Jan Cox Talk 0813

Being Civilized Is the Ability to Ignore the Obvious

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Summary = See below
Condensed News Items = See Below
News Item Gallery = jcap 1990-12-10 -0813
Transcript = None
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Summary

#813 May 8, 1991 – 1:00
Notes by TK

Kyroot to :17. Lying is an extreme personal waste of energy to a Real Revolutionist. All ordinary thinking is a waste of energy, of time…the supreme “unmorality”. That ordinary thought can only believe in what it can’t see, is the basis of Secondary Level World, of civilization. That the intellect can survive on a diet of inconclusiveness allows a march of progress in civilization. Apparent conclusions suffice for the intellect.

Explanations suffice for real causes. The more civilization, the more disposed to accepting, even seeking out facts over acts…i.e., to “think” about things. Being civilized is the ability to turn your back, to ignore, the obvious. Everybody else’s heredity and inevitability is the Real Revolutionist’s environment and uncertainty.


The News

A man who can spot the ironies and contradictions of life
can always find a parking place… usually.

* * *

There’s a secret language that no one knows, and just to
keep it interesting, it’s being changed all of the time.

* * *

One guy mused, “You know, if you do ’em ‘just so,’ almost
anything you do in the secondary world can be embarrassing.”

* * *

Another distinction from the local is that the universal is
incapable of irony.

* * *

And the day came when man was civilized; it was also the day
he began to believe he would suffer therefrom.

* * *

(Boy! — talk about being “up-to-date”): This one guy’s
significant other is — you guessed it — himself!

* * *

He turned out not to be as dull and dry as first suspected;
it turned out that he had a passionate hobby; he was determined
to “make water confess.”

* * *

Here’s another one that some of you may not believe, (but
that has no effect on it, anyway): One guy used to tell his
inner friends that he was “going off for the weekend to have some
fun,” and then would secretly just go around the corner and slip
back to see what they were doing. (Well sure, now that you’ve
heard it, you believe it.)

* * *

One guy got so old he forgot to complain about it; a similar
thing occurred going in the opposite direction, but the speed
limit of light is such in some corners that what seems so on the
one hand so seems on the other. …(Physics and age are both —
if nothing else — magnanimous in their magnanimity.)

* * *

Being rich is like having a fancy ship that others will try to
sink. Being subversively intelligent is like having a fancy,
spartan raft that can go damn near anywhere and won’t show up on
radar.

* * *

And shortly after that, they detained a man over on Fourth
Street on suspicion of having forged emotions.

* * *

During a slow week, the king established a new cabinet
position — the Ministry of Doubt. (This was the beginning of
his end.)

* * *

(Perhaps a word of caution might be appreciated here):
There is a universe that’ll offer to “sack your groceries”
whether you’ve been shopping or not.

* * *

Over in this one reality, there’s a guy who’s in charge of
all the words, and the really neat (or, at least, interesting)
thing is that he won’t answer any linguistic questions. (I could
tell you similar stories regarding matters other than rhetorical,
but some of our viewers are annoyed enough as it is.)

* * *

People cry out for mercy, when what they want is power.
People cry out for help, when what they want is power. People
cry out for power, when what they want is revenge. (In the final
instance, they waste their energy; you can’t get even for being
alive.)

* * *

One guy says his general attitude can be summed up in two
words.

* * *

forbidding moat, scaled the palace walls, avoided the ever-
present guards, and suddenly appeared in the king’s chamber. And
just as he was about to be seized, the monarch motioned for a
halt and bade the man speak his piece after all this effort. The
simple burgher wiped the sweat from his lip, clasped his hands
together and said, “I have but one thing to ask, Your Grace —
What the hell am I doing here?”

* * *

A note nailed to the wall in the public restroom near the
Ordnance Depot asks, “If the answer to all problems is research
and more research, then why has not man been solved?”

* * *

You can’t jive blood.

* * *

At their last family gathering, one god admitted to a cousin
that the whole thing was actually easier than it looked.

* * *

One man believed that the way to live was to always say you
were about to die; this he believed, but he didn’t know why.
Another man had a paperweight he used; it seemed functional
enough, although he did not understand the principle thereof.
Still another chap wanted to write a treatise regarding how such
affairs fitted into the overall scheme of mortal existence but
his fountain pen short-circuited on him and burnt down his house
and desires.

