Once you understand that, comparably, the secondary world is “made up,” there’s then little left to rile you as regards man’s various pretentions therein.
Near a bus stop, a man bent down and said to a pigeon:
“To say that some aspect of man’s intellectual world are ‘imaginary’ is like saying shit stinks.”
And the bird said, “Right on, bro!”
And from the Bunsen and Hedges Burner secret lab comes this hot fresh item of “Sub-Atomic Facts From A Science Not Yet Extant”: It is actually impossible to commit suicide in a closed system, inasmuch as everything is going to each – one way or the other. (“Quick, someone call Doctor Nobel, and when he answers say: ‘What the hell?!’”)
A kid and an ole man were talking and the latter said:
“A book with a sufficiently long introduction need never be writ.”
And the former inquired:
“And what kind of book might that be, Pa Pa?”
And the ole man replied:
The book of secondary life, my boy.”
And thus is yet another story brought to a satisfying conclusion, and safely docked at the pier; careful as you off-board. (“Ah, life,” sighed the Moral. “The Eternal Ferry Boat – Back And Forth, Back And Forth; such a pleasant journey – forever going nowhere. Ah, life,” it sighed.) Hey! Watch it!