An example of the situation confronting all would-be rebels is this:
let us say that you publish an alternative tabloid in which you constantly attack
the city’s established newspaper for its self-interested relationships with business
and politics; its hypocrisy and conservatism;
what would you do if you were offered the position of editor thereof,
understanding that you would be expected to conform to its present policies
which you have been decrying?
Increase this by a factor of thirty (and expand into at least one additional dimension) and you have a rough picture of the dilemma faced by the outlier consciousness
in your brain which wants to replace your conventional one.
    (“You work for the man  –  you become corrupted,”
        read a protest sign left leaning against a tree.)
 

When one man undertook to find a way to mitigate the hangovers he suffered after nights of alcoholic partying, he encountered such suggestions as: do less drinking; have a full meal beforehand; consume lots of water throughout the evening;
but the one he liked best and chose was: death,
(and which he said he hoped would teach him a good metaphorical lesson).
 

One man gave his doppelganger to the Salvation Army    (well, he tried to!)
 

One man observes: “One nice feature of having a terminal illness is that you don’t
get entangled in having to choose a particular treatment from those available.”
    (“So how is this connected to selecting a spiritual guru?!.........................oh.”)
 

In his culinary approach to matters militaristic one man’s battle cry was:
“Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eggs.”
 

One man who for years had sought enlightenment  via the tutelage of others
finally concluded: “There is no one in whom I can have faith,
 for the simple reason that there is no profit to be had from having faith in someone.”
An hour and a half later his partner said:
    “What about the enthusiasm you can derive therefrom?”
“Yes,” he thought, “there is that and the companionship involved,
but what I originally wanted was to awaken from man’s usual state of consciousness, and now that I realize that no one is relevant to me doing this but me,
I am simply facing the reality I earlier diagnosed,”
and his other consciousness offered no comment             (for the moment).

    One man’s cat goes by the name: For The Moment (a sobriquet it bestowed on itself).
    The man now looks forward to receiving his own from his feline housemate.
 

The Power Of Commitment.
One man once carried a credo   --  ‘til he realized the weight it added
in a sport where any additional such can be critical.
 

One man’s bronze medal consciousness awarded silver to his other one.
(That should say that it: “attempted  to”.)
 

For the dense, the response to everything is –  sarcasm.
    (“I resent the way you said that: sarcasm is MY primary response to things.”)
 

Hormones & Neurons On An Alleged Spree.
One man says: “It feels like my dick’s in a blender and my mind’s in a bind.”
Yep! –  that about covers it.
    (“It does if you meant that sarcastically.”)
 

One man suffers from Whooperstant, an illness with no identifiable symptoms,
but whose cause is known by all.
 

If you’re an interviewer, you don’t have to know anything –
and will still always seem at least as intelligent as the one you’re interviewing.
    (“See!  –   there IS benefit to answering questions about yourself!
         Or maybe I just still don’t get it?!”                    Maybe.)
 

One man acted as his own physician,
and when he didn’t get any better  --  acted as his own lawyer,
(he eventually acted as his own corpse).
    “Don’t ex-professional men make nice stiffs,” noted a mortician.
The parts of the city stick together  (even when apparently flying apart).
 

  One man’s parakeet was known among his friends as: Flying Apart,
  (a sarcastic reference to his stability, which they believe is the result of his
  never leaving the house.)

Anyone who ever uses the term: not perfect in reference to humans
has the understanding typical of a human about their species (which is to say): None.
Even water is not dense enough to establish a density chart for itself.
No one can judge Life in any of its forms -- except perhaps the Universe -- whose,
(if it were ever forthcoming) would likely be in the form of a foot on an ant.
(And who by the way [if such should occur] is going to be the one to accuse
the Universe of being sarcastic in its action?)

    One man’s present, most personally interesting ponder is:
    “If their positions were reversed:
      would Life treat the Universe the way the Universe treats it?”
 

The guiding principle of one man’s extraordinary inner exploration
he sums up in a two word approach: “If Pressed”.
 

After three wives, seven employers,  four gurus and fourteen mistresses,
one guy says: “At least I always have me to depend on.”
    (“Yeah, as though he could quit or dump his self.”
There there sir!  –   no need for such sarcasm.
    “’There there!’ yourself!    You don’t know  –   there could be!”)

Only during those times when you’re not choking to death can you appreciate hearing the details of Dr. Heimlich’s life.
 

For a while, one man tried cooking fancy meals for his self  –
until he finally faced up to what an epicurean-slob he was.
    (“And this is supposed to have some sort of relevance to waking-up?!
       And I’m not just being sarcastic [even though that shouldn’t make a difference.]”)

    One man considered naming his turtle: It Shouldn’t Matter –
    but after watching him, concluded it would be a redundancy,
    (and we all know there is nothing more detested by a shelled reptile than that!)
 
