“Standing on the Shoulders of Giants” — Mere City Plagiarism
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Summary
#922 Jan 17, 1992 – 1:00
Notes by TK
Kyroot to :19. To be human is to constantly need to locate yourself; naming is such an attempt; using speech to identify surroundings. This is collective thinking. The recapping of the thought/speech of others—plagiarism—is what passes for intelligence, of centered knowledge of position. It is the “standing on the shoulders of giants” syndrome. The Neural Revolutionist is not satisfied w/ self-ref. by naming (or dis-naming) or identifying neighborhood; he is satisfied only by identifying his universe. What life is about: more and more teasers of upcoming programs. requiring less “right now” of the program.
The News
Any place of measurable dimensions is too confined for a revolutionist.
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{To a revolutionist mind, to think of “some success” is to not be thinking at all.}
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{…and Kyroot noted this item: In their City, Chumped-Up, Booster Brochure, this one people boldly listed themselves as “Folks With Attitudes.”}
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{In a confidential moment, Life once mentioned that men just made up the word “ostensibly.”}
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When questioned, one neurally rambunctious sort said, “Going straight never even occurred to me.”
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{In the secondary world man’s paramount orifice is his mouth.}
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When the creatures of this one area would complain to the local god about his tardiness in responding to their supplications, he’d just say, “Don’t sweat it — the lie’s in the mail.”
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Man’s intellect is the nearest thing visible in a finite realm to a self-sustaining operation.
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{Only in the land of the serious can a rebel survive. (“Well thank god,” thought one chap, “I may be in the proper place after all.”)}
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To know what he’ll say today, the king checks to see what he said yesterday; that’s why he’s king and why the people seem to admire him. To know what he’ll say today, the revolutionist thinks more than he has to — today; that’s why he’s intellectually explosive, and some others remain sticky wiring hoping for an electrician.
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{…wiping some dirt from his hands, Kyroot sowed: New thinking can turn an un-mapped undergrowth into an unexpected garden.}
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{One man asked his kid — I mean, himself — if there’s a different reality for revolutionists, or the same one as for everybody else and he just sees it differently. (He — I mean his kid — didn’t have an immediate reply.)}
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{From the City Religious Bulletin Board: The latest entry in the field is called “The Intellectual Church Of Epsom Salts.”}
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In the mortal landscape, those who believe pleasures can be sins are also likely to be those in charge of revising the bus schedules. (Hey, where else but in human life can you: Stand in line, take a trip, go nowhere, and all at the same time.)
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{After the major, and apparently, final battle was over, the victorious general (I assume, just to ease the tension) announced that the conquered would be forthwith forced to eat “truth muffins.”}
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A man who can understand everything with a single, quick glance is technically known as “A Single, Quick-Glance Man.”
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{One city guy’s personal motto for several years has been: “Dig it!” and he doesn’t have the froggiest notion what it means.}
…..{In most cases, letting your mind dwell on one thing will keep it from dealing with another. — (Dig it!)}
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One ole city sorehead — (yeah, I think that’s what he was) — told his nephew, “If someone tells you they got `your best interests at heart’ — and actually means it, you can be sure of at least one thing — they’ve somehow come to have your heart in ’em… Don’t ask me how, just trust me, they done got your heart.” …(And Kyroot offered an un-asked-for “P.S.”: Things that unquestionably seem cynical — even properly so — on the secondary level, might be more straightforward and uninteresting at the primary.)
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Men are made to believe that one thing is true while others are not, so that comparisons can be made, and so that he can breathe.
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{Once the king of a certain quite agitated neural kingdom realized what-was-going-on he announced — to himself — “Anybody with a bad-memory can marry my daughter.” (How else could it be? Why else would the hungry hog herd run again if they could remember they’d just eaten? Why does the ordinary mind think again today what it thought again yesterday? How else could it be.)}
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The joys of the verbal world are such that a man can be instantly more sophisticated by simply calling his double-boiler a couscouserie. …(And one guy’s tongue said to his brain, “Don’t you just love it!”)
