Jan Cox Talk 1065

If You Are Not Serious, You Are Irrelevant in the City


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The News

Copyright 1992 J. M. Cox              92145-  [1065]

..and Kyroot said:                                   

     …and Kyroot said:  As truth behind words — walls hide

behind paint…behind misdirection, but most over — behind



     …and Kyroot noted:  Philosophies and theories to no avail: 

If you man an ordinary mental position, you must always be

defending it.  * Dumb people fire dense bullets so that idiots

will have some reason to duck. *


     One man says he calls his brain his, “nose whistle” — he

says he doesn’t know why he does this, and he says he doesn’t



     Then Kyroot took us again on, “Proverbs A’ Revisited”: 

Creative minds are dense but once, while the philistine’s

succumbs a thousand times.


     …and Kyroot, that keen eyed observer of all things

secondary, said:  Conclusions were the original inspiration for

impotency.  (“Help! — I’ve come to the end of an idea and I

can’t seem to get-it-up!”)


     And a Kyrootian medical intern left this message:  Do note: 

Only seriousness can drive you crazy.


     …and from Kyroot:  Directions for This Monday:  If you

believe that you can “save up” to be a hermit — you aren’t even

close.  Okay! — a viewer asks:  “Is anybody close?” — And with

some show of feigned regret Kyroot replies:  “No — but hey,

don’t let that bother you.”


     …and Kyroot inquired:  Who but dogs and men will attempt

to eat while sick.  …(and Kyroot asked for verification:  I

assume you refer to more than physical food.)


     There is a fine line separating everything from everything

else; so fine, in fact, that it exists only in man’s mind.


     The ole man told the kid:  “Do remember that confession is

good for nothing.”  When the group ran out of clay pigeons, they

began sending up proverbs.


     Handy Household Reinvigorated Reality Check:  If you’re

imitatin’ anybody –– you ain’t revolutin’!


     Now I don’t know which of the Primary, or Secondary Waiting

Rooms you thought you stepped in, but Dr. Kyroot sends out this

message by his head nurse, just the ole same-o:  Pain is pain —

but thinking can really hurt.  (He says if you understand this,

you can go on home and forget about it.)


     Two bar philosophers were a’sippin’ and a’spossin,’ and the

first one said:  “There is no harm in admitting you were wrong

about something, for it shows that you are now a wiser man.”  And

the second took a swaller and replied:  “Yeah, that would be all

right if that were to be the last of it!”  …(They both whooped

and hollered and damn near choked on their suds.)


     Then (as requested) in “comic book form,” Kyroot presented

the “Intellectual History (sic) Of Many A Good Man & Woman”: 

“Stand back! — I am armed and dangerous!”  (Then to):  “Stand

back! — I am dangerous.”  (And finally, on to):  “God, I wish I

was ‘armed and dangerous’.”


     Serious men have much to hide.


     Men do not so much shrink the study of the sundry items in

their closets as they do dread considering the adhesive that

operationally binds them all together.  * Thus do minds pursue an

interest in stars and words at the expense of the “empty spaces”

in between. * ..(“Grandpa, is that where a rebel actually



     A Short Verbal Fox trot in F:  “When there is nothing much

to talk about, men will talk about themselves.” — (And the city

wide response):  “Gee, there sure ain’t much to talk about.” 

Note:  The last-mentioned area is wherein the herd generally

feels that it is dancing and stumbling about.  * Cows look for a

beacon — then many will say:  “No way! — that one is too

bright!” *


     And now for your listening pleasure, this “Variation On A

Theme By Kyroot”:  Anything that can be truthfully said about

man is at least half untrue.  During Intermission, several

patrons at the bar said that they didn’t get it any better the

first time round.  (And Kyroot, disguised as a waiter among the

crowd winked in your direction and sotto voced:  “Do you really

mean ‘didn’t get it,’ or ‘didn’t like it’?”  They walked on away,

knowing that you knew the answer to that one.)


