One man spent the first fifty years of his life inside a noisy factory
that produced a product in which he had no interest.
(Or maybe it was the other way around.)
 
 
 

To help save itself physically, consciousness commonly has to take a route
outside of itself (e.g. conceiving of, then overseeing the manufacture of
x-ray & CAT machines which have the ability to locate life threatening lumps before the body suffers any warning symptoms), but to emancipate itself incorporeally, consciousness must focus exclusively on itself.

After one man realized that while many things can shorten life, none can lengthen it,
he then drug a crow bar through his scalp trying to see how this applies to his
attempts to awaken from consciousness’ routine dream.
 
 
 

All You Need To Know About Irony.
Dying men sense none.
 
 
 

Everything that goes on in man’s cultural reality is an attempted explanation-of-things, (for those who don’t care for scientific ones).
 
 
 

Spittles one guy:
“If you have no interest in money, fame, or making god happy,
what’s the point of living?!”
(He then predicted that his final comeuppance will be: The Trial Of The Century,
[if not The Farce].)
 
 
 

One guy says his autobiography begins and ends with the same words:
“What the hell,”   (but with different punctuation).
 
 
 

The article getting the most attention in the latest issue of one man’s
private Medical Journal is one entitled:
“The Increasing Instances Of Personal Retardation In Me.”
 
 
 

Remarked a prisoner confronting execution:
“The great thing about being shot in ¾ time is that
it keeps all involved off balance.”

“I find even just a radio playing in the background quite pleasurable,”
said consciousness, “in fact  –  a tremendous relief!”
 
 
 

The two foes of non-conscious consciousness are: still & quiet.
 
 
 

Life for everyone begins as an either/or proposition,
and for the certain man, so does it end  --  (but with a certain twist).
 
 
 

In his private inner affairs one man says he is presently enjoying
the lowest mortgage rates he’s seen in decades.
 
 
 

One man offers his un patented, free tip:
“Being a smart ass is your cheapest way out.”
 
 
 

A man with lots on his mind doesn’t really have much of one.
 
 
 

Emails a reader:
“Regarding an earlier story about irony wherein you said that a dying man
would feel none  --  I must disagree:
I can easily picture such a man being filled with a sense of irony.”
    If so: he’s not dying right.
 
 
 

One man spent the first fifty years of his life inside a noisy factory
that produced a product in which he had no interest  –
now he doesn’t,  --  not since grasping the working of consciousness.
 
 
 

As he passed the city courthouse a chap remarked:
“There are two ways you can go about this life:
You can try to get justice,
or you can try to get by.”
 
 
 

Nursery Rhyme Update.
If sally didn’t go ‘round the roses  –   there’d be no roses.
(The laws of Fold-Over Physics do show up in surprising venues.)
 
 
 

Everybody has a mental hobby: for some it is science, for others, religion,
and still others, sarcasm;
only the nervous-system-rebel has one with substance
(because, having-substance is one of the professed features of his hobby).
   (“Not only do I not get that one –  I do not want to!”)
 
 
 

Observes one guy:
“If justice really prevailed: you would never get sick on holidays
(or all hospitals would be closed and doctors unreachable so that you
couldn’t get sick even if you wanted to).”
Neurology Update.
If you were asked the question: “How do you have the most fun possible for the brain?” –  and you gave an answer  –   you’re not having it.
Another e-mail just in:
“How come some things, once noted, are obvious, while others, when commented on, become more obscure?  Does this indicate some sort of something-or-other
going on with my consciousness about which I am not knowledgeable? –  and if so:
how can I not be knowledgeable about the very thing that is my ‘I’?!
Can’t answer that one, can you mister smarty-pants?!
Your Fan,” etc.
Everybody has a mental hobby  –   everyone must  –
or else they’d be forced to see what’s going on.
     (“Wait! –  so you’re saying that we are not asleep, deluded and distracted
        by accident?.....is that what you’re.....naw! –  forget it.”)

Unless you have decided to settle in and remain permanently in the city,
one man offers these three rules of Rebel Etiquette:
Don’t dwell on seems;
  don’t lean on apparently,
    and never go drinking with the obvious.

Battlefield Update.
One man says his militaristic fears are not lashed to the machinations of his neighbors in that the dogs of war stalk about inside his own breeches crying, “Havoc!”
 
 
 

Travel Update.
You for sure won’t get anywhere in this kinda activity without you manipulate, massage, and generally manhandle your own brain.
  If you don’t –  someone else will  --  all of life will.
     (“Pa pa: is that what living-in-a-dream is: being blind, but by someone else’s hand?”
“Not bad, little nipper.”)
 
 
 

Nautical News.
“Go ahead,” says one salt, “dream of sailing  –  when the tide is out  –  everyone does.”
    (“How else does consciousness stay sane?” inquires another.)
 
 
 

Two Measures From A Dialogue In D.
“Anyone who uses the word, always should be shot.”
   “Do you mean, every time they do?”
(Captain Irony [actually Professor Obvious in disguise] pouted: “Don’t you kiss me, unless you mean it.”)
 
 
 

One man’s consciousness always feels better once it gets through the nazzro channel and into the san remoagoon.
(Although he admits he does not know what all of that literally means).
 
 
 

One man feared an anomalous growth in his head:
turned out not to be a tumor  –  but his own consciousness.
 
 
 

With a certain blurring of time zones and abridgement of dimensional restrictions,
it is possible for the first-to-go to be the last-to-stay.
(As always: these tricks carry a limited warranty;
the reference is to the limitation of the consumer, not the toy.)
The rebel sailor sails NOW.
Your consciousness can only be conscious at this moment; not before, and not later  –  that’s what so difficult and annoying.
     “To ordinary consciousness you mean?!”
Who would have it any other way!?
 

“Hey –  wait a second: are you saying we have a choice?”
     You mean: does consciousness have a choice.
“Yeah!..........right!..........I guess.”