The Doctor of Universal Spin

A recent rumor making the rounds has it that a certain deity once listed his occupation as “Doctor of Universal Spin.”

There are people who are ordinary and who walk around in a fog; there are people who are ordinary who don’t; there are people who say they are “Doing This” who do not walk about in a fog; and there are people who say they are “Doing This” who…no, I just can’t bring myself to say it…

Making a futile attempt to put his arm around the old man, the kid said, “Pops, I’ve decided that some of the funny stuff you say ain’t really a joke.”  And the palpating pater was so pleased he almost didn’t kill him.

One of the applicants for the executioner’s position was amazed to learn that it paid a salary.  His brother-in-law was even more bewildered to find that priests likewise were paid, and very seldom brought to the guillotine.

Instead of simply and directly “going to new places,” there was this one sly guy who would first go there to SEE if he would later like to “go there.”


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Might vs. Insight

The State’s Enforcer was the man with the biggest stick in the territory, and one day whilst brashly buffeting a bewildered citizen he was asked, “What intellectual training did you undergo to become our police authority?”  And he replied, “When you’re holding the biggest stick, you don’t need no training.”  (With this comment and a sharp rap to the head, the subdued citizen was sorely enlightened.)

There are two kinds of health:  Health and extraordinary health.

In retaliation, (or due to imitation), a nearby planet passed an ordinance forbidding, on alternative Saturdays, the inevitable.

In the front of the room a hand was raised, a query proffered, “In the battle between might and insight, which will emerge triumphant?”  And the reply replied, “Let us hope that those who must ask such questions have lots of the former, since they have little of the latter.”

If you do plan to join in with me, it’s time you noted this: There is no profit in studying the individual man, only the species.


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Gimme A Break!

On a somewhat more some kinda note – (gimme a break) – an elder cautioned one of his young charges, “Least you stray off into believing in some perfect refuge, just take note of this:  no one’s safe, even the past is buffeted by the yet-to-be.”  (Look, even though I didn’t say it, I’m still responsible for bringing you the story, so let me remind you that the above notion is non sequential and impossible, and even beyond that, philosophically speaking – gimme a break).

The Redoubtable Cosmic Doctor sends this Medical Update:

“After a certain age, the intellect finds that each new day brings the possibility of a rottenness setting-in, so watch it!”  (This is easily understood when you realize that while some internal parts, like man within the overall body-of-life, may be incrementally dying, the host structure can still be quite healthy and growing, thank you.)

Over in the Spectrum Split Sector, one gent, with a far-away look in one eye, told me confidentially, “If it proves correct that a final day of reckoning will come whereby man’s picture of justice and retribution is fully executed, I fear, mon ami, that we’re all in for a hard eternity.”

Once the system had expanded to a certain point, Capital, (that is, the dominate powers), decided they needed an intermediary to deal directly with Labor, (that is the submissive), and once this middle-class managerial mouthpiece was constructed he was given his most important, in fact his only instructions:  To whatever any of the working subordinates ever said he was to immediately reply, “This will never do.”

The way things stand presently, the people in the front ranks can’t stand to contemplate the possibility…(do note, men call themselves “followers” of this god or that – followers – those who came AFTER the gods…) I don’t care if you are up front, think about it anyway.


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None are Saints

The only conclusive myth is a dead myth.

With more advice, (that may even transcend the need for same), one of the older creatures said to one of the less old, “Just ask yourself this:  Why go into debt when you know you’ll just eventually die?”

None are saints,
none are sinners,
all are diners,
all are dinners.

If it is natural for ordinary folk to have heroes, then a Revolutionist would want to be his hero’s hero.

The present ripens into the future with the kind assistance of the manure known as talk.


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Fuses by the Dozen

One somewhat diminished fellow described for me new heights to be scaled in living a life of little consequence, when, as he put it, you could commit suicide in a place most public, in a manner most extreme and the news accounts of your demise would fail to mention the “cause of death.”

In a strictly Revolutionist sense, even a blind man has TWO places to look.

Fuses by the dozen, fuses by the gross, such were the purchases by one awkward fellow who seemed to be forever “blowing them out” in minor household accidents. 
Then one day his wife, wearing clear eyes and a cold voice, confronted him by saying, “Being as inept as you are in certain regards, I do believe that you purposefully cause these shorts just so you can replace the fuses and thus appear to have some talents as a handyman.” 
After three to seven seconds of being startled, the man pulled close up, cupped his hand to her ear and said, “Okay, so you can tell, but I’ve been carrying this on so as to teach my son an important lesson,” which was a little curious as they were childless.

