The perceived, relative importance of the words filed in an individual's consciousness by which that unique intangible reality of man is composed, is determined by
forces other than their own intellectual decision making, so that for example:
a typical man cannot dismiss the word-cum-concept of god from his inner mental world in the same way he can, leprechaun, even though they are the same thing;
this is due to ordinary consciousness’ inability to analyze itself in the sense necessary to shake itself from the dream of its immaterial reality being something other than
it is; routine consciousness can do what passes for analysis of the word god but not of itself; it can debate and ponder the question: “Does god exist or not?”  but not the question needed to ever solve-the-case (which roughly goes something like this):
“What’s the deal with the idea of a god being so seemingly real and natural to my brain when it is totally without substance?  –  and what should this be telling me about the nature of human consciousness?” (this is not a specific assault on the idea of god,
just one example; in its stead you can plug in any other human concept that has no material reality [truth, goodness, reputation, etc]).
The last question is always in order for the investigator dedicated to solving the case;
it is an inquiry directed not at any of the words/concepts lodged in men’s brains about matters which have no tangible reality (which indeed would not exist had not man’s mind and tongue created them) --  no  –  the certain man's investigation is aimed squarely at the thing that makes it all possible  –   consciousness,
and this scrutiny can only be profitably pursued via original thought,
not by any debating or rehashing of anything anyone else has already said or writ:
the only way YOU will ever solve the case is by examining your own consciousness
in a purely original manner (which is always analytical as opposed to belief driven).
 
 

The techniques needed by the special investigator to solve-the-case do not include ridicule, sarcasm, irony or criticism of any kind, in that the inquiry does not reveal that anything specific in life is amiss, but rather points out to the certain man that from the perspective of his aim, everything is amiss, in the sense that dreams cannot be taken as reality nor beliefs mistaken for thinking without his efforts being fatally impaired.
 
 

You can never understand the specific tricks and illusions integral to the performances constantly taking place on the inner stage of man’s consciousness
until you grasp the nature of the stage itself;
lacking this personal discovery, the smoke-&-mirrors natural to this inner reality will keep your attention so distracted that you never realize that the smoke-&-mirrors
are all there is TO the performances;
the illusions ARE inner reality's reality;
there is nothing wrong about this;
the arrangement is directly responsible for the collective civilizing of man,
and clearly of no interest to 99.999% of humanity,
but for the minuscule remainder  –  Ahhhh!  –  what a different story.
 
 

As he sits around the house, the man who-knows-what-he’s-doing won’t hesitate to
pick off flies with a .44 mag.
Appropriately sized reactions are always a consideration  –   except with:
the man who knows what he’s doing,
for he recognizes that all reactions to man’s intangible reality are so vacuous to his aim that exaggeration is the only feasible name of that specious game.
 
 

Tete-A-Tete.
“Notwithstanding their publicized protestations: no business, institution or
other organization actually wants to hear-from-you,
they simply want you to contact them so they can put your name on a mailing list.”
    “Hell, that sounds like the way my mind works on me.”
 “How so?”
    “Well.....I’m not sure.....but what I just said sure sounds right doesn’t it.”
“Strangely  –  yes.”
 

The ole man told the kid:
”All human occupations are bullshit, save farming.”
   “But some are more shit than others, no?”
“You could make such an argument (though it is ultimately meaningless).”
    “Just like the occupations, no!?”
 
 

The Standard Human Sequence.
At twenty: hormones have you all hyped up;
at thirty (in some): it’s intellectual interests;
at forty: it’s the desperation engendered by hormonal degradation (the mid life panic),
and by sixty (if you’re still sane): it’s all over (unless throughout it all
you’ve been trying to get-to-the-bottom-of-things,
then there’s always the possibility of you not dying before you stop breathing).
 
 

Says one guy:
“I only engage in boring stuff to please others (and of course my own automatic-consciousness).”
(His look when he added the parenthetical implied something less than 24-carat sincerity.)
 
