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Jan’s Posted Daily Fresh Real News
WHEN YOU STAY IN YOUR CELL,
THE WAY OUT IS HARD TO TELL
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The Key In Everyone’s Pocket
November 10, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX
He who lives the true warrior’s life does not announce that he is pleased to be alive,
nor that he is not.
A man who knows the physical world speaks of what is possible,
the man who knows fully what is going on has nothing to say about the inevitable;
putting words to the unavoidable is what makes it seem it should be avoided.
The inmate who has invisibly escaped is never dead until his execution is declared;
to man’s mind: a deed is only done when it says it is,
thus in the special world of the nervous system knight:
some things are never mentioned;
they’re known all right — just never mentioned,
in the privacy of his own brain — which makes all the difference in his peculiar life.
The Relationship Of Advertising To Purchasing Presented As A Metaphor For
The One Between The Knowledge Men Offer To One Another And Its Actual Value.
Advertising has two tasks: First is to tell you why you need that which you don’t,
and second is to advise you that they will sell it to you for less than it costs them.
No one would tell you how to avoid death for instance, if they actually knew how,
nor would a man who knew how to eradicate all of the ideas you deplore so inform you;
to routine ears this sounds most strange, but a man with some power over the
talking part of his brain can unravel its validity.
The Fact: In the intangible realm of ideas, those who offer instruction thereabout
never understand where they are or the actual nature of what they are talking about.
The inner knight discovers that if you want to know where not to go in your quest,
it is where they are giving directions.
At first blush this seems extremely strange in that you cannot apparently
ever even get started on your search without some guidance, or suggestion from
some other person — yet what’s been noted is so nonetheless;
it’s up to each man to arrive at his own realization thereof through the way in which
he lives his mental life.
Demanding that which is not automatically coming to you in the city milieu,
one chap sums up thus:
“If yer gonna live where it’s mushy — you gotta be pushy!”
On The Neural Battlefield.
As the unexpected shell was explosively expelled from the fiery mouth of the cannon it exclaimed: “Now this is entertainment!”
Only in the fields of mad alpha wolf and mystic can one become well known
without becoming popular.
To cows: some things are entertaining, and some are not (thank you!)
and re-hooving is not one of the former.
A note on the central bulletin board at city college announced an upcoming extracurricular lecture whose title was listed thus:
“Those Who Publicly Proclaim Their Search For The Extraordinary State Of
Mental Awareness And Who Make A Great Show Of Castigating Themselves
For Their Wandering Attention Whilst Meditating, Worshiping,
Or Otherwise Engaged In Some Metaphysical Activity,
Would Do Well To Wise Up Before It’s Too Late — Hell! —
It’s Probably Already Too Late,”
(word is that it was never presented).
Psychology Put In Its Proper Sequential Setting.
What is now referred to as his: sub-conscious mind was man’s mental hobby
before the development of rosaries and worry beads.
Metaphysical Chronology Brought Up To Date.
Facts lasts one generation; reality, one and a half.
And a certain self proclaimed: futuristic thinker (already forgotten by most)
once described the special: search-for-the-truth as:
“Mathematics for those only recently deceased.”
On a street corner, two guys were talking.
“You know which song I really like? — ‘Everything Old Is New Again,’”
and his buddy replied:
“Yeah, me too: especially since I’ve forgotten about it!”
They grinned and gave each other high doo-wops.
Certain intangibles are called popular in the city for one simple reason:
So that city-ites will make them popular, and then feel hip for partaking thereof.
No one would sip any particular mental poison were it not deemed the thing-to-do
by the loud mouthed cows.
(Life has a great on-going, street-level advertising campaign.
[And apropos city structures, to themselves a few warblers sang: “Up On The Roof.”])
More Military News.
“Sir,” said the young recruit, “If I may say so:
it seems to me that the directions are getting a bit skimpy,”
to which the subversive sergeant replied:
“Are they now?! — well, I’ll just see if we can’t thin ‘em down a bit more.”
Ordinary men feel they get their stripes by simply being alive;
the real warrior receives nothing through that route.
“That’s totally inexplicable.”
(One knight named his steed: Splicable.)
One man filled his bedroom with roaches — due to his great aversion thereto;
(he also wants it noted that his bedroom is his head, and the aversion to outside creatures is not actually his, but his bedroom’s [he said that some of you will get it]).
The physical world giveth and taketh — and does so for KEEPS! —
but when the world of ideas does — it’s just jerkin’ you around.
Explaining his continuing, feverish attempts to wrap up each intellectual episode
as quickly and completely as possible, one man says:
“I don’t wanna be the last one left with sweat on his brain.”
If the proper entertainment for the body is — doing (in experience)
then it would seem to follow that for the mind it would be — thinking — but:
what ho! — not so — not so simple:
the maximum dose requires an unnatural combination of
experience and understanding.
One of the more curiouser facts about doing ThisKindaThing is that:
you can’t fake it — and: no one can tell if you are faking it.
Ergo can the train from Spain to Elysia be heard of by cows, yet never be popular.
(One guys’ motto was: “Why don’t we just keep it to ourselves! —
since that’s what we’re faced with anyway.”)
Another uniqueness about revolutionist info: It has no downside;
it has no downside because it has no backside,
and it needs no backside since there’s nothing extraneous propping it up
(like with all other types of knowledge).
(One warrior family’s maxim was:
“Alone We Stand — That Being The Only Way TO Stand.”)
Just before he’d go out, one man would always announce to his house:
“I’m going out!” — to give the structure at least the opportunity of coming out of
its semi coma and considering possibilities not indigenous to life inside the residence.
Those who take the structure to be but the body are myopic;
those who say that some supernatural spirit also roams its halls are cross eyed.
Those who correctly see, do so through a single aperture.
Note: Those properly all-alone, never say that they are all-alone (doing so wrecks it).
While the normal universe is large enough for everyone’s words
the certain man’s is not.
“Well precisely how many will it tolerate?”
It’s better not to say.
In the nervous system rebellion:
the man with actual knowledge is armed, but not dangerous.
“How about: to himself?!”
We should certainly hope.