Jan Cox Talk 0897

Neural Revolutionary Is Newly Active Place In Brain, Not A Person

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Summary = See below
Condensed News Items = See below
News Item Gallery = jcap 1991-06-19 -0897
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Summary

#897 Nov 20, 1991 – 1:00+ 
Notes by TK

Kyroot to :28. The Neural Revolutionary is a newly active place in the brain, not a person. Only the Neural Revolutionist would tolerate/recognize any hand other than his own on his controlling leash. Only the Neural Revolutionist would not hold a grudge against his original captor. Only the Neural Revolutionist knows who his original captor was. Everybody holds a grudge against Life.

Epilogue 1:07: Everything alive needs “busy work” for it to survive. So too, in This Thing. J. wishes it could be otherwise; that he never had to ask anybody to do anything, but it’s impossible. Consider: how could you run your own life if you never asked you to do anything? What if you could not-ask yourself to do anything and not fly apart’? 1:48 end.


The News

The constant shifting annoys the ordinary, and thrills the rebel.

***

One chap wrote himself and said, “It sure is hard to tell anyone anything worthwhile.” (He nodded his agreement.)

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When really stuck, one guy says he’ll turn his dictionary upside down.

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A viewer writes: “I watch your show a lot, and my cousin has seen it several times, and he says you’re just trying to ‘Drive me crazy,’ which at first really scared me, but then he couldn’t tell me any possible reason you might want to do so. Is this too weird or what? Yours in TV-Land,” etc.

***

For revolutionist thinking, there are places to go that don’t even know they exist.

***

In a city cafeteria, a man handed me a note that asked, “Is it actually possible to ‘be famous’ in any worthwhile way, in your own hometown?” (I slipped him back a response, inquiring as to whether he could conceive of his own mind as his proper place of birth, and rise to prominence. …[As a tip, as I left, I asked the bus boy if he thought that being the “Loudest smell on a skunk farm” was an acceptable claim-to-fame?!])

***

The ordinary have a different idea of what, “Being hard on yourself” means. (Not better, not worse, just worse.)

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One revolutionist told his younger companion, “Be prepared that your biggest investments may be the ones that apparently fail; don’t be alarmed, don’t be confused, and don’t be angry; just be alert, and un-surprised. (Over here, ordinary events can still evidently occur, but they should do so in an alternatively-ordinary manner.)”

***

One guy carried his passion in his pocket.

***

As recompense for being born here, one local god told this one real noisy guy, “Okay, you got your choice then: You can either have bugs-on-the-brain, warts-on-the-nose, or guilt-in-your-soul; now which will it be?”, (and the guy quit whining).

***

{…and another viewer, (who says he was “too late” for our last show), asks:} Exactly what is the difference, (seeing as how close they naturally are), between the words winning and whining?” (Another “beneficial,” (in quotation marks), aspect of living in the collective, neural city is that many things that seem to be different are not actually so, least not enough to interfere with their basic similarities and connections.
…[Extra-Urban Grammatical Note: The further you venture into the neural rebel’s forest, the less need there is for quotation marks. …(“Say,” said one little neuron, “Me and my brother knew that already.”)])

***

Some things can only move in straight lines. Life is not one of them. Some things can only profitably move in straight lines, and a revolutionist thinking system says, “Count me out.”

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On “strictly humanitarian grounds,” one king would periodically exile or execute some of his subjects and thoughts. (He freely admitted that the human benefits were his own.)

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One city chap’s new motto: “Always a witness — never to blame,” (And the neighborhood between Red Avenue and Timely Street roused the whole west side in a cheer, “Rip your shirt,/Tear your jeans;/Don’t you wish,/In-your-dreams.”
…[Upon further reflection, the fellow says that it is not totally out of the question that he might revise this particular axiom.])

***

As the lad left for the day, his ole man said, “Remember: A man with ‘nothing-to-do’ might do it on you,” (and as was always, sometimes the case, the youngster may have benefited from this, some.)

***

{…”and now by ‘special request’ — a Golden Oldie”:} One guy used to talk to himself, ’til he realized how dumb he was.
…(“And the Hits-Keep-A’Comin’.”)

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For those who enjoy seeing the truly dumb and pitiful; find someone claiming to be a revolutionist who deals in gossip. (“But,” he explained, “the lives of other people fascinate me.” — I know — that’s why you end up living them.)

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Everyone has two opinions.

***

Near the sock cemetery, a man with a pocket watch told his buddies that he had planned to try “bungee-jumping” from the heights of his own intellect, but couldn’t find a rope short enough. …(Hey, watch it! — such laughter could wake-the-argyles.)

