After making the comment that the most fun he has with sex is thinking-about it,
and his neighbor's musing that the reverse of any valid idea is equally authentic,
the fact that his mind had to be put in traction following his attempt to test the theory, raised to him, some question regarding its validity.
Sometimes even the right move can be made incorrectly.
     “How can a man protect his self from this?”
By not being such a man.

The King finally put a man in charge of keeping an eye on everybody,
(and because of his royal appointment, he was exempt.
 “That alone,” he notes, “is sufficient payment for the job.”)
Though scarce expressed: Many men’s picture of Paradise is a place where they
will be left the hell alone. (And not unlikely there are a few gods who share the feeling,
wouldn't you think.)

What I Like (A Message From The Binary Inner Brothers Of Twin Cities).
“What I like is warm weather, when I can work at staying cool;
what I like is cool weather, when I can work at staying warm.”

Certain changes cannot be planned  --  or they become  impossible  --  and yet:
In some realities only the battle itself experiences the great liberation,
and knows the joy of true freedom;
to fully trump the circumstances in the certain man's endeavor,
YOU not only have-to-be-there, but you must BE the there.
(And whenever this one guy goes into a trance  --  it’s almost as though he plays his guitar.)

A father said to a son:
“In the city, if you progress along predictable lines it will ultimately become a question of whether to be competitive  –   or, compatible.”
Later the lad wondered: “Did he warn me of something?  –  inform me of something? --  or give me the plans for an air raid shelter.”

Everybody wants to tell a sad tale about something,
(it makes them feel they’re more interesting).

On one planet, Magicians who can’t perform never-before-seen tricks every day of
the week are required to list themselves in the Yellow Pages under a small “m”.
(“It ain’t interesting if we’ve seen it before,” says the audience,
and to the certain man, neither is it if he has thought it before.)
This email just in:
“So under the conditions you just noted: how would it be possible for a person to
ever get to The Truth?”
Ordinary consciousness pictures the-truth as a something to be found at the end of
a serpentine path hacked out through a mysterious jungle,
while it could be in the ability to make the bread crumb trail you left behind  –  vanish.
Query: How could you prove that an otherwise normal man, who has no memory,
is not an Enlightened man? Consider: if you were allowed to question him
to your heart’s content, what could he ever say that would offer irrefutable proof of
his UNenlightened condition?
“No no!  –   that can’t be right  –  I can almost see what you’re pointing at.......but, no!  –   something’s wrong here  –   it has to be.”
Ring News.
When he plays the role of a masked bad-guy in a match,
he goes by the name: “It Has To Be!”
(No, real heroes never have an alias          [seeing as how they don't even have a name to start with.])

Even though he spoke none but his native: one man nonetheless
(in his special undertaking) attempted to think only in a foreign language.

Regardless of the king’s desire: on the sunny side of the mountain,
the taxes continually decrease.
In the beginning, no one can afford to not be as they are  --
and before long, no one wants to be.
From the outset: everyone is not the same.

In one reality, the attitude of the god toward the creatures in his charge is:
“Slap ‘em around real good at first  –   and if that doesn’t work,
then start talkin’ to them   –   that’ll show ‘em!  –
they’ll straighten up soon enough after that!”
    (“Jeeze! –  talk about heartless!”)

One of the speakers in city park recently had this to say:
“Inside their own car: everybody is Dale Earnhardt,”
then looking at the faces in the crowd he’d drawn, ‘twas hard to tell how many had made their own substitution for the word: car,
and grasped what neural attitude the named driver represented.
(“But,” he mused to his self, “such are the risks of talking aloud”  –
which though in the city, are not actual risks at all.
Hey! -- what d’ya think?! –  that the impassioned heat of your words
is gonna cause the tar baby to become even stickier?!)

Everybody wants to tell a sad tale about something.

Responding to compliments is how circus people train for the act of
catching turds in your teeth, and the proof that you’re still normal is that you ridicule other people for doing the same things you do and never notice that you do so.
    (“Well, I could............. but it ain’t healthy.”)
And in international, terrorist related news:
In one intelligence report, allegations are made that he has direct ties to
his consciousness,
(this however could not be substantiated as we went to press).

Everybody wants to tell a sad tale about something  --
(it makes them feel momentarily more alive).

The reward of being a political leader, a preacher, a grammar school teacher
is that you get to lead a call-&-response with your intellectual inferiors.
Mused one chap: “I am nothing but a reactionary machine  –
and not a very quick nor alert one at that.”  Whenever he would experience this sensation, he couldn’t immediately determine how it made him feel,
(a fact that itself he found more than a bit freaky).
Another chap has sent out a press release proclaiming that while he is
undoubtedly the-face-of-the-future, he also remains the-ass-of-the-past.
And still another man says:
“The benefits of being part of a group are.........well hell  –  the benefits are obvious!”
(And what’s this?): Hobos & bankers alike enjoying grabbing a guitar & singing of the joys of being a hobo, yet neither of them ever do the same regarding being a banker.
Another way to tell that you’re still normal is that the only things interesting you can think of to talk about are the things everybody else is talking about.
And always seeking a fresh challenge, one man now lists his self as:
Volcano Whisperer.

(Though unbeknownst to his reading audience):
every third novel from the pen of one author is actually part fictional.

When one man’s drinking of decaffeinated coffee was thus challenged:
“What’s the point in having coffee if you’re going to take the caffeine out -- the jolt  –  the whole purpose in drinking coffee,” he was startled and put off,
but quickly regained his equilibrium when this response came into his mind:
“I constantly think thoughts that have no kick, so what’s the big deal.”

Suggests a sign posted on B Deck: “Children should not be told that
they cannot adjust their thoughts while their heads are still attached.”

Evolution appears to have received a new spin from a chap who opines:
“The day humans stopped having fleas is when all their troubles began.”
(No, he admits, he can’t prove it  –   and gives you a dismissive glare for even asking.)