Heard inside a human head:
“This is the conscious part of the brain speaking;
I am the smartest of all here who can speak  –
so why don’t the rest of you listen to me?!” –
but as always: there was no reply.
 
 
 

When one man found signs that someone had tried to break into his basement door  (when a window was open only a few feet away) his neighbor said he shouldn’t be
too concerned since he was clearly dealing with stupid burglars;
the homeowner thought about this for a moment, then replied: “On the contrary:
it is the dumb ones who should most frighten you for they are the most dangerous,” but when he said this he was not actually thinking about his house and robbers,
but rather his consciousness and routine thoughts.
 
 
 

“Thank god for balance in all things,” mused one stumblebum to himself,
“in that my neural brilliance is matched by my hormonal ineptness.
 Yes siree bob: thank you ever so much, O supreme one.”
 
 
 

Consciousness can have no idea regarding the ideas it is having;
most of consciousness’ time is spent not knowing what to do next
(for instance when it hears about threats to health, finances, world peace);
what it does is try to keep from being just itself: plain consciousness,
by disappearing into thoughts (mainly other people's; such as by reading what
someone else has said about the health threats);
consciousness will do almost anything to keep from being left on its own; to be consciousness with nothing to do but whatever consciousness might be able to do.
 
 
 

Notes one fellow:
“Being a spiritual teacher is not unlike being an avant garde musician:
with a serious look on your face, you make weird, squeaky noises which
listeners don't understand, and zap! –  you’re home free.
(Of course that is just my opinion..............being a past successful guru myself).”
 
 
 

One kid told another:
“When you have a tree house, the important thing is to never come out of it.”
    “Really?”
and the first kid just shrugged     (same as life itself seems often to do).
 
 
 

Consciousness can have objective thought about but one fact:
that it is what registers thoughts.
 
 
 

Instead of a tennis ball, they swatted these words between them:
“A serious man is a dead man.”
    “AH! –  but a serious man is also a happy man!”
“Well, I didn’t say that he wasn’t.”
Certified And Citified Civilized Moral For The Faithful Ole Masses.
Happy is he who has not to think  (for himself, that is).
And local conditions noted: “That’s why I provide corrals and institutions.”
 
 
 

Consciousness is the composer of, “Home On The Range” –
it only feels at home when it is ranging.
 
 
 

When a rebel does what ordinary people do (read, watch tv, gossip)
he willfully betrays his goal (and the revolution).
   “Pa pa: does an individual's case of sleep actually pervert some larger cause?”
“What’s happened to you!    Did you swallow some institution past its expiration date?”
 
 
 

(Another “for instance” regarding what’s going on behind everyone's back,
right in front of them):
In a case of displaced-sneeracism: Consciousness doesn’t actually laugh at
the foolishness of the Bible/Koran, etc., but at the people who say that
they take them seriously.
 
 
 

One man says that unidentified figures climb trees in his back yard;
he says they make no move toward his house: they just climb the trees.
 
 
 

People want companionship in stressful circumstances (going to the doctor, to court)
so that their consciousness won’t be left on its own under such conditions.
 
 
 

Humans communicate in more than one manner,
and the one they believe to be their primary method is glitched,
not only more than they grasp, but more than they can grasp (at least via words).
     “Is there a pointing to something quite elusive in what you just said?”
 
 
 

People freely talk about themselves because it gives consciousness an easy way out.
 
 
 

One kid in science class (intently bent over his skull) confides:
“Way down deep: everyone’s a box of crayons,”  (and the bell suddenly rang for lunch).
 
 
 

Biology Judicialized.
As long as it’s alive  –  the jury’s still out.
 
 
 

One man’s favorite new ponderer:
“What would consciousness be like if man had no words.”
 
 
 

That which is too obvious and revealing
is also not obvious at all (to ordinary minds).
 
 
 

Ordinary men’s explanations explain themselves more than anything else.
 
