One Guy’s Brain Was Never More Serious Than When It Was Funny
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Summary = See below
Condensed AKS/News Items = See Below
AKS Gallery = jcap 1991-05-08 -0879
Transcript = None
Summary
#879 Oct 9, 1991 – 1:00
Notes by TK
Kyroot to :17. Speech doesn’t merely measure the Secondary Level World, it supports it. The Secondary Level World can’t operate or exist w/o speech. Dimension = measurement; the three older dimension/measurements will not measure the Secondary Level World: only speech will. Things commented on would not exist w/o the comment thereon. This is way beyond quantum physics considerations; it applies to everything. The comments and things are inseparable. Causation has no room to maneuver.
Speech is its own justification, its only justification from the Neural Revolutionist view: there can be no other choice. E.g., “We cannot know our future w/o knowing our past” obvious foolishness. Another e.g., the omnipresent desire/attempt to change, to improve oneself, in spite of the certain knowledge of the impossibility of altering one’s controlling genetic code.
The News
Some things make more sense than others. Not a lot more, but maybe just a little — maybe.
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Whenever he’d pass a mirror and happen to notice himself, this one guy’d always say: “Shhhh! Hush! Here comes old ‘What’s-his-name.'”
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Even the king was somewhat startled to learn that one subject’s “claim to fame” was the fact that he’d never been heard to laugh. (Proffered public intelligence goes in many guises.)
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Much of ordinary talk can be seen as either a flow of info, or a form of therapy. But in any case:, the purpose of talk remains the same — Talk. The activation and movement of new, non-material, un-earthly, non-elemental energies.
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The city fathers told the city-otherwisers: “If you knew just the right chemical changes to make, everything would be different. But since you can’t, why be bothered about it?”
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Measured by the rebel’s evolutionary scale: Only the retarded are serious.
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One man described his own intellectual circumstances as, “A lion living on the roof of a house in the swamp.” (Perhaps as the situation improves he can change the description to, “House in the tidewater.” (Just a thought.))
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In, what to observers would have been a befuddling attempt to “keep up,” one guy kept up. (As reality so often reminds itself in private, “Wheew! Just be glad no one was watching!”)
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One guy wouldn’t lend out his hormones. (Stingy sucker.)
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The passers-by stopped, and hushed as the “Critic-in-the-park” commanded the speakers’ spot and declaimed, “To look upon man as somehow an aberrant appearance on Life’s stage is to go to the theatre and order butter without popcorn, and then curse the saltiness of dairy farmers.” (His momentary pause here, the crowd took as their leave to split.)
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(Noted one ole sorehead:) “A man who won’t get mad ain’t got nothing to look forward to.”
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A chap watching the remodeling of the bank building said, “Calling up your superiors in the middle of the night is one way of finding out if they remain superior after office hours.” (A teller inside mused, “Why would the king bother to have an unlisted number? Who’s going to just ‘ring him up?'” But one of the construction workers outside already knew that once you’re grown, have a job, and your brain’s settled down, your neural circuits will stay sufficiently busy on their own as to preclude any unexpected crank calls.)
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One guy used to refer to himself in the vernacular. (Just when he wasn’t looking, of course.)
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Thought For The Day: “I laugh at the serious — and sometimes, smile at the silly.”
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His explanation was that in the heat of really vigorous thinking you always lose some through evaporation.
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And a viewer writes, “I happened to see your show several nights ago when you read the story about the king who sent out select invitations to a special event, and how, after some invitees began to burden him with comments, questions and complaints regarding their selection, he concluded the matter by sending them all the final message of, “Hey! — Come or don’t come,” and for some reason I found this tale quite remarkable, and pondered it for several days until I was suddenly struck by the question: ‘Could this possibly apply to my own thinking operations?’, but immediately realized — ‘Certainly Not!’ Boy! What a close call. Yours, Greatly Relieved,” etc.
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Then there was this certain other reality that would only smile at its creatures when it was to its benefit. (It smiled at them about half the time.)
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When he began his subversive, intellectual journey he undertook to determine the veracity, or lack thereof, of other mens’ ideas. But he soon discovered this was a needless waste of time.
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A serious demeanor’s like an infected finger, (Except one hurts more than the other.)
