Jan Cox Talk 3276

To Know Who You Are, You Must Know What You Are


The following recordings are from Jan’s final years, when his voice was diminished and he spoke in a low whisper. Some listeners may find these tapes hard to listen to, or difficult to understand. Thus, as another option, transcripts are being made and will be posted.

Otherwise, turn up the volume and enjoy! Those who carefully listened to Jan during this period consider that he spoke plainly and directly to the matter at hand, “pulling out all the stops,” as he understood that these were to be his last messages to his groups, and to posterity.

Stream from the bar; download from the dots

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Condensed News = See below
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Notes by TK

UFO debunkers, paradoxically, will admit if not proudly profess their religious beliefs. And yet this strikes no one as strange…except the few. It’s as though consciousness is designed to overlook patent reality. (48:09) #3276

Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)

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Where Rebels Get An Eye/I Full
MARCH 21, 2005 © 2005: JAN COX
Special Investigator’s Tip # 7:
His Urge To Crack-The-Case Is Relentless — HappilyRelentless

In a way that confounds routine economics: supply and demand for any item in
man’s mental-only, second-reality expand equally:
Make it up and people will want it:
If people want it, someone will make it up.

Medical Update.
Siamese twins are born every minute.

Overheard comment: “Once consciousness gets out of the bottle,
it’s a devil of a trick to ever put it back in.”

From the rebel’s perspective: telling the kind of guy you are can interfere with
you being the kind of guy you are.

Gravity is so strong in one spot that it falls down deliberately.

Everyone is a secret agent for someone else.

One guy’s view is that Mondays are never a time for post scripts.

It’s hard to know who you are if you do not understand what you are.

Though they don’t try to analyze it, nor discuss it, under ordinary conditions there is commonly a certain brittleness to talk that sets some people’s teeth on edge.
(“I don’t know what it is I don’t like about it, but I know I don’t like it when I hear it.”)

Graffito: “Civilization proceeds on the back of modifiers.”

Asks one chap: “Shouldn’t men decrying history-repeating-itself
have something better to do?!”

After some years into his reign, one King (for the ostensible sake of stability)
not only allowed to come into existence: The Mediocre Party,
but became its titular head.

In man’s second-reality, the price of everything continually increases.

In the land of the certain-man: knowing is the only success.

One chap says that based on the kinds of places it has taken him,
he has decided to name his natural-born mind, the Crapmobile.

Muses another fellow: “Shouldn’t those bemoaning man-spoiling-creation’s-plan
be more concerned over what creation may be up to through man?!”

The Power Of The Collective.
Where an individual may find a gorge he cannot leap, ten thousand men can
hold hands and plunge to the bottom,
while on the way down, re-inventing the reality of what is a fall.

To doubt the power of the mind is to deny the efficacy of this very sentence
and the possibility that it is either correct or not.

A Tip From The City Life-Style File.
When you clearly don’t know what you are doing – advertise!

As he walked away from a group of conversing Homo sapiens an ole sorehead said:
“If you carefully listen, and are thus forced to realize the size of the minds involved, you understand why it is called, small-talk.”

The secret inner-teaching of the religion of this one reality turned out to be:
“Gods don’t have plans — ‘cause gods don’t need plans.”
(Don’t let Life hear about this.)

In his desire to cut down on adjectives, one man says he has quit adding inflections
to his basic facial expressions.
(“If no one knows my prejudices, maybe I won’t.”)

Joke Of the Day.
A King who would not let himself be praised would be a supreme sovereign –
but his reign would be measured in minutes.
The hoi polloi don’t know what they like in the second-reality
until they tell you what they do.
(“Is that an unusual place or what!”
Yes, but its most unusual feature is that no one finds the place unusual.)

“Son,” said the sly ole man, “never look at anyone who wants you to,”
and replied the dandy lad:
“But mightn’t that make them stop looking at me?”
(And the elder began to poke around in his ear for any previous such questions which might have hardened and become lodged therein.)

‘Tis said in this one land that there are as many forms of humor as there are soreheads.

Whenever things were starting to look bad, this one man had a song he would sing
to his self:
“Boy! — things starting to look bad.”
The certain-man survives certain apparent shipwrecks by never acknowledging
to his self that he was even on board.

The perception in one land is that there are as many forms of silent humor
as there are men who know what’s going on.

During the course of the interview, the interviewee finally said to the reporter:
“The life of the intellectual athlete is not at all what the public thinks –
which is why they never think about it –
and why such conversations as this one never take place.
Now pardon me: I must slip back into Theoryland.”

No matter what his natural-born-mind would say, this one man would always respond: “Oh! – I agree! – I do indeed agree!” (Some men have the backbone of a wet soufflé.)