 

The way to uncover the fact that you do not really understand some matter which you say you do is if you have any urge to respond to an attack on your expression of same.

In Re Vermin Infestation of Consciousness.
Why be a roach among rats when you can be the pied piper  --  in doc martens.
Based on their verbal behavior: commonly do men believe that through
criticism of others will they uncover the secret and solve the mystery:
equestrian instructions from pole corter.
(The real deal man steps only on his self.)
 
 

On one world much given to what they profess to be, self-analysis,
they have a legend which says that long, long ago the Universe said to Life:
“Bend over and cough.” (As did god man and thought consciousness.)
 
 

The way to mark yourself as a thinker in the city is to publicly note how you have been singled out for either abuse or willful neglect by fate, the forces of darkness,
a conspiracy of your intellectual inferiors, or those simply jealous of you.
(As everyone knows):
All metaphysically great men are always  --  blah blah blah de blahed.
 
 

From the files labeled: “The Environment Sure Looks A Lot Like You.”
If the temperature rises and you do not agreeably adapt,
you end up even hotter than necessary.
When (as is natural) consciousness does not consistently differentiate between
the two realities in which normal men exist (the outer physical reality, and the inner intangible one, composed of all things spiritual, cultural, intellectual/philosophical)
a person (also naturally) feels confused, uncertain, mentally disoriented;
ordinary humans accept this as the ordinary human condition and those who feel the urge to alter it seek solace from religion, counseling or conversation,
none of which will change human consciousness in that consciousness invented them, and if it had the ability to change itself it would do so directly and wouldn’t be involved in creating and maintaining these numerous impotent facades.

One man says he’s become for the first time, enamored of sports,
because for some reason he’s begun to find their costumes more interesting than
those of the city’s religions and courts.
Outer reality and inner reality each have their own appeal;
their greatest delight for the certain man however,
is in their being recognized for what they individually are.
 
 

Confusion U. & The Evolvement Of City-ites.
As an adolescent, one man was fond of declaring:
“What does science know!  –   what does science know!?”  –
then after he graduated, changed it to:
“I are now a scientist  –   what d’ya wanna know?  –   what d’ya wanna know!?”

Treason is only possible if you can jump above the gravity where you are,
and blasphemy realizable only by spitting in your own face.
    When inner & outer reality unseen meet
    is where ordinary consciousness is crushed.
        Where tracks enter a tunnel is where routine trains are lost.

(“I don’t know what happened: I was thinking all right until I passed some....oh,
I don’t know.....some invisible line or something.”                  He unwitting hit it.)
 
 

“In a certain way: we are all prisoners,” declared one of the speakers in city park,
“Do you mean just man or all of life?” asked a man in the crowd that had gathered,
“Aye, the latter,” the speaker replied,
“Then what about human thoughts?” challenged the chap,
to which the urban orator responded: “I do have an answer to that.....”
and after an extended silence, the voice pressed him,
“Then may we hear it?”
“Nay,” he said, “they must come ask for themselves.”
Now forget about parks and the characters above mentioned and you will have a
most serviceable picture of the situation confronting a man who undertakes to solve-the-case: for he is confronted with a suspect  –  the only feasible suspect  –
who can reveal nothing about his self; he will not in fact, even show up for
his own interrogation  --  but he can make ordinary consciousness believe he did  –
but if nothing else, the lack of ever obtaining any useful information is proof enough
of the illusion involved.

The thoughts natural to consciousness will never come to hear themselves explained,  they appear to  --  but then they become the only presence present;
wherever they show up  –   they’re all there is and freud cannot analyze his self,
nor socrates question his self  –  not the standard versions of such paradigms;
only a few out of a billion have a brain wired with this potential;
only such a man will ever crack the case and solve the mystery –
the mystery inside of him  –  inside the talking, conscious part of his brain,
which is the invisible line that defines the inner and outer realities, the secret spot,