What Is Chiropractic Anyway?
This blog is no longer in use. Please refer to www.spinewave.co.nz
December 12, 2006
WICA (19) Giftmas Edition
A bloke walks up to a Buddhist hot dog vendor and asks, "Can you make me one with everything?". The Buddhist says that he is temporarily out of stock of everything, but hundreds of trained monkeys are hard at work in the Temple. He expects everything to be available within the next day or two. "It'll be $5.95 for postage and handling if you're not able to come back".
"And relish?" the bloke enquires. Swiftly drawing a pen from inside his robe, the monk replies, "You'd have to sign here for relish, sir," sliding a document that had mystically appeared alongside the hotplate. "Section 2.1.3 of Temple Law states that the Temple cannot be held liable for genetically modified perishables in transit. Meats and breads do not fall under this category as they are heat-cured at the Golden Arches branch, West Side, in order to increase the shelf life to 28 weeks in all-weather conditions. Golden Arches have made significant changes to our product line since the corporate takeover of the Temple," the monk explains smiling.
With a quizzical look, the bloke nods politely, feeling rather hungry now as he continues listening.
"Under superior advisement, the Temple decided to subdivide the property and convert the sacred gardens into factory space. Raising the mortgage on Temple land, coupled with the recent rise in market value of Holy Ground due to conflict in the Middle East, the Temple was able to purchase new hot dog equipment on lay-by with only 36% interest per annum. A bargain at this time of year. Golden Arches assured the Temple that labour costs wouldn't be a problem in this part of the world, provided all workers were nocturnal and could feed their families on ten cents an hour."
With mild disinterest, the bloke scanned the hot dog menu again. "Well, can you make me one without everything then?"
The Buddhist is somewhat taken aback. An incomplete hot dog is unheard of. But he ponders the potential bundled in this query, for being a nimble-minded monk, a commercial opportunity awaits at every end and turn; every human relationship a business venture.
For him there was simply no money in attaining enlightenment anymore. Not that there ever was, but this was reflected by the fact that every year the Temple recruited fewer and fewer monks. His days as a teacher were numbered too. No one wanted wisdom anymore - unless it was saleable of course. His teachings used to tell of the implicate order in the universe, but as entropy rose, the state of social decline and degeneration, he found it hard to believe himself. There was only one reason for this: The human ego, which takes 1/10,000th of a second to claim a thought as its own. People's thoughts are never really their own, simply because someone else has always thought of it first, but he guessed it depended on which frequency one is tuned into. Ego fuelled by that which it thinks it knows has blocked the natural free flow of thought and spirit these days. Even the simplest thing as a thought that lacks the power to nourish, placed in the centre of one's life, will lead to contempt: Pain that cannot be remedied commercially for it was not created that way. Yet people still expect a discount on wholesale cures.
It was a tough decision, but he left the teaching gig in the hope that others might pick up where he left off. The monk realised sales and the commercialisation of unsustainable Earthly resources were more his thing. He had a knack for dealing with people. The day after the monk left though, a note was found on his desk to any who might stand in his stead:
"And relish?" the bloke enquires. Swiftly drawing a pen from inside his robe, the monk replies, "You'd have to sign here for relish, sir," sliding a document that had mystically appeared alongside the hotplate. "Section 2.1.3 of Temple Law states that the Temple cannot be held liable for genetically modified perishables in transit. Meats and breads do not fall under this category as they are heat-cured at the Golden Arches branch, West Side, in order to increase the shelf life to 28 weeks in all-weather conditions. Golden Arches have made significant changes to our product line since the corporate takeover of the Temple," the monk explains smiling.
With a quizzical look, the bloke nods politely, feeling rather hungry now as he continues listening.
"Under superior advisement, the Temple decided to subdivide the property and convert the sacred gardens into factory space. Raising the mortgage on Temple land, coupled with the recent rise in market value of Holy Ground due to conflict in the Middle East, the Temple was able to purchase new hot dog equipment on lay-by with only 36% interest per annum. A bargain at this time of year. Golden Arches assured the Temple that labour costs wouldn't be a problem in this part of the world, provided all workers were nocturnal and could feed their families on ten cents an hour."
With mild disinterest, the bloke scanned the hot dog menu again. "Well, can you make me one without everything then?"
The Buddhist is somewhat taken aback. An incomplete hot dog is unheard of. But he ponders the potential bundled in this query, for being a nimble-minded monk, a commercial opportunity awaits at every end and turn; every human relationship a business venture.
For him there was simply no money in attaining enlightenment anymore. Not that there ever was, but this was reflected by the fact that every year the Temple recruited fewer and fewer monks. His days as a teacher were numbered too. No one wanted wisdom anymore - unless it was saleable of course. His teachings used to tell of the implicate order in the universe, but as entropy rose, the state of social decline and degeneration, he found it hard to believe himself. There was only one reason for this: The human ego, which takes 1/10,000th of a second to claim a thought as its own. People's thoughts are never really their own, simply because someone else has always thought of it first, but he guessed it depended on which frequency one is tuned into. Ego fuelled by that which it thinks it knows has blocked the natural free flow of thought and spirit these days. Even the simplest thing as a thought that lacks the power to nourish, placed in the centre of one's life, will lead to contempt: Pain that cannot be remedied commercially for it was not created that way. Yet people still expect a discount on wholesale cures.
It was a tough decision, but he left the teaching gig in the hope that others might pick up where he left off. The monk realised sales and the commercialisation of unsustainable Earthly resources were more his thing. He had a knack for dealing with people. The day after the monk left though, a note was found on his desk to any who might stand in his stead:
| Save the icebergs. They're a warning.