Reverence for the Ridiculous

Those who cannot laugh at the past are doomed to go there – FAST!

 

 

A Real Revolutionist never leaves dead, inedible scraps around the campsite.

 

 

No matter the apparent wrappings, ordinary men are always fully “being themselves,” even whilst passionately pleading that they’re not.  (As those illustrious Windy City savants were wont to say, “Justice on the hoof.”)

 

 

Those in the City-sense who “know too much,” commit surprise party suicide; a bladeless

hari-kari.

 

 

From City tongues I have heard of “Respect for life,” “Devotion to love,” even of “Homage to power,” but how come I never hear about the ultimate – Reverence for The Ridiculous?

J.

Hint for a Holiday

Be as absolutely inconclusive as possible.

 

 

I’ll tell about REAL justice:

he Man who discovered history
is long forgotten.

 

 

Okay, let me tell you about super-duper, real justice:

The cat who invented memory
immediately forgot about it.

 

 

“It just goes to show you,” said one Man.
“No,” replied another, “It ALL goes to show you.”

 

 

Those adverse to conflict are either against growth, or else don’t need it.

 

 

Internally, a Revolutionist camp is more like a midway than anything else.

J.

Original Mind

One guy pretty well figured he was approaching a significant juncture when he absolutely lost all taste for any food considered in any way healthy and good for you.

 

Rule: The rest of the world eats with a limp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone still has their original mind, even after enlightenment, Buddha still had his pre-Buddha mind, but just because there's a knife in your pocket doesn't mean that you have to cut yourself with it.

 

 

            Everyone talks to themselves, but only a few ever wonder for what purpose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After concluding the course Chemistry Of The Brain, one man then wanted to take up the geography of the beast.

 

 

 

 

 

 And in another history of the Work, a more conscious man is shown as a tightrope walker.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ultimate sacrifice of the mystical warrior is in his giving up of surrendering to events.

 

 

 

 

 

The experienced, knowledgeable traveler carries with him:

in one pocket -- a reminder
and in the other -- a motivator.

   What more does he need?

 

 

 

 

 

To try and explain in great detail any mystical practice is to destroy it.

J.

Kinda Funny

Although it can at first sound like a too complex, pain-in-the-City-ass-approach, a Revolutionist should soon realize that whenever he finds himself with a desire for someone else to change, it is ultimately much more efficient to see if there isn’t some related alteration he can make in himself instead.

 

 

Overheard this guy say, “Fate is surely a most arduous foe,” and my own wonderment has always been, if you COULD defeat fate would you then BE fate?

 

 

Take Note:  Your yesterday is someone’s tomorrow, (and don’t forget to vicy-the-old-versy).

 

 

Don’t carelessly attempt to re-heat Revolutionary grub.

 

 

If it ain’t kinda funny you don’t REALLY understand it.


J.

Pretender

Ordinary memory is like a drunken accountant from another planet.

 

 

No case has ever been officially recorded of a Revolutionist congratulating himself…well, except for that ONE instance, (and then the dude exploded).

 

 

Where do all these people come from who continually carp about, “If we would just apply ourselves, we could make a much better life for us all.”  Do they bus ‘em in just for this purpose?

 

 

There was this bunny, whose ears were so long as to almost incapacitate him, and someone noted, “Ofttimes inbred attributes can themselves become a hindrance; not at all uncommon amongst royalty.”  And a human hearing this thought, “Then I must be a pretender to some throne, for my brain nearly incapacitates me.”

 

 

Now don’t any of you leave home and go back into the City without remembering how to properly use the ole Bit-Town-One-Two-Punch:  First tell ‘em, “That’s NOT what I said,” and when they offer irrefutable proof to the contrary counter with, “Okay, but that’s NOT what I meant.”


J.

Coming Attractions

Looked at from a certain Revolutionist balcony seat, history is nothing but a never ending preview of “Coming Attractions.”

 

 

“Now for our ultimate feature bout, we have in the far-near corner, weighing in at all the weight possible, the once, future, and forever champ – existence ITSELF.”

 

 

Anytime you’re regretting you ain’t revoluting.

 

 

Then there was this guy who challenged himself each morning by staring himself dead in the eye in the mirror, and saying, “Okay, guess what I’m thinking.”

 

 

In the City, they’re all hanging around just WAITING for it to happen.

