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The Daily Reflections
of Jan Cox

And one man writes to the Daily News as though he were addressing a certain part of his own mind--without knowing it: "Sometimes your stories and comments sound homey, safe and friendly, and I'm not at all sure they are so."

(hey, hey)

One Chap's "City Travel Advisory":
"Forget what the highway signs might tell you, sometimes
Limited Vision is not only acceptable over here, it's downright necessary!"

After much time spent perusing the wise sayings and honorable axioms of his world, one young lad considered the inevitable, built-in restraints of a finite verbal reality as regards its own self-proclaimed intent to escape therefrom, and thought, "A proverb with a point is like a nail in the framework of an uninhabitable house." (And to re-note what by now should be the "obvious":
to ordinary thinking, the opposite would be just as unaccommodating. )
(The revolutionist neighborhood still remains somewhere else.)

One rebel sergeant told a trooper over coffee, "Having to be responsible when you know you're not is a job only for a revolutionist. Yes, I know that there are those outside the camp who say they believe this about themselves, or even as applicable to everybody, but it's still a job only for a revolutionist."

Another show of how far life's overall evolution has progressed and an indication of where its present priorities lie:
A man can be forgiven for being dumb
as long as he's ambitious.

One man had peccadilloes; his doctor gave him the choice of
an ointment or a new career in politics.

At the conference, one speaker said, "Those with nothing to write about, write about..." and he was interrupted by another attendee who said, "Let me finish that for you--'Those with nothing to write about--write about themselves'--am I right?" and the first speaker nodded his admission. Then the interrupter added, "People like you continue to intellectually operate on the skimpy theory that 'As long as I change my shoes, I can walk forever in my own feet'."

(.....At an unusual time, in an anomalous place, the participants at one convention went ahead and publicly said why it was that everybody had to wear name tags.)

And one ole sorehead told his brother, who was deceased:
"Well, as long as I can complain,
at least I know I'm alive,
Mister Smarty Dead-Britches."

 

 

J