Jan Cox Talk 0747

Man’s Intellect Is Wired to Oppose Traits Which Are Dissimilar


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#747 Jan 2, 1991 – 1:11 
Notes by TK

Kyroot to :12. Note that in the Primary Level World no creature is designed for only one source of food, while at the SL/secondary level it is expedient that only one food source be the rule, i.e., that there only be two competitors for a space. A competitor is a food source. Ordinary intellect is wired up to absolutely deny/oppose the existence of any human trait dissimilar to itself (thereby ensuring its food supply). E.g., “our enemy has no morals” vs. “…has morals different than ours”. The efficiency: one competitor cannot absolutely eliminate the other without effecting its own demise, which Life won’t allow.

The News


The complete rules of all the necessary City games are never fully realized,
and even as man might get close the game changes.

A man with an “after thought” had “two” thoughts…
(unless they are too closely related and then they either may count as one all over again, or else you can move onto Marvin Gardens or one of those other garish colored addresses.)

I met one fellow who had given his own life a name – “Sing Along with Carl”.
(I trust you won’t be too upset if I tell you that I know for a fact that the man couldn’t
carry a tune in a pickup truck, and that his name is “not” Carl.)

Humility updated from the untalented are not all THAT eye-opening.

Late one evening, over at the City college, two professors were playing a chess-like-metaphorical board game and one stopped to light a cigar – I mean incense.
(“INCENSE? Yes, incense. I told you this was the sixties”….
“No you didn’t”
“I most certainly did and if you’re not going to listen I’ll just skip the story.”
“I did listen.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I did but I’ll apologize anyway…finish the story.”
“Okay.” And then he said to his playing partner:
“There was an all-too-soon-to-be-recalled king whose very blood and breath seemed nurtured by the chaos and slaughter of warfare. Just before he would ride into each new battle he would softly croon, (in the manner later made famous by several sixties singers), ‘Let me wrap you in my warm and tender wrath’.”

One guy’s attitude toward himself was about the same as toward others – thus accounting for his popularity both here and abroad.
By and large you can’t do anything about the way you really look – that’s why cosmetic surgery is so cheap and compassionate.

One Revolutionist’s most favorite comment to himself was –
“shut up and dance.”

This one king, when speaking of himself, would sometimes use the singular “I” and at others the royal “we”. He explained that through this tactic he “can take credit for the successes while laying the failures on the people.”
(And one subject noted that part of the benefit of being “the people” is that you are always well prepared for the inevitable.)

A man found a steam iron, took it home and it didn’t work. He didn’t care because all his habits were permanent press.

Over by the Complaint Counter, at the City Opera, a fellow told me that years ago “his best friend was himself.” (He quickly added that was long before he fully realized just what kinda fellow he actually was.)

After all his comments, whether pithy or ponderous this one guy would always say, “Ah, you had to be there, you had to be there.” (Which was easy for him to say since he dind’t have to be there.)
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For the last several days – over in the path in the Park that goes from the pond to the speaker’s area – there has been this chap standing silently by a semi-sentient one with a professionally painted sign about his neck that reads, “Farewells Are Not Worth The Wind They Are Written On.”

To be totally forthcoming there is yet another City substitute for enthusiasm….

Once while visiting your city, I stayed in a neighborhood where one little kid used to play every afternoon on the paved sidewalk just in front of his old man’s pretensions. Many days he would skip and jump back and forth while clapping his hands and chanting, (when he could get the words out), “In-con-gru-ous-ness will be our ruinous-ness.”

Don’t look out the window – just remember – a barking dog gathers no moss whether he’s illogical, sequential, or even in the wrong proverb.

Everyone’s brain is their own Mediterrane.

One of the City cultural critics said, “Too often do we allow spatial limitations to diminish our expectations of beauty.” (Having said that he went on to add), “In fact, the woman truly dedicated to her allure and good looks would insist on three breasts.”
Those who see through metaphors have three breasts.

A severe drought of terror can bore the crops to ruin.

Metaphors that must be explained are directed to the wrong audience. Metaphors that do not HAVE to be explained, have no audience.

Everyone’s playing a “waiting game” and the interesting thing is that everybody wind! (Time is a wimp of an opponent).