Jan Cox Talk 3063


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Jan’s Posted Daily Fresh Real News

STAYS IN THE CITY (praise be for small favors)
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The Out-Of-Towner’s Q.T. Tribune
October 31, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX

One man moved to a place that was really, really cold,
because of the fact that he hated the cold;
everyone who already lived there was quite impressed with what he did,
(except those who thought he was nuts).
(Supposedly for a short period of time a small religion sprouted up around
the man’s unusual action,
locally referred to as: Hubert Moved For Your Sins.)

“A common city occurrence,” noted a union steward to a son, “Is to join an
organization whose dues bear no relationship to its proclaimed purpose and benefits.”
(“I’m no fool: I will not go on your advertised tour of Camelot —
unless it costs a lot.”)
In an urban nervous system existence: the improbable is always affordable —
but plain reality? — forget about it! — you couldn’t begin to pay its tab!
Fact: the civilized world of men’s ideas and behavior that comes solely therefrom
is fueled by notions which are physically unfeasible;
the tangible world works off the basis of what it does;
man’s mental one, off of ideas not possible in the tangible,
(aka: That’s what makes human life interesting [or at least, different]).

Early morning, one man likes to stand on a levee and sing in a booming voice:
“No body knows de trouble I’ve seen —
no body knows but the Trouble Fairy.”
Note: the true relationship between men’s lives and their muses —
no one really wants to know about.
(The rule is: You don’t wanna see how either hot dogs — or the lives of men
are made.)

Weather & City Celebrations.
A man who doesn’t care if it does rain,
can always stage his own private parade in another locale.
(And from off in the distance came the ominous sound of — distances!
(least that’s the impression in the city;
to the mental rebel: the sound of distances is the sound of freshness and freedom.)

In a surprise move to up-the-stakes in post mortem punishment,
one god has announced that no longer will the unrepentant be simply
thrown into a lake of fire, but will henceforth — for eternity —
get to hear him tell personal anecdotes about himself.

Only those awake to what is really going on have any right to
take life seriously……….and they don’t……….(what d’ya make of that?)

One man’s: “Stay alert!” reminder to himself is:
“If you don’t make right-now mentally interesting,
you will resort to the past.”

One man suggests: “Catching-on is like reincarnation — in reverse.”

For your consideration, one man submits:
“Collective Responsibility (A Poem).
You can give a cow a badge,
you can give a cow gun,
you can tell him he’s in charge of things,
but you can’t make him see that he’s a cow.”
“But he’s not supposed to see — is he?!”
“What are you trying to do — ruin the poem!
(There’s always some sheep or other stupid creature
wantin’ to butt in on serious bovine business!
My motto is: Each with its own kind: the dumb with the dumb;
and those too dumb to know they’re dumb with theirs.”
“But aren’t all the dumb by their nature too dumb to realize they are?!”
“Well damn Sam! — you’re determined to spoil this whole thing, ain’t cha!”
Substitute Sonnet.
You can give a man a brain,
you can give his brain some thoughts,
but you can’t make him see,
that something more is possible. (Ruin that!)
At the exact instant in which the king’s entire army was wiped out,
they (en mass) cried out: “We don’t want to think about it!”
(“I say: but is there the least little chance that such an attitude was the very thing responsible for their defeat?”)

On Campus.
Sociology is Psychology for minds too timid to confront the individual human condition
while Psychology is Sociology for those too dense to face up to it.
(And of course Theology is for those who see through the foolishness of them both.)
(“May I ask from which campus exactly, this alleged information is taken?”
[We’re surrounded by spoil sports.])

One man’s favorite fun in life is in telling others:
“Hey! — I’m not going to tell you again!”
(When last seen he was in search of a spiritual following.)
With the sufficiently supine — the end is always is always near —
no further away than the city part of your brain.)

Men with more time on their hands than hands,
are the pillars of man’s second reality —
the cultural world in the city part of his brain.
(“Ain’t it neat: just think: If my consciousness wasn’t civilized,
I would be able to realize that it’s civilized, and thus wouldn’t be able to have
certain objections thereto.
How does life do it!”)

The ancient and continuing belief that: The Truth is something to be found
outside of one’s own life is (for a man attempting to get out of town)
a most troublesome map misprint.

From Our Medical Desk.
Most ideas are oxygen starved after being thought by the average brain.
(“Hey don’t blame me — they were like this when I got ‘em!”)

One man was so dense that he remained serious about life in the city
in spite of everything he attempted.
“Pa pa: who do you reckon that man is?”
“My boy, he’s the one known as: Everyman.”
“Damn Dad! — that’s weirder’an shit!”
“Yes son, but don’t mention it: we still have to live around here.”

A way to tell that a people are becoming civilized and city fit
is that they cease thinking of animals as their equal,
and forget from which level of their hut the power comes.
The physical world is responsible for itself;
it is also responsible for the world of ideas;
this could not be plainer is it were a boil the size of Edenborough,
but the agility of human thought is such that it can overlook features of itself.
Fact: The ugly stepmother retains her position as mayor of the city
by seeing herself as Cinderella.
“But why doesn’t some citizen point out this fallacy?”
You’re not from around here, are you boy.)
Fact: Life doesn’t spoil things for itself — even to please men’s bored minds.

A sage said to a customer:

“Waking-up is only serious to those not awake.”
“Jeeze! — that doesn’t seem fair!?”
“I don’t know what to tell you:
I have no expertise in fairness.”