 

A man can be famous in the first or second reality:
in the first, only by being either a farmer or warrior: a giver of life, or a bringer of death;
in man’s second, intangible reality a person can be famous for as many different reasons as the human mind can dream up.
(Is it any wonder the city is such a popular place.)
 

A father advised his growing son:
“The most important thing is to have nothing that you have to do in life
so that you have time to pursue the one thing in life important to the likes of us.”
 

The Big Boys love to settle in places where the people fear the gods
and constantly offer them food and money.    Man! –  is that their kind of place.
    (“And I’m supposed to find something in that useful to waking-up?!”)
 

One man caught a hippopotamus which, upon first sight,
clearly didn’t need a name.
    (“Well, damn!  –   who does?!”  spat a guy, clearly after-the-fact in his case.)
Once you have a name, the Big Boys can always call you.
   (“Well, whoopee,” muttered a badger with no enthusiasm,
    [even sardonically, you could say.])
 

If lieu of a more modern kitchen, one man continued to defrost his self by hand.
  Where other people would say: “BY God!” one chap would say: “By hand,”
  which appeared to have more personal significance to him than the former,
  so-thought-of, spiritually-tinged exclamation.
    Whereas some people get down-&-dirty, the certain man generally just gets down,
  (“down” as in J.B. on the allegorical good-foot.)
     You can be famous in the hormonal or neuronal realms:
      in the first by being either an athlete or a courtesan, and in the second by being a
      self proclaimed expert in any intangible area you can concoct.
          (“Is it any wonder that the pursuit of culture is so much more popular than ditch digging.”)
 

In some parts of the city it costs no more to have multiple fits than it does just one.

Leaving headlines off of stories makes them shorter.
 

     And in comes this email:
   “My carefull following of your Daily News for several years has had at the very least,
    one effect on me: With everything I read or hear now I find myself searching for
    its metaphorical possibilities.
    Sincerely,
    P.S. Do I owe you for this?” etc.

“Looking grim can make you grim.”
     “But being grim can make you look grim.”
“So what d’ya want from me.”

So says the woman: “Go ahead, feel free to continue lusting for me.”
Hormones’ privilege  –   neurons’ affliction.
    (“And yet I cannot call anything that gives me such unparalleled joy,
       an actual affliction.”                                                        Said like a true rebel.)
 

Never throw-your-money-down-a-rat-hole unless you are privy to some secret
benefits to be derived from subsidizing rodents,
(or unless you simply enjoy seeing Norwegian Browns live-it-up).

Never feel completely-exonerated and free until the Judge and the D.A.
are themselves hanged.

Never scoff at another person’s hobby unless you’ve just learned that they pay
large sums for stuff you’ve just thrown out.

Never invite the drunken crew of a Syrian tanker home to meet-the-wife.

Never lower yourself to write a sarcastic letter to someone based solely on the fact
of their illiteracy.

Never resist getting caught-up-and-carried-away  by any of man’s many and varied spiritual activities (unless it costs anything).

Never expect a liberal-trade-in-policy with a sex surrogate.

Never forget: things that sound funny  –   are funny.

Never try to get a pick up game of volleyball going amongst the opening night audience during the main intermission of Gotterdammerung.

Never tell anyone about anything that’s ever happened to you.

Never, no matter how good has been your luck up to now,
doubt that if you don’t put-out-your-eye you will break-your-back for sure.

Never mention to an out-of-sorts Green Beret how well his eyes go
with the rest of his ensemble.

Never seem boring  –   even if you are.

Never adopt a cute funny stage-name if you already have a cute funny real one.

Never grab a problem by the-scuff-of-its-neck
unless it’s a little bitty one that won’t reach around and bite you.

Never admit to a solitary-vice.....except to yourself.........................and even then......

Never let anyone tell you anything that’s ever happened to them.

Never hesitate to ask any eating establishment that advertises the amount of stuff they’ve sold for the name of at least one former customer.

Never have your photograph taken alone (in the case of a passport: go as a group).

Never bother to open an envelope that says on the outside: “Congratulations!
You’re won something!” (unless of course you have).

Never sign up for a course: “The Later Romantic Poets”
taught by a guy named Elvis.....or Earl.

Never repeat yourself  –   no, let me rephrase that

Never mistake force for intelligence.....in fact, never mistake force for anything else.

Never, no matter how beguiling the offer, allow an itinerant hairdresser
to draw up your will.

Never automatically expect to get paid just because you expect to get laid.

Never, without some darn good collaborative evidence, let anyone convince you that
a working refrigerator is inherently superior to one temporarily on the dole.

Never uncritically believe that you can’t-always-get-what-you-want
just because you heard it said on a jukebox.

Never believe that any bark anywhere is worse than a good bite.

Never (unless given specific permission beforehand) leap up and shout: “Good show” at the conclusion of the Mussolini Film Festival.