J.

On Broadway

Those who routinely think of the past, and have their eyes filled with tears, are gonna have their sockets blown out by the future.

 

 

All talk is a form of insanity.

 

 

Okay, all talk is also a form of insecurity.  But then you gotta face the fact that all talk is a form of insane insecurity.

 

 

The theme song of most Cities is, “Someone’s to blame.”

 

 

Near one City’s artsy district, two young women were talking and the first one said, “When I grow up I wanna be a Broadway singer,” and a kid standing nearby who had no idea what they were talking about thought to himself, “When I grow up I wanna be BROADWAY!”

J.

Don't Give 'Em Anything to Go On!

I heard it said by one City scribe, “There is a right way of saying something, and a wrong way of saying something,” but I gotta tell you, there’s NO way of saying something.

 

 

Yes, yet another tantalizing description of the City:  A place where everyone demands answers, while no one has the slightest notion what the goddamned questions are.

 

 

As you know, I try and maintain some hope for the City, and of late, I have received a modicum of encouragement by my exposure to several local enterprises, and their mottos, to wit:  A church whose logo stated, “Fuck you,” and the travel agency which simply said, “Go to hell.”

 

 

“History,”
“current events,” and
“the news,”
are some of Life’s more astounding, breathtaking nom de guerre.

 

 

Don’t give ‘em anything to go on.

J.

 

Sure, Sure, Shift the Blame

There used to be this one chap over in the North Sector City Park, who would stand on a small boy and yell at passersby, “Beware of an orthodox that ain’t YOUR dox!”

 

 

Sure, sure,
shift the blame,
that’s what blame’s for.

 

 

A noun is just a verb that’s feeling bad.  And if all YOU see are nouns, YOU’RE not feeling so hot yourself.

 

 

In the 3-D world, the truth is simply the contour between what you like and don’t like.

 

 

Men still mull about wondering, “What’s going on,” when it’s THEM that’s going on.

J.

Incomplete and Inconclusive

All City sentences
are incomplete,
and all City ideas
are inconclusive.

 

Remember:

It’s never too late to get a rash.

 

 

Don’t waste your time, energy, eye sight, or shoe leather going OUT looking for your enemies.

 

A few years, or maybe it was a few yards, from here, one Revolutionist used to tell his troops each morning, “Let us be passionately impartial.”

 

 

The best strategy of all is, of course, the one we can’t talk about.

J.

Fair's Fair

Never hold an opinion without coevally holding its opposite.  Fair’s fair.

 

 

The only severe deviations Life can allow are those you keep to yourself.

 

 

The past ultimately always speaks in the language of regrets.

 

 

There are certain laws governing education in the City that are yet unknown, for instance:

You can’t learn nothing there.

 

 

Heard it said in the City that, “Enthusiasm is NOT success,” bur with a Revolutionist it just might be otherwise.

J.

Be Kind to Your Molecules

 

Another short scene indicative of, if not downright explanatory of, City life and thought:

A Man standing in the street, half of his arm asunder, proclaiming, “Yeah, I know you told me to be careful, but you didn’t say I had to be REAL careful.”

 

 

People who worry about their health eventually have reason to.

 

 

If water was really such a “big deal” they could get more for it than they do.

 

 

First verse:

Be kind to your molecules
and they’ll be kind to you.

 

Second verse:

If your molecules are kind to you,
then you can be kind to them.

 

Third, and repeating verse:

Be kind to your molecules
and they’ll be kind to you.

Now don’t drop your song book
and forget when you came in.

 

 

In conclusion, may I be so kind as to remind you all that EVERY thing’s just the tip of the ole you-know-what.  Dig it, troops, until next time. 

J.

Do It When You Can't

Being quoted in the City is one thing, but you’re not truly important until they begin to

MIS-quote you.

 

 

If a would-be Revolutionist waits for himself to somehow naturally ripen and ignite, he will miss the train, break his back, lose his ticket, and dangle his last participle.

 

 

Asked a certain 15th century knave, “If there truly be an aid to strengthen the memory, what, pray tell, can be done to weaken it?”

 

 

Read in the City archives the following statement: “Happiness may be acceptable for the body, but it is suffering that develops the mind.”  Sometimes you got no IDEA how glad I am not to live in that town.

