Jan Cox Talk 0970

Seriousness Is Hilarious–Except, of Course, to the Serious

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The News

For any process to be healthy, it must be ongoing.

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It is only in the ordinary world that age can pass for wisdom.

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Given their choice, men generally prefer their heroes dead. (Might you consider this as applied to the progression of man’s ordinary thinking.)

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One man was his own favorite hobby.

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Part of man’s mental glory is in his continual belief that he can do the impossible.

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And now for Kyroot’s Quick-Kill Definition Of The Hour:
Speech: The patina of thought.

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Museum walking tip: Once the city begins to appreciate a new art, it ceases to be one.

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Seriousness is hilarious. …(Except, of course, to the serious.)

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All secondary success is dependent on an audience, and all primary triumphs are, to a secondary man, now lacking; so what is a chap — or chapette — to do? …(“Hey, I don’t know! If I’d a’thought of it I’da asked you first.”)

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Two partners were talking and one said, “I bet that real revolutionists don’t ever turn back,” and the other one said, “I wonder why that is?” and the first said, “Probably because they can’t.”

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Only man, via the mind, will permit himself to be hurt in anticipation of ultimately benefiting therefrom. …(Beyond the mere physical reality of the above, man’s thinking likewise moves, in that all ideas know their days are numbered, and their present state temporary.)

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One ole man’s Friday advice to his kid: “Don’t eat used emotions.”

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Kyroot’s retelling of a famous myth from another reality altogether: Once a voice spread instantly throughout this one growing universe that declared, “Either take everything that happens to you personally, or don’t — it’s all the same.”
…(Well, Hey! I told you it was just a myth.)

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If you want to be successful and hindered, come to conclusions.

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After having removed the thorn from the god’s foot, the man was granted one request. He could either: Walk over the next horizon or be the world’s most depressed person. …(No matter what else you might say about the gods, you at least have to admit that they know what man likes.)

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One modern chap concluded, “Being alive is being in therapy.”

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All urban energy grids are constructed so that what passes for feeling and thought is feeling and thought.

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Then, quite unexpectedly, all of the sane, reasonable, educated, successful, and sophisticated arose and stood as one and loudly declared, “We are all on welfare.”

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Whenever life wants a large number of people to do a dance together, it’ll always tell them that it’s for their own immediate good.

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The revolutionist believes in everything — if asked.

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For the sake of interplanetary health, all secondary actions — even decisive ones — are always incomplete. …(One afternoon, just as his own private little jokeroo, this dog thought, “You know, if I could experience the frustrations of a human, I guess they’d say I was moving up in the world.”)

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The collective’s police stay in the center of town — that’s right, in your town!

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The distinction between necessity and foolishness is seen by but a few. …(So it couldn’t be all that important — right?!!)

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As the city moves to an ever higher position of fairness and equality, it is becoming more and more clear to many and many people that it costs no more to be real dizzy than it does to be just plain so. …(As a matter of fact, one ole keen-eyed urban observer notes and says: “If things get any more well-balanced around here — I’m moving.” …[Good for you, sir. Good for you.])

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Confessions were the original model for Medusa, in that a single one of them can bite you from many different directions.

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In his back yard, one man had a talking tree which recently told him: “Anything that sizable numbers of ordinary, sane people believe but cannot prove are the very kinds of things that hold the city together, but waste a good man’s time.”

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One mother told her daughter, “Each person’s mind is an heirloom,” but the kid decided she wasn’t all that much into antiques.

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Earlier this afternoon, Commander Obvious’ half brother left this note in your box: “Stupidity (that is, limited thinking) and the secondary world itself are man’s greatest contemporary examples of self-fueling systems.” …(Addendum-roonie: Once you know there is no end to the track, you can stop worrying about ever getting there.)

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A correspondent writes: “A recent Kyroot that said that if you don’t investigate life, it’ll investigate you brings to mind something you mentioned some time back about ‘cure by inquiry.’ I think it’s neat that I could put these two together. Yours,” etc.

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Alert! Alert! Fairy tale alert: There was once a man who wanted to write, but every time he’d do so, it would always reflect the way he was feeling at the time; he decided not to bill himself as “The Objective Man Of Words.”

…..Alert! Alert! Pop quiz alert: What is the world’s most exuberant and misunderstood oxymoron? Answer: “Truth in advertising.”

…..Alert! Alert! An addendum alert: If what man thinks of as being “the truth” existed as he imagines it should, in his secondary world, he would have to totally revamp his definition of “suicidal.”

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As a reward for a life “fairly well spent,” on the Day Of Final Judgment, this one god gave a man this benefit: “From this day forward, you may ‘Shut The Fuck Up.'”

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In the city, those who confidently predict the future have no memory of the past. …(And a chap driving a refuse-collection vehicle injected, “Hey, hold on there just a minute, Bub: That sounds an awful lot like an attempt to redefine what the city is itself.”)

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In celebration of annual Opaque Day, one ole man gave his kids this sentence: “The respect you should give man’s collective wisdom and his institutions is the same you should give a poisonous snake — the world’s largest poisonous snake.”

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There was this one king who would only allow art to be shown in court that he knew would be insulting. (Don’t you wish he were your king!)

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One ole sarge told some of the boot-campers: “The difference between ‘direct wisdom’ and ‘stupid wisdom’ is that in the last instance, men call what they don’t understand miraculous, while in the first case, it’s calling what you do.

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No rebel can respect any king but his own.

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For those having trouble grasping the concept, here are some operable synonyms for the “secondary world”: playmate, partner, necessary audience.

