All Institutions Exist to Assist Man in Not-Thinking
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12/26/1990
Summary = See below
Condensed News Items = See below
News Item Gallery = jcap 1990-07-27 -0744
Transcript = None
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Summary
#744 Dec 26, 1990 – 1:12
Notes by TK
Kyroot to :12. All institutions exist to assist men in not-thinking. This comes via the institutional giving out of prohibitions: what not to do, think, say in order to become a better person. The ordinary personality is an institution handing down proscriptive injunctions. Is it even possible to give distinct positive, vs. negative, behavior commands in the interest of improvement? To convert “shalt-not’s” to “shalts” is no real conversion of the shalt-not basis. Only by seeing the future is it possible to give positive direction, to effect positive action. The ordinary cannot see the future, ergo, all direction is based on the past, in the form of injunctions of what not to do.
All literature and art are a poetic form of describing freedoms that will never be experienced by men, Such descriptions are expressions of man’s limited sensory perception, i.e., his description of his own captivating cell walls. All dreams of freedom are a detailing of confinement.
[ An example of how polarized energy propagates: “men should be free to be what they are… (except when that conflicts with another’s freedom).” i.e., the freedom of pluralism countermanded by the exception. The exception removes all certainty and automatically brings on proscriptive injunctions of behavior.
The News
900727-01
Header: IT’S EASY TO ADMIRE SOMETHING YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND
Subheader: Nothing Is A Sin The First Time Around
Footer: Jan’s Whiz-Boom-Bang Daily News
‘Tis often said, “The first blow is the hardest.”
But ‘tis never asked – “on whom?”,
and the reason being that the current laws of Life’s books do not allow for one question
to have two answers –much less three.
To help ease your mind let me tell you that the word “even”
was a late arrival at the party.
I have here a post card sent in by some fellow or the other, who states quite clearly, in his own handwriting that some of his best friends live in the City. Trouble is, he says, he can’t tell them from his enemies.
This one kid brought his ole man the first written proof of his intellectual journeys which read, “The paths of fame and power lead only to the grave.” The elder read it, then repeated it aloud, “The paths of fame and power lead only to the grave.” The youngster beamed as the ole man scowled and asked, “So this is it, is it – the fruits of your insight?” The kid smiled even louder as his pater re-read again then turned to the crowd and said, ”He may never be a poet or a philosopher, but at least he’s obviously become…..”
and right here I couldn’t tell what he said as the ole man began to gag and heave.
It is sure easy to admire something you don’t understand.
One doctor’s prescription for all complaints: “Go lay down until it passes.”
(All local Cities have lifted his license to practice.)
Nothing is a sin the first time around.
In the three dimensional world, even if you know what you’re doing, you have to exaggerate just to minimally tell the truth.
Let me tell you about this one creature who traveled all over the world, throughout the universe, and through all known times pursuing “his little hobby” of laughing at the epitaphs on the grave makers of the dead. But, let me tell you this, when the day came when he realized he was approaching death, he immediately canceled his subscription to Time.
Make no mistake – those who’ve got complaints have got it all.
As I stepped off the curb to cross over the boulevard just east of the river, a man passing in the other direction handed me a tightly folded note which said, “I have personally determined to my own personal and complete satisfaction, that the actual purpose of our lives is for each of us to learn to ‘eat cheap’.”
(I re-folded the note and pressed on toward the docks.)
Life is a perpetual event.
A new Fairy Tale For The Newly Fairied:
Once upon an “ole man” wrote to himself and said, “Irregardless of you saying these stories don’t have a moral, dig this – all epilogues and after-thoughts ARE morals.”
(If you think I’m gonna make a post scripted, or parenthetical comment on this –
you’re nuts……even though it was unsigned.)
In a 3-D world only he unilateral can be certain….
(and it’s not certain that the unilateral can exist in a 3-D world.)
Talk about your disgusting justice!
A man with sins to confess will never finish.
Some real-time anachronistic graffiti on the bathroom wall, (near the light switch), in a bistro on a world that has yet to clearly establish its position in the chronology of the cosmos: In translation, the best I can make of it is thusly, “Warp and woof, warp and woof, so sews the see-saw of rugs; up and down, a-square, a-round, so goes from thieves to saints to thugs.”
(I do personally consider it a most promising sign that all the rest of the universe now recognizes the travel limitation of circular sojourns of reason….[Heh, heh, get it? – just a little tour director’s humor.])
Institutions are to assist man in not thinking.
In a land where rangy brains sustain sub-hunger pains, it’s the food with no center they have for dinner, that’s how they maintain the lean.
A viewer form “out-that-way” writes to say that he’s contemplated, then counted and concluded that there are as many hobbies as there are people; he in fact wants it know that there are EXACTLY the same number of human hobbies as there are humans.
(He says he finds this “HIGHLY suspicious”, and asks –“Don’t you too?”)
I wish I had more to report,
but there are no scores in a subversive sport.
Moving right along, this one guy said,
“The best thing about being sick is – NOTHING.”
Is a man a victim if he knows “not” his fate?
Stupidity has a name…..don’t ask.
There was once, on this planet, a civilization so verified that it would not allow any citizen to be a poet who had ever had a pimple.
On this somewhat experimental planet they are trying out a piece of legislation directing that, “uninvited guests can visit only as long as it takes them to ride a motorcycle through your house….front to back.”
Something misplaced can still be correctly named.
All dreams of freedom are descriptions of confinement;
all freedoms vocalized are themselves forms of captivity.
A certain uppity kid grabbed the trouser leg of a renowned intellectual elder and asked, “Say, if knowledge is actually something you have, how come all those fancy-ancy kings with their hoopdee-loopdee tombs didn’t have theirs buried with them along with their swords and shield?”
(It was subsequently necessary for the professor to have his pants cleaned and pressed.)
Street-level intelligence may rise and fall – but not enough to hurt anyone.
In a world, not quite your own, thee is a society that defines the past as
“Anything that happened to somebody else.”
There are no permanent one-way streets.
(File in the “Any Enlightenment Might Be All Enlightenment Department):
One chap says that his sole, sudden moment of epiphany, in as surprising an area as it
was, nonetheless instantly made everything else in life “just as clear as hell”. It all
came, he continues, when he at once realized that the entire science of Economics was
“MADE UP”.
(This proved so satisfying that it’s reputed his brothers are wielding the same idea in a
re-vigored inquiry into the fields of Theology, Psychology and Nouveau French
Cuisine.)
There was this one guy who told his captors that he didn’t hold them “personally responsible”. Of course, this was the one guy in the whole universe who doesn’t realize who his real captors are – oops…sorry, that was you wasn’t it?!
And finally from the ole mail bag we extract a communique from a certain professor across town who insists that if someone doesn’t tell him “who is”, or “who writes” all these items that he’s going to “hold his breath, become an atheist, and take a shot at Santa Claus.”