 

 

Do it when you can, AND do it when you can’t.  (And you sometimes think there’s no real difference ‘tween us and them.)

J.

Being Human Ain't the Half

If the City’s good-&-evil, right-&-wrong, true-&-false ever DID reconcile their differences and get together, the rest of us are goners.

 

 

On one City station I heard the following advertisement: “Order today, the one and only, the original cure and treatment for ALL your personal, financial and household problems, the fantastic ‘Mister Fix-It,’ complete with detailed instructions as to how to place the barrel in your mouth, and properly grip the trigger.”

 

 

The Real, active Revolutionist, is he who would stick out his tongue at the wind, and make rude gestures at lightning.

 

 

Just remember, being human ain’t the half of it.

 

 

Perhaps I can sum up the long-&-short of attempts to stretch City logic over the real world by simply noting for you that IF Jonathan Swift were alive today, he would weigh over six hundred pounds.

J.

The Ultimate ID

Heard a City sophisticate declare, “There is an art to being lucky.”  Yeah, such an art is abstract, and never of the realist school.

 

 

The unexpected is always willful.

The truly unexpected is also constructive and joyful.

 

 

The ultimate ID is to NEED no ID.

 

 

One Revolutionist said that, “Men going off into the Bushes is akin to articles deposited with a dry cleaner; nothing returns exactly as it went in.

 

 

Now don’t you worry your little head about it:  In the City, shabby treatment is equally available for all.

J.

Even 2 is A Committee

Remember:

Even 2 is a committee.

 

 

An ordinary Man sez, “I am I, and I HAVE a nervous system,” while a Revolutionist would express this in reverse.

 

 

A Revolutionist can never let the ordinary, mechanical pressures of life put him even temporarily in the position of “not being on speaking terms” with himself.

 

 

Do you ever figure Life’s gotta be downright amazed at what Man will put up with?



Those who DO discuss the cost either can’t afford it, or don’t really want it.

J.

Come on, Let's Hear It Now!

Like everyone else, the Revolutionist HAS sufficient reasons for weakness and failure, but NO EXCUSES has he.

 

 

At least, thank god, there are no closing points at your death.

 

 

Come on, let’s hear it now for all those who’ve never said, “Come on, let’s hear it now.”

 

 

If you like the music, the volume’s too low; if you don’t, it’s too loud.

 

 

One ole City dude in considering how all religions condemn drinking said to himself, “You mean I can be common, dumb, and deluded, OR be common, dumb deluded AND sober?  Jeeze, what a setup.”

J.

Larger Tongues

This one handyman once instructed his son thusly, “If anyone ever offers you any advice on how you should behave, pretend to listen closely, then open up your eyes REAL wide and ask them, ‘Wow, if I Do all that then will I look like you?’”

 

 

Another Health update:

I now have further sufficient evidence to state that it is no worse for you to go outdoors and play than it is to sit around and watch TV.

 

 

I recently attended a well publicized lecture by a well padded City thinker who concluded his remarks thusly, “And I leave you with this, which IS perhaps the most pressing question of the day, Does anyone know what I’m talking about?”

 

 

For all we take, we must pay, but the prudent price is a joke, a laugh, a horsing-around in the slaughter queue.

 

 

Those who stick out their tongues at Life likely have larger tongues at them stuck out.

J.

Just Kidding

From the List of Nevers:
Never trust a god you gotta defend, or speak up for.

 

 

A Real Revolutionist never actually hates the foe.

(Any more so than does a four-by-four in a mud hill.)

 

 

All problems are caused by people trying to help.

 

 

More of Life’s Unrecognized, Misdirected Justice:

Is there anything in ordinary existence with less to be said about it than the death of someone?  And yet, Men are wound up to babble on about it ad-nauseam-squared.

 

 

A Revolutionist’s ordinary attitude toward himself is, “You gotta be kidding.”

 

J.

Goods & Services

Remember:

All reform, under whatever name, is always going to hurt someone.

 

 

Recently read the following:

“In many places and times, governments are controlled to some extent by minorities who may well have interests distinct from the majority they rule,” and hey, forgive me for ever IMAGINING that I knew ANY thing about understatement.

 

 

Life’s the service,
you’re the goods.

 

 

A king – I mean a REAL king, is a ruler even when naked.

 

 

Do Men generally “seek the truth,” in groups because they fear encountering it alone?

 

J.