     At “The Festival Of Stable Reality & Acceptable Change,” the

City sat at the banquet table and cried out:  “Bring to me men

who are — predictable in their behavior, limited in their

agendas, and shy in the exercise of their talents; bring such men

to me, and then — gloriously, and safely shall we all feast.”


     Another certain ole man so advised the kid:  “Look at it

like this:  Even if reality weren’t your ‘best friend’ it still

controls who your best friends are.”  A viewer objects:  “I don’t

think that much of this should actually be called, ‘advice.'” 

And Kyroot replies:  “Me either, but that’s still what your ears

would make of it no matter what I called it.”  And surprisingly

the viewer suddenly says, “Oh.”


     A common, natural trait among those who don’t know where

they’re going is to say:  “I don’t know where I’m going.”  (By

this method alone, you might care to note [added Kyroot], do city

buses continue to run.)


     Whenever he approved of something this one man would say,

“Splen-dif-ferous,” a nonsensical, non-existent word, and yet

everyone understood what he meant.  …and Kyroot suggested: 

Maybe you should think about this.


     The speaker declared:  “Each man is an electrical outlet for

a gigantic cosmic dynamo!”  And a man in the crowd screamed:  “My

god! — I’ve blown a fuse!”


    The Two Guys were talking and one of them said:  “Once coin

collectors are well armed, philatelists will begin to suffer

weapons hunger.”  And number two guy said:  “Is that an out

growth of older territorial defensive drives?”  And the first one

replied:  “Yes, that, and the fact that this is how the newer

secondary world naturally expands itself.”  …(They both

puckered up their lips in a display of mental satisfaction as

they once again marveled at the efficiency by which life, through

man, is simultaneously what it “once-and-first-is,” along with

what it “next-and-forever-will-be.”)  * Man:  The only land where

sunset and daybreak occur coevally.  *   


     Pardon us now while we take time for our “Serious Question

Of The Hour”:  What is the greatest fear of intelligent men? 

That they will discover the truth regarding the power of heredity

on their lives.


     The Royal Priest (who was not actually the Official Royal

Priest) so addressed the Court:  “In the eternal warfare — if

indeed such exists — in which man is the battlefield, the

struggle is between the two mighty armies of Stupidity and

Idiocy.”  …(He didn’t stick around to take up a collection.)

 …..and Kyroot noted:  The “religious,” by turning their

attention to the idea of a creator, are thus freed from much

concern regarding creation.  …(One of the king’s guards by a

side entrance was suddenly struck with the possibility that the

final great struggle might be between nouns and verbs!)

 …..then Kyroot added:  According to the Mystic Records of this

one past reality, on their final Day of Reckoning, just to keep

things fresh and unpredictable right up to the end, a mighty

voice rang out through the universe:  “All of those in two-tone

shoes are first-in-line.”  …(And one of His Grace’s personal

pages suddenly wondered:  “Is it to be that the ‘ultimate sin’

will turn out to be a lapse in good taste?!”)


     A certain rebel reflector one day sat and so reflected: 

When I began, I saw my mind as a pool, busied by ripples that

were caused by random stones tossed therein by others; then as I

progressed, I began to perceive the stones that produced the

discontent as being products of my own handiwork; but now, as I

picture my intellect as that small pool, I see fresh thinking as

a tremendous boulder which I constantly hoist above my head as I

shout out the warning to the waters below:  “Look out, you

mutherfuckers — here it comes!”  …(“No, Jimmy,” said the ole

man, “you cannot put him on the back of your bicycle.”)


     The speaker declared:  “Every dog has his day!”  And a man

in the crowd screamed:  “My god! — my calendar watch has turned



     As he looked toward his hometown of the city, a man

pondered:  “Which is the more untasty and least genteel over

there:  To have something unsavory to hide, or to have to conceal

the fact that you have nothing to hide?!”  “Yes,” injected Dr. X,

“Civilization is a funny business — not of course, ‘funny’ in

the sense that there is anything at all amusing about it, you

know — just, ‘funny.'”

