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THE REPORTS MEN HEAR EACH DAY
ARE WHAT THEY EXPECT TO HEAR
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The Stuff Intended To Burst The Ears Of The Outlaws
 November 23, 2003                                                                © 2003: JAN COX





On a certain unfinished planet,
a certain writer appeared on a certain television talk show,
and the interviewer began by giving his critique of the author’s latest work,
followed by a reading of various things he had written about his earlier efforts,
and concluding with a judgmental survey of his personal life,
including snide comments from some of his peers,
and when it was finally the guest’s time to speak he said:
“So --  you invited me here to interview me,
and what that amounts to is you telling me what you and other people have to say about me  --  is that right?”
and the host wanted to say: “Well certainly!”  --  but something kept him from it.
A father said to a son:
“Either: absorb what I tell you  --  or ignore it,
but don’t question me about it, or ask me to repeat it,”
and the off shoot replied:
“Wait --  did I hear you straight: I shouldn’t question anything you say,
or ask you to ever repeat yourself?” --   and the elder suddenly realized that
his subscription to: “Guns & Family Planning” had expired.
In city arguments: giving-in won’t necessarily: wrap-it-up.
As you near the end of a sequence,
a keen ear can hear the approach of a new one.
The city continues to be around
‘cause it knows how to hang around;
(you keep from wearing out your welcome by never depleting yourself,
[aka: Never come to the point.])
In the continuing attempt to peddle his verbal vehicles,
one guy drove in a sign at the front of his Used Idea Lot that read:

“Buy Here  --  Bitch Here.”
He who’s wised up has cut out all middle men.
In the land of the ordinary: only the king doesn’t require a corporate slogan;
the group of synapses born with their hands on the levers of power
don’t have to sell themselves to the other cells  --  only to outsiders.
“True  --  I may be impotent in Disneyland itself,
but at home in my Goofyhouse  --  I am lord!”
Men are in charge of their mind and what they think  --
just don’t waste your time asking them if this is correct
(it might wastefully tempt you to press on and ask them to explain how this can be,
in spite of what anyone can plainly see going on in their head if they but look).
Who’s promoting: fighting-with-tar-babies other than tar baby salesmen?!
The reason you can’t go anywhere in your natural born mind is because there is no place to start  --  so there’s nowhere to initially show you that there is no place to start.
Horses will keep running around a circular track with no finish line
as long as they are kept from realizing that they never began the race.
Fooling creatures who can think is easy  --
but something else entirely with dumb ones like lions and tigers.
One man’s theory:
“There is indeed a great conspiracy, and it goes like this:
Philistines run the world,
but they are so ashamed of what they are, and unable to change,
that they started the stories of there being a secret group of conspirators
running the world
just to throw everyone off their sorry track.”
As one prosaic priest noted: “What kinda lousy god is it that would let ME find him?!”
Everybody has a theme song  --  thing is:
only another person can see what it is,
(that’s why criticism so hurts: it’s your song the critic’s warblin’).
And right in the midst of everything, one man turned to himself and said:
“Take a note…”
During a pause in his reading, the man turned your way and whispered:
“It’s becoming pretty obvious to me that most famous people are far more interesting
after they’re dead.”
Before accepting the job at the building, he made note: “I don’t do explanations.”
A son asked a father:
“What is the worst possible part of getting old?”
     “No longer caring whether you’re asleep or not.”
After finishing what he figured to be his ultimate meal, the man said:
“Send life the bill.”
Maps to known places will only take you to known places.
Work News.
It is always a holiday in rebel territory.
As she stepped off stage the manager grabbed her and said:
“If you’re gonna dance here, you gotta take it all off,” to which she replied:
“But I’m nude now,” and he said: “Then get nuder!”
If life wasn’t so cute --  men wouldn’t get so angry about it.
What earth men call: god, life and destiny,
are known on other worlds as: intrigue, machination and conspiracy.
The rebel’s attitude toward the things that interest men in the city is:
“I ain’t got no attitude.”
As the head warrior of one band once said: “The only good  opinion is a dead opinion.”
And a father noted to a son:
“All you need to remember about other people is: They are other people.”
     “Thank god, they’re not me, huh?!”
“’Huh’?!  --  the only thing a man can ever be thankful for is him no longer being him.”

Hormones welcome everyone home  --  neurons tend to say: "Get the hell out!"
 
 

J
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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