Songs on Sunday

Those who call today the “Age Of Information,” and consider this a sign of their intelligence, just reveal the quality of the information they’re receiving.


While buffeted by the flow of everyday events, one ole supreme sorehead would sometimes mutter, “I couldn’t be less pleased, even if I actually were less pleased.”


The further you get
from your own locality
the more songs you hear.


A certain non-renowned thinker on Planet Arid, when confronted with a particularly viscid question, would rejoin the inquiring party by saying, “Put that in a digital form and I’ll consider it.”


One real ugly guy stood up and said, “I resent being called ugly in print.”


Job Descriptions

So that you won’t get too discouraged, I will tell you that there is at least one place in this universe where people who say they “don’t wanna talk about it” can!


After his initial exposure to several spectator sports, one fellow stood on one leg, raised an arm up, and said, “What I’d now like to know is, where are the referees and umpires in the game of Life?”


In this one zone I passed through, they won’t allow a countdown unless a blast-off is forthcoming.


In the future
people won’t have to
study the past under
a nom de plume.


If you tried to call everyone by their proper job description, your social life would likely suffer there from.


Friday Forecast

And now, the forecast in your neck of the universe: Mostly chaotic today, with order and stability predicted for the long range outlook.



People who know something, but don’t know what they know, are in charge of entertaining one another.



In the future, people won’t talk to themselves while Life is talking.  (At least they won’t think they are.)



Hearing about it, is almost as good as telling about it.

Telling about it, is almost as good as knowing about it.

And, knowing about it, is almost too good for most people to stand.



In the future, only those who can think, might say what they think.


It's Hard to Say...

This one littler feller, who didn’t talk much, would sometimes mutter, “It’s hard to say, it’s hard to say.”  And his brother, who talked enough for four people, would sometimes exclaim, “It’s hard to say, it’s just hard to say.”  But the truth is, neither one of ‘em found it all that hard to say.



There is a place, in the future, where originals are worth something.



If ordinary intelligence hears a voice from in-the-future, and thinks it understands it, it has been conned without a conman.



In the future, those who would lead a parade would not return to watch it. (…and:  There is also a particular place in the future, where the energies of the words “wouldn’t” and “couldn’t” embrace and annihilate one another.)



One sure way not to discover where you are, is to ask.


Seriously, now

In the afternoon, around wind-down time, I once saw this one guy do a belly flop in Life’s genetic pool.



I’ve already mentioned the doubtful profit of a real revolutionist taking his ordinary life seriously, but now let me ask you this:  Does Life, (now take your time before you reply), does Life, (and you think twice before injecting you or humanity into the answer, okay now?), do you think Life takes its own life seriously?



Only in-the-future is it never too late – and then even if it were, it wouldn’t matter anyway.



No revolutionist tailor wears his own suits.  Yeah, sure, he uses his own patterns, but not the actual cloth.



In this life, no real faith healer would ever have need of a roofer.


Gossip, Etcetera

Once you grasp that everything is at least an incidental comment on something else, you can begin to see energy as gossip.



In some spaces, those who say, “etcetera,” must be able to prove etcetera.


Over near the forward sector of that one galaxy, this one dude wrote, and I quote, “The intellect of man is like a sluice gate on an imaginary river connecting in-here to out-there.”  (It’s so darn comforting to quote others.)


In the future, everyone will be lighter.  (…and:  Information and experience will weigh less also.)


In this one realm, where some still discuss matters political, one somewhat rabid guy cried out, “To hell with the oppressed, and to hell with the oppressors!” and if you know where to insert the proper synonyms, there is a message here regarding the status of all extremes.


Future Flames

In a somewhat commercial mood, one recent individual moaned, “Looking back over my life makes me seasick.”



When things did not go well, this one soul would vigorously swear out, “Fig pits, ah, fig pits,” ‘til one day someone pointed out to him that figs didn’t have pits, and he said, “I know, that’s what I mean.”



One warm thinker proposed, “Life is a concept.”  And an associate retorted, “Life is an advertisement.”  (They later put their two ideas together and damn near came up with something.)



don’t you
just hate
about it?



In the future, all real artists will burn their own work.

The Down Payment

One rather loud, but testy gentleman, declares that the principle trouble with being a trend setter is the sudden appearance of followers who all want to sit on your trend.



Apparently quite pleased with some of his linguistic gymnastics, one fellow cried out, “I treat words as though juggling daggers!”  And a spectator voice rejoined, “And the pleasure might be all that increased for us, if you would treat you as a hemophiliac.”