***

Surveying the city social structure, one urbane critic tells us, “Some men seem as nouns, others as pronouns; but I’ve got an unconscionable uncle who can sometimes function as a conjunctive.”

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A man without a phone can yell louder. …(Corollary! — Corollary??? — You want a Corollary?!! — Hey! I got your “corollary”: A neural burst without a point of view can THINK louder.)

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{…and a viewer quickly writes to ask:} “What is a ‘point-of-view,’ but ordinary, polar-based, reasonable thought?” …(God I love it when I don’t have to answer.)

***

At any particular time, that which is profitable to the revolutionist might not necessarily be the natural or habitual. (And the choir director said, “Now let us sing that treasured old hymn, ‘Shall We Gather At The Obvious’.”)

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One man had an alarm system that no one could trip but him; he installed it that way; he was not your average human being. (Need I say more?)

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{…one ole revolutionist camp sergeant noted:} “If it takes someone else to make you mad — you still don’t know what ‘being mad’ is all about around here.”

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One man said, “The head has no heart,” and his mind loudly retorted — “SO?!!” “Oh, nothing,” replied he.

***

After ponderin’ and a’mullin’ some of this kind of stuff he’d heard, one guy thought to his reflective-ole-self, “We should give man’s fragile, neural realm its absolute due; just think, if the primary world was as flexible, and could ‘back-up’ like the secondary, there would be no such things as, ‘severe tire damage,’ and death.”

***

One system told a less experienced one, “You’ve got to learn to use either passion, or a gun.”

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A fellow who says he’s been a regular viewer of these televised proceedings offers another suggestion for a name for the show, (or even as use for our official slogan) — “The Kind Of Place Where You Can Get REAL MAD If You Want To.”

***

One city announced, “I’m sorry, but Real Change is just out of the question!”

***

There was once an artist who noted, “One of the nice aspects of being an artist is in being able to complain about how difficult it is being an artist.” (He bade us Adieu, and left.
…[That’s another neat thing about being an “arty” type — you can leave whenever you want to.])

***

No one can tell the revolutionist mystery-fan, “who dunnit” ’cause he keeps changing it.

***

Once the new king was forced to confront the limitations of his intellect he had himself outfitted with a gold plated colon. (A large parliament can be constructed of small members: how else, doeth thy imagine, that complex machinery, the human body, and the kingdom-of-thought, hold together amidst the centrifugal force of growth.)

***

One fellow’s latest hypothesis: “Language don’t prove nothin’.”

***

Those who can’t act to satisfy them self will usually tell you about it — if prodded just the teensiest bit.

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Query: Why make verbal note of the “difference between two things when you could just as easily say the “splendid difference”?! …(A fellow who plays near the sanitation depot says he just “L-O-V-E-S” the idea of well-thought-out, intellectually-turned, “rhetorical questions,” ’cause no one can answer the muther-fuckers.) Son-Of-Query: What’s the difference, (even, “splendidly so”) between a cat burglar and cynical ears? Tune in next week if you want to.

***

To spend your intellectual life in the city is to get covered in Goofy-Dust… (sometimes known as, sophistication).

***

The author entitled his manuscript, “Can You Believe It?” and the publisher, along with a rejection slip, sent him back a note saying, “Yes, I can.”

***

In the neural (if not messy metaphoric) realm: Some men publish their own thoughts. “Oh,” he asked, “you mean like in ‘vanity publishing’?” No my dear, more along the lines of “reprint house.” …(Truth be known, “vanity publishing” would actually be a step up for most thoughts — I mean, people.)

***

You do not have to “see” a thing to see its effects. (Or take the case of “individual man”; a thing does not even have to exist to see its effects.)

***

{…and a viewer notes:} “I resent your inference that ‘I’ do not exist.”

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{…and yet another imaginary viewer injects,} “Some body, some where, will resent anything.” (Say, you figure he heard them singing that hymn earlier?)

***

Bad News Of The Day, (Heh, heh: I just said “bad news” to get your attention): Only ersatz, kiddie-revolutions seem to have an aim, or an army of like-minded supporters. …(One ole sergeant said, “I eat ‘bad news’ for breakfast…. Least on those days I don’t choke on it.” — Wait! Hold it right there; would a real neural rebel ever make such an admission? Even while in the grip of the ole Heimlich two-step. …[Then the chorus, now having nothing at all to do with the comedy transpiring onstage, leapt into the audience and began ticking the patrons with feathers, inscribed with the message, “To-Thine-Own-Self, one cannot ‘be true’ if one tells about it.”]) So — did labeling this, “Bad News” get your attention???…

***

One guy finally decided, “Well, if life is a business, then I’m the goods.”

