Jan Cox Talk 0868

Purpose of Speech is TBC–“To Be Continued”

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Summary = See below
Condensed News Items = See below
News Item Gallery = jcap 1991-04-15 -0868
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Summary

#868 Sep 13, 1991 – 1:00
Notes by TK

Kyroot to :25. The purpose of the old three Primary S-s (sustenance, shelter, sex) is To Satisfy (TS); the purpose of the New S is To Be Continued (TBC), to promise satisfaction…tomorrow. Speech is not intended to be conclusive, to get anywhere. Inconclusiveness and dissatisfaction ensure continuance, the challenge of further attempt at achieving satisfaction.. The Old S-s are concerned with immediacy; speech is not so concerned. Imagination reaches such development that compared to the Old S-s it seems even superior, more useful and preferable to them. E.g., sex act never living up to the imagined.


The News

On every planet, in every universe, in every reality is a secret place known as, New Neuraland.

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Only the ordinary are interested in illness; reality itself gives short shrift to sickness, and thus man alone struggles against the inevitable — just as he should.

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Cautioning his son in matters far too obscure for us to mention here, one ole man told the kid, “Once you write a letter, everybody can read it.”

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In a land where things cannot seem to be more than they are — things are not sufficient.

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There was once a man with no guilt who “somehow” became a poet, and every time he’d think about it, he’d grin like a garter snake in a strip joint.

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Everyone who can talk has something to say; and everyone who can speak is at least minimally employed.

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A certain reality with an exemplary will to live and no suicidal tendencies set up standards that no one could meet. (Why the hell else would he set ’em up!)

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This one guy’d forget things and be mad so’s he could later remember them and be glad.

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Part of Mary’s job is to teach the Lamb to speak — which is an interesting situation, what with Mary being mute and the Lamb learning impaired.

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Over in one galaxy there’s a move afoot to give ears the right to vote.

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In this one land, the people would only think when necessary. …(A visiting architect informs me that this sentence would be “greatly enhanced” with the judicious use of a few modifying pediments strategically placed.)

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A viewer’s recent letter contains the claim that “he has us all figured out.” The writer says that while we’re obviously not “government sanctioned,” he still believes our shows are no less than “some kind of alternative space program.”

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Everybody’s personal story is important to them; that’s the way it’s supposed to be, but that ain’t the way it’s gotta be.

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In a surprising leap forward, the king of one country, the father of one family, and the center of one brain proclaimed that henceforth, during their continuing Easter Egg Hunt, anyone who found one would be shot…(if they weren’t dead already). …(To Say The Least: “Having the last word,” for a revolutionist, is no great deal — to say the least, indeed!)

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All discoveries are, in part, inventions.

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The mythology of this one people says that in the beginning the gods didn’t speak to man, and that it was only after they started doing so that all the troubles began. …(…and Kyroot added: There was this one god who used to say, “There’s just no satisfying some suckers,” but since he still owes me money, why should I mention him and give him free publicity.)

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Sports: Competition without the actual payoff.

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“Intellectual Charity” has but one form — silence.

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Over a hot cappuccino, this one reality said that one of the really neat perks of his position was that you can “`roll over’ in everybody’s grave.”

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It does not cover it to simply say that life is some sort of joke; it is rather that life is the setup, and your best-shot-at-independent-thought — the punch line.

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Nothing works without human intervention.

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One ole sorehead out by the shed said, “I may be a late-comer in realizing this, but it now seems to me that any god that could be known by his creatures ain’t much of a god.”

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The primary is proper when certain; the secondary only thrives when otherwise.

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Lambs that can speak have teeth…and can bite…(just ask Mary).

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This one man’s thoughts would only speak to his feelings during commercials.

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A lad asked the thing he presently called a “Dad”: “Sir, is it hard to know something special without being cynical?” “Son, have you ever ridden a bus?” “Certainly, Pa Pa.” “Well, do you remember what a joy and relief it was to finally get off?”

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Standing by a rusted-out pickup truck, the man waved his arms and asked, “Why is it that things look so simple once they’ve gone wrong?” (and waving some more, insisted) “And why does no one ever comment on this fact?”

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The king’s Pocket Diary contained this entry: “Anyone or any god that tries to make you laugh just so you’ll like them is not `our kind.'” (The inbreeding of royalty does not always spell disaster.)

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One rebel wrote a note to himself that said, “If they start calling you `Mister’ — get out of town.”

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One of the park philosophers said, “It is only through abruptness in life that a man can possibly.”

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A small marker read: “They Died To Save Money.”

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But another park pundit countered, “Nay, ’tis not abruptness that is required; it is the matter of surprise in life that 65 million people will opt for governmental assistance.

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In his younger days, one neural ruler declared, “What we need is more data.” Then in his middle years he expanded to express, “What we need is data and interpretation.” And finally in his late years (when certain things seemed to become clearer) he said, “What we need is help.”

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A man reading a book is a thief; some crimes are officially sanctioned.

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If you went out in the woods with him, this one reality’d get real mad if you pissed on his foot; he said that was just one of the prerogatives of being a reality. …(Well, pardon ME, Your Graciousness.) …[Have any of you ever wondered whether over in Reality Land they write Kyroots about man in which they always get to put in some final little smart ass comment?… …Is that terrifying to contemplate, or what!])

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Returning home for the first time after several years in the city one kid told his family, “Over there they want you to do silly stuff and act real serious about it.” …(“Uhhs” and “Ahhs” filled the house of these uncivilized though otherwise insightful neurons.)

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Once you try to tell what you think, the privacy of your own mind’s not all that private any more — Eh?!

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One guy used to play like he was better than everybody else, just so everybody else would think so. …(And some still ask where all of tomorrow’s everybodys will come from!)

