Jan Cox Talk 0877

To Insure Healthy Collective Complexity, Man Must Talk About Talk

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Summary = See below
Condensed News Items = See below
News Item Gallery = jcap 1991-05-03 -0877
Transcript = None
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Summary

#877 Oct 4, 1991 – 1:00 
Notes by TK

Kyroot to :24. Complexity and specialization are not opposites. Specialization in the individual assures complexity in the collective. Man must not only act, he must increasingly comment on the significance of those acts, i.e., talk about talk. Acts alone are no longer sufficient. Talk is its own purpose; that is the reason people from time immemorial don’t understand one another: there is nothing to understand.

Historical, current events, are increasingly concerned with “talk events”, not act-events. Speech is not only the new “4th S”, it is the new “4th M” (Measurement, added to the 3 of the finite 3-d world). The ultimate opposition is between the I and the Not-I: the specialized vs. the collective.


The News

The cure for a really good burn is that there is no cure for a really good burn.

***

O-h-h, all right: The cure for what you want to know is to know it.

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Conversation: “Life sure does change a lot.” “Yeah, that’s why they call it life.”

***

The cheaper the prize the more expensive the entry fee. This is known as The Balance Of Equity, (Everybody knows it — Nobody likes it.)

***

One ole man reminded his kid, “Kid, let me remind you: disappointment doesn’t kill people — guns, and knives, and poison and baseball bats do.”

***

A hero with an entourage is like an eye without a hurricane.

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Under the, “Semi-Religious Announcements” column of the city paper was this listing, “For that uplifting experience: The Church Of The Mental Brassiere.”

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What’s the use in having a convertible if it never rains.

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One city guy’s favorite hobby was hating inanimate objects. His second most favored one was hating people who owned or used them. His third favorite past time was hurting himself, which he says is unrelated.

***

Whenever it was ready to “Close the case” on some matter this one reality would instead announce, “Hey — Open a file on that sucker.” (Do you SEE how this sort of thing would work if multiple dimensions would fit into yours? Or do I say far too much about such far away internal organs.)

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A man with comfortable shoes should probably stay home. (This is currently a quite serious idea in one city, which I pass along with no personal comment.)

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“Dear grandfather,” said the lad, “If speech is the ultimate ‘human entertainment’, then shouldn’t our brains give as much pleasure as our ‘private parts?'” And the elder shouted, “Dolt! What do you think is your ultimate ‘private part!!'”

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A viewer writes to say that after watching these programs for some time now, he believes that some of the Kyroots might be connected. (I say Sir! — Not a pret-ty picture to contemplate.)

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In a finite universe, some systems collide and some do not, and even those that don’t, do.

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All ideas that are alive are pregnant. This is what makes a merry-go-round go round. (Only doughnuts filled with jelly can be hated, and hurled at one’s neighbor. Only doughnuts filled with jelly are nourishing, and can be eaten.)

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A certain king, revisiting his neural kingdom for the first time, declared, “Let me get directly to the point, and tell you I have none.”

***

On this other world, the final question of their Ultimate Quiz Show is as follows, “And I read verbatim from the show-host’s script — Quote): “All right, contestant; Here i-s the Final Question in the Ultimate Quiz, now listen closely — here is the question: ‘The answer to the Final Question of the Ultimate Quiz Show will be either a noun, or a verb — Which is it?’ And remember, your answer must be exact — more or less.”

***

One wimpy kid went on and advised himself: “Why play hard ball if your own head’s the court.”

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Some encouraging city news: On his way downtown, one guy dropped himself off.

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The secondary history of man and nations is a recorded game of leap frog.

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On his upper bicep this one deity had a tattoo that said, “Being god is never having to ask what it is that irritates others.”

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In an all night session last night, one city’s legislature passed an ordinance prohibiting the presentation of rhetorical questions to the over-burdened.

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In advanced realities they don’t have to wax the dance floor. And in even more advanced ones — you can’t even see it.

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One guy says he’s gonna quit listening to the radio until they get rid of “All those stations.” (And he seems to have a real nice (or at least adequate) receiver.)