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Around five yesterday afternoon, two speakers mounted opposing soap boxes and verbally squared off. (Said the first): “A hostile man is not an intelligent man.” (And the second one countered): “But what if he was?” (And the first one replied): “Now that would be a sight to see!” …(and under his breath added: “Not that I’d want to even be in the same universe with him to see it.”)

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…then suddenly, being unexpectedly overcome by a passing Cloud Of Fairness, Kyroot noted: A significant part of man’s glory and uniqueness is in his capacity to tell you “what kinda guy he is.”

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As they traveled and adventured, one rebel warrior instructed the troops: “Don’t erect monuments.”

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…and again playing doctor, Kyroot-with-the-faux-tongue-depressor said: There are figures known that reveal the minimum and maximum attention that needs to be given to the primary world, but there is, alas, no such data available regarding the you-know-what realm.

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So long as success is seen in terms of nouns, objects, and things, the revolutionist remains fairly invisible.

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Another conversation overheard dangerously near where you live: “Everyone’s memory sucks, and is self-serving, except that of hormones.” “And what is the difference between theirs and ours?” “Theirs is just self-serving.”

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Admission of one’s shortcomings is the shoring up of the dam.

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On the neural battlefields only the weak, or the dense attempt to negotiate. Which one, Duchess Lily-Lump, be thee?

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…and Kyroot noted: Those who sustain the longest memories in man’s history also produce the tallest flowers over their grave. …(The revolutionist cuts out the middle man, and simply slays and adorns himself.)

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Before he went off to do something or other, one ole man told the kid, “If you believe the normal processes of evolution are sufficient, you’ll never have anything to worry about.”
…(This proved to be another of those times that the lad couldn’t be quite sure where the ole man was placing the emphasis in the sentence… …which, from another point of view, is not all that unusual, since life does it to us all the time, anyway.)

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While you can look at all of human life as a contact sport, secondary games never seem to reach a final conclusion; which is why many now find this erstwhile junior league superior to its older counterpart.

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And from the semi-safety of the alleyway The Whisper Man issues this greeting: “What ordinary men think of as ‘secondary responsibilities’ could be better thought of as simply ‘a joke.'”

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More bad manners for urban planners: On every city street are two possible potholes.

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And a viewer exclaims, “Ah! Now I’ve got it: ‘Maybe’ is the proper substitute for freedom.” …(Just think: If it weren’t for audiences, all stages would be empty. And if our stages were barren, Mary would have never discovered The Lamb.
…[And another listener asks, “Are you sure that ‘discovered’ is the right word?” No sir, and neither are you.])

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The “past condemned” is the past overcoming you for a second time.

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What ordinary minds are wont to call “fate” is the ultimate conveyer of homicide and sunshine. …(The reason the uncontrollable seems so double-barreledly delicious is that it’s uncontrollable. …[Then appearing again, the dainty and graceful bricklayers, playing the role of the expected Greek Chorus, rose up on their risers and raised their voices: “Ohh — Don’t Give Me A God I Can Push Around.”])

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One man’s solid “idea-of-the-day”: “A man without a pseudonym don’t really exist.”

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No limited thought is truly transcended as long as you can contemplate its return. …(Hard hat version: “Stupidity remembered is stupidity still alive.”)

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…and Kyroot noted: It always takes an additional measurement beyond those inherent in a process to adequately appraise it. Thus, it requires four eyes to fully see three dimensions.

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…then Kyroot offered this, yet another way to think of the difference between man’s two realms: In the secondary world people eat one another and are eaten with nary a drop of blood to be seen.

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Original information is the best information, even if it’s the same thing you’d already gotten from somebody else.

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While some of ’em were just standing around the truck stop, one of ’em said to the others of ’em: “It would seem to me, Old Dears, that a mind with a regulator on it would be like an eighteen wheeler with only a couple of gears.” …(As they were later pulling away, on the rear of one ole road-hog-philosopher’s rig was spotted this sticker: “I Drive — Therefore I Am.”)

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The primary world wasn’t made to negotiate with.

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As he awaited the arrival of the following week, one chap sat himself down under a viaduct and thought, “One’s own personal revolution is like a secret, bombastic attempt at revenge.”

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As all the little planets got ready for beddy time, their solar dad told them this little tale: “In a strange land far away were once strange creatures who would take the ‘confusing’ to be ‘amusing.'” …(And as he pulled the covers up under his chin, one young world thought, “Why are all the really neat places always said to be so ‘far away’?!… …[At least according to our elders!])

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The revolutionist’s “conclusion” is to walk away from it and never think of it again.

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As two brothers were reflecting on the apparent natures of the primary and secondary worlds, one of them noted: “It’s surprising how many people want to sing as they dance,” and the other opined, “But were it not for singing there would be no dancing.” …(It is therefrom thusly that at various ballrooms around the globe you find posted various, often conflicting verboten signs. …[“After all,” added Ole Uncle Charlie, “if everybody didn’t have their own little ways of doing things, there couldn’t be any things ever done.”])

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Promises and memories do not feed a rebel, or put bullets on his dinner table.

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…then Kyroot offered this — yet another in the long line of unacceptable sketches of the history of the secondary world: There was once a man who had a collection of things: It didn’t do him any good, but it also didn’t do him any less good than not having had it would have done. …(Foot-put note: Once you begin to understand stuff like this, there is no history of man.)

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In the secondary world a rebel has but one worthy foe.

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Men’s minds can stand to do almost anything except be plain and direct.

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There is a special kind of “dancing with yourself” known only to the revolutionist.

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And a viewer writes: “After listening to you I must say that it seems to me that changing one’s behavior, or how one thinks, would be a lot easier than altering one’s hormonal activities. If I am correct, signify by making no comment. Yours sincerely.”