeking to: “copyright all of his thoughts,” least (he says)
someone try to set them to music after he goes to sleep.
 
 

Traffic Report.
Every time this sort of activity gets a name,
it mostly stops being this sort of activity.
 
 
 
 

One chap had tattooed on his forehead (as close to his frontal lobes as physiology,
and good taste would permit): “Ring Bell For Service,”
(no explanation given  --  but is any really required).
 
 
 
 

From a rebel garage rises this note:
“Next to dual exhaust and glass pack mufflers,
deep breathing is the key to mental drag racing success.”
 
 

The kinda guys who’ll tell you the kinda guys they are
make up most of the guys on the planet,
and by telling the kinda guys they are, they insure that they’ll never realize
what kinda guys they and everyone else really are.

The way to most comfortably survive city life is by keeping it as dark there as possible.
 
 
 
 

One state had a king who said that his only concern was what the people wanted:
he was seen as being weak and was soon overthrown;
the next ruler announced that his own interests were supreme,
and that the desires of the populace were irrelevant:
he too was quickly dispatched as too overbearing;
their favorite sovereign turned out to be one who said almost nothing,
and who for the most part, seemed distracted.
 
 
 
 

While it is true that physically: man cannot live by bread alone,
more miraculous is the fact that mentally: he can live by nothing alone.
 
 

P.S. An ill tempered map is not a travlin’ map.