* * *

The publisher’s desk felt a bit edgy supporting a manuscript
entitled, “Help: My Brain Has Been Hit By A Shotgun Or Vice
Versa.”

* * *

Rain can tell the future.

* * *

There was a certain gentleman who, whenever he would have a
potentially significant thought, would soon follow it by
remarking to himself, “Yes, but consider the possible
ramifications, the ramifications,” and he seemed to have led a
quite respectable life until on his death bed he asked the
priest, “What the fuck does ‘ramification’ mean?”

* * *
No need to wait up; a man with a real name ain’t comin’
home.

* * *

In the Land Of The Hesitant, who needs a stop watch.

* * *

Would you care to hear of this chap who tried so hard to
disbelieve in genetic influences that he ripped out the seat of
his best Sunday pants?

* * *

There’s a place I’ll bet you’ve never heard of: it’s a
planet where the creatures have one name for daytime and another
one for night.

* * *

The future is locked in a room just around the corner, and
from it come noises which are, naturally enough, foreign to man
and incapable of complete translation. (Such is what is, and
also what is to come.)

* * *

Although he didn’t want to tell anyone, one guy’s (gender,
all-inclusive) favorite song has become, “How sweet it is to be
loved by me.”

* * *

If you must justify your occupation, you have a good solid
occupation.

* * *

At the city’s annual “meeting,” one fellow, when it came his
turn, stood and said that since he had no present complaints, he
had nothing to say. (His neighbors were momentarily stunned,
then — as was the healthy norm — quickly turned disinterested.)

* * *

One sparkling little world took for their planetary motto
these words: “If You Won’t Over Indulge Why Bother To Dulge At
All.”

* * *

says, “You may send all unwanted gifts to me; this does not
include unwanted bills. Thank you.” (No, thank you, sir.)

* * *

Some critics say they want to be “catalysts for change,” and
while change exists, there are no such things as catalysts.

* * *

A man exiting the city park via the north gate stopped long
enough to tell me this: “I just about have a hammer lock on time,
but space — ah, dear space — can still kick me around pretty
good when the referee’s not looking.”

* * *

More recently discovered Graffiti-For-The-Ages: “Most holy
books were written out of spite.”

* * *

After telling me that he didn’t usually talk to strangers,
this guy out by a yard sale went on to say that he’d lived by
himself so long that he’d almost forgotten who he was. (This was
another of those instances when it was hard to tell if the human
involved was registering a complaint, or what.)

* * *

In an attempt to pass along the wisdom he’d acquired, and to
keep the lore of the sea alive, the old salt told one of the kids
along the docks, “A man with a wooden leg is a splendid companion
in a lifeboat.” He squinted and spat on his foot as he
continued, “But better still is a man with one eye who has a
shortwave radio.” (Squint, spit.)

* * *

The first fury declared, “Only the mighty sleep,” and his
younger spirit asked, “How about the tired and the discouraged?”
and he replied, “You call that sleep?!”

* * *

What new intelligence might say would sometimes be in
shorthand, other times, longhand.

* * *

One ole sorehead’s credo is: “When in Rome, do as you damn
well please.”

* * *
It’s not man’s responsibility to actually know anything —
just an alternative hobby for a few.

* * *

A kid has written me to say that his ole man has been
watching our shows for a while, and has suddenly developed a new
and quite vociferous attitude, which he exhibits by the following
cry, “Damn choices! Not by such does progress progress.” (The
lad wonders whether this portends any immediate dangers —
especially for him.)

* * *

Even before the final score was in, many people left. Hell,
most people left. Okay — everybody left.

* * *

One man was so enamored of his words that he refused to let
his writings be revised, even after he died.

* * *

Proverbial update, supplement seven: Personal anecdotes are
the opium of the masses. (Or, scientific variation: Personal
anecdotes are two hundred and twenty neural volts brought low.)

* * *

Staying truly abreast of civilization, this one king sent
word to his defense ministry that whenever a new opposition group
tried to form, they should immediately find out what the faction
called themselves, and that thenceforth they should always be
referred to with their name in quotation marks. (In the city,
there are cheaper means of disposal than bullets.)
* * *

He walked back home, but to no profit.

* * *

Disappearing always produces aftershocks, but no one is
there to see them.

* * *

Then a guy, standing just at the edge of things, said, “If
you believe this, you’ll believe anything.” (Which sort of puts
a wrap on it.)

* * *