Only the Uncertain Is Alive
Audio = Stream from the bar; download from the dots
08/07/1991
Summary = See below
Condensed News Items = See below
News Item Gallery = jcap 1991-03-08 -0852
Transcript = None
Key Words =
Summary
#852 Aug 7, 1991 – 1:00
Notes by TK
Kyroot to :22. Only the uncertain is alive. Uncertainty is an operational synonym for the Secondary Level World. Only the Primary Level World can live with certainty, depends on certainty. The basis for the sentiment underlying the old saw: “nothing is certain except uncertainty”, has never been discerned by man. It is extremely slippery: uncertainty/uneasiness over an inchoate future arising from a literally man-made, invented past.
The Primary Level World has no feeling of mysteries, knowledge yet to be known, that should be known, yet probably never will be known, The Secondary Level World is invented by the mind, gives rise to and is integral, to such feelings of the unknown. The mind is troubled by the its own shadow. It seeks nouns where everything is a verb. What is around the next corner, and troubling to the mind, is its own steps carrying it there. This is supreme efficiency.
The News
Don’t get your social calendar unnecessarily confused or hung up: There will never be a retirement party for Captain Irony.
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Moving graffiti on the visitors’ bus: “Some of the best words ever said by man were not said by man.”
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One chap’s thoughts went by so fast that he decided to print up a schedule, but even that proved too quick to get in a press.
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The fellow buying bubble gum in line in front of me turned and said, “If knowledge is transient and ignorance constant, could it be that the former is just the shadow of the latter?”
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One god’s nascent religion fell all to hell when he decided to name it “Look — No Net.”
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The appearances of things are a sure part of the things — why else do you think they have an appearance?
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One reality’s younger brother decided to try his hand at giving out proverbs to the little creatures, so he gave out: “A man who doesn’t care about anything can care about everything.
…He hesitated and said, “No, wait — that sounds a bit, well, a bit something-or-other… …Let me put it like this: A ship that cares little for reefs won’t mind a wreck.” …(He seemed to enjoy this so much that any question of what the subordinates may have received therefrom drifted into Mootsville. …[See — that’s the kind of stuff you can get by with when you’re kin to reality.])
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“DNA can make you say, I’m not swayed by DNA.”
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Yet another way to determine if you are adequately secondarized (or, “civilized,” if you will and must) is that, faced with two possibilities, you have no doubt that one of them is proper and sufficient.
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A king writes in regarding a recent Kyroot that had a monarch noting that if it weren’t for his foes, his reign would crumble, and the writer says that although he grasps and appreciates the message of my story, he wants it known that he still thinks all his enemies suck!
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During morning roll call, one reality told all its foot patrolmen to be on the lookout for anyone who can wrap everything up in a single, clever phrase, for they may ultimately present a problem, or else prove to be a carrier.
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One broadcasting station told his offspring: “Son, don’t you be upset because of their faulty receivers,” and the youngster thought, “What a joy to live in a closed-end reality where everything seems possible, and everything can be explained.”
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The note in the bottle the waves washed ashore said: “Help! We’re being held captive by Four.” Signed, “Two, and his partner, Two.”
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One man’s complaint is that his hormones keep him up at night.
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One ole city dad took his son aside to a quiet, private place and told him: “My boy, there are some things that simply cannot be talked about. …I don’t know what they are, but there’re some things that simply can’t be talked about.” …(With that, he patted him on the shoulder and sent him on his way, saying, “We’ll talk later.”)
***
One fellow was commenting on how entertaining mortal existence can be to an interested observer, and his soreheaded companion remarked, “Yeah, I sometimes think of my own life as the Bend Over Theatre.”
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And now for the “Good News” — and I mean really good: A man who doesn’t know what he’s talking about can talk about anything. (And of course, in secret, so can a man who does.)
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This one reality used to like to ask its creatures, “Hey, can you dig it? Can you dig it?” especially when it knew they couldn’t.
