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Jan’s Posted Daily Fresh Real News
EVEN IN THE CITY:
NOT ALL NOISE IS MEANINGFUL
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October 3, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX
Two Tales For The Price Of One.
In the older regions of the wood things are much as they have always been,
and silence reigns (save for the subtle sounds of the un thinking native wildlife),
while in the newer, developing areas of the kingdom,
much noise accompanies all that the creatures do.
When a man took his best friend (who was dog) to the vet for a check,
the animal expert said to him:
“Now that your pal is beginning to age,
for his own good you should put him on a highly restrictive diet I have developed,”
and for a time he did (which the canine had no choice but to begrudgingly accept );
then one day he looked at his friend and thought:
“What is life to an animal but living,
and enjoying those few basic activities that make it possible:
so why should he not have those things which his own nature silently shows that
he prefers without the interference of humanly conceived theories and prescriptions.”
One Possible Conclusion (Cost Unknown).
Thought is one thing,
and man (god bless him),
has got to do both,
in spite of what many believe.
One middle aged, sized and seized man
serves up the following explanation for his life and condition:
“My brain has continually had such astonishing thoughts
that the rest of me simply couldn’t keep up.”
Being human is not necessarily a fatal flaw
(unless of course you plan to continue along such a course).
Ninety four per cent of everything men do has seven side effects.
In one city they still tell of one guy whose potential for vileness was such that
no house was full of Ill-repute until he had visited it.
(“Are we really talking about houses here, or minds?”)
For those still confused over the connection:
if thinking is to consciousness as the past is to the future, then consider:
you can think about thinking, but not about consciousness.
Question: Why, in certain places in the city does traffic seem to go faster,
and in others, slower, and in still another area, appear stopped altogether?
One man (always concerned about costs) who had been (as he put it):
“Experiencing severe personal problems in his life”
when told of the available alternative of death,
had one question: “Who pays?”
Hormones said: “We compete to — stay alive!”
and neurons said: “We compete to…..to…..to…..(?)”
One man had a plan,
he called it: The Man Plan,
he called it: The Man Plan ‘cause he
didn’t know where it actually came from.
And this story just in:
“A pig,” (or does that say: “pig farmer”? — it’s hard to make out. Okay):
“Either a pig or a pig farmer said to his son: “Remember my boy:
when anything DOES go right in your life — a little angle dies.”
And one of the city irregulars sends along this report from his week of the noods:
“No possession is worth having if you don’t ultimately resent it.”
(“Is he using: ‘possession’ as a synonym for: ‘idea’? — and is he being sardonic?”)
Note: The one thing upon which all men could decisively agree they can never discuss.
(“Question, if I may:
in the city, why do they even bother with the word: ‘justice’?”)
Now there! — talk about sarcasm covering for lack of comprehension!”
The Mythical Quest — Aas Ne’er Seen By Un Mythical Eyes.
A real knight is his own: lover-in-distress;
dragon-to-be-slayed (and of course),
ultimate rescuer —
all of this made possible by the fact that: Life itself is alive,
and men’s mental concept of it: An endless tale on a carrousel.
(“’Made possible?!’” snorted Merlin: “Try: ‘made inevitable.’”)
Item: A man with a map is half way home.
Second Version: A man who believes he has a map is inclined to make only half efforts to actually go anywhere.
Third Time: A man who has swallowed his map is half dead,
and thus has little need to travel anywhere anyhow.
(“Is this why the more alert never say where they’re headed?”)
The city Bureau Of Mines & Bridges received a letter from a man seeking to: “copyright all of his thoughts,” least (he says)
someone try to set them to music after he goes to sleep.
Eighty five per cent of the ways men turn in the city knock over twelve things.
Every time this sort of activity gets a name,
it mostly stops being this sort of activity.
One chap had tattooed on his forehead (as close to his frontal lobes as physiology,
and good taste would permit): “Ring Bell For Service,”
(no explanation given — but is any really required).
From a rebel garage rises this note:
“Next to dual exhaust and glass pack mufflers,
deep breathing is the key to mental drag racing success.”
Ninety nine per cent of the things said that would help men to see — they miss.
The kinda guys who’ll tell you the kind guys they are
make up most of the guys on the planet,
and by telling the kinda guys they are, they insure that they’ll never realize
what kinda guys they and everyone else really are.
The way to most comfortably survive city life is by keeping it as dark there as possible.
One state was had a king who said that his only concern was what they people wanted: he was seen as being weak and was soon overthrown;
the next ruler announced that his own interests were supreme,
and that the desires of the populace were irrelevant:
he too was quickly dispatched as too overbearing;
their favorite sovereign turned out to be one who said almost nothing,
and who for the most part, seemed distracted.
While it is true that physically: man cannot live by bread alone,
more miraculously is the fact that mentally: he can live by nothing alone.
Seventy eight per cent of all men consume, runs right through them.
And one man mused: “What greater possession do there be
than your mind realizing it has nothing TO lose.”
P.S. An ill tempered map is not a travlin’ map.