Having the down payment is no assurance that you’ve got the paying down.



One fellow rang up his own brain and said, “Hi, I’m calling about that vacancy.”



One of the Court Ministers, in his public comments, often referred to, “The turning point,” until the king corrected him by noting that he should say, “A turning point.”


Talking Serious on a Saturday

In some societies I’ve seen, all past generations live with the present one.  This includes those long expired.  (And this arrangement does not depend on the acquiescence of the living lineage.)



In some places, talking about something always makes it sound more serious.



One philosopher from that grasping galaxy recently stated, “Having a nasty little habit is like having another partner in the firm.”



Poetic fluffery notwithstanding, if you wanna hold on to a relationship, forget “counting the ways I love thee.”  Just forget all about it.



There was this one famous guy who was so into “humbleness,” that he wrote his autobiography under a pseudonym.


Go Anywhere Friday

In that shady library just over there, a fellow suddenly stood up and exclaimed, “Reading history is like taking a trip without going anywhere!”  And from up in a tree, another voice added, “Hell, reading anything about, or by, anyone else, is like not going anywhere twice!”



A certain irritable critic on that upstart world over there, recently pronounced that poetry was intended as an “exclusive boutique for the insightful,” but has become a “goodwill store for the out-of-work whiners.”



On an up-and-coming planet in the middle systems, is a school of philosophy whose leader says deals in, “ideas that leave no forwarding address.”



One recent refugee was heard to say that sometimes he ran thoughts so fast through his brain that they hydroplaned.




Proverbs on Thursday

Proverbs without apparent morals are something more than proverbs.



A fellow admired by some has stated that an activity without a specific aim is like a sports car without a radio.



A kid voice says, “Gee, Pop, it would have been great to live during the Renaissance,” and the reply said, “Well, why don’t you?”



After hearing a prolonged and vicious debate over the question of the separation of church and state, one guy walked off muttering about the unnoticed separation of brain and intelligence.



In areas where it is commonly known that, “more talk makes things sound more serious,” it remains so even when noted that talk can also trivialize.



Mid-Week Potato Salad

The dreams potatoes have of heroes only come in two flavors…those of super potatoes, and those of any other vegetable but potatoes.  (Although this obviously has no mortal pertinence, I do find it a quaint bit of tuber trivia.)


One guy explained that, in his attempt to “get his way,” he would oftimes act as though he were going to die.  And a friend opined that that wouldn’t really get you anywhere.  And the guy asked, “You mean dying, or acting like you’re gonna die?”  (You’re not waiting on an answer are you?)


Piece of an unfinished dialogue:

“Don’t look for morals where none exist.”
“And where might that be?”
(Let me interrupt here and note two possible responses to the question.
One is:  “You figure it out,” and the other is:  “Everywhere.”  And now, back to our news.)


There was this partially refurbished chap, who used to begin many of his comments by saying, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this…”  And then one day, for absolutely no accountable reason, he seemed to have taken his own advice.



Just as evening was putting out the gin and looking for the olives, one dry chap intoned, “You know, there are some parts of life I enjoy, and some I don’t.”  And from the shadows a voice replied, “You know, Life says the same about you.”


Good Advice for a Tuesday

After a particularly stimulating reading interlude, one lad gazed into the semi-depths of space and mused, “Wow, it would have been great to actually be alive during the time of Coleridge, Wordsworth and Tennyson.”  And the voice of Lord Alfred replied, “Aye, my boy, looking back on it now, I think the same thing.”



There was this one star I once sojourned, where even I did not long tarry, when I discovered that all of their fairy tales and heroic myths concerned people from marvelous kingdoms who undertook the most strenuous adventures so as to travel to quite plain and ordinary places.



I relate this to you as usual, with no editorial comment intended.  A so-called “hero” of one constellation had as his motto as follows:  “Fuck bittersweet.”  And really, the people loved him.



When asked
his age one
guy would say,
“I’m part thirteen.”



Really “good advice” is not stuff you gotta do, but good stuff to know about.


An Inseam View

Native creatures trying to tell other natives to change behavior native to them is not unlike a person telling a territorialy aggressive yard dog to “Take Sundays off.”



The multifaceted dramas of the true explorer are not peopled with ordinary heroes or routine villains, but are filled with, and are lived by, the men, women, ideas and forces that actually play out our several scenes and speak our sundry lines.



In this one zone I visited, one chap referred to activity such as This as, “An Inside View Of The Inseam Of Life’s Trousers.”


