Tis an ill wind that blows no minds.

The point is that (little-t) truth is a matter of definition relative to the grid one is using at the moment, and that (capital-T) Truth, metaphysical reality, is irrelevant to grids entirely. Pick a grid, and through it some chaos appears ordered and some appears disordered. Pick another grid, and the same chaos will appear differently ordered and disordered. Reality is the original Rorschach. Verily! So much for all that.

To choose order over disorder, or disorder over order, is to accept a trip composed of both the creative and the destructive. But to choose the creative over the destructive is an all-creative trip composed of both order and disorder

The human race will begin solving its problems on the day that it ceases taking itself so seriously.

Tis an ill wind that blows no minds.

I don’t know man, I didn’t do it.

We are not engaged in a complicated joke disguised as a religion. We are engaged in a religion disguised as a complicated joke.