 …..and Kyroot accounted:  Man’s mind and its secondary maps: 

The source and materials whereby deadly acts become merely

“serious business.”


     …then Kyroot (with his trusty tongue) verbally sketched

this picture:  Man’s ordinary mind trying to comprehend itself is

like a spider web saying:  “What the hell is holding this all

together?!”  * For a clown or magician to properly entertain they

must first make the audience accept the seriousness of the

undertaking. *  (And Kyroot P.S-ed:  Any viewer who yet thinks

that there is a difference between a clown and a magician

shouldn’t bother to write to me at this time.)


     For his birthday one smart alack intellectual said:  “I’ll

tell you what I’d like:  A lack of complimentary expressions

regarding my intelligence from the dunderheads of the world.” 

And the dunderheads said — “Hey — don’t you worry about that!”


     A seditious sarge told a young potato peeler over by the

k.p. tree:  “In ordinary society consistency is considered true

evidence of one’s civility, while in rebel society — what the

hell am I saying! — there is no ‘rebel society’!”


     Men with normal, balanced mental capacities cannot even

conceive of the game without the concept of “taking sides.” 

“Pop, how can you find the Rebel Sport Section in the paper?” 

“That’s easy my boy — just look for the Box Scores that have no

scores.”  In the city — at street level — mental roads that

reach a destination are not only deemed proper, but are the ones

awarded prizes and recognition; in rebel areas, neural travel is

a bit more complex and interesting.


     The speaker declared:  “What goes up must come down.”  And a

man in the crowd screamed:  “My god! — they’ve shot Newton.”


     In one city, gender title was based thusly:  You were

technically called a “man” if you were the “penetrating partner”

regardless of who you penetrated; and upon hearing of this one

man’s brain said:  “That’s it! — I’m leaving.”


     …and Kyroot set out what might could be a “Rebel Condo’s

Secret Battle Cry”:  Turn up the music — and stoke up the

furnaces so that the penthouse library might always cook.

    …(Not intending to discount those unidentifiable “Hermit

Revolutionists” who usually don’t live where they reside.)


     …and Kyroot konfessed (admitted, even):  The tart taken

from lemons — lockjaw removed from nails — such would be some

people’s lives, if therein, revolutionist ideas ever encroached.

   …(“Ohhh! — god help us,” the poor people cried, and the god

said:  “Hey, I didn’t tell you people to ever think like that in

the first place.”)


     An attentive viewer says:  “Have you actually begun to talk

about how things really are rather than just about how men think

they are, while I wasn’t noticing?!”  (Said correspondent also

adds:  “If I was really as sharp as you insinuated, I would

object to you using an adjective to describe me.”)  …and Kyroot

said:  “Okay, did all of you fresh, young neurons take that



     The speaker declared:  “What goes around comes around.”  And

a man in the crowd screamed:  “My god! — the lead horsies have

dry rot!”


     One ole man described to the kid that, “Heroes are like a

stop-gap measure for minds to fill in the momentary blank spots

in the ongoing sequence of reality.  All in all, they’re hastily

drawn figures a man’s intellectual opaque projector will flash on

the screen when his travel slides seem to have temporarily run



     The unseated correlation between “important” and “serious”

marks the line of distinction between ordinary thinking and the

real thing.


     A chap at the corner of Sixth and International Blvd. was

publicly pronouncing:  “A simple life is a pleasurable life.” 

And a fellow passing by suddenly stopped and exclaimed:  “Then,

my god! — I’ve got to be the happiest man alive!”  …(Several

people standing nearby somehow doubted the sincerity of the

comment.)  * Moral:  Loiterers can spell trouble. *


     …and Kyroot The Counselor (sic, and, Ha!) said:  Only two

— that’s right! — two, only two kinds of people believe that

they can “outsmart themselves”:  Dumbos, and rebel dumbos.