In this one place I visited where they kept such accounts, I read in their book of “World Records,” a transcript of their “shortest interview,” which went as follows:  The interviewer says, “We have with us today Mr. So-and-So, whose unusual ideas are now being widely discussed and debated.  Welcome, Mr. So-and-So.”  “Hello,” he replied, and the interviewer continues, “Well, first, before we actually get into your most provocative ideas, will you tell us something of your background?”  “No,” he replies, and the interviewer says, “Thank you, Sir, and that concludes this interview.”  (And oh, when I relayed this story to an Earthling, he said that that planet might actually someday amount to something if they would also get rid of television, radio, daydreams, nightmares and hair styling.  I was afraid to ask about his background.)



Even those who dance with themselves, must still pay a portion of the cover charge.




Query:    Is there a difference between “non-verbal” and “silent”?

Answer:  It’s according to where you are.



All Real Explorers are carriers of a noxious bacteria which men usually spread wherever they go.  It is called by so many names that I cannot list them all.  Let me simply refer to it as “blank.”  Now, you fill in the blank with your name.



One well meaning guy (I just said that, I don’t know whether he was well meaning or not, but anyway) this one guy, in this one part of this one galaxy, said to some ears around him, “I’ve got so much to tell you, I can’t do it all right now.  In fact, it’s so much, I can’t even tell you later.  Tell you what, it’s so much that I just won’t tell you at all."



One guy said that what made animals so cute is that they don’t have a brain so as to pretend they could ever be other than they are.  And another guy chewed on this for a bit, and said, “Yeah, but humans having a brain and believing they can so change, is what makes them so cuddly.”



After hearing an expert mention the number of cells in the average human brain, one guy looked suspiciously at his own head and shouted, “I want a recount!”



No matter if you’re religious, not religious, thoughtful or otherwise, you can appeal to no authority higher than your own neural development.



Some large
never dream.



Some neural chemistry can ferment into heady wine, while others just rot and stink up the place.



Some of this world’s
most interesting books
haven’t been written yet.



For those still confused by the struggle between images and words, remember, in some places one picture is worth a dollar eighty-nine.


Hat Size

In some duller areas of the universe, criticizing another’s hobby is itself a hobby.



There’s no need to remember your hat size, for one filter fits all.



One fellow, in noting what he calls, “the weirdness of words,” asks ain’t it strange that a “rude awakening” can be a civilizing influence.  (Wonder if he’s ever considered it the other way around?)



It takes no exceptional talent to build bridges to where you’ve been, but to fashion spans to the future is another matter altogether.



Was talking to this little feller in the hesitant district of that other state, who told me that one of his favorite songs was, “Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m Gone.”  (Upon reflection, he did add that his absolute favorite was, “Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m Here.”


Telling Time

Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll admit that there are a few places in the universe that still believe that…(Although I don’t know why bad news would make anyone feel better.)



Whilst walking down the street one day, one chap almost came out of it.  (His doctor now advises that he avoid that promenade.)



Archival Note Number La De Da: All of the feats and undertakings most remembered by history, were done by men who stared a lot.



If a man will tell you
what time it is
he may tell you
when it’s too late.



While under the sway of terrestrial atmospheric conditions, you should never attempt to repair your grandfather.


Some Angles

If you don’t know anything, but are destined to speak with authority, find a bible quick.



Seeing some things
from certain angles
may be the same as
seeing certain things
from some angles.



While playing in an opponent’s stadium you might remember this: They turn out the lights at the end of the competition, and when they don’t like the way the game’s going.



And a voice from deep out there said, “Look, you may not find this funny, and if you don’t, it just means you aren’t listening right.”



Then there was yet this other guy, who would often end his comments by saying, “Of course you only have my word for that,” and suddenly it hit him; “Yikes! So do I!”


That's That

On this one planet, where time was in short supply, they practiced conservation when confronting anything new by simply declaring, “I don’t like it and that’s that.”



There was this one guy, who was such a smart ass, that he even made himself mad.



I kept telling them, “It may not be interesting, but at least it’s funny,” and when that didn’t work, I told them, “It may not be funny, but at least it’s interesting.”



Over in an adjoining booth, I heard a guy insist that Beethoven was, “Such an artist that he wouldn’t have written the 5th Symphony if he had known it was gonna become so popular.”



On one cold day, in a more ponderous part of the galaxy, I heard one creature confide that some in his family carried a genetic defect, which caused them to, “think with a lisp.”