Akin to address-hunting through a cinder-block-hailstorm, one's focus must be divided if one is inclined to fully apprehend the individual prisoners of the jail-break that is Ryantology; these micro-cosmically generalized, adroitly vague texts have been written, are being written, to be interpreted with rational, interrupted studiousness...not unlike translating Japanese to German whilst in the midst of a violent typhoon.
Over-stimulation is essential; a profound over-saturation, the mind adrift in a sea of fundamental Ryconoclasm, directing the vast ocean-waters of indecision into the aqueduct of Ryligion, soaking up the sickly, bilious mess of abashment, of confusion, of mystification, with the finely-woven towel of one's opiate-grasping brain.
Admittedly, this takes some practice.
Taking into consideration the conspicuously fluid nature of Ryantology, that answers required of questions can be, fastidiously, elucidated at any and all times, there still exists an inventory of common, situational occurrences; circumstances that, having already been postulated and considered in all the absolutes and textural-richness of the Ryconoclastic mind, demonstrate a crooked bell-curve of concern - a blackened smear of anxiety across the whitewashed fence of tranquility.
Some of these paradigmal archetypes are easily managed:
- Fear, more often than not, directly leads to cretinism
- Humour is the quickly-hardening putty that fills the holes of consternation in the Lived Life bumper of one’s 1995 Ford Contour
- Morality & Nobility are often, and repulsively, misused
- Slavishness is abhorrent in the most heinous of ways
- Vices are a vital and congenital demand
Other examples, particularly those that swing to the "extremely specific" side, are more difficult, but what kind of Ryantologist isn’t overwhelmingly accepting of a challenge?
They don’t exist; Ryantologists regard slipshoddiness with the same repugnance customarily reserved for those who slap the asses of waitresses.
Inquisitive?
Ask away.