  …(That was two, wasn’t it?!…)


     In king’s court, God’s country, and all other civilized

environs:  Thinking what others think is the most sincere form of

sincerity.  Some renegade neurons said:  “So that’s why we never

get anywhere!”  And some more settled ones replied:  “Quite

contraire — that’s precisely how we have gotten anywhere.” 

(But the outlaws still didn’t like it…[Which I guess, is why

they are outsiders].)  Stand back! — make room! — “Definition-

On-A-Hog” coming through:  Original thinking:  Individual

achievement with no necessary visible reflection.


     A mother told the kid:  “No mind — no conscience; no mind

— no chance.”


     While his dog was out of the room, one man gave himself a

“good talking to,” thusly:  “The sooner the better that you can

get firmly set in your mind the undeniable, though slippery, fact

that every single thing men say, present and propose, is a form of

absolute ‘show business’; they continually ask one another and

large audiences to ‘dance with my ideas,’ while hopefully

swooning also at my handsomeness.”  (Lord Byron-The-Lab then

stepped back into the room, and the man discontinued his efforts

for the day.)


     Let me put it to you like this (said Kyroot to a visiting

magazine article), non-magnetic revolutionist thinking is like

atom smashing for the mind.


     Then Kyroot dished out one of those kinds of things that may-

or-may not be as potentially possible-or-not as it may at first

sound:  About the only way the truly talented and original can

get work in the city is for their talent to be at least slightly

misconstrued.  (“Woo!”, said one guy, “I’d get out of town — if

it’d do any good.”  …Wooo, Y’all and y’all.)


     And now this great new break-through “slogan” from the ad

desk of Kyroot & Kyroot:  “Repetitive thought:  The heart-beat of

the secondary world.”


     You guys might enjoy hearing this one; it’s the Creation

Myth from that galaxy just up front there, over to your right. 

It says that immediately after the local reality-cum-god had

created the first creatures it told them “The Secret,” and within

a short period of time the creatures said:  “Hey, now tell us

what The Secret means.”  And the god shook his head negatively,

replying:  “No, you know too much already.”

 …..meanwhile, over at Space Base Seven, out on the stardust

playground, some little nippers skipped and sang:

         “The secret’s in the blood,

          The secret’s in the air;

          I would have gone ahead and said,

          The secret’s everywhere…

               Except that’s too predictable, eh what!”

Shortly thereafter, The Fleet Commander ordered:  “Get those

little fuckers outta here.”


     Then, through the efforts of our “In-House News Item Network

& Desk-Top Piddling Operation,” someone who signed their

submission with just the letter, “K.,” says:  Being of a rebel

mind and having a rebel friend can be more fun than riding the

rails in Alaska during January in your underwear.  It’s reported

that in some revolutionist publications nothing is accepted that

contains the word, “can.”  …(Can you understand what that



     One guy told himself:  “Well ole sport, you know you’re back

home when being a pea brain is no disadvantage.”  A viewer

writes:  “I know for a fact — (having seen my X-rays) — that my

brain itself is larger than a pea; does this exempt me from your

classification of ‘pea brains’?”


     A lady writes:  “Dear Advice Doctor:  Is ‘old age’ a fitting

death for a revolutionist?”  Dear Madame:  Do you mean

physically, or otherwise?


     The Weird Lobby continues to insist:  “It does too count! —

Being weird does count!”


     In the “fairness of the city” — (in fact, damn near

approaching transcendental fairness) — being a peckerhead is no

bar to becoming a super peckerhead.  …(Dig it if you can! —

Smoke if you got ’em! — Write if you get work!  And brush after

each flush.)


     Then, as your hungry eyes met his over the cheese, bearing

the holes of ever-increasing magnitude, Kyroot whispered:  “So,

it is more non-menu descriptions you want — so — then consider

that the unsponsored neural expedition is the difficulty in

promoting a product that is not for sale.”  * In civilized

jurisdictions, few diners who sit down for nouns find favor in

being served processes. *


     More Verbal Circus Lore from A Rebel’s World:  Reality:  A

tightrope too funny not to be taken seriously.  And making his

ears light up, Bozo the Bozo said:  “I do so trust that you

grasped the ramifications of this, ewe’all.”


