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Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
ONCOLOGISTS’ STUDIES OF TUMORS CONTINUE TO BY-PASS A CERTAIN ONE
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Squeezing The Blood From The Useless Turnip Since 1784
February 2, 2004 ©2004: JAN COX
Noted a father to a son: “There are only two things the mind can talk about:
physical things, and feelings — that’s it:
men act as though there are countless other subjects,
some of them metaphysical and quite other-worldly — but:
everything men can talk about falls into one of those two categories.
This may at first sound simple and useless, but be assured little one —
it certainly is not;
just remembering this constantly can change your perception of man’s
entire game, from bottom to top.
Think about it: there are only two things you and your thoughts can talk about:
stuff and feelings: actual physical things, and your own feelings,
and ordinary minds switch from one to another in an ongoing,
seamless and unnoticed segue: an arrangement natural to man,
but one that throws buffaloes in the rebel’s blender.
So no matter what the subject sounds to be about from the collective’s perspective
of reality, you should always be aware that what’s being talked about falls into
one of the two categories:
when you hear men talking, or your own mind thinking, whatever’s being
yacked about it is either some physical something, or else the speaker’s feelings.
You know, in a meaningless fashion it’s sort of a shame that all those who are
initially attracted to the idea of achieving another state of consciousness and thinking, fail to ride the bus to the end of the line — for only then can a man suddenly become fully aware of what the bus was — which is the major hoot of the trip. ”
Men looking for their self love to talk about their self.
Ask yourself: who doesn’t enjoy talking about their self?
The defining factor of the few is never stated.
Only the non famous begrudge the famous their fame.
(“I take it I should consider this a metaphor?”)
Some Timely Definitions.
Wednesday: A wrap up of Tuesday.
Thursday: A wrap up of Wednesday.
Friday: A wrap up of Thursday, and so on.
The collective consciousness of man wants you to think what it thinks —
and it thinks what life wants it to — so there you are.
(Historical Footsore: On a planet in another galaxy, the end of a recent war that
racked their world was announced with the words: “So THERE!”
Only aliens can come to firm conclusions.)
(“And by: ‘aliens’ you refer to certain unconventional synapses in the brain, correct?!”)
In city nervous systems: struggling to stay hip and trendy is either most tiring,
or quite rewarding.
The end of your beginning is the beginning of someone else.
This email just in:
“I read you frequently — but:
are you aware that in your Daily News you never talk about the popular subjects like: sex, politics, money and revenge!
I have no idea why I read you — but I do. Yours….” etc.
The Justice Of It All (Example R-419).
Those living in city lofts do not take wolves seriously,
nor those on dairy farms, Coleridge.
(And the supreme justice is that neither of them get such descriptions as these of them.)
Man lives in 2 worlds: an objective & subjective;
objective from the toes to the cortex; subjective from there up;
the talk in one is all about stuff; in the other, about feelings;
one makes-sense to the senses; the other is outside their reality;
the two together comprise a civilized man’s reality;
for a few, this is insufficient.
One man says his motto is: “If you can’t sing — don’t sing.”
(Which he says he privately takes as a metaphor for something else he shouldn’t do.)
While not a member of the Motion Picture Academy (and thus not entitled to do so) one man nevertheless nominated himself for an Oscar for his portrayal of himself.
Said a comedian on another world (in a different kind of club,
doing an unconventional act): “You gotta feel sorry for the enlightened (just think): when they wake up in the morning — that’s as bad as they’re going to feel all day.”
If you’re ordinary: other people’s endings are your beginnings.
Mused one man: “Once you get a whiff of TheThing,
a warning should appear on the side of the can: ‘Prolonged exposure can cause.’”
Said a father to a son: “If you can turn your thinking loose enough,
you can figure out things (at least to your satisfaction)
that probably can’t BE figured out.”
A sure sign that a person doesn’t know what is going on is if they’re too aggressive;
another one is if they’re too sweet.
Holding high a dictionary, so said one man:
“In this book is everything you need to know to awaken.”
If you know what’s going on: the endings and beginnings in the collective world
have no effect on you.
A man exploring a river has no interest in dams nor the theories behind them.
Men who seriously say: “Well — that surely covers it” —
can put the cat to bed — before it does them.
Being-confident in city affairs is like weather-forecasts for the mind.
There is no winter (or even summer) of our discontent —
only man’s natural state of having a mind:
a collection of thoughts that know no seasons, and are always on-the-job:
rain or shine — hot or cold:
always seeing to it that things keep a’jumpin’ — and man keeps a’musin’ —
and that all his words reflect the camouflage of his inner life.
The Bard said to Dante: “That really takes some of the spirit out of what we’ve done,” and from a car carrying Jesus and Muhammad that went whizzing by,
a voice yelled out: “A lot you guys have to bitch about!”
The area of the nervous system that talks about feelings harbors certain complaints
against logicians and mining engineers.
One guy says that his first thought on a subject is usually his best one,
(and while he was momentarily distracted his partner whispered that
it was usually his only one.
“A partnership [it seems to me] — with promise.”)
Any time a man can get the two sides of his mind directly communicating
is a day for deep feline celebration.
Yea! — hair balls! Spit ‘em up, spit ‘em up! Yea team!
We conclude today’s news with this inspirational thought:
There is a company of crazed bagpipers awaiting us all.
(Praise be to Cicero that all disturbing ideas can be considered metaphors.
“May be,” notes one man, “but is an allegorical bagpipe any less punishing than a literal one!”)
Never forget: When you’re dead — everyone reads your mail.