Jan Cox Talk 0805

No Real Revolutionist Thought Has Any Authority

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Summary = See below
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News Item Gallery =jcap 1990-11-21 -0805
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Summary

#805 Apr 19, 1991 – 1:00
Notes by TK

Kyroot to :18. See Diagram [central power vs. dispersed power]. More operational examples of TMTYHT (thinking more than you have to) . TJAMAYHT (thinking just as much as you have to) involves defense, e.g., “I have it on good authority…” or “recognized authority supports my position”—reliance on quotations for support/defense. Contrast “I thought it for myself…and no recognized authority would ever agree with me on it.”

No Real Revolutionist thought has any authority. Even a single repetition of the thought is a form of authority. Memory = authority. Authority is not fresh and new. Connection to “talk is the morphine of stupidity”. No new thinking/announcement in the City is ever recorded in history because it has no authority, no support, no context or relational connection. [Diagram #?]


The News

901121-01
Header: ONE MAN GAVE EVERY ORGAN IN HIS BODY
IT’S OWN PERSONAL NAME, EXCEPT ONE

Wherever he’d go, this one guy would stand in line….
and if one wasn’t there – he’d start one.

Even though his last great thought was two years ago, this one guy says he’s even now in rehearsal for a “Grand Come-Back Tour.”

One man gave every organ in his body its own personal name,
except one,
and then he made himself guess which one it was.

One ole City father told his son, “Son, most men when they can’t find anything else to do will get themselves fallen-in-love.” After a hefty pause in the conversation the kid inquired, “Geeze Pop, is that all? Can’t you tell me any more, like how to handle it?” and the elder replied, “If I knew any more about it Son, I wouldn’t have to be here warning you about it.”

If you try to explain why you like something, just remember this –
you could still like it more than you do now.

One of the creatures claims that someone keeps “whispering naughty stuff in his ear”; he admits to living alone, but says that doesn’t matter.

One guy has an attitude, (says he), “I don’t think about Thursdays.”
He has a second attitude, “Today is Friday.”
…(Additional fashion tip: If you plan to become intellectually famous in the City –
ignore the above.)

After several natural disasters, and with several more pending, the townspeople all gathered while their priests performed their mysterious rituals to ward off the danger;
one citizen noticed a man beside him who seemed seized with fear, and in an attempt to reassure him, said, “Don’t be afraid, friend; these religious men know what they’re doing.” And the fellow replied, “I am one of those ‘religious’ men myself, and I know what they’re doing.”

Out near a brook, wearing his royal tights and vest,
a smart ass price declared, “Only a fool dies for honor,”
and his salaried tutor assured, “Yes, Your Regency, and only a fool has any honor”
(and to himself added, “I should know’).

One guy said, “Geeze, it’s hell bein’ “ugly,”
and his partner (always the helpful sort) noted, “Yeah, but at least we don’t have to
look at us.”

On special occasions, just to entertain the kiddies, one ole guy would reverse his frontal lobes; some of the wee ones were more entertained than others, especially those who could tell the difference.

Another faithful viewer writes and says he’s now convinced that half of what I say is true, though meaningless, and the other half super true and downright dangerous; he says he’ll send me his own personal, post-dated check, for some amount, if I’ll just tell him which half is which.

Thinking of This Kinda Stuff as an intellectual aerial act, you could then find a sort of progression going from, “doing it without a net,” to “doing it without a trapeze,” on to the climax of doing it without benefit of gravity, atmosphere, or audience.

There’s a guy on the phone who says he’s John Milton – Yes, that John Milton,
he says we won’t believe where he’s calling from and sure won’t believe the
phone bill we’ll be getting.

While the recent unrest continued the king looked down on a crowd from a high palace window and saw a sign being waved that said, “You Can’t Jail The Truth.” He asked the Prime Minister, “Is that true?” and he replied, “I’m a afraid so, Your Grace.” The next day another sign arose from the mob that read, “You Can’t Jail Justice”. The king asked, “Is that also true?” and the Prime Minister answered, “Yes it is, My Lord.” Then the king stood and announced, “Well, then, we can sure as hell jail the guy painting those signs”…
(Moral: In monarchies you don’t need morals – just good sense.)

When it comes to neural matters familial – an ole man without a kid ain’t an ole man.
(You can vice-the-versey for yourself.)

There are several forms of the past,
and not one of them is all that appealing.

One god told one of his realities, “Stretch out the epilogue; I don’t have a beginning for the new stuff.”

Instead of actually having thoughts, this one man would write them down.

After much reading of the Romantic poets, one man decided that what he wanted was to have his “soul humanized”; (there was mix-up down at the corner service station; they thought he said “simonize”).

In the trans-linear, revolutionist sense,
the lack of conclusions are the proof of their worth.

