When the psychiatrist-cum-author turned in a manuscript containing the quote:
“Money and fame are not a substitute for love and self acceptance,”
the publisher said to him:
“We can’t present this as non-fiction:
here in the city everything is a substitute for everything else.
Come to your senses, man!”
 
 

In the eternal struggle between the hawk and the prairie dog
one man says he wants to be both,
(his consciousness points out: “What choice do you have?
Though surprisingly few people seem aware of this.)”
 
 

When a man who’d had numerous lovers leave him
and who appeared to be no worse for the wear was told:
“You sure seem to have no trouble getting-over-people,”
he thought for a second  --  then replied: “All but one.”
 
 

One man made him and all his family ask:
“If your best is not yet to come, what’s the sense of coming?!
Or what faith can you have in your sense of ‘best’ ?!”
 
 

One man made a pact with his self to only have seizures
when he is out of town.                    (Or maybe the pact was with town?!?)
One man’s favorite song is: “Don’t Be A Goober,” crooned he says, to: “Guess who.”
 
 

It’s easy enough to walk away from a bargaining session
if you never did understand what its purpose was.
    “Pa pa: that causes me to ask:
      Is there any circumstance wherein ignorance can be a benefit?”
“Yes, but trickily so in words: To be down alice’s-hole and yet keep yourself
privately ignorant of the reality of which you are supposed to perceive.”
    “Like being up-the-bean-stalk or in a religious service and still remembering
      what you are actually amidst?!”
“Blackjack!”
 
 

One man will only go to events where ‘tis advertised that: “Seating Is Limited.”  (“Who, with good taste, would want to go anyplace where it is otherwise!” he notes.  “UN limited seating!?  Ugh!  Sounds entirely too much like everyday life!” he huffs.)

A man asked the Advice Crowd:
“How many things can take the wind out of your sails?”   And received the replies:
“How many things are there?”
“How many emotions do you have?”
“How many sails have you up?” (and his least favorite):
“How did you find us?”
 
 

When he heard it said that the most important thing in promoting your services
is to have testimonials from apparently satisfied customers,
one man turned to his brain cells and said: “See!”
 
 

Adrift in copious reading, a man paused to wonder:
“Why do all religions so insist that you should not tempt-god?”  --
at which point human imagination injected: “Are you really that dense!”
(One phrase kept crossing one man’s mind: “The refusal of tubers.”)
 
 

Ordinary men create myths to cover over things that frighten them;
rebels use them to expose the bread crumb trail.
 
 

Taking a cue from the commercial world, one man now has a theme for
every day of his life.
(And another guy has a sign on his desk: “The In Box; The Out Box –  Put Him In A Fox Lox.”)
 
 

“Something you never hear across-the-border is:
‘I now know the truth   --   and I don’t like it.’”
    “So they say that they do like it!?”
“I didn’t say that.”
 

Someone submits as our Joke Of The Day:
A man without a head walks into a bar and asks a waitress:
“Did you see me in here earlier?”
(And in a post script the submitee asks: “This is a joke, right?!”)
 
 

The audio portion of a certain television ad highlights not only how hormones work,
but also how neurons are drafted to assist:
“And now to clearly show the advantages of the Dunbar Encyclopedia of Philosophy we go to a photo shoot featuring some of the world’s top bikini models.”
 
 

Consciousness stands on a sun  -- searching for a gleam of light.
 
 

Moaned one man:
“We are losing our sense of mystery.”
    “Not the real-deal-man: he always has the mystery of being-conscious  –
      even of such matters as: man losing his sense of mystery.”
 
 

Porno is to sex as men's personal allegations of awakening are to actually waking-up.
 
 

One man’s consciousness said:
“I feel like I have been harpooned by a whale wielding an exploding spear.”
 
 

Ordinary men are only impressed by physical skills,
while those who live mainly in their head are mostly impressed by their moods.
 
 

Mistaking poetry for technical writing is what chokes fish on filet mignons.
 
 

One guy can get so excited about his private inner adventure that he can
cause hickeys to arise on his brain.
 
 

Talk is just a substitute for silence.