 
 

A ruler announced to the people that he was, “really tired and stressed out,”
and was going on an indefinite vacation, saying to them:
“From now on, you’ll have to dominate yourselves.”
(And one cellular citizen asked: “Does that include mistreating ourselves also?”)
From the nervous-system-rebel’s perspective:
the only mistreatment possible in consciousness is through neglect:
by failure to force its potential into actuality.
    “But it takes such EFFORT!
And you have to be ALL the time remembering to DO it!
Ah jeeze! --  I wish I’d stayed in my cocoon.”
 
 
 

At a recent combination, New Age & Ole Sorehead’s Convention,
one speaker proposed:
“Let all those who poo-poo the power of names and numerology explain this:
No one named Ashkenazy or Segovia has ever played in Merle Haggard’s band.”
 
 
 

“Pa pa: is that what being-asleep and unenlightened is:
Humans remaining in their cocoons?”
    “Make that: human consciousness and you’ve got it.”
 
 
 

Anyone still in any way impressed with their self
has yet to be impressed by anything actually impressive.
 
 
 

Musical Instrument Update.
If you don't toot your own horn  --  it can help wake you up.
 
 
 

The conscious part of the brain cannot be actually separated from the other parts any more than a captain can be removed from the ship’s bridge.
    (“If you don’t mind: I don’t believe I’ll think about that one much.”)
 
 
 

How Some Things CAN Go.
A man who had a cancer that was surgically removed,
and was told it would probably show up again somewhere in his body,
treated all of his subsequent examinations (via CAT scans, x-rays, etc.) as a game, whereby he attempted to hide from technology’s sight, any fresh anomalous growths.
    (“If you will forgive me: I’m not going to try to figure out how this is connected to
       that other thing I don’t want to think about.        If that’s all right with you.”)
 
 
 

The critic tentatively entered the performer’s dressing room saying:
“I didn’t know if you would see me after the blistering review I did of your last show:
I mean, I don’t have any idea what someone like you even thinks of someone like me,” the artist responded: “And you are right.”
Old line consciousness and what the certain man attempts to do with his
are barely on speaking terms,
since one leaves the room as soon as the other shows up.
(“And thank god or every individual would be stuck forever playin’ the chittlin’ circuit,  openin’ for the likes of the thoughts that automatically keep appearing on your stage.

Never ask directions unless you are absolutely lost!
(and even then, don’t trust them).

Never fail to respond to a charitable solicitation from the Ministry Of Torture.

Never stay in a hotel that uses hyenas for towels.

Never talk to anybody about anything you actually understand,
(everything besides that is fair game).

Never discuss your travel-plans with a skip tracer.

Never take, No for an answer unless, No was the correct answer  –
(or the question was: “Do I have to die just now?”)

Never trust your first-impression  –  unless it’s the only one you seem to have.

Never order the special-of-the-day  –   unless it is you.

Never, even in an emergency, use a boa constrictor as a neck tie
(or a Death Stalker scorpion as a means of identification).

Never be a good-sport unless the referee is watching (or you’re just too tired to care).

Never do your confessional at a church named: Our Lady Of Perpetual Gossip.

Never actually agree to ANYTHING.

Never accept psychiatric care from a doctor whose academic degree lists him as: Grand Rap Master.

Never escape by the-skin-of-your-teeth (unless it’s out of a window at
the Molar Motel).

Never discuss serious-matters with people who take matters too seriously.

Never, even if you own a garage, suddenly ask the Chief Of Police if he would like
a quick lube-job.

Never have a hearty-laugh when the joke’s on you  --
and you're the only one who doesn't realize it.

Never let someone’s unmarried brother-in-law act as your official fashion-coordinator.

Never patch a child’s raincoat with pancake batter.

Never go-out-in-the-elements  –   unless they’re good ones, like Zinc, Argon,
Lithium and the like.

Never try to lead when dancing with the Secretary Of Bad News & Death
(or attempt to dip the Minister Of Sewers).

Never act-on-a-hunch unless it involves a stooped thespian.   (And):

 
 
 
 
 
 

JAN'S DAILY FRESH NEWS