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Then there was this one god who, to help reaffirm his credentials, began referring to himself as “The OFFICIAL god.”
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{On a most curious day, the Commissioner of the city’s Cultural and Intellectual Affairs had this to say: “Through the toil and perseverance of our people, and the helpful hands of fate, we have managed to raise ourselves down to an acceptable level of mediocrity.” (He invites you all to come visit — those not already residents, that is.)}
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{The difference between causes and symptoms is the same as between heredity and environment (which everyone knows barely exists). The difference between causes and symptoms is the same as the difference between the front door into here and the back door out — which everyone knows can’t exist.}
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In an unnoted manner, singular to a three dimensional world, the sum of five plus minus-three is not two [5+(-3)=/2], but actually something less; as in trying to produce some equitable standard between two peoples, or two ideas; what is turned out is never the best of the two — not even the average of the two, but nearer the level of the worst/lesser of the two.
/ means “not equal”]
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{And one kid noted: “It’s hard to know what’s going on where you’re a part of it.”}
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{Servility to one’s own collective-based thinking is damn-near a revolutionist sin.}
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One chap, after pondering the proverb, “There’s no fool like an old fool,” concluded it was based on man’s recognition of the benefits of experience.
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{One guy finally said, “I believe I’ll just let `I’ be tacit.” (And a bit later his partner asked, “Did you say `placid’?”)}
…..{…And a viewer writes: “After listening to you I’ve decided that I am my own partner.” …(Why that’s wonderful — that’s just what the world needs — more momentous decisions.)}
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One guy began to think of himself as “a man full of strange ingredients.”
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{Even after twenty-six hundred weeks, STILL Number 1 on this one guy’s internal, intellectual Hit Parade is that golden-oldie, “Shake, Rattle & Rot.” …(And the Big Boppin’ Bard en-crooned: “No matter its name, the mind remains an odious wonder beheld.”)}
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{One non-linear father told his equally off-center son, “Don’t ever let ’em see you sweat it — and if they are — then don’t sweat.” (Some daddy neurons told their little baby synapses that they, too, could benefit from this.)}
…..{Within the hour of this being read, someone in the audience responded, “Hey, wait a minute — ideas don’t perspire,” and his partner suddenly responded, “Yeah, but they can still stink.” (There are those who claim the quality of audiences is in a serious decline. …[And the baby synapses asked ole neural dad, “Are we not audiences?”])}
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Near the in-town recycling center a chap stopped me and said since he’s begun to grasp the pleasures and possibilities of the intellectual to subversively “feed itself,” that he’s become as happy as a woodpecker with a peg leg.
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{The neural revolutionist has ceased to be a revolutionist if he ever becomes his own intellectual equal. …(“Praise be to acorns,” said a squirrel, “another reason to live.”)}
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On annual Choice Day, the king gave ’em a choice: They could either “burn the biographies” — OR — those who write them.
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{One guy had a smart-ass comment for all occasions; he now seems to have run out of occasions. (But, hey, nobody ever said life was perfect; hey, nobody ever said life could be perfect — except for the many disguised versions of smart-asses. Hey!)}
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Then there was one man who thought more about his thoughts than he did himself. …(And the gorky Greek Chorus arose singing, “We believe — I say, we believe, the boy may be ON to something.” …[Well, that may be, guys, but that’s sure not the end of it.])
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{Neural history thus far has provided that many lead and keep control of the dance just by making all their partners feel guilty. …(Yes siree, lots of ’em. So: Read ’em and weep, and back on your feet.)}
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{Graffiti on a tree near a rebel camp: “A revolutionist trying to seriously `help’ a civilian is like trying to spit-shine the inside of a cannon barrel.” (Many good revolutionist tales have no punch line; no really good one ever does.