Sitting up on a grassy, “k-noll”, (that’s how they pronounced it in that part of the City), this one chap gazed off toward the “sun set”, (another of their idiomatic turns), and said, “I truly don’t believe I’d feel so bad if I could just be certain that the rest of life is as depressed as I am.”
(Only with man are certain potentials perfected…There remain no reliable
figures on the suicide rate amongst trees and clouds, and mental health
officials offer no stats regarding the percentage of gophers in their practice.)

In another world gone newly, nearly sane, one guy would regularly call himself up just to see how he was doing. He didn’t really care; but it really didn’t matter since he understood full well who it was making the calls.

A new viewer writes to say that he hates to be the one to tell us.

There’s this one guy who has this motto:
“You’re only rich when you can laugh at nature.”
A man has written to say that he believes I make up all the characters who supposedly
say these things, just so people won’t realize that they actually came from me…….
(He says he believes this.)

While lecturing his post-graduate students, the sheet metal instructor informed, “The history of man began a long, long time ago, “ and looking directly at the guy in from added, “But not that long.”….
(Many of them later went on to much bigger things, but not that many.)

Dialogue recently heard in the City”
“Look, up in the sky – it’s a bird.”
“No, it’s a plane.”
“No, It’s Captain Irony.”
(Fairly long pause right here, then), “Noooo, it couldn’t be Captain Irony;
whenever he flies he takes a cab.”

One guy began to believe that he had lived before…
which helped compensate for the paucity of his present existence.

He led his men to the edge of a high cliff overlooking the thunderous, breaking area, and standing tall in his saddle, hoisted his lance and declared, “Force – I’ll show you force; cunning – I’ll show you cunning; follow me brave hearts and we shall overcome the oceans – if we take them one – wave – at – time.”

There was also this guy who would always give his occupation as “rat appraiser.”
(He said it almost guaranteed him a certain class of friends.)

And now another few, brief, but I trust, refreshing, moments with the famous Talking Twins: (says Number one): “Sensual reality is reality – for those who are sensual,”
and added Twin Number two, “As the horny mathematician said, ‘In the dark all numbers look alive.’”…..(I once asked the gabbing duo if they were fraternal, or identical twins, and Number one replied, “It doesn’t matter,” and Number two added, “You can say that again,” then they both said in unison, “Yeah – we don’t have to.”)
[Boy, those Twins, what a bunch’a guys, what a bunch’a guys!]

Our inspirational Thought For The Day, (or is that insolent?):
All thoughts lead to another – except one.

Over near an office building, in the office building district, a fellow told me that he thinks of his own mental processes as a high-tech fighter plane; mostly given to precise maneuvers – yet a bit frisky, and that he reserves the right to bail out.

Another chap writes to say that he’s glad he could be of help…
(he adds that I can skip any smart ass “come-back” to this).

Appearing rather nonchalant (with no “e), a chap gushed out,
“You know, I do truly believe that I am looking more and more like my
‘post-me’ period.

Just as the train was pulling into the North Corners Station he leaped from his seat, waving a book and crying, “It says right her, ‘Not without hope, we suffer’, and I ask you does that mean that all who suffer still have hope, or, that you wouldn’t suffer if you didn’t have hope?” Now jumping and screaming with increased volume he continued, “Now which is it, my friends – which is it, I ask you…
(A stockbroker, a nurse, two thugs and a rabbi kindly gang-punched
his ticket.)

The king put a distant cousin (who was otherwise qualified) in charge of “translating everything into something else”; the appointee says he’s working on it.

Oh yeah – this one guy finally came to a conclusion and died.

Over in another reality, where such matters were of extreme importance, this one guy created quite a stir by asking his fellow guys, “What if god actually has a phone, and what if there’s someone here who actually knows his number?”…
(You think he’s straining for a date to the prom? – No way, Ben Gay.)

Oh yeah, I happened to meet this one other chap who says that he’s convinced
that if he could get his thoughts as organized and categorized as the books in the
library are, that he could close up early on Saturday too.

As he was passing through the discussion reality, one chap noted, “Well, I can only speak for myself, and I’m not even going to do that.”

One man’s early mornings were completely filled with the joy of having no morning rituals….(His plans call for extending this throughout the day).

Out by the main palace gate a man screamed,
“Any king who would allow the likes of me to live doesn’t deserve to be king,”
and a guard rushed up and said, “But Sire, you are the king.”
He replied, “I rest my case.”

Asked one recently well read kid, “Pop, if time makes memories sweeter, and distance only deepens love, then what salubrious effects may one expect from the off-site operation of one’s mind?”

The latest buzz over at the horseshoe pitching pits in the park is the rumor that the squirrels have started an apprentice program for certain vegetables…(That is, of course, the reason why in some places leaners count more than ringers.)………..
“Fore – playin’ through, playin’ through; Five – hey watch it, proppin’ ‘em up,
out’a da way, proppin’ ‘em up”

If you think that was tricky, ruminate on this:
It costs more – can you believe it – it costs more to get well
than it does to die.

One viewer wrote to himself and said, “Let this be a lesson to you.”