As the morning sun began to show over the far horizon, and the people gathered for battle, the king rode to their head, raised high his sword and his self in his stirrups,
and proclaimed: “On this glorious day, Providence has given you each a trusty stallion, a reliable spear and placed in your hearts the will to fight and move forward,
and also (if you will look in your saddle bags) a map.  Unfortunately no two of them
are the same  –  but it's a bit late to do anything about it now,”
(adding sotto voce): “Even if I knew what to.”
He then signaled that the time had come to ride  –   and ride they did  –
to many resplendent victories  –  and with no one the worse or better for
the little map incident.
(As the knights of leibniz like to say: “Go figure.”)
 
 
 

The world is divided into those who want to believe and those who want to know,
and if you have to ask: “Know what?” –   you’re one of the former.
 
 
 

All sympathy cards serve only to re-open illusory wounds;
the trees who give their lives to hallmark are honored at the cellular level
by institutionally flavored hormones.
No need to say: “Don’t cry for me buenos aires” when the whole nation of inanity
is prepared to give you asylum.
If you want to be ordinary  –  you’ll never be left on your own:
help in being routine is always available;
institutions advertised as being for the deranged are not just for those already so. (Wink.)
 
 
 

A son asked a father: “Is there any subject about which you will not think?”
    “Yes, “ he replied.       (Another of those little family jokes).
 
 
 

Noted one of the speakers in the park: “If we as a civilization are actually making the substantial progress which some say we are, then why are we not experiencing
a more dramatic increase in the number of one-way streets in our city?!”  --
a challenge to which none of his listeners could respond.
En passant: One guy, whenever he hears of an incident like this one,
(truthfully: any incident involving a human making an observation about human existence)
will put his wrap on it by saying these six words: “So where does that leave him?”
 
 
 
 

The world is divided into those who want to believe and those who want to know,
and man’s entire cultural reality exists only through virtue of belief (for one example):
if men actually thought about death there would be no notion of life-after-death.
 
 
 

Consciousness’ control over reality extends exactly as far as you think it does.
 
 
 

Human institutions serve to provide large, collectively acceptable dopey-blankets
to help cover up individual mental ineptness.
 
 
 

Says the city regarding posture: “The important thing to remember is to – slump!
It’ll make you feel better ALL over!          But mainly where it counts most.”
 
 
 

Fear of death drives everything alive  --
  especially men who'd rather believe than think.
 
 
 

Many people are disturbingly weird in their private life.                               (“MANY?!”)
 
 
 

A metaphor explained  --  insults its audience;
  metaphors that do not have to be explained  –  have no audience.
 
 
 

In Re Men Opining That They Play A Waiting-Game.
Time is one wimp of an opponent.
 
 
 

The Conversation.
“One of the signs that you understand what’s going on is:
you no longer much care what’s going on.”
    “How about it’s one of the benefits?”
“I almost said that.”
 
 
 

The Choice.
You either act  --  or you criticize.
Dogs pee on cars' tires over their anger at not being able to drive.
 
 
 

(Relaxed Entertainment Comes In Many Forms.)
There’s one guy who refers to his routine consciousness as his day-time-dream.
(A charitable view, some might say.)
 
 
 

Dialogue.
 “Even if a reason ever did arise for a nervous-system-rebel to be analyzed,
there is no one competent to do it.”
    “How about him?”
 “He’d never see a reason for it.”
     “And what if that fact alone might not constitute sufficient reason!?”
 “From an ordinary person’s perspective, you mean.”
    “Well.....yeah.....I guess, though I fail to see what difference that would make.”
 
 
 

Rare be the day in the city in which some prince, priest, politician,
banker or other fool will not invite you to die with him, and rarer still the possibility of finding another locale in this entire universe where such a thing occurs.
The body of Life is arranged so that every part is prepared to give itself up to
some other part,
but only the certain few are capable of giving their self up to their self.
Under the nominal guise of altruism does Life practice extreme selfishness  –
with only the inner rebels to consciously participate (or at least  appreciate and enjoy it).
 
 
 

There is a cellular level only past which seriousness appears.
    “But only occurs in one life form, no?!”
Ja.
 
 
 

A Second Chance At A Previous Story: (Embedded In A Dialogue.)
“Consciousness’ control over reality extends precisely as far as you think it does.”
  “You mean as far as IT thinks it does.”
“Damn’f sometimes your words don’t make it sound like you actually understand
what’s going on.”
    “Yeah, but don’t let it fool you.”
 
 
 

Another neat feature of DoingTheThing is: There is no excuse for it  –
thus you’re never reduced to trying to explain why it interests you.  (And of course if you find yourself doing so it simply shows that you’re still just kidding around with it.)
At times wendy’s dreams are of being by garibaldi’s side  --
not tagging along after tinkerbell.

Mulled one man: “I guess to be fair to ordinary people: If you don’t understand what’s really going on with life, what choice do you have but to whine?!”
 
 
 

On Literature Day at a school, one author in his comments to the children said:
“To me, a blank piece of paper is like a barren plot of land --
awaiting me thereon to construct a meaningful structure,”
and a second scribe in his remarks, remarked:
“A blank piece of paper represents to me the unfulfilled minds of my potential readers who look to my words to complete their thinking,”
and an uncommon kid sitting near the window mused:
“Good thing they didn’t invite my old man ‘cause I'm sure he’d a’told ‘em that to him: