Jan Cox Talk 1002

A Revolutionist Will Take the Blame, Secretly Spit It Out & Move On

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Summary

#1002 Jul 24, 1992 – 1:00 
Notes by TK

Kyroot to :38. The Neural Revolutionist is to think beyond “this and that’; to be supportive of no thing in any field. 

Even the Primary says “take a lesson, look at me, be serious,” 

The Neural Revolutionist will take the blame, spit it out when no one’s looking and press on. 

There are two kinds of intellectual respect: that which means little and that which really means little. Neural Revolutionists have no heroes. Audio to ??


The News


…and Kyroot said: 92082-(#)
Copyright 1992 J. M. Cox [1002]

Whenever he’d go about changing his own diapers, this one
man would always say, “Remember: Easy now — easy.”

***

…and Kyroot noted: This one guy says, “Yeah,” he’s tried
going to the movies and watching TV, but he says, “What a waste!
They’re no better than my own mind on a real slow day.”

***

To live properly in the city you’ve got to feel at least
partially mistreated.

***

One guy gave himself the middle name of “Rat Participle”
after his favorite part of speech.

***

Mused one city to its native culture: “Well at least
morality keeps everybody from just dancing in the basement.”

***

…and Kyroot noted: Even the primary says: “Take a
lesson! Look at me! — Be serious!”

***

As they were digging out The Grand Canal, the foreman asked:
“Once it is finished, who will be in charge of polluting it?” and
many little voices cried out: “Oh, me! Me!” And the Master
Accordionist mused: “Why wait ’til the last minute.” Coda in
E-flat: Progress you can see is progress that smells.

***

Though he never revealed it to anyone, this one man
privately thought of his mind as “My Own Little Drug Lab.”

***

And now — (Da da!) — for the Friday Guy’s Friday Theory —
Take it away, Friday Guy!: “Men with glass bottoms invite the
ridicule of fish.”

***
The two tongues conversed:
First: “Just around the corner…”
Second: “Y-e-s-s?…”
First: “Just around the next corner is another world…”
Second: “Y-e-s, and beyond that?”
First: “You guessed it!”

***

One mother’s advice to her kid: “If you’re with a group of
otherwise reasonable, friendly people when something goes wrong,
and they all begin to look for a way to escape any personal
responsibility, volunteer to take the blame — pop it in your
mouth, and when their backs are turned, spit it out — forget it,
and get ready for tomorrow.”

***

Over some refreshment a local reality confided: “What’s
nice about finally being officially promoted to this position is
that I no longer have to embarrass and lower myself by having to
tell the creatures, ‘Hey, you can ”like it” or not like it, but
dat’s de way it is.'” It should be noted, on a larger scale,
that there are those progressive thinkers in the building trades
who now believe that: “A life without chagrin is a happy life.”
— But, hey-again, what do carpenters and bricklayers know!

***

And someone writes to Miss Etiquette: “Dear Miss Etiquette:
Why is it so much easier to cry than it is to just quietly press
on?” And Miss E. turned abruptly to her secretary and demanded,
“Hey! Who wrote this? Some human or something?!”

***

That philosopher, the one who developed a portable mind —
they’ve thrown him out of the club.

…..The man who was “The Astrologer To The Tuber Farmers”
advised one potato planter’s son just so: “There is small demand
in the city for a greased mind.”

***
And Kyroot offered up “A Rhyme Not To Be Performed For The
Pessimistically Inclined”:
No matter your intentions,
You can’t escape dimensions;
Everything tried,
Is born partially died.
(A man who understands the captive-freedom of a finite reality
sees not black or white over the horizon, but tomorrow as always
a rainbow — just out of reach, just beyond containment.)

***

After the regular business day was over, a chicken and a cow
were sitting around waiting for the nine o’clock movie to come
on, and the chicken said: “Hairballs are to the craw as tumors
are to the mind,” and the cow replied, “I don’t have a craw,” and
the chicken said, “Well, have a tumor on me!”

***

A certain serious city academician stood smartly, then
slouched and stated: “When intellectual research is limited by
fiscal considerations, science becomes no more than a political
football.” And upon hearing this, two painters, three poets, a
composer, and five clich? mongers lined up “on sides” and yelled,
“P-l-a-y ball!”

***

The speaker, an authority in his field, addressed the
audience: “If for no other reason, history should be preserved
so that we can remember just how stupid man can be.” And a guy
in the crowd yelled, “I don’t need no reminder!”

***

Seen from the balcony, your own dancing seems different.

***

The Traveling Wise Man stopped in their village for the day
and ultimately to the cobbler’s son this he had to say: “Being
civilized is the journey of us being born in the gutter and
moving to a condo.” And the lad grasped his head with both hands
and exclaimed, Mein Gott Almighty! I’m so excited I’m about to
wet my pants!”

***

One ole sorehead scratched and said: “You know, I bet if
you thought about it enough you could find something smart-ass to
say about everything.”

***

Regarding our most recent show, someone writes: “Why did
you bother having that man and woman team tell their city that
they still had more hormones than morality — who doesn’t?!”
Sir — the seriously civilized.

***

Kyroot says (pardon the clich? reference, but): All
revolutionist thinking is “bootstrapping.”

***

Today’s matinee feature film is entitled: “The Creature
From ‘The Semi-Transparent Obvious Lagoon’ Meets The Flying Beast
From The ‘You Should’ve Expected It’ Planet” (which opens with
that memorable line): “Minds that believe all human problems
should be worried about will have a lot to worry about.” (Enjoy,
and don’t throw sticky Milk Duds at the screen.)

***

Emotions are still the current that powers men’s little
civilized machines.

…..and a thoroughly cultured gentleman responds, “That may be
so, but I don’t like it.” And after a momentary pause he goes on
to say: “My feelings on the matter may matter little, yet I
continue to not like it.” Our Picture-For-The-Day: “By their
own words — Men Defining Themselves.”

***

The city sergeant told the class of cultured troops: “Those
with mouth sores will be excused from today’s forced march,” and
many of them began poking their gums with pencils; then the sarge
said: “And all of those with blisters will not have to attend
‘Music Appreciation’ class,” and many more began rubbing their
toes with sandpaper; then the noncom declared: “And all who are
deaf are relieved of ever having to be alert again,” and they all
cupped their ears and replied, “Huh???” Diagnosis: Life is just
like a “popular song” — that’s why it’s so popular!

***

Even before waffles or coffee, each morning this one man
would bound out of bed, rush to the mirror and tell himself: “So
long as our numbers end with the digit nine, or zero (whichever
the hell it is), and our alphabet ends with ‘Z’ — I’ll always
come running back to you.”

***
While in a slight daze of some kind, this one local reality
proclaimed, “Freedom only truly exists in a land where ‘Sewer-
Worker’ is an elected position.” (An older reality — who could
have been his father — injected: “If you slip into an improper
time zone it is possible for there to be too much progress.”
…[And a nearby Traffic Engineer paused and pondered: “Is
that why rebels never seem to have a watch that works
right?!…”])

***

Just to make his little creatures happy, this one god let
them change his name; a lot of good it did them — it did them a
lot of good!

***

…and Kyroot noted: There are two forms of intellectual
respect: The kind that means little, and the kind that really
means little. “Once Haydn died, he wrote the same things over
and over again.” “Wait! Are you sure you aren’t just speaking
of how he was then interpreted?!” “Sure! But once you’re dead
it’s all the same thing anyway.” (And the second speaker decided
he’d try and remember that when he got dead.) Final score: The
reason the dead are respected and not respected is that they
don’t have a choice.

***

Later that day the tongues fell into conversation again.
This time number one started by saying: “The mind of a rebel is
a possibility large enough to contain all models.” To which
number two replied: “Don’t you have that backwards?” To which
number one replied: “N-o-o-o.”

***

In private, this one guy had a little verse he’d sometimes
sing to himself, long about midweek:
“Only forty-eight more hours to be sober,
Only thirty-six more years to be insane.”
…(He dearly liked to think of it as having some kind of
“metaphorical meaning.”)

***
The question mark was invented by a man in a hurry.

…..and Kyroot added: The “failure-to-respond” was invented by
men in even a greater hurry.

…..a viewer writes: “After watching and listening to you for
a while, I decided I’d try out some of what you’ve talked about
on my own mind. Well! You should have just heard what my mind
had to say about that!”

***

To celebrate his birthday — first thing that very morning
the king directed that “everyone with credentials be shot.”

***

Ordinary “respect-gained” is a substitute for original
thought. (P.S.: In the city, it seems to work.)

***

So as to pay his way in advance, and remain unobligated to
the secondary status quo, whenever his intellectual affairs would
go awry, this one man would scream, and stomp, and curse like a
warthog, then conclude by honoring reality with this offering:
“Bite me on my afterlife.”

***

A strong aroma is a strong hint — and a fresh mind too fast
to apologize.

***

A sailor-of-civilization proposed: “When storms prevail and
the seas are uneasy — our heritage will see us through. …And
if not, at least we have someone to blame.”

…..Nautical Footnote: Another distinction between the
cultured and those who live in the basement is that when the
former are drowning they may not engage in profanity.

***

One kid said: “I don’t like anybody who knows more than I
do!” And his mama replied: “Well I guess you just l-o-v-e
yourself.”

***
In an attempt to explain why he won’t sit still for stories
concerning animals in distress, or of man’s inhumanity to man,
this one fellow said: “Since I don’t think-of, or talk-to-
myself-about such things, I’m sure as heck not going to listen to
them coming from someone else.”

***

The Grand Triumvirate of weapons in a revolutionist’s
arsenal are the three of: depression, self-pity, and crying
spells. …(There is, of course, that terrible, secret “Fourth
One,” about which no decent rebel likes to speak: The dreaded,
“Making Fun Of Serious Emotions Over A Period Longer Than Five
Days,” so I guess this is a propitious spot to temporarily rein
in this harmless little seditious sport. …[I do so hope that
no one has taken seriously these past few mentions of a
revolutionist actually using — and being used by — common
household emotions; of course, if you have — two things: First
is: Don’t tell anybody you did; and secondly: Go have yourself
a good cry over it. Now there!])

***

…and Kyroot observed: As he stood by the ammo counter
over near the horizon he thought: “How about this shit! They
have everything from BB’s to three-fifty-seven shells, and here I
stand with a child’s pocket knife.”

***

“One disadvantage to being dead,” said one man, “is that
after that you have no choice whether you want to be part of
history or not.” And another man’s thoughts said, upon hearing
this: “Hey, don’t lump me in with that kind of ‘Kyroot’!” Then
a third man’s thoughts chimed in: “Don’t lump me in with any
other thoughts!” (A Grand Master Of The Mortuary Arts shook his
head smiling and said: “Can you just imagine where we’d be today
if our duodenums were as touchy as our brains!”)

***

Kyroot’s “Expose Of The Day”: Ordinary men who predict the
future are heavier-than-air blimps. (Remember: If you’ve
already heard it — you heard it here second.)

***

With a smile, seriousness said: “Don’t worry, I’m a
bacteria — not a virus.”

…..”Well, sure!” said a guy, “That’s just like life — once
it’s over and you lived through it life will say, ‘S-e-e — now
that didn’t hurt.’ — HAH!!”

***

Two realities were walking along talking and the first one
mused, “Creatures with small feet always want large shoes.” And
his companion inquired, “Because of their limited intelligence?”
“No,” he replied, “because of tomorrow.”

***

A man who’s not his own moonshiner is n-o-o revolutionist.

***

A viewer writes in with his own suggested “Kyroot” (his
goes): “Life doesn’t have tumors, but it’s a carrier.” — Not
bad sir, keep trying. …Ah, but seriously, folks — another
member of our viewing audience sends us this serious note: “Dear
Kyroot: Should the privilege of laughing at tumors be limited to
those who have them? Those who don’t? Or no restrictions at
all?” …(A chap who recently set off a firecracker in his
pocket mumbled as best he could, through the thick bandages about
his face, that he believes “tumor” is some kind of metaphor for
“stupidity.” …[He also wants to know why they wrapped up his
head when it was his crotch he blew away?!])

…..and another letter just in to Miss Etiquette: “Dear Miss
Etiquette: What do you think is the distinction between
‘stupidity’ and ‘ordinary intelligence’?” And the ever-alert
Miss E. poked her secretary again and said: “Hah! Another trick
question from one of those humans, or somebody.”

***

Then there was yet this other guy who, first thing every
morning, would take some “words-to-live-by” and along with his
vitamins, throw ’em both in the trash.

***

At the annual “Ole Sorehead’s Summer Picnic” (which they
cancelled, as usual), just before they didn’t have the “Drunken,
Croker-Sack, Three-Legged, Blindfold Race,” one lounging burr-
brain picked his tooth whilst he told us this one: “You can
always spot the intellectually impaired — they’re the ones
who’re either: worrying about the gods, talking to themselves,
trying to get ahead, don’t believe in the gods, deny that they
talk to themselves, or who break in line ahead of you at the Tax
Office.”

***

For his class project one kid stood and told the class:
“Religious prophets are blues singers without a guitar.”

***

Notes a chap: “Ordinary minds are surely on the city’s
‘cutting-edge’ when they can say ‘I wouldn’t give you two cents
for that.’ — and mean it, particularly when the item is worth
less than half a nickel.” …(He gives us leave to substitute
the words “that idea” for the pronoun “that” in his preceding
comment.)

***

When polarities push up against each other, it’s hard to
know who to blame — like with a blister — your shoe? Or your
toe?

***

Near some city equipment a man looked up at the buildings
and said: “There are many things in life that can drive you
crazy, but none so magnificent as life itself.”

…..and Kyroot noted: Men invented the concept of “crazy” in
response to “knowing,” similarly as lightning concocted the idea
of “grounding” in response to being tired. …and an
acquaintance of the thoroughly cultured gentleman says: “I don’t
get it, and I don’t want to get it.”

***

There is a man who says he has five generations of genes who
run through his house every morning crying, “Plans, plans — we
gotta have plans!”

***

And this inquiry in to the Advice Doctor: “Dear Doctor:
Would knowing-what’s-going-on actually help?” Dear Sir: In my
opinion — probably some, but not a lot.

***

The only reason men believe they have more freedom than,
say, a snail, is that they have an intellect and the slug
doesn’t. (I say “only reason,” which is also to imply that it’s
the only one necessary.)

***

One rebel’s recent view: “The freedom, the glory, and the
promise of man is all reflected in that he is like a drop of
water in a mighty sea who alternately believes he is a fish, is a
drowning fish, is lost, and is the ocean itself.”

***
.pa
To ordinary minds the future is little more than a cheaper
version of the past.

***

…and Kyroot noted: Any “serious” definition or
description of a neural rebel is like spit thrown to the wind
which might return as either chunks of asphalt, or spit. One man
decided to delete the word “attempted” from his common usage, and
when asked if this was to help spur him on toward success with no
excuses, he said, “No, it’s just that the word is meaningless.”

***

As he sat, fiddling around with his city salad, the Earl of
Sophistication thought, “Not ‘knowing yourself’ has got to be the
supreme misdeed, or else the ultimate grace.” Later, to cheer
himself up, he sent over to the mayor’s table a four gallon
bottle of pure grain alcohol.

***

A certain urban poet made this kind offer to his city:
“Hey, big guy, let’s play ’I’ll tell you MY troubles,’ then YOU
can ask me to repeat them.” No one can be as considerate of a
reality as its children, who inhabit it. (Don’t even ask me
about the relationship between men’s minds and the gods they
conjure up!)

***

Mirrors aren’t made for laughing…not in the city, they’re
not.

***

A letter signed as being from “a kid” comes to us and says:
“My father won’t let me watch your show; up ’til now I’d had
little respect for him, but now I’m up to a size seven dress
shoe, and what d’you, him, and these secondary-cable-companies
think of that?!” The weather update from BRP Channel says that
when the march-of-sequence stumbles, it falls r-e-a-l hard — but
(thank god), tomorrow the barometric pressure.

***

One day after ingesting that little drug that would
temporarily bring him around to something resembling his
“senses,” this one chap was suddenly struck with the grand idea:
“What does it matter if you don’t have a ‘Synonym Finder’ if
you’re illiterate?!!” (God! He always felt so much better after
these little episodes!)

***

The speaker spoke: “Birds and squirrels don’t fight because
they eat different foods from the ground.” And a listener
countered: “It could be the other way around, you know.” And
the speak replied: “What difference would it make?” And the
listener actually learned something.

***

Whenever things would get especially sticky around town this
one king would finally say, “Okay, take it out on me, just take
it out on me!” And everyone understood well that he meant,
“Don’t you even think about trying to take it out on me!”
…”Hey dude, men don’t get to be kings by being Mister Potato
Head.” Sure they do! Why sure they do. …(The kids over in
this one place used to play a little game they called “Last One
Holding The Tumor Gets To Sit On The Throne.”)

***

Both the Advice Doctor and our show received this same
letter from a man, which says: “I am tired of being held captive
by something that I don’t know what is.”

…..You know, a few days after that one we received this note
from a viewer: “Dear Kyroot: As long as I don’t just have to be
myself it doesn’t seem so bad.”

***

A chap shrugged and said: “I finally realized that progress
was unstoppable after they’d developed ‘fake-grass-carpeting’ for
my own fake back yard.” Were it not for the uncertainty of the
waves, the oceans could not be fashionable, no new song could
ever crack the Top Ten, and civilization and the secondary world
would still be struggling to claw their way out of the basement.
The two opposing choirs, who together constituted the full
operatic company, sang their collective favorite: “We Just Hate
The Unsureness Of Life: We Adore Its Dubious Nature.”

***

Page from “The Bass Player’s Metaphysical Handbook”: Real
magic is in being able to both turn spit into gold, and into
refined spit.

***

One of the little Busy Brothers was in the back yard swing
and singing this ditty: “A man with a lobotomy has some
autonomy,” and his sibling injected, “What kind of silly song is
that?! A man with no mind wouldn’t know whether he was free or
not!” And the first brother just smiled and sang the verse
again.

***

Legend has it that in one rebel camp they used to like to
say (after a certain point was reached) that: “My mind is simply
a metaphor for my mind.” …(Chronologically speaking, this was
well after they’d decided that their minds were simply metaphors
for their brains. …[Ain’t progress cute!])

***

As he prepared to embark on the dangerous, secret mission
life had offered him, this dog, preparing for the possibility of
being captured, packed among his supplies a “lethal hair-ball,”
but before he could get out the door, life said, “Come on! Gimme
a break! There’s no such thing as a ‘lethal hair-ball’!” And
the dog muttered, “Curses! The jig’s up even before I get going
good!”

***

There are two groups of people: Those who deal with the
past, and those with the future; the second group doesn’t exist
yet.

***

One king declared: “No man with no morals can marry a
daughter of mine! — But, a man with no morals and a basement
full of gold could ask me out on a date.” (Continued from
page 2): Everybody has their price. It’s just that some have it
more than others — “And thank god for it!” added the voice of
progress.

***

The local oozes — the universal swamps.

***

“Yes,” admitted an ole man to the kid, “a city choir can
sing a rebel song, but their rendition will leave it flat and
moot.”

***

The official “Explainer For The City” announced at a mass
meeting: “A man with a game leg is excused for limping,” and a
host of fine citizens, employing a variety of methods, began
immediately inflicting grievous harm to their lower extremities.
One man carried around a detailed anatomical diagram of a horse
with him everywhere he went.

***
.pa
The ordinary stand motionless on the beach believing that
looking far away will make them mystical.

***

And Kyroot presented for your “Curious File” (other than the
fact that if you know anything at all by now, then nothing by-
now, by-fact-o is all that strange or curious anyway), but 
— regardless of that, here ’tis: It is the baser parts of
man that often arise as the more spiritual.

***

As one part of this one reality began to “progress along
right smartly,” they changed the verbal rules in the middle of
the game by issuing a new directive which stated that “God is no
longer ‘funky.’” Hey! A reality’s gotta do what a reality’s
gotta do! How about you?!

***

To be ordinary is to be fashionable; to be fashionable is to
be landlocked; a revolutionist is a radical yawl lurking in an
office building.

***

Having lice may not keep you awake, but it can make their
mama wonder, “Where are my little darlings?” The attraction
between brains and what brains gotta do often matches the
intensity of that between fresh fart sandwiches and a good
rousing sermon.

***

Adjectives can spoil a rebel joke. …then Kyroot gave the
“chump version”: Too many adjectives can ruin a rebel joke.
— See!

***

More tips for the hungry at the Intellectual Field Trials:
Having heroes is an excuse for running a routine race;
admiration, a bar to higher mental jumps.

***

We also received this note overnight from a viewer: “I was
intrigued by something you said on your last show — that there
was no such thing as a revolutionist — does that explain why you
see so few?”

***

If you don’t know who Kyroot is, then you’re Kyroot.

***

…then Kyroot told: Over in a place far, far (pretty far)
from the city, an artist — who, in his spare time was a real
artist — one day thought: “If you’re good, nobody has to tell
you you’re good.”

***

As human life moves along it continues to leave exhaust
fumes in its wake; and although there are various chemical names
for it, its basic formula is the same: History, Criticism,
Guilt, Monday-morning-quarterbacking, Fashion, and Ordinary-
intelligence-trying-to-catch-up. (On the rebel-neural-level:
Real global warming is the intellect continuing to heat up.)

***

Kyroot’s News Item: One man’s mind was made up of various
physical materials and some thoughts.

…..Kyroot’s ‘Nother News Item: One man wanted his money back.

***

On that splendid dance floor a young man said: “I sampled
the honey on the end of the stick, and as my taste improved the
branch became my hand.”

***

A man hovered about the center of downtown declared to
passersby: “The serious will inherit the city,” and before
anyone could respond, added to himself — “and they can have it!”
(He then grabbed his guts and wits and made a mad, exhilarating
run for it.)

<END>