***

One kid mused to the ole man, “It seems to me that if you have a city hero in arts, sports or other metro areas, it’s best never to read a serious interview done with him” (And the elder wanted to reply, “Why not stick that up on the frontal lobes of your own refrigerator door.”)

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A chap declared, “I hardly care now what I think.”

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One god was offered a “buck-fifty” for his secret, but he replied, “Hey, I couldn’t cheat a nice guy like you like that.”

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Okay, the unsugared version of the one about merry-go-rounds, and doughnuts and jelly: A road that goes somewhere doesn’t go anywhere.

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A cult over in one universe believed that weekends exist just to, “Hide the sins of the previous five days.”

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One guy says that by-and-large he considers most inanimate objects, cowardly.

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More, “News You Can U-S-E:” Everyone’s passport looks different in the dark — which is why people sleep at night. (And a viewer faxes: “It is exactly this kind of thing that gives decent attempts to help others a ve-ry b-a-d name in certain circles.”)

***

Two recently discovered facts you might care to jot down: The indolent will only be executed on Thursdays; The king can make Thursday arrive a-n-y d-a-y h-e cares to!

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One ole sore-headed city’s complaint: “Somebody’s always cheerin’ somethin’.”

***

One day one kid exclaimed, “If life is a game, I don’t want to play.” And his ole man said, “Well, just as soon as I get a spare second I’ll be delighted to furnish you with the name and address of the nearest referee who accepts such resignations.” (Maybe I should confide in you that the ole man was just funnin’ the kid about this.)

***

Many “Secret organizations” want to keep their activities secret from outsiders because many of them don’t know what the secret activities are that they should be doing.

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One guy said, “I have a simple motto.”

***

You may continue to have hope for the future, and to plan tomorrow’s picnic when you hear diverse claims arising regarding the founder of The Don’t Fall Off The Roof Church, which make such charges as: He’s never been on a roof, or, he continues to fall off himself, or, he was miraculously born on a roof. In secondary affairs, such rents in certain cloths serve only to strengthen the overall fabric. (Don’t you wish you could facilitate the same method in your own intellectual exercise? Well, you can! What the hell do you think This and the revolutionist life is about anyway?)

***

A certain reality suddenly declared, “Mere statements of fact need not be made.” And his surprised creatures asked, “Why not?” And he replied, “Well, I’m not sure. Something’s just came over me and made me say it.”

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When things are in balance, a man with a loud tongue usually has a quiet ear. (Things are usually in balance.)

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Philosophical Dialogue Of The Day: (Kid says): “If man’s mind is like a sieve, then what does that infer about the liquid consistency of human thought?” (And his ole man replied): “Who the hell ever told you that man’s mind is like a sieve?” (Once the shoe doctor was sure the fit was snug and secure, he assured the lad’s guardian with these words, “the instructive beauty of everyday ‘reflective thought’ is that it has no beginning, and damn-sure — no conclusive end.” (The older gentleman nodded his head in agreement, but while wishing he’d been given a sucker instead.))

***

Graffiti writ on one solar system’s ceiling: “Those Who Know Have Always Known.”

***

Bad news: It now seems pret-ty certain that none of the thriving kingdoms offer prizes, or bonus points along with their visas — much less their citizenship papers. (I know, I know, but better you should hear it from me.)

***

(Oh — by the way: That last one was sort of an “insider’s joke” since every active rebel knows that all unnecessary neural travel provides quite adequate rewards, thank you. (And one little insurrectionist shivered and said to himself, “I just
L-O-V-E it when you do that ‘Thing’ to me, that if done to somebody else would be sarcastic. But when aimed back at myself is like a refreshing ballistic filling in an unexpected sweet treat.” (Then making sure no one was watching, he kissed his hand, slapped his face, gave himself a quick mambo lesson, and was back on the train before anyone realized he had privately jumped-the-track.)))

***

The battle and rallying cheer of this one reality’s state university was, “Bite our ass, you opponents, bite our ass — Rah rah!” They used this whether in football games, or debating contests. And for some reason, their reality found this to be great fun.

