Conversations From A Physics Lab To A Construction Site.
“When do potentially potent ideas reach critical mass?”
   “When your interest does.”
“What?”
   “When your enthusiasm does.”
“What?”
   “When your determination does.”
“What?”
   “When your enjoyment of trying to awaken does.”
Said Later In The Super’s Shack.
“No explosive material works when wet.”
    “Dynamite does.”
“I meant one that matters.”
The Contractor’s Ophthalmologist’s Final Word.
“Whatever the mind you were born with says matters is not anything that will ever
open your eyes to what is actually going on.”
    “I don’t care about that.”
“I know you don’t.
(Careful not to fall into any holes; I have to leave now and go some place.”)
 
 

The extent of a man’s independence-of-mind can be judged by
how big a mouth sore seems to him.
(“I can bear the plagues and pestilences  --
just don’t let my feet get so close to my face!”
Many matters bother men whilst they snooze that would not otherwise.
    “You mean like, natural stuff?!”)
Everyone gets slain; the man-who-knows  --  only by acts actually fatal.
    “And that’s supposed to be some sort of advantage?!”
Only if seems so to you.
 
 

A mortician says he recently found scratched on the embalming table these words from an unknown hand: “Life was like a movie I mostly slept through.”
(He adds that he trusts no previous client will be expecting a refund.)
 
 

One guy says he expects only one thing in life:
That his parents pay his way through life  --    (Oops!  --
this was not actually about a man, but some cells.)
 
 

One man continually searches his consciousness/mind for WMD’s  --
whimpings of mass distraction.
 
 

What ordinary men call the truth is at best  --  shadows-of-reality.
 
 

One man would frequently point to his image in a mirror and say to himself:
“Do not draw any conclusions from this.”
 
 

At odd times one chap suddenly feels that life is too much of a coincidence.
 
 

A Nudge That, Although Without Universal Consequence,
Could Have Favorable Local Usage.
The sleeping shouldn’t attempt satire.
 
 

A guy who came by while you were out suggested:
“A real man, if he was told that something horrible was necessary,
(for instance: his leg had to be removed),
would be so angry about it  --  it would make it unnecessary,
(and if that didn’t stop the event from occurring  --  he’d forget it ever happened.”)
 
 

Conversation Concerning All City Situations.
“Lies alone won’t solve this problem.”
    “Why not?”
“You’re right  --   they caused them so of course they can solve them.
(You should be in charge here.”)
 
 

The Way Of The Many.
“I would rather talk about life interestingly than live it.”

A shark is a shark and forever remains just like a shark,
while a human mind is like a beach: pushed and pulled constantly,
its contours continually in flux.
Full blown consciousness is like a cleansing hurricane, always on the horizon.
    (“It finally reached a point where I was afraid not to wake up.”
       See! --  even the weather has a sense of humor.)

                                                      Send in the next sucker, I mean patient.”
 
 
 

Originality is in such short supply that ordinary people just have to forget about it.
 
 

Weapons are to human institutions as words are thereto  --  just pushier.
 
 

It requires constricted thinking to take human existence seriously
(at least as deemed properly so by city-ites.)
 
 

Colloquy From Foreign Field Work.
“There are plants and animals found nowhere else.”
    “Ideas too.”
 
 

Things locked up long enough become rotten.
 
 

Many people (though they’re loath to admit it)
are extremely glad that their cells can’t talk.
    (“Not to mention their vegetables, huh?!”)
 
 

Time Saving Medical Advice.
Stare and you won’t notice so much your visual limitations.
“But isn’t that like saying: Dream and you won’t notice that you’re asleep?”
    Is it?
(For the first time, an internationally recognized physicist has stated that in the search for the T.O.E. no evidence has yet been found to suggest there is anything more to life than sex, drugs, and trying to stay awake.)
 
 

Behind closed doors, one man called himself into serious question:
something short of proclaiming himself a full failure or traitor,
yet still bringing his qualifications into severe doubt.
(He says he did it as a satire of what had already been going on
before he got involved.)
 
 

The Announcement.
“The following program is supported in part by nothing  --  absolutely nothing  --
same as all the other city ones."
 
 

If you’re not one-track-minded on a subject,
ordinary men can’t believe that you’re serious about it.
 
 

The man who knows doesn’t have anything to say to anybody except maybe, “Hi.”
 
 

The Standings.
One man recognizes only one of his several attitudes: undisputed champion.
 
 

Men move in herds;
so do synapses.
(Surprise, surprise!)
 
 

Plumbing the depths of man doesn’t take a long line.
 
 

Men who think it a privilege to be a soldier for the king, or a parishioner of a priest
are cows working in a leather goods store.
 
 

Plumbing the character of the things men need is not much of a challenge.
 
 

Said a man's mind to something:
"Knowing you as I do  --  I'd just as soon not know you."
(Okay: To the thoughts that appear naturally therein.)
 
 

Men in the northern latitudes need what they have labeled: spiritual rituals
to compensate for the paucity of prune trees.
 
 

Enlightening ideas are to ordinary ones as pirate radio stations are to
FCC sanctioned ones.
 
 

Where else but among humans can one become famous for having failed
in some extraordinary manner
(the drummer who was fired just before the band became successful.)
 
 

A giant step forward is being able to erase the apparent difference between: stimulation, and: simulation.