A father said to a son:
“Any arrangement of words men may put together to explain a certain thing  –
will explain something.”
    “Is this related to your claim that men know more than they are aware they do? --
      wait! –  or to your other statement that men do not know as much as
      they believe they do?”
“The answer to that is: The most important element to a barbecue is a pig -- no wait!  –
a barbecue recipe.”
(The lad appeared soused in nonplusedness  –  the elder then added):
“A king told his favorite prince:
‘When you’re diagnosed as having an ill  –
always blame the doctor for your having the ill.’”  (Which instantly made the matter clear to the boy.)
 
 

One man spent much time and money filling out questionnaires from match making services just to see if any of them would ever select him as his ideal mate.
 
 

No matter how hard he would cough, hawk and expectorate,
one man could never clear his throat of his self.
 
 

Words themselves have one inexorable rule:
Never to eat anything larger than your head.
 

Is an investigator to be considered good if he knows where a sought-for suspect
has been --  even if he doesn’t know where he is now?
    (“And this has something to do with shaking one part of your consciousness out of  the mind’s overall snoozing distraction?”)
 
 

Contemplating the cattle in the corral a cowpoke thought:
“Do herd animals actually need to be imprisoned?”
 
 

One guy diagnoses his ordinary mind as suffering from a type of neural dyslexia
which caused almost everything it thinks to come out backwards,
or otherwise screwed up.
 
 

One haughty, nautically minded man gave his brain its own nick name:
“Sunken Treasure”  (which he even considered having painted on his stern, but
whose connection he wasn’t sure those trailing in his intellectual wake would make.
[His wife muttered that she wasn’t sure he  even made the connection.])
 
 

The difference between a man who writes stories about waking up,
and a normal novelist is that the latter imagines about men’s lives
while the former imagines about men’s imagining.
 
 

The independent mind doesn’t look at other people’s thoughts  –
but through them.
 
 

Confab.
“What is the antidote to sleeping?”
    “Remembering.”
“How about forgetting?”
    “Yes: everything that causes you to sleep.”
 
 

A city park pamphleteer's latest offering reads:
“Animals have no conscience  –  or they would be no better than man.”
(An elderly woman upon seeing it huffed: "Speak for yourself young man!”)
 
 

Mr. Helpful.
One guys says: “I don’t know squat  --  but I certainly don’t mind sharing it.”
 
 

When you’re pretending, it’s difficult to appear that you’re not --
(which accounts for the persistent popularity of folk music and weight loss programs).
     (“You left out religion and vocal support for the king.”)
 
 

A prime vintage ole prison sorehead recently over a checker game defined civilization as: “Each generation's camouflage of its predecessor's barbarism.”
    (“Hey! –  that could also describe the educating of an individual man’s mind.”)
 
 

Another surly sort said the following to his off spring:
“Whenever some bladder brain tells you something useful that you’ve never
thought of before, always say: ‘Big deal! –  I knew that already.’ ”
The younger thought about this for a sec, then said:
“Big deal!  –   I…”      “Hold it sucker!” shouted the ole man, “don’t go a step further."
 
 

A man able to have thoughts independent of the herd, unusually enjoys himself,
(some speculate that even life kinda fancies such a man.)
    “Are men who make this supposition those of independent thoughts,
     or outsider theorists?”
You guess.
 
 

A chap who variously claims to work in either the Theology or Economics department of city college, and who appears the epitome of propriety, predictability and civility, (indeed could be called: unsurpassed, candy assed),
one afternoon (after a lengthy lapse in happy hour),
faced himself in the bar’s bathroom mirror and said:
“Why don’t you just e-a-s-e up ole chum  -- there are laws and standards already
in place to determine what you will say and do, just why not just e-a-s-e up!”
His reflection hiccuped and shakily replied: “Are you just now coming to this?!”
 
 

A Rhyme For Mind.
Doing a re write  –  won’t make it right.

  Second Verse.
  Doing a re write  –  can make it right.

    Third Verse.
     What need you say after you’ve said it all.

      Fourth Verse.
       There ain’t no fourth verse when you reach this point  –
       yeah, yeah!  –  this particular place.