***

And a viewer thusly writes: “Dear Sir: Pertaining to one of your recently read Kyroot-stories regarding a man who, having undergone some sort of unspecified ‘treatments’, ceased insisting he was George Phillip Telemann, and began referring to himself simply as ‘A well-known seventeenth century composer who’s undergone treatments’: Well, although I am still working on the possible parabolic potential therein, I did feel presently inclined to make note to you that although Georgie Phillip did live and study in the late sixteen hundreds, it was not until the early part of the eighteenth century that his musical efforts became renowned. S-O-O: Although you were not ‘technically’ incorrect in denoting him as a figure of the seventeenth century, you can readily see, (as per my above information,) how a less sophisticated person could be historically lead astray. I trust my additional input in this matter will fit well into your otherwise quite ‘interesting’ efforts to be informative. Sincerely…” Hey! Just a minute! Hold it right there! Time for a private confab. Think about it: Can you believe there’re still those who say that lobotomies and electro-shock therapy are not suitable bar mitzvah gifts!!!

***

If you just have to write home, at least don’t write to your home.

***

Touching my arm lightly, a chap stopped me and said he’s been watching our shows of late, and just wanted to say that he already thinks that “a whole bunch of Kyroots together are not the same as a bunch of separate ones put together.”

***

A new “Good Samaritan Law” recently passed in one jurisdiction states that: “Anyone publicly struck and injured by a metaphor must be rendered aid by any others witness thereto.”

***

Another revolutionist plumbing tip: You might suspect you’re beginning to get somewhere when you have more plans than life has objections to.

***

It’s not a matter of outsmarting life, but of out-witting its local office.

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You are its local office.

***

Instead of a “Paradise”, this one reality had, as its “Afterlife reward” – a honky tonk: it was standing room only, with a line-to-get-in that stretched for miles; the local god said that while he understood it, and wasn’t all that surprised – he still didn’t want to “Talk about it”.

***

Since the kid seemed destined to go on into the city at least once, for a while, as all nice children do, the ole man packed him a tiger sandwich and switch, wrapped in a note that said, “Without something to look for, a man won’t look; and over in the collective they expect you to only think as much as you ought”. (The snack and the kid eventually consumed one another.)

***

Whenever things weren’t going as he liked, this one man would rapidly turn to himself and say, “When did I tell you to take-a-break!!!

***

Ordinary silence is the same as ordinary talk; what you need is a new form of radical “shutting-up”. (“What I now don’t-have-to-say, I don’t have-to-say on a higher, more useless – more useful level.”)

***

Out in his bug garden, one fellow found several bugs, and knew that all was well. (Feetnote: All civilian morality is based on counteracting this story.)

***

Just before this one universe was about to get-back-on-the-road, the driver turned around and said, “Will all of you older ideas please move to the back of the bus?”

***

According to revolutionist lore: there is a final prize for the one who’s collected the most prizes — a bag to hold all your prizes. …(As always — do count to a trillion before you snicker.)

***

All secondary problems have at least one common purpose — to keep you indoors.

***

A certain reality said to one of its gods, “We need to talk about that matter I mentioned.”, and the god said, “I’ll call you.”, and the reality replied, “You don’t have my number.”, and the god said, “You can mail it to me.”, to which the reality responded, “But I don’t know your address.”, and the god said, “I’ll call and give it to you.”, and the reality reminded himself to revamp the definition of, melee ……..(and also of, life.)

***

As long as he was thinking, this one chap couldn’t stop dancing; and since he was city-normal, also, vice versey.

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One man says he used to dream of going to where he didn’t have to dream.

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One man used to have thoughts that frightened him, until he took up dancing and learned what thinking was all about, and now he’s not frightened any more.

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It’s up to you to be serious; (It’s also up to you to discover how dumb it is.)

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A guy guesses that one of the tricks to “doing-the-neural-revolution” is to first announce what your topic’s gonna be, before you have any idea what you’re going to say. …(what a fuckin’ guess!)

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