In one land their G.N.I.P. Index (Gross National Intellectual Product Index)
is tied to the manufacturing of shoes for fish.
Only those placidly captive believe that continuing confessions of stupidity
prove their ever increasing intelligence.
(The odds of the former activity ever transporting you to the latter destination
are as likely as ramsey lewis on a plane trip being able to cram rachmaninoff into
his karajan luggage.)
 

Critics, bomb throwers & sardonic wits are all natural parts of a herd;
for every collective there is an anti collective,
and the two combined constitute the minimum for a collective.
Life does not grow without what appears from within to be, internal conflict.
     (“Is there no way out of this?”
Not for those who must ask.)
 

A glib city gossip and social commentator during a speech said:
“Everyone has an maiden aunt who drinks too much…”
and when someone interrupted and asked about those who have no aunt,
he fumbled momentarily with his papers, glanced off toward The Bering Straits,
and muttered: “Then it's up to them to become their own aunt.”
 

Proper participation in prison sports requires total commitment:
you have to dive right in and swim the full course;
judges cannot respond to races half run.
“I realize that I have but one consciousness to give to an automatic state of brain,
and to it I freely and gladly submit,”     (so say all collectively certified athletes.)
 

In mental areas (same as with geo-political ones):
Those who get there first are then considered the real natives.
He who finally escapes never again identifies himself or says where he’s from.
 

This one guy who’d always eat too much would always say: “Hey! –  I ate too much.”
 

Duty is pertinent only to creatures who can think independently of the collective;
and those who are free have but one duty.
(Want to guess what that is?
    “Besides: Thinking more than you have to?”)
 

One guy who’d secretly escaped never mentioned the source of his nourishment
after that.
 

An escapee can be as silly as he wants to be (as long as he doesn’t take it seriously).
 

From one view concerning the human confinement:
surprising is the dearth of those trying to escape and the plentitude of those
anxious to stay right where they are.
 

Anything a prisoner’s body can do, the conscious part of his brain can think about  –
what else does it have to think about?!
(Only the certain man might have a meaningful response to this.)
 

You pursue a wasteful course in questioning the authority or hegemony of words
for they are this planet’s oldest royal bloodline.
And all the king’s loyal conscripts, by their actions proclaim their readiness
to spill all of the mental blood necessary for his continued reign.
    (“No! –  I do not want go beyond the castle’s walls; who knows what is out there?!”)
Whenever he would intercept notes being passed around in prison,
one man would reverse all the sentences and turn all the letters therein upside down.
 

A man diagnosed to have a terminal illness later had but one request:
that he outlive the doctor who gave him the news.
 

Inquiry based on binary, partisan sight can only lead to knowledge that does not conflict with prison regulations nor disturbs the inmates' peace.
 

Any sight with numerable dimensions isn’t worth seeing.
 

Should it not be clear to all but the most inane of inmates that the prison is not going to provide workable information on how to escape;
to berate an institution (such as a university for wisdom not being forthcoming,
or a church for not producing goodness)
is a complete failure to grasp the true purpose of institutions.
The organized thought life feeds man is a driving into the skull, the horns of cattle
(or if you prefer: the branding of a prisoner’s number into his skin).
 

In one land the latest news always is that: there IS no latest news.
 

After a certain amount of good natured prodding, one reticent prisoner
finally admitted that while he personally saw it as no particular cause to brag
it probably could be truthfully said of him that he was more likely to help himself
before he would other people.
Pride among a group of lions may not be what gophers would expect.
    “It’s true: you can’t just do-your-act  –   you’ve got to play-the-room,”
noted the old song and dense (sorry) dance man.
One guy tried to appear to always be in his forties,
(though some couldn’t tell whether his intention was age or latitude.)
 

A man with hormones has a friend;
a man with a mind has a friend;
a man with hormones and a mind who are friends has world class companionship.
 

Prisoners who  prefer certain words and ideas over others
are often allowed to choose their own form of execution.
    (“And why not,” noted the warden, “since the whole affair is illusory anyway.”)
The blind must keep an ear peeled; the deaf, an eye cocked,
and those given mind sedatives, another part of their consciousness active.
 

Note that all institutions award titles  (since that's all they have).
    (“Can institutions be seen as a metaphor for your own congenital mind?”)
One guy thought of the unconventional activity of his brain that he had managed to
enable as: The Brain Buster --  which his natural born part found incomprehensible --
and which bothered the man not a whit.
 

On one world, the local god (just as a joke) made those with the least understanding
the most vocal of advisors regarding how the creatures should live  –  but –
after it became clear how well it worked, he denied it was ever meant as a joke.
(Apropos of naught perhaps: one man was so clumsy that after he was dead
he stumbled while climbing into his casket.)
 

Another commonly overlooked charm of a polarized realm is that
everything that can be reversed  –   can also not be.
 

Note: There is only one cure for imprisonment,
and it is just south of astounding that this is so difficult for men to see,
(or at least to admit they do.)