Always a Collusion Between “Ills” and “Curatives”
AKS/News Item Gallery = jcap 1989-06-23 (0572)
Condensed AKS/News Items = See Below
Summary = See below
Transcript = None
#572 Nov 17, 1989 – 1:07
Notes by TK
Kyroot to :07. Ideas of supernatural powers carry with them the corresponding idea that it can be petitioned, prayed to, with effect, i.e., it can be made to intervene in mundane affairs. Further thinking beyond this First Story reveals petition as a fraud since the supernatural powers had to have caused the ills men seek avoidance from in the first place. Further thinking yet considers the possibility of a secret collusion between the ills and curatives. To see this is staggering.
In the allegory of Plato’s Cave, the First Story is for men to realize that the shadows seen aren’t reality—for they themselves make the shadows. The next order of thinking is the realization that without the firelight no shadows are possible. The next further thinking considers the reality of what might be outside the cave.
To pretend, to “play ‘you’ with a new backstage, is not to do a satire of yourself (a satire is a version of attempted compensation for shortcomings, but remember there aren’t any shortcoming in life) what it should be rather, is a burlesque of yourself. A burlesque is the humorous treatment of somebody else’s serious work. The humorous treatment comes via BrainSmile.
[“The Omnipus” – diagram #?]
And Kyroot Said…
Indubitable Fact Of The Day: Small mines produce small pay
loads. Ah hum, pardon me, but are you saying “mines,” m-i-n-e-s,
like in “gold mines,” or m-i-n-d-s “minds?” Right!
Upon hearing repeated references to people “talking to
themselves,” one high blown chap thought with some disbelief,
and even more disdain, “My dear Aunt Eloise, what would I ever
have to say to my inferiors!”
Backstage, the same old boring gossip rolls on.
First voice: “There’s a difference between talking smart,
and beingù smart.” And his brother replied, “May be, but not
much.” And the first voice said, “Yeah, but there’s still someù
difference, right?” And the brother stood silently, squinting
one eye and scratching his chin ’til the first voice again
insisted, “Right?” And the brother siad, “I’m thinking, I’m
If you actually “did it,” no excuse or explanation is
Super-serial-justice-is-still-persuasive, example number
forty-seven: In a near-distant, unnoted conflict, one side
sealed and secured themselves behind a barricade and defiantly
proclaimed their position and intransigence by declaring, “This
will mark our stand, and ’tis here we are prepared to die.” And
the other side thought, “Well, how simply perfect, for ’tis there
we’re equally prepared to kill you.” …And they all lived ever
afterward — sort of.
There was this one guy, at this one time, in this one place,
(all the details of which I shall not dignify by describing,)
after having some exposure to the type of information inherent in
activities such as this wrapped it up to his satisfaction by the
following comment: “It’s air conditioning for the mind.”
This one guy I met wanted me to present the following
question to the proper authorities, and pertinent parties I might
encounter along my merry way, so here comes his poser. Now, you
kids stand back away from the radio. O.k., here it is, he asks:
“If certain info does not appear to be ‘user friendly,’ are we to
conclude the fault lies with the data, or with the potential
One guy on a certain one-guy-journey came to yet another
fucking bend-in-the-road and suddenly thought to himself, “Hey, I
don’t need most of this shit.” And one of his brother’s voices
slapped him on the forehead and said, “My good, man, you can’t
think things like that!” And he slapped himself back and said,
“That’s the very kind of shit I was talking about.”
Portion of a conversation overheard somewhere, First Voice:
“Garbage doesn’t smell.” Second One: “You’re crazy, it always
stinks.” First again: “No, I mean it has no sense ofù smell so
as to detect the presence of other garbage.” Second Voice: “Huh?
I don’t get the point.” First Voice: “Well, let me try it this
way: The simplistic don’t smell.” “Huh?” “Forget it.”
One chap with some semi-solid insight into himself recently
declared that what he likes about the change-of-seasons is the
fact that it doesn’t change anything.
For those still pondering the relative merits of verbal
assaults versus physical attacks, consider this proverb from a
certain planet I don’t wanna talk about, and it says: “Being
shouted down in the middle of the battle-field is no disgrace.
Being shotù down, however, will go on your permanent record.”
(…Enough said, right? Bang, bang, babble, babble.)
One fellow, in a fit of satirical neural patriotism cried
out, “I regret that I have but one brain to give to my country.”
And his brain said, “You regret?”
If ’tis true, as one planet would have it, that “Those who
say don’t know,” what does this also note about those who listen?
One ole timer said that he could wrap up all the wisdom and
experience of his years in one sentence, “Don’t wait for a train
in the bus station.” And both Amtrak and Greyhound feigned
amazement at the old codger’s wasted life.
Another of the details upon which you may safely depend:
Any mortal system that claims its version of reality is the
single valid one is at leastù as primitive and simplistic as your
More complex, revolutionist information can be identified by
its natural grace.
Heard another fellow say that no matter his many and
several shortcomings, one distinct benefit of being himself was
that no matter what time it is, he’s already home.
Be advised: All city employees are overpaid and underworked
and in some cases it’s even worse — the reverse is true.
Life once mused to Itself, “Once they catch on, everybody’ll
be wanting to do it.”