     Someone in our hearing range ponders just for a moment: 

“You know, if you could somehow get by with it, you could

conclude that anybody who takes anything other than strictly

primary matters seriously is an idiot.”  (He quickly regained his

normal composure.)


     And later that day, Kyroot brought up a “Post-Creation Myth”

from yet another solar system:  The local god got the thinking

creatures started out by giving them “The Secret” in five words,

and once they’d learned to chew on it real good, and wanted a

condensed version, he changed it to a ten-word description.


     A viewer says:  “Okay:  I’ve listened to you talk, and I’ve

listened to the Kyroots, and I just want to tell you — Don’t try

and cheer me up!”


     For your holiday buffet, these Kyrootian, “Words to live

by”:  A content man is a dead man.


     The Subversive Show Business Directory lists a “Neural

Rebel” as:  An act with no audience.


     To help keep things at a “hair-triggered-edge,” whenever he

was at home alone, or anywhere else like that, this one guy’d

wear a mental see-through-blouse.  And thus spaketh some of the

more exotic, young neurons:  “If you can’t, or don’t stimulate

yourself — then what’re gonna expect from others!”


     The Four-Star General in charge of the elevator informs you

all:  “Where the brain runs into the body, seems to be the area

of greatest confusion to man.”  …(Later over drinks he added: 

“Well, that and when the cable breaks.”)


     Re: The Matters of Pride, Beauty and Conceit:  Secondary

matters can apparently be improved only through secondary means.


     And The Ole Park Proverbalist proposes thusly:  “The guilty

tremble at the sight of the law — the stupid, at mirrors.”  (And

Kyroot noted:  Should not we all shake to consider what should

frighten a revolutionist!)


     One man became a mere reflection of what he once was — (he

says it’s still too much!)


     To help further elucidate the matter, Thomas Alva Kyroot

said:  When brains can bleed — then will secondary matters be



     Looking deep and far away, a man on a hill pondered: 

“Perchance, an ultimate triumph of chaos and chance will be the

supreme establishment of order.”


     The Interstate Highway System was unconsciously fashioned

after the human nervous system, with truck stops, rest rooms,

roadside parks, and information stations being a natural after-

thought.  (“Hey man!”, said one guy to himself, “If you’re ‘gonna

go’ –– go first class! — go by ‘me.'”)


     At one time, rebels tried to move their goo field further

away from the roadhouse of emotions.


     Near the beginning of a new week, one young firebrand

thought:  “Sometimes being of a revolutionist turn-of-mind is

like being an escapee from a mental institution on a planet that

has no concept of sanity.”


     …and a stat note from Kyroot:  For every ten people who

enjoy hearing revolutionist ideas — less than ten really do! 

Someone in the audience says:  “I thought you were going to say

something else.”


     “Okay, gang,” said the substitute teacher, “‘til the rain

lets up we’ll play an indoor game; what is one danger to a

revolutionist?…That’s right!  That his efforts get too-o-o

close to that naughty old ‘s’-word.”


     Answers are easy to come by — plain, blank, revealing walls

are another matter.


     …and from the lecture hall of Kyroot:  “More of How

Genetics And Other Almost Real Things Work”:  Children are the

low-man on everybody’s totem pole…except for the next one

coming up.  Now for the, “After-Class Version”:  All games are

won by kids.


     …then, just for fun, Kyroot said:  The secret actually put

in words would be like a snake that bites off its own head before

it can ever speak.


     As this one neural imbiber grew increasingly sophisticated

in his social and mental tastes, he began to enjoy his drinks

more mixed and complex, and his thinking more, “Straight, no



     Then once, some outlaws in the roadhouse, after considering

what was going on with those in the basement, and in light of

what some were trying to do out in the goo field, simply turned

and said:  “Put another quarter in the jukebox.”