The closer you get to the end of the sentence, the more some people begin to suffer “period phobia.”

You can extend the essence of your existence by going faster, or going slower…(maintaining present speed will be forbidden to those in-the-future).


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Everything in Place

In some parts of some solar systems, lack of competence can be at least partially addressed by simply changing the description of resultant failures…(I did say in parts of some nervous systems, didn’t I?).

This one trial-size guy, whenever he wanted to make his dog happy, would take him for a ride.  And whenever he wanted to make his brain all happy and smiley would say to it, “I knew I could count on you!”

(The guy that did the following told me we should label it as, “A Pregnant Message From The Front,” and to this I for one will not add the ticking of the sarcasm meter; so here goes):

Once, after a temporary lull in the fight, a scout returned from a previous leaving and announced, “I have been here, and I have been there, I have looked high and I have looked low, and I am prepared to state unequivocally that everything is firmly in its place.”

Dig this, I was sitting next to this fellow in a far-away diner, and heard him say to his none-in-particular-partner that, “just having him along was almost like having him along.”  (Hey, with friends like that, who needs friends.)

One might ask if any information was truly new if it made any reference to past assumptions…(which may be as useless as the old question of “Why does the chicken cross his legs?”)


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The Three Doors

One chap, sporting many of the signs of a would-be-proverbial, recently proclaimed, “If help is to come, it will be at the last minute.”  And his less sporting voice suddenly spouted, “Well, big deal, ain’t that when needs arise anyway.”

At an impressive looking building, a sign above three separate doors announced the following lectures: 
“What To Do When There’s Nothing To Be Done”;
“What To Do When Something Must Be Done”; and
“What To Do When You Know that Whatever You Do Is A Waste Of Time.” 
All three doors led to the same lecture hall.

One little slightly misspelled lad loved to play reporter, and when doing so would sometimes hold a pretend microphone up to his brain, and in a low, but urgent voice say, “And now I’m going to try and speak to one of the survivors of that terrible crash…”

Being prepared for the ordinary is about the same as not BEING prepared.

Within my cosmic ear slot, I heard one guy refer, (fairly or not I cannot say), to his brother’s cultural cachet as being like-unto an undistinguished pair of boxer shorts.


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Brave Galaxy Theorem 18

Brave Galaxy Theorem Number Eighteen:
All rotten ideas started out as good ones…and the Theorem’s brother added,
“Yeah, but EVERYTHING started out as something else.”

This one side-layer, short gentleman, soundly said that his thinking was, “so important” that his brain had an unlisted number.  And his brother muttered that it didn’t matter cause nobody ever called him anyway.

The mystique of wars resides in the friends of the defeated, and it is failure that has the memory, tongue and inclination to chat up its ignominy.

Over near the foggy quarter sector, there’s this chap who several times a day exclaims, “We’re all in this together,” which may not sound too interesting until I tell you that when he shouts it he’s always by himself.

If you’re in-the-Revolution-with-the-Expedition, remember this:
No matter what space you take, no matter the prevailing time, just like Life itself, you’re always on the verge.


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You’ll Never Walk Alone

A commercially bent kinda guy recently opined, “Going into business for yourself is like being married but without a partner.”  And a Revolutionist passing by his head heard this and thought, “Is he talking about me?”

Where there’s talk, there’s hope…
and if not hope exactly, at least possibility.

A Real Explorer can be by himself and not be alone…(of course, on a more simplistic level, this is so for everyone, but whenever they notice it, they are mostly annoyed by it).

This one guy gave his brain a cute nick-name…but it still wouldn’t come when he called it.

Everyone’s crippled in some personal way, except those who aren’t.  Oh, and P.S. by-the-by; such info as this is systemically encouraging, except of course, when it’s not.


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Words to the Wise (and Otherwise)

One guy, (who, by the by, used to be an “ole sorehead” in some of my stories, but has gotten better), says that one of the perks in being famous is that people automatically believe you’re smarter than you are.

Words To The Wise, (And Otherwise), Number Seventeen, (or is it Seven Hundred and Seventeen?), no matter, here it is anyway: 
“You can’t be too careful…unless as always, you overdo it.”

After having four or five real great ideas in a row, one guy thought, “Wow, if I didn’t know me better, I’d think I was up to something.”

Tripping up ain’t the end of the world, but laying there whining is enough to make you call your mamma.

Lots of folks “keep their powder dry” who ain’t even got a gun…(are we talking “wasted energy” here again, or some convoluted form of conservation?  Sometimes it’s just “hard to figure” when all you’ve got to go on is facts).


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