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The Trouble With Reality

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The trouble with reality is that it doesn’t come with screeching violins to warn you that danger is just down that hallway or around the next corner.

The trouble with reality is that it doesn’t need you as much as you need it.

The trouble with reality is that the only signals you get are in the middle of traffic.

The trouble with reality is that other people are so obsessed by their version of it that they absolutely refuse to listen to you when you try to tell them yours. Perhaps this is just as well; another trouble with reality is that there really isn’t a language with which we can express our version of it that would make it accessible to others.

The trouble with reality is that, despite this, we all try to express it anyway.

The trouble with reality is that it’s a good idea, badly executed.

The trouble with reality is that it doesn’t come with title cards.

The trouble with reality is that there is such a thing as a free lunch, but it’s only available to those who can already afford all the lunches they could ever want to eat.

The trouble with reality is that it sucks and blows at the same time.

The trouble with reality is that Wittgenstein had it pretty much figured out, but nobody since has been able to figure Wittgenstein out.

The trouble with reality is that the choices aren’t as clearcut as Pepsi versus Coke.

The trouble with reality is that by the time you know what to do with it, you’ve forgotten where you’ve put it.

The trouble with reality is negotiating the often tricky subject-verb agreement.

The trouble with reality is that the shock of recognition isn’t as attractive as a shock of blond hair.

The trouble with reality is that it leaves you wanting more even though it’s all already there.

The trouble with reality is that puns are so easy.

The trouble with reality is that they aren’t smarter than you, or stronger than you, or more virtuous than you; it’s just their time.

The trouble with reality is that there isn’t enough Mag Ruffman.

The trouble with reality is that we are all born with nothing, so it wouldn’t do us any good even if there was a money back guarantee.

The trouble with reality is that time’s arrow always hits its target.

The trouble with reality is that it’s a bad idea, but it comes in such pretty colours.

The trouble with reality is that they aren’t smarter than you, or stronger than you, or more virtuous than you; they’re just jealous that it’s your time.

The trouble with reality is that it doesn’t come with an undo function.

The trouble with reality is, “Aar, she’s a wee bonnie thing that’ll rip yer heart out if ya let’er, but ye canna take yer eyes off ‘er.”

The trouble with reality is that it may give you shit, but it just doesn’t give a shit.

The trouble with reality is that most of it goes on behind your back.

The trouble with reality is that drywall looks better wet.

The trouble with reality is that it is neither cheap nor easy.

The trouble with reality is that orange juice will, indeed, remove that bitter taste in your mouth, but you’d really be better off trying to figure out how it got there in the first place.

The trouble with reality is that entropy mocks us.

The trouble with reality is that you can’t buy more of it on eBay.

The trouble with reality is that everybody carries their own truth within them. Even liars.

The trouble with reality is that angels may be able to sing, but they can’t dance.

The trouble with reality is that perkiness is no defense.

The trouble with reality is that you can’t just turn to the final page to find out whodunnit.

The trouble with reality is that there is no trouble with reality. Any impressions that you may have to the contrary are just random misfirings in your neural pathways.

The trouble with reality is that the trouble with reality is so complex that 700 words can only really scratch the surface of the trouble with reality.

The trouble with reality is Hello Kitty.

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