The losing of the mind seeming to be a necessary part of giving it away, it's obvious why boys who are married tell unmarried boys to stay that way. But losing one's mind doesn't necessarily involve years of trying.
It took the losing of my mind to see that I was being kept mesmerized by news, from which I thought I was gleaning the truth. Focusing on what I knew to be true I discovered that I had been grossly miseducated.
Four legs good, two legs bad!
My opinions on facial hair was part of the news dependence, which fact an author put a chicken-bone in one of his character's beards as a personal reminder about--but his study on news dependence went unfinished. My own attempts at paying attention to fashion remind me of feeling like a baby separated from its mother, though I was fully independent.
Though I was fully independent, personal goals had to take a back seat, because miseducation doesn't affect everyone equally. There's an opposite motive to ego, and it has to do with people getting under your skin whose intentions are nothing but vanity.
At a place that I've been associated with, which followed the trend of getting its employees to work all hours, every day--which started when we did so of our own volition in preference to going somewhere to get drunk--I learnt that a pile of stones gets as much reward for good behaviour as we do. A life of excess leisure can be turned into a burden by making unfounded claims of the primitive life.
'I want to live like animals: careless and free.'
Have you every tried running through a jungle that isn't a movie set?
In the meantime let's buy into a car-rental scheme that coincidentally forbids us from taking a look inside, and thus prevents us from being able to assess for ourselves the claims without which no-one would buy into it.
I don't find it funny, either. Followers of fashion are always assured that all they need to do is put their weight behind a new trend; pushers of it talk of critical mass.
But I'm just coming up for air: there really is no such thing as sanity. There is such a thing as swallowing one's pride; but friends won't help you do that. Take it from me, the worst kinds also know the difference between a garment and raiment, tell you that they know they're sane, and leave you wishing you were them.
Which is awkward if their toes are nicer.
There is not a single thing that is pretty about Curses. Picking a terminal type is a matter of putting our weight behind a trend. In this instance, 'linux' seems to be a cop-out for that other Unix variants are still being maintained and used.
Maybe I am just changing the topic so as to appear sane?
Typing the highlighted command doesn't help the matter.