[This story was originally published in issue #97 of Poor Mojo's Almanac(k), in late 2002.]
Many complain that the words of the wise are always merely parables and of no use in daily life, which is the only life we have. When the sage says: "Go over," he does not mean that we should cross to some actual place, which we could do anyhow if the labor were worth it; he means some fabulous yonder, something unknown to us, something that he cannot designate more precisely either, and therefore cannot help us here in the very least. All these parables really set out to say merely that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and we know that already. But the cares we have to struggle with every day: that is a different matter.
Concerning this a man once said: Why such reluctance? If you only followed the parables you yourselves would become parables and with that rid of your daily cares.
Another said: I bet that is also a parable.
The first said: You have won.
The second said: But unfortunately only in parable.
The first said: No, in reality: in parable you have lost.
GS: "QUITE SUBLIME. I HEARTILY CONGRATULATE THE DESERT-DWELLING KAFKA ON HIS WORDSMANSHIP AND THOUGHT-WRANGLING."
ROB: "Dude, that is like the stupidest fucking story I ever read."
GS: "AH, YES, IT IS INDEED STUPID-FUCKING, BUT ONLY IN PARABLE, EH ROB?"
ROB: "No, dude, it was just fucking lame."
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