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Question-And-Answer game for the Eighth-Day-Of-The-Week: Question: If there actually is such a thing as, “The Truth,” why is it that men can’t seem to ever see it?” Answer: Because if there is, and they did see it, they would never be able to ask such questions ever again. (So there!) End of game.
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As Life became more advanced and pronounced, one young actor refused to play any parts that weren’t plastic. (He says that the days of leather heels on Thespian soles are more than “long gone.”)
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Those who want to “take things seriously,” but don’t know how, often end up in positions of authority. (Some even dress up in three piece clown suits, and hawk philosophical cotton candy over by the kiddie rides. (And a squirrel who wandered into the studio, heard this and fuzzy-mused, “It is possible for an otherwise, ‘right-on’ metaphor to have too many modifiers in its verbal extrapolation.” (Not only possible, but I do wish you guys would keep those outside doors closed. We don’t really need any additional species coming in here misusing such words as, “extrapolation”.)))
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In their efforts to stay abreast of an ever-changing world, and even to evidence their progressive foresight, this one manufacturer of school supplies to the city system is introducing a line of “Debating shoes.”
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Even if he owns little else, the young Revolutionist should already know that thoughts frightening to the Primary are to be averted. (The Shun-Gun is indeed a worthy offensive weapon.)
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Whenever he seemed to be sliding down hill this one guy’s brain would sing, “Oh I’m H-a-l-f Way To Paradise.”
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In the large lessons Life publicly enacts through man, there is always a core of humor. How else were you planning to decipher such study aids as religious wars and political genocides?
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The city smarts of this one sophisticated locale gave hint: “Nouns may come and go, but modifiers are forever.”
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Aging hormones have rusted more armor than all the damp days of Caerleon.
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Whenever he’d step up to the plate, this one reality was given to waving his bat at the stands and yelling, “Watch out! I’m this year’s model.”
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One guy’s verbal view: “To be dumb and dense in the city sense is no big deal; over there you’ve gotta be exceptionally dumb to be outstanding, and even then it’s hard to get noticed.” (On behalf of us all, I suppose I should express our appreciation for the frequency with which we are privileged with recountings of city views; I say this on the agro-chemical basis of “What-Other-Choice-Do-We-Have.”)
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One guy’s brain was never more serious than when it was funny.
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In this one really strange universe, even the King was ruled by his genes. And I mean even intellectually. (“Strange” my ass!)
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One man says he now thinks that if he paid any less attention to his own life, things would either get dramatically worse, or else, straighten themselves out.
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Note: A game-of-chance is not a game of chance if you’re playing with reality.
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Making an idea either tall or short won’t do you any good if you can still shoot it through the mail slot.
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According to one legend I am about to make up, there was once a young man who decided to, “Dismiss and forget all of his enemies,” saying to himself that certain of his own thoughts were troublesome and confining enough without the need for apparent, external foes.
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Then there was this other reality that didn’t have a single piece of advice for its self.
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One day this one reality had a special sale on problems. It was called: “Buy One — Get One Free.” (In that one reality, every day was “one day.”)…(Oh yeah, that reality’s older brother had a contest and offered a lifetime supply of “Get Out Of Jail Free” cards to any one of his creatures who could tell him the operational difference between “problems” and “worries”.)
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From the radicalized, “Now You Can Come On And Dig It Department”: If there was anything in the secondary world worthy of true seriousness, it wouldn’t be in the secondary world, now would it!
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In yesterday’s city paper was an interview with a man celebrating his golden anniversary, and when he was asked what it takes to keep a marriage together fifty years he replied, “Marry someone dumber than you are.”…Oh, forgive me, I misread it — the question was actually about consciousness.
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A man who has to answer questions will have a lot of questions to answer.
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Query: Why have so many of history’s elegant and erudite figures — the distinguished pedagogues of refined behavior, the very “Keepers-of-Culture-and-Etiquette — so often condemned laughter as unbecoming to a man of breeding and sophistication? Hey! — you know why!!
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One man says that all he asks from all this is to gain an “intellectual edge.” (He adds that he’ll be satisfied if this advantage is only over himself.)
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Explanation regarding the humor of human history and thought: Things recycled are always funny.
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