Only Neural Rebel Could Possibly See Man as Unaware Ant in Colony
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Summary
6/17/05:
Notes by TK
Jan discusses the idea that human life/activity could be a scripted drama—like that of an ant colony: each individual acting in accord with an innate, instinctive program sans volition. The mind refuses to think about such a scenario. If the scenario were in fact true, it would be absolutely undetectable to the players. Only an impartial witness, not wrapped up in his own thought maelstrom, has any possibility to detect same: the neural rebel. (48:56) #3314
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
THE NAMES OF COMBAT SITES CHANGE,
THE COMBATANTS REMAIN THE SAME
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Tales Of The Unseen Heroes (Their Exploits Being Internal)
JUNE 17, 2005 © 2005 JAN COX
Zoological News.
You can smooth-talk, baby-stroke, beat & berate your pet rhino ‘til St. Hoffa returns,
but you’ll still never get him to fetch the paper.
(Or maybe this is more about neurons & hormones?!?)
Rather than worry about, curse, or fret over them,
the way one guy handles it is: he sings to his troubles.
(This goes especially well when done with great faux passion and a terrible singing voice.)
In city prisons, all pardons come too late, for you’ve either already executed yourself,
or forgiven yourself by forgetting about whatever it was that you did.
If you were to actually believe all of the news reports,
somebody somewhere is always doing something.
To feel impressed by a man because you are impressed with ideas that have come from him is akin to worshiping a building because you like its architect.
(“That’s another of those things which I don’t know whether I just don’t get,
or if maybe you got it all twisted around somehow?!”)
In man’s mental-only-reality, there is no excitement unless it is stirred-up.
Whenever that part of everyone’s mind that lives in man’s second-reality hears of the availability of something new, it says: “Put me down for two.”
One man offered everyone he knew the same suggestion:
“Until you are absolutely, positively, unconditionally, categorically and unequivocally certain that you know what TO correctly worry-about – I don’t think I’d even bother with it.”
After every thought that unsolicitedly appears and speaks in his mind,
one man silently says to his self: “Sic.”
(House breakers are not known for the literacy of their speech.)
When things would unexpectedly go well for him, one guy liked to say:
“Butter me quick – while I’m on a roll.”
(Some folks found this cuter than others,
but you gotta cut guys with no sense of humor some slack.)
One man likes to sometimes sing: “Whatever gets me through the night…”
followed by him asking somebody: “What is it again that gets-me-through-the-night?!”
There are many histories of war – none of peace.
Why ask about the prize if you’re not going to enter the contest,
(and doing so will only serve to annoy you further).
One man’s song:
“Sometimes I fear that being clever isn’t clever,
sometimes I fear that being clever isn’t enough,
sometimes I fear that enough isn’t enough,
then I have to go lay down.”
Dialogue.
“Looked at from one perspective, everything’s the beginning-of-the-end.”
“Well, don’t look at it like that.”
One man’s major fault was found to be that no matter what horrific calamity befell him, within a couple of days he would have completely forgotten about it.
(“That is indeed terrible! Isn’t it!?”)
Says one fellow:
“Being Peter to Jesus, Boswell to Johnson, Watson to Holmes, is I guess,
better than nothing for second rate talents.”
Announcement: One of our advertisers is offering a substantial prize
to anyone who will even attempt to show how this item could be a
metaphorical message concerning the workings of man’s consciousness.
One man’s advice regarding stuff you picked up along the way in the city:
“If you look at it now and can’t remember its value, at least try to recall its price.”
Standing at a bus stop was a chap who offered us this:
“If you need someone to tell you how to live your spiritual or psychological life,
you ain’t got much of a spirit or psychology.”
Even when talking about his self (which would always of course, be done by his
inborn mind) this one man did all he could to discourage it ever using his first name,
“I don’t want the son-of-a-bitch to ever feel we’re that close,” he explains.
While the struggle-for-existence may be no laughing matter, the term is.
One guy defines city-life as: “Having to have all the things you don’t have to have.”
Those in power not desperate to stay in power – won’t.
(“Isn’t that one about the metaphorical mayor of the mind’s city-life also?”)
A gentleman apparently very much into efficiency states: “I am my favorite hobby.”
J
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