Jan Cox Talk 1821

title tbd


Audio =

Summary = TBD
Condensed News Items = See below
News Item Gallery = jcap 97032 -1821
Transcript = None
Key Words =

The News

1821 97032 04/02/97 Copyright J. M. Cox 1997


A man described to a mystic a reputed event that was most unusual (bordering
on miraculous) and asked him, “Do you understand it?”
To which the mystic replied yes.
Then the man asked, “Can you explain it?”
To which the mystic replied no.

Second Version:
A man described to a mystic a reputed event that was most unusual (bordering
on miraculous) and asked him, “Do you understand it?”
To which the mystic replied yes.
Then the man asked, “Can you explain it?”
To which the mystic replied, “No, I can’t, but don’t take the ‘I’ part
personally, or look at the event specifically, for no one can explain
anything, and only the unknowing try.”


When one man discovered himself in a locked room, he thought, “Jeeze! —
now the jig’s up and ever’thing’s ruint!”
See, he said that ’cause now he was forced to face, head on, where he was,
what the problem actually consisted of, and what efforts henceforth would
be useful, and which ones would be foolish.
“Jeeze!” he reiterated, “now all the fun’s been taken away.”
See, his idea of what’s fun is what you and me would call what’s futile.
“Jeeze,” again thought the man who now knew he was in a locked room, “thanks
bunches — whoever it is I have to thank for this bit of unexpected,
liberating information.”
See, NOW he’s beginning to stir just a little from his previously
comfortable captivity.

* * *


Good evidence of your normalcy and civility is whether you can listen to
people just as dumb as you talk ignorantly about things they do not
understand, and nod, intelligent appearing, along with their comments.

Hey, what d’ya think makes the world go ’round?
…No, not a windup motor!


In his locked room, one man built a library —
and in his locked room, he constructed a science lab —
and in his locked room, replicated the Academy;
all-in-all, in his locked room he reproduced the entire world of man.
…But it was still in a friggin’ locked room, just like the entire world
of man.
(So I guess there was that justice to it.)

A boy asked his father, “What do allegories represent?”
“Nothing,” replied the old man.
“Oh,” said the lad, “same as the literal.”
“You got it,” acknowledged the elder fart.

On one planet there are two types of Sacred Scripture:
the kind that’s serious and means nothing, and then the other.


Wanna know why the two most popular pastimes of men have always been
meditatin’ and boozin’?…

A guy’s scanning through the eight or ten television stations available
through standard, over-the-air reception, and thinks, “I’m either signin’
up for satellite and 300 channels, or I’m giving up TV altogether.”

…Hmmm?…that didn’t sp’lain it to you enough?… Okay, why can men cure
the more serious flu, and yet not the less-so common cold?

…What? — you still don’t get it? Well damn…all right, why is it easier
to die than to live. And just in case this one also doesn’t take, quick
then, why is it more fun to be ig’orant and confused than knowing and
clear sighted? Now everyone knows the answer to that one!

Myth tells of a strange cult that once appeared on this planet, which
claimed that after you die you’re given a choice of then becoming either
a ventriloquist (if you think that’s possible for man) or a ventriloquist’s
dummy (if you believe that more likely). Well, anyway, you don’t have to
prove that you believe either one to be exclusively true, all you have to do
is say that you do…just like back in life.


In an apparent attempt at humor, a man said that his standards were so high
the he wouldn’t lower himself to dating any woman who’d go out with him.
And a guy, upon hearing this, thought, “Damn but I wish I could pull that
shit on my mind!”

A boy’s mom gave him this good, good motherly advice, “No matter how much
money you spend, or how much you may dress her up, a locked room’s still
always gonna be a locked room.”

Then simultaneously, over in another reality, a man touched dangerously
close by realization thought, “Is this gettin’ weird or what? — it’s now
around to me havin’ to hide my locked room inside a Playboy!”

…And life’s inter-reality Stupid Monitor rapped on the door and yelled,
“All right — stop it — I know what you kids are doin’ in there.”

But on the other hand (if you will), one of the singular rewards of
attempting to do such as this is that it’s really the only thing that a man
can pursue, about whose possible outcomes life doesn’t care one way or the

The first voice whispered, “I like being along.”
And a second said, “That’s good, this’ll work out perfect…plus there’s no
need to whisper.”


One man labeled his mind’s operations “The Restating Of The Known, Obvious,
and Inconsequential.”


The sounds of locked rooms are, in part, the construction of locked rooms.

– – –

In lieu of a lasso,
one cowpoke used his tongue.

* * *


One guy put a meter on his mind.
Wanna know what good it did?
If you do, then you having one on yours wouldn’t do any good.

…Don’t you just love it, how everything works out even?
“As a matter of fact, I don’t!”
The question was just rhetorical.
“Okay, then I don’t rhetorically like it.”


One man attempted to start his own university, and when that didn’t work
out, began his own charitable university support foundation, whose slogan
was “Men construct locked rooms, and men can demolish locked rooms.”
But it didn’t prove successful either, since no educated person was dumb
enough to believe it.


Concerning an event they’d just witnessed, a boy asked his father, “What’s
the odds of that happening?”
And the elder replied, “Why you little shit brain, what’s the odds of
anything happenin’?”
…(And the lad could only assume there was a message in there —

And now, The Stock Report:
When hope finds itself in unfamiliar surroundings, and is unsure what to do,
it will often change its name to “assumption.”

And one man who’d several times stood unusually close to the edge of how-
things-appear, but who’d not stepped over, mused, “I wouldn’t mind so much
the idea of ‘mind death’ if I knew that after that I’d become a Shriner and
go on a lot of out-of-town conventions, and could race all around on a
miniature motorcycle.”

And now, The Final Scores:
The grand prize in religion’s bingo game is Life Eternal — I mean the
PROMISE of life eternal, while the attempt to kill and then resurrect oneself
has no payoff that I can tell you about.

Sitting alone, one man said, “I’m sick of it! — thoroughly disgusted and
sick of it!” And was simultaneously aware (to himself) that he would not
have been in such a position had he never started all this in the first

…And a lady at a table ’bout halfway back shouted out, “Okay, first place!
Now that’s more like it! Even if there is no grand prize, at least you can
hand out a first place!”
(It’s great to so easily satisfy a customer.)


Only people who have not the slightest understanding of life fear being
fooled or mislead — those-who-know know that it’s already too late.

A “surefire” normalcy test is whether you believe that you could be any

Although it seems impossible looking back on it, one man swallowed a hippo,
alive and whole, and became conscious in an entirely new fashion.
…Actually it wasn’t really new, but I’m pretty much at a loss as to how
else to describe it to you.

Hey, roll in that mud from top to bottom,
why not use more cells, seein’s how you got ’em.


You can rearrange the furniture in a locked room all you want to.

One man’s mind noted, “The great thing about being a mind is that there’s
no laws against anything! …And even if there are, it doesn’t matter,
’cause I made ’em up anyway. “So — there!” it giggled, wishing it had
a tongue to stick out at us (though routine events, least to an alert eye,
show such a talent is unnecessary for it to make its point).


“Yeah-h-h,” cried out a silent, unidentified voice, “I don’t have to spell
freedom — I am freedom!”

…(Need I clue you that the key concepts here are silence and lack of
identification — two foundations of freedom.)

* * *


Once you realize that the mind is a prison, you’re home free.