Not More Intelligence–New Intelligence
#588 Dec 27, 1989 – 0:58
Notes by TK
Kyroot to :05. This Thing is not more intelligence, it is New Intelligence. NI is not a superior intelligence; it is just different. Example given of scientific evidence that there was a time in epochs past when more diversity of species existed being newly interpreted as evidence that life is not evolving, that it is involution.
No amount of more-intelligence will force the New Intelligence insight that man, being the complex creature that he is, now compensates for a multitude of species that Life needs no longer make provision for. Cf. an individual man with a complex New Intellectual ability can ‘extinct’ a multitude of more primitive thinking processes within himself.
The 2-d concept of the 3-d world would be “it’s impossible” ; a view of the 3-d world would result in the description “imponderable”; a 5-d view of the 3-d world would be “it’s impertinent”. There are no 3-d secrets to 5-d intelligence. The Real Revolutionist has got to have a more complex view in order to comprehend 3-d reality.
And Kyroot Said…
Those who seriously speak of “man’s uncertain destiny”
unconditionally establish their own — at least intellectually.
To be unknown is to be part grown.
Whilst out on a beguiling stroll through an enchanting woods
with his two charming sons, a father suddenly spoke to them
thusly, “If she’ll show you her ankle, she’ll show you her knee,
and if she’ll show you her knee, she’ll show you her thigh.” And
after they had walked for awhile more, one of the boys asked the
other one, “Was the old man talking about sex?”
The real cowards of this world are not simply those of
physical timidity, but are rather, those afraid to think-the-new.
There are no ant secrets to an aardvark.
Additional Strenuous Science, (sub, physics & math:)
Although two ratios may be the same, if their size difference
reaches a certain point, the human intellect will perceive the
ratios to have diverged.
This mechanic I met says that, “Death continues to interfere
with man arriving at some certain mathematical certainties, for
instance, now we’ll never know if Beethoven’s Tenth would have
been twice as good as his Fifth.”
Another divinity expressed certain of his feelings toward
the craft by saying that one of the “neat things about being a
god is that once you’re real famous when people interview you,
they never ask what in your past you regret most.”
Institutional crime is no crime.
One fully ripened ole sore head was heard to remark that in
“casting about for answers, most people came up with anchovies.”
A friendly dietician I danced with, attempting, I suspect,
to waltz her way even closer to the area of terpsichorean
certainty, confided to my nearest ear that, “The words most
commonly misspelled and mispronounced are seldom those words
seldomly used.” (I could have dannn-ced all night, dannn-ced all
Those who hate the gods mistrust the kings, and the anti-
royalists are everywhere the spine of the revolution.
A real dummy will always hire his brother-in-law.
When the plague hit, all who were not dying from it were
talking about it, (except for a few who could see beyond the
horizon of the clock).
Only the simplistic think that they should be where their
brain is at all times.
One earth-birthed thinker-cum-cynic posed, then answered the
following query, “What is the greatest example of the triumph of
order over chaos? Is it good over evil? Light over darkness?
No, I say, it is the mastery of the state over the people, for
once the ‘order’ of the bureaucracy is in place, it will spawn
its own new generation of chaos.”
Some more of my mortal correspondence: Dear Kyroot: Some
of what you say is so obvious and down to earth as to be almost
routine, then at other times it sounds spooky as hell. Signed,
D.R.” Dear D.R.: Same to ya.
Over on that busy, blue planet, one economist made his semi-
permanent mark by the following notation, “Just like stairs,
prices go up, and prices go down, but they never go away.”
A little after ten-thirty last evening, coming from not too
far away, I heard the following little sing-along:
“Genes’ll make you fat,
Genes’ll make you thin,
Genes’ll make you lose,
And Genes’ll make you win.
Oh, Genes’ll bring you up,
And Genes’ll take you out,
They’ll do anything but,
Admit what they’re about.”
When the unprovable becomes undeniable, maps become living