***

When no one was looking, this one guy would say, “theory,” where he should have said, “hypothesis.” (“Ah,” sighed he, “Isn’t it the little things that make life interesting,” and she said, “Speak for yourself.”)

***

And a DJ over at the alligator station said, “Now for all you who joined in and agreed — ‘Who needs this grief!!’ — we send out this next number.”

***

And then from a real viewer comes a note that says he’s about, “Had it” with us; also his family, his city government, his church, his attorney, himself, and that bunch of people who live just over the hill. (One chap bowed politely to himself and said, “I’ll stand aside if you will.”)

***

In the attempt to help pass along the values of his generation, one ole man told his kid just as he climbed in bed, that “real thinkers” often leave brain stains on their pillow cases after a hard night.

***

The vice-mayor of one city, acting as head of the Committee To Study Social Stuff, stated in their first report that he’s certain that “people” are “just the symptom” of most problems.

***

One guy’s motto is, “Too many cooks.”

***

Public Service Announcement for our UHF audience: “Some things ‘Go together’; not as many as you think, but more than you fear.” …(How come some of you don’t get outside antennas?)

***

A Brief History Of The Development Of City Personality: The grinding of a mirror so that one might have something to spit into.

***

{…a kid stopped me on the street and asked:} “Why is it that some things my dear ole man tells me are important and serious seem to sound friendly and humorous when you talk about them?” (Such may be the little “nipper-gardens” that eventually produce those who can talk to themselves in a new way.)

***

In normal city activities — there is no “useful” audience unless there’s a “target” audience. …(And, “woe-upon-foolish-woe,” as is so often the case, the poor-ole-revolution has to limp by on even less.) A viewer who doesn’t want his age known says that he hesitates to ever try to actually do any of this kind of stuff for fear that if he did, he might someday get to the place where he knew what he was doing, and the whole thing get ruint.

***

No sooner had the fighting stopped than someone complained.

***

During an intimate court supper, the Duke of Hardrock admitted to his friends, over wine, “I too could be a pessimist and fearful were it not for the fact that I have superior mental insight, the soul of a poet, and am the king’s brother-in-law.” (“Here! Here!” they all cried — just as all good little dendrites should.) A chap claiming to be the Personal Manager of several organs of man’s lower regions has complained to us over the infrequency of which any of his clients appear in our parables.

***

One guy tried to treat himself like someone else; (To some profit, I might add.)

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City institutions with a pithy slogan don’t need a gun. (The preceding message was brought to you through a grant from the Everybody Foundation, where, “Conventional Wisdom Is Our Greatest Asset.”)

***

After fooling around with this kinda stuff for a while, one guy said, “Hey, you got to be a ‘revolutionist,’ or some other kind of unusual person to be able to handle thinking becoming an erotic sport.” (He may have fooled around more than we first imagined.)

***

Dumb fathers — I’m sorry, that was supposed to have been changed to, “Many good parents,” (okay, here we went): Many good parents believe that part of the purpose of children is for the latter to help the former. …(Okay — back to “dumb.”)

***

The revolution has no theory or hypothesis.

***

And from another viewer comes this letter: “There’s a rumor in our neighborhood that the TV stations won’t let you put some of the best Kyroots on the air.” …(Say, tell me how-come-it-is that none of these linguistic dread-heads are concerned over the similarity between, “Rumor,” and “tumor”?!! …[You figure even they know when to leave well-enough alone?!!])

***

One man, once he fully realized the topographical relationship between light and darkness, got so mad that several of his relatives had to tie him to a chair.

***

“Without the slightest, little doubt,” the chap explained, “One of the real benefits of living-in-the-city is that stupidity can’t be proven!”

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One guy’s city brain had a way to communicate with itself: It would run cars as fast as it could up wrong-way streets until they crashed head-on with other ones.

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{…and an unrelated item added:} New thoughts are happy thoughts, and happy thoughts don’t care what you call them.

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{…and the unrelated item’s sister joined in to ask:} “Is that why the king’s Priests and Intellectuals so protect their reputations?”

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{…and in a Financial Report not to be even slightly thought of as being related to anything else that has gone before, we find these statistics:} “A revolutionist, publicly recognized and accepted as such, lost over two hundred points by the close of the trading day.”

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A Short Description of, Life-in-the-neural-City: (Or, “How To Tell You’re Back Home Even When Dazed And Disoriented”): It’s the place where those questions most easily answered, most seldom are.

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{…Revolutionist Moral:} Anyone who’d tell them self, “Welcome back,” has got to be kidding.

***