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Those who don’t know much will simply insist!

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The Training Camps for Tomorrows and Everybodys have been consolidated; The Training Camps for Tomorrows and Everybodys have been closed; The Training Camps for Tomorrows and Everybodys never existed; Now everyone’s off the hooker-rooney.

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A certain city correspondent disputes the idea that human evolution began when the first lungfish stepped from the waters onto land; he claims it started with the death of his uncle Floyd.

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The power of silence has not changed — rather, present needs.

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In a certain Neural Mythology, Mary’s Lamb was the original Prodigal Son, sharper than a serpent’s tooth, who bit the hand that fed it. …(And on the upstage riser slowly appeared the chorus softly singing, “Oh, the blue bone’s connected to the — brain bone…)

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In a conflict between two principalities, the first king to say, “Look, I don’t want any trouble” — loses.

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The district chief announced, “Let the designers design, and let the drivers drive,” but they had no cars.

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One guy admits he talks to a large boulder in his backyard; he says it’s not as strange as it sounds, that, in fact, the rock is a better conversationalist than his own partner. …(After a few seconds’ hesitation he exclaimed, “It is my partner.”
…[Then after a I’m-five-weeks-late pause, he added, “No it’s not, I just said that ’cause that’s the kinda stuff you guys sometimes expect at the end of these things.”])

***

Obviously sensing the increasing competition for fame, that chap we mentioned recently has now updated his name to The HYDROGEN Bomb Of Whiners.

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One god asked that his name not be used. …(Wow! Somebody get that god’s name!)

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The bad news is that everything’s getting more complicated; The good news is that everything’s becoming more complex. (Stay tuned for more of the same.)

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During an expansive moment, this one reality decided to tell its creatures one of the Great Secrets, but then realized…

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There’s one basic trick to handling other people, and it still doesn’t work.

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A certain universe contacted me and said that after listening to a bunch of this stuff, it had only one thing to say in our direction — which is this: “If it’s direct, it’s too direct for me.”

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One man had such reverence for life that he treated his own brain almost as well as he did his rats and roaches.

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Silence is no longer enough.

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The king of one expanding land took as a slogan for the people: Silence is no longer enough.

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While out strolling with his fluffy friend, one kid mused, “Just think, if you have no peers, you have no peer pressure.” (His traveling companion made a concurring sound which I shan’t try to duplicate here.)

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Only an empty bucket can be filled; only an empty bucket wants to be filled; but, hey! No one asks why it was empty in the first place!

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One chap says that he’ll begin heading for the exit when he hears that busses have cracked the sound barrier.

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Queeery (with three “E’s”): If Marys ride buses, do all Lambs fly? …if so, First Class or Tourist? (Thoughts that believe all thoughts are created equal have not only a “lot to learn,” but more than we’ll ever have time to go into during one lifetime.)

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There is, in this certain neighboring galaxy, a somewhat rebellious religious faction whose collected holy scriptures are known as The Book Of Bribes.

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In a certain neural land, tall kings are guarded by dwarfs, and short regents by giants. …(Intellectual merry-go-rounds were the original Fail-Safe apparatus.)

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Coincidentally: Someone who’s been watching this called to say that after giving it all careful consideration, he’s accepted the fact that his present intelligence is his rightful king, and therefore will probably not be tuning us in as often any more. Redundant Moral: In a thriving kingdom, all work for the general good, even traitors.

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Finally, this one fellow told his dumber neural relatives: “Trying to make sense out of life is no job for a sensible man.” (They all nodded…they always do.)

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Worry Saving Tip: Ordinary thoughts going out of town have already left.

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Near one of the city statues, a fellow paused just long enough to say, “Tell me, then, what’s the problem with being sacrilegious if you weren’t `sacri’ to begin with?!” (He spat on an adverb, kicked a passing prepositional phrase, and walked away.)

***

Once the other composers realized what he was up to, they all wanted to write an Unfinished one.

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When things worked out just as he imagined they would, this one god would always say, “Well — sure,” and when things would work out just as his creatures had feared they would, he would say, “Well — sure,” and when things would work out just as his creatures had hoped they would, he’d say — well, let’s just say that he said “Well — sure” a lot!

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And a viewer writes to ask why we don’t turn whatever this is we’re doing into some organized, non-profit operation and solicit contributions: He says that if we do, he’ll be one of the first not to send us any money.

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In this one solar system, they pay homage only to the dead; as regards any alternative, they ask, “How can it be otherwise? How are you to know to what end the living will come?” (Note: No telescope is required to visit this universe.)

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Quite suddenly the man began to yell, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Now I get it!” and just as suddenly, he was hit by a
bus…which then began to yell, “I’ve got it! — now I’ve got it!”

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A foe that can’t be attacked from a hundred-and-forty-two-thousand directions isn’t worth your effort.

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The religion in one bustling kingdom said to the subjects: “The gods gave us sentences; it is up to man to compound and complex them.”

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Although Lambs can be surprisingly trained, Marys don’t take no shit.

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One guy’s advice: “Hey, if you don’t know where you’re going — don’t worry about it — the universe will take you there anyway.”

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Many men are only happy during wartime; some muscles, only when worked; a few neurons, only during exotic electrical storms.

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Any reality that’s not curious, abstruse and frustrating is not yet awake. …(Revolutionist’s Version: Any reality that’s not plain and direct is… …[A true rebel doesn’t need this sentence completed, now do he.])

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A viewer writes: “After watching your show for some time, I don’t know which I now fear the most: A metaphorical bus, or a real one — filled with squirrels.

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In the world, for change to take place generally requires a lifetime; in a revolutionist, up to a month — even a week.

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All the way to school do Mary and the Lamb kick at one another’s hobby. …(They’re such a cute couple — and so popular, too.)

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