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In the mental arena, one guy says that at times the ferocity of his two-pronged approach reminds him of a masked tag team from Australia.
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Once he got old enough to comprehender, this one ole man renamed his neural kid “Hit-And-Run.”
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Gazing out over his back yard forest, one guy mused, “All religion is just a substitute for something else,” and his squirrely partner chimed in, “Yeah, but ‘something else’ itself was just a substitute for something else.” …(The chap — for some quirky reason — suddenly realized that “thinking” is the proper synonym for every known noun.)
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Do practice rounds qualify for the same veterans’ benefits as shells actually fired in combat?
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A viewer writes in and claims to know “who actually writes all the Kyroots” — he admits he’s the same guy who wrote us about this some months back, but he says, “If it didn’t work once, it might not work again.” …(This one reality [for certain occasions its creatures considered special] had this form telegram it would send out that said: “The Ransom’s In The Mail.”)
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One fellow says that above all other instances, he’s decided that the main trick in trying to help yourself is to stay out of the way.
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In the city, feeling guilty can sure get you past a lot.
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One guy’s typewriter let him down — “Thank god,” he said, “that it wasn’t anything important, like my mind.” Suddenly he screamed, “Oh, my god, I had it backwards!”
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The king proclaimed, “No knight may marry my daughter who cannot weep when his comrade is wounded, who will not stop to assist the weak, and who would hesitate to spit into the face of fate when denied his destiny.” And someone cried out, “You don’t have a daughter,” and His Grace screamed in return, “Who the hell do you think I am!”
***
A man with a bow tie, a cliche, and a hand gun can always talk to the driver, no matter what the sign says.
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And now for another exciting item from our Believe It Or Eat A Shoe files: Someone broke into our files and took everything but this one item.
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In a surprisingly somber move, this one reality stood, tapped his knife on a glass for quiet, and said, “Let us observe a few seconds of silence in honor of those who could not be with us tonight,” and as the guests pondered the possibility of just where else they could be, a low wave of giggles and guffaws ran through the crowd and just absolutely ruined the moment.
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One ole city observer says that after weighing what he understands about life against the normal requirements of educational institutions, that people attend for several years before they are granted a degree, a degree is not in recognition of their intellectual achievements, but just because they put up with attending for several years.
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One day one kid’s partner (who sometimes pretended to be his brother, and sometimes the other way around) said, “Since the way you feel is never exactly the way you say you feel, why bother to ever say how you feel?” …(The lad had no immediate response.)
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In certain areas, this one neural traveler found that his own best plan was to generally ignore any plans he’d already made.
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When he died, one man had himself buried in his favorite closet — he says it’s “so, so appropriate,” it almost makes his eyes water.
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Son Of City Conversational Fragment, Part III, Opus Ninety two: “The so-called ‘critical issues facing man’ will never be solved, because he keeps inventing new ones.” (Second voice): “Don’t you mean ‘keeps causing new ones’?” (First voice): “What are you — fuckin’ deaf!” …(Ahh, and so it goes in sophisticated circles, that nontheatrical Dialogue Coaches must scrounge for every bleeding penny. …[“Pa Pa,” asked the child, “Is that why it is easier to get a job as an armed robber than it is an ethics instructor?”])
***
Many times it is the very last word that makes all the difference, and many times not.
***
And by that time, yet another youngster spoke up and queried, “If men’s minds truly had anything specific to say — and in a manner conclusive, then why do they even have epilogues, addendums and Revised Editions?” and his ole man pit-chief noted, “You sometimes drive dangerously high up on that first backstretch bank — you know, the turn at the billboard denouncing drugs and direct thinking.”
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One guy’s advice to himself and all his other friends was: When you have a comment is the time to have no comment.
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This one reality just went ahead and got on down to it and called experience what it really is — tired hormones!
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After watching our show for a while, this one man says he now feels a greater difference between himself than he does other people.
