February 20, 2003                                                                   © 2003: JAN COX
 
 
 
 
 

On those otherwise dispiriting days when he needed to exercise his literary wit,
and flex his biceptual sarcasm, one man would go into his library, take from a shelf, Lord Tennyson’s Collected Works, open it randomly to a page, point thereto,
and loudly exclaim: “Yeah --  and I’m the Duke Of Duckcrap!”
Moral: what’s the use in being an ordinary man with ordinary mentation
if you can’t pretend to be superior to other men?!                           Yeah!
In modern cities, phone lines have become as good as blood lines.
Corollary: All cows are related  --
only the certain man has no neural relatives to bog him down --
in fact, if you want to know the whole truth:
a fully realized man wouldn’t even admit he is kin to himself:
all such concessions are turkey quills in the eyes,
and the steel player announced: “Now we’re gonna do our re-writ version of one of Hank Senior’s biggest hits, that we call: ‘I’m So Human I Could Cry’”  --
and on his birthday, one man unwrapped a surprise gift from himself
which turned out to be a plaque that said:
“At our age: must we continue to live --  strapped-together-in-a-daze!”
and he was so overcome with emotions of joy and appreciation
that he had to go off into another room to be alone.
Brain Juice & Show Biz News:
being on stage is like being, intellectually focused;
being intellectually focused is like being on stage
and when he’d momentarily lose his rebel concentration, this one man would then suddenly turn on the torpid, civilian part of his brain and say:
“Is this an audience or an oil painting!” --
which lends support to another guy’s contention:
“If you can’t, be-awake at least be humorous!”  -- “Yeah!”
adds the earlier guy in the library: “Like that’ll do you a world of good!”
And still another chap says: “Any humility I may display is  -- fake humility!  --
which is fair enough since any professions of pride I put forward are likewise sham.
‘Balance is the key' --  as a whirligig said to a see saw.”
    “Say,” says a man: “Didn’t you mean to say: ‘As a see saw said to a whirligig’?”
“Sir! --  in a binary based situation, balance is impossible NOT to achieve,
thus all questions of: 'Who-said-what-to-whom' are as meaningless as feet on turtle,” and the man retorts:
    “Didn’t you mean to say: feet on a fish?”
“Sir!  --  are you going to keep us here on this irrelevant playground all day?
My mama’s expecting me home for supper ‘bout now.”
In his will, the king directed but one stipulation to his disposal:
that he be not buried in two tone shoes, a request that seemed to baffle all save his Minister Of Singular Insight (the private emphasis being on the: sight-of-the-single part).
The less civilized be a people, the greater be the need for imposed restraint;
this seems obvious --  except in regard to one’s own thinking,
and one man says he wants to move to a place where -- everything is illegal --
and should he perchance, understand what he is saying, he perchance could be awake from the neural dream.
The one birth for which there is never post-partum-depression
is that of the rebel’s new mind,
“Pa pa  --  is there no downside at all to realizing fully what is going on in life?”
    “How could there be?  --  unless you are to imagine there is a downside to life itself.”
“But many people believe exactly that!”
       “And exactly how many of them did you say, realize what is really going on?”
“Ah!”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One man says: “Seems to me that you have a choice:
either enjoy life as much as you daily find yourself physically able to  --  or:
worry about future possibilities that can interfere therewith  --
also interesting is the fact that life doesn’t seem to give you such a choice.”
 
 
 
 
 

Definition: Philosopher: a mentally active man pissed about being in the dark,
and fearful he will never be otherwise.
And one man paused to ponder: “Can merely re-defining something in a new,
and surprising way make the thing more susceptible to a new, more complete understanding?” (and the answer to that is [as always]: Why not?!)
 
 
 
 

If men were adequately astounded by the brain’s ability to be aware of itself,
they would need no special schools, methods, systems or teachings
to achieve a new, expanded state of consciousness.
 
 
 
 

There are seven things to spend money on: paying someone to: feed you, fuck you, house you, medicate you, dress you, transport you, or mentally entertain you.
 
 

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