Jan Cox Talk 0700

The Best Hope for Escape Is Escape

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Summary = See below
Condensed News Items = See Below (OCR needs edit)
News Item Gallery = jcap 1990-04-16 (0700)
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Summary

#700 ** Sep 14, 1990 ** – 1:20 
Notes by TK

Kyroot. to :05. Should two Real Revolutionists become business partners they would be still be subject to the grand payoff in life: feeling “mistreated”. Their extraordinary efforts at This Thing notwithstanding, each should have no expectations that they will not feel cheated somehow in their course of things. The overriding sound of the City is whining. The ultimate mistreatment is death. No human is immune to the feeling of injustice in life, it is the nature of the energy flow of growth. What alternative might be possible?

Only polarized energy registers in consciousness; equitable exchanges are beyond ordinary human awareness and go unnoticed.

What might be a possible alternative? There is no answer to the question; there can be no 3-d reason given to encourage doing This Thing. You can only be sick enough of the City to turn elsewhere.

1:08 continued off-camera comments along the same line of not commenting on the injustice of life, of not being a “sissy”. End 1:20.


and Kyroot Said…

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In case you’ve yet to notice, regarding certain services, the price increased every time you ask.

Rams not know to the rut,
write no odes slamming ewes.

Urban Version: Late trains are cursed only by those wishing to catch a train.

The best hope for escape is escape

Over near the debaters spot in the park, I heard one ole grizzler declare, “Blank verse – smank hearse – I say it ain’t poetry if it don’t rhyme.” And a by-stander asked me, “Did he say ‘whine’?”

Then there was this one guy who, every time he heard the old song, “It Had To Be You”, really thought that it had to be him.

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In all City affairs, conquests and campaigns, the buzzards arrive with the king.
(In Fact-o Number Fifty-Three On The Jackal’s Top Forty – with a bullet, is the song, “Why Wait Dear Claudio, Until The Last Bloody Minute.”

Somewhere “down the street”, “around the corner”, or “just over there”, someone is always claiming that the final shot is being fired.

After hearing nations referred to in the feminine gender, one voice demanded, “Well, if States are women, then what are traitors?” And another voice inquired, “Are you actually talking about political entities, or certain subversive neural activities?” The first voice suddenly got distracted and never replied.

Just as the kid was about to jump in for the first time, a father noted, “Remember, a man with three names has three chances.”

‘Tis rumored that one intellectually subversive group used as their “inner office motto” the following: “If you can drift in and out of the Revolution, you can drift in and out of consciousness.”

When it comes to City deliveries, you could say, (sans sarcasm of coarsely), that all errands are fools errands. (Of course also, you don’t have to say anything about, anything – right? After all, it’s your truck, you’re driving and this is your route…right?)

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Some more linguistic news from other worlds:
Most words that begin with the same letter have almost the same meaning.

This one ole man leaped to his feet, pointed his right finger high in the air, and declared, “If you’re going to be antipodal, be diametrically so.” And his kid pleaded, “But papa, how can you be otherwise?” To which the declared replied with a jerk, “How many times have I told you not to call me Agamemnon, or awaken me in the middle of a nap.”

Revised and revisited:
No kite is a kite until it is flown;
No gun is a gun until it is fired, and
No process is comprehensible until it is “Thing-Specified”.

In that far away land of Neural Springtime, a man prepared to quote others for support and authority for his own ideas is prepared for a lot – no he’s not, what he’s prepared for is Home sickness.

In the midst of a rambling letter recently received, the writer expresses the notion that “Trying to observe a Revolutionist’s mind in action is like watching a magic act in the dark.”

Axiomatic Graffiti For Our Times…Maybe:
Anything that lives only an hour away lives too close.

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There’s only one kind of disregard that means much – CHEERFUL disregard.

For those of you with increasing manifold sight, perhaps I should not that within the “Infinitely Adjacent” IS the ultimate remedy and arbitrator, (sans, of course, any local, human feeling or comment there)…NOW – “there”.

One fellow in an attempt to move his own education along smartly, said to himself, “Look, I’ll say most ANY thing if it’ll help.”

The great warfare twixt Good and Evil, has slain many a good man, but not near as many as death.

Memory:
The Arrogance of Death.

Then finally that night, Life said, “I’ll only rest easy once the last Revolutionist hasn’t been killed.”