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The sagacity of one ole sorehead was summed up in these words to his kid: “If all you have is lemons, don’t just complain — go out and beat up someone who has something else.”
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Only the uncertain is alive.
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Over in another Neural District, this one chap would agree to come meet the mayor only if city government would agree to buy him a new pair of shoes. …(Need I push this further? Must we stand on protocol?)
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Once a squirrel learns to open the door — nothing’s safe.
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Once upon a time there was a man who believed a little of this and a little of that. In an attempt to improve himself, he started believing a little more of this and a little less of that; he then tried believing a little less of this and more of that, and later still, he tried believing a little more of them both; but soon he got old enough that none of it mattered, anyway. (…and Kyroot added: I gotta give him credit, though — with his dying breath, he still damn-near choked to death over the perceived difference between “and” and “but.”)
***
Small Appliance Repair Tip For The Day: Your brain is a small appliance.
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From our wast viewing audience (this new typewriter can’t seem to tell the difference between a “v” and a “w”) comes this letter: Dear etc., etc.: Watching your show certainly gives one something to think about; I, personally, however, do not wish to think of anything. Sincerely Yours, etc., etc.”
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There is no level playing field! Leastwise, not out where Life lives and plays.
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After calling them all together, this one reality said to its creatures, “I have recently received several ‘complaints,’ and I must tell you in all honesty that I have absolutely no idea what a complaint is.”
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The king stopped the bus, turned around in the driver’s seat, and addressed the passengers: “Poetry that is not in motion is not even poetry to begin with,” and a youngster in the overhead luggage rack exclaimed, “Ye gads! Does this finally clarify why all of my best-efforted thoughts back home are so lead-footed? …Does this explain why Public Transportation without space for all possible neural riders denies its own name, in that it neither serves the public, nor goes anywhere! Ye gads! Ye gads!”
***
Another way you can think about it: The world’s big enough for everybody because it wouldn’t be big enough if it weren’t for everybody — (more or less).
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More Unknown Laws In Areas And Disciplines That Have No Names: If you discover something brand new — on your own, then with others who can eventually be told, it doesn’t much matter how you tell them.
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To a revolutionist mind, the secondary world is a crossword puzzle of fungible definitions and flexible word lengths.
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After some time, several of the people thought they knew what he was talking about. (Of course, by then, it was too late.)
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There was one guy who “had no mercy,” but this was no problem, since he also had no anti-mercy. …(Did anyone hear that? …[Can a man standing in the middle of a railroad track actually see anything?])
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They tell a tale in one universe of a man who finally perceived “the answer,” but who never realized that all of the questions were, “So it’s come to this?”
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Whenever the lamb wanted to cook, he’d have to get some starter fluid from Mary.
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A subversive’s medical alert: If you allow age to take from your mind that which it takes from your muscles, you will accept the generic dose of the inevitable prescribed for everyone.
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In one place, several of the ole men got together and invented themselves a kid in common.
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There is no longer any such thing as the purely primary world — not since you learned to say it. …(Fablized romantic version: Paradise was lost as soon as someone said, “Hey, look — it’s paradise!”)
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The Minister Of City Etiquette noted (you might be interested to know that the inner-court crowd refers to his position as “The Minister Of What Passes For Etiquette In The City) — any-who, he noted, “A man without a ‘bone to pick’ will pick someone else’s.”
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There is some truth in all proverbs, but half of it is not in the proverb.
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All proverbs will surrender and confess, if you know how to properly mistreat them.
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Whenever he wanted to change his mind, this one guy would.
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Only those who don’t know what this is care what this is.
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Reality lets everyone make up their own reality, but allows just a few to do one that resembles its own.
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One of the dancers sighed, “If we would talk about our differences, they would diminish,” and the partner replied, “Perhaps.” …(They continued to glide across the floor; forward, backward, first to the left, then to the right, sometimes whispering, sometimes not, but dancing — all the while, dancing.)
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