…[And one trooper thought, “If you feel the new information you get needs a moral, then you need more than just new info.”])}
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During a slow time, a couple of local gods were sitting up on a high place looking down at the creatures, and one of them said, “It’s a shame, most of them haven’t even got a clue,” and the other replied, “What do you mean, `a shame’?”
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{As a kind of “cautionary reminder” and “comfort food for the fore-brain,” one guy would tell himself, “If you `go back’ there’s no `COMING back.'”}
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When the kid read that “The Law says EVERY dog gets one free bite,” he realized his days of naivete were numbered.
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At another time, after some certain reflection, Life commented, “Boy! Just think what it’d be like if I really did have a temper!”
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A city thinker once said, “Man’s madness is of the heart — not the head,” and this has some substance in that ordinarily thought can never adequately describe its own felt flaws.
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{Just because something has a history that can be studied is not proof that it would be profitable TO study it. …(And one guy — [symbolically representing “one guy”] — said, “Well SURE I can `think-about-it,’ but what good would that do?!!”)}
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A certain city thinker, after decades of study and dreaming, was finally moved to remark: “After decades of study — (of the past) and dreaming — (of the future), I am moved to remark that the present seems mostly moot and a waste of my time.” Street-level thinkers don’t seem much interested in the present inasmuch as it is only then that anything could actually “be done.” Thus routine mentation is drawn primarily to studying the past and dreaming of the future so that it’s not subject to expectations that it might actually DO ANYTHING — NOW!
…..{And a chap of few words added — “Hey, why do you think they call it the `intellect.'”}
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One rebellious sort, after a good solid survey of his own neural lands, arrived at the startling but undeniable realization that although fencing seems initially an absolute must, it also attracts cows — and these sweet bovines are NOT quite the intellectual beasts he had originally hoped for. Thus, the quandary: You can’t keep ’em home unless you’ve got a home, and once you’ve got a home, you can’t hardly ever get ’em to leave, and if they won’t ever go, YOU can’t get on with building that new house you’ve always dreamed of. Yes siree, Mr. Levitt, therein lies the quandary for the first-time-buyer.
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{Last yesterday morning, one guy said…or thought…or thought-and-said: “My own personality-and-intellect is like a cast iron lawn-horse: it’ll stand up, but it won’t run.”}
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{A certain intellectual warrior and rebel stated in secret to himself: “Rest assured, Oh Great Self, what I have begun — NO one shall complete.” (Thus was he neurally RE-assured.)}
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{(Combination travel and fashion tip): Only the “crude sort” will actually go where they planned. …(I don’t think there’s any need for me to claim that “some viewer wrote in to say that he didn’t like that one.” — IS there?!!)}
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One morning when it was about fifty-seven degrees, one man said, “When you look down at yourself, you should be happy.” And his partner replied, “If I COULD see myself BY looking `down’ I’d BE happy!” …(“Look son,” said the instructor, “loosen up, it’s all in the wrist action of the neck.” [30 – Love; Advantage, uncertainty.])
…..{And a viewer writes, “I find sports analogies tacky…but then again, I find most everything less than fashionable and tasty, so who am I to say.” Signed, “The guy-who-said-it.”}
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Conformity may get you into Court, but not into the king’s good graces.
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Those prone to impotency require increasingly exotic stimuli, while the neural revolutionist can still find the “everyday” pleasurable and provocative.
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{…and Kyroot noted: When life bleeds, someone gets cut; a revolutionist thus derives a diverse view of cause-&-effect.}
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A father, inquiring as to his son’s unseemly conduct, asked him, “Why did you do it?” and after several times receiving the reply, “I don’t know,” told the boy, “That’s no answer!” when indeed it is THE ultimately truthful, supremely human proper reply.
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{…and in addition, Kyroot noted: In that words are symbolic, anything that gets its own word becomes then itself, in part, symbolic.}
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One guy began to feel unusually anxious and antsy, so the local god did a quick study of him, then said, “Well, there’s your problem right there: Someone your age shouldn’t have a nervous system still that active and excited.” (And with that, Kyroot said, “bye bye” for the evening.)
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