Bad Manners

There ARE no consequences until you believe there are.



It is now reported that there is a Man, somewhere near Calcutta, who can simply look at people and tell what they’re “up to.”. “Whatever,” he adds, “may be the significance there of.”



A Man’s leftovers ARE the Man.



A slogan once reputedly seen over a Revolutionist camp’s side entrance:

Everything Passes,
Everything Remains.



It is extremely ill mannered to be ordinary.


Cleaned and Pressed

There is this City dude, (or perhaps dudette), so current, with-it, and hip that he would weekly have his tastes cleaned and pressed.



Insofar as such might be possible, if not appropriate, I guess a Real Revolutionist COULD righteously overdo it.



Once past the age of thirty, one should NOT have dumbness as one’s imaginary playmate.



It’s not quite so simple as just telling Life to “go away.”



Over in the damper part of the eastern City sector, I recently overheard the following by-play between two philosophically attired gentlemen.  Said the first, “If you didn’t have anything to complain about you wouldn’t complain.”  To which the second replied, “Yeah, but if you DIDN’T complain you wouldn’t have anything to complain about.”  I don’t know about you, but that about wraps it up for me.


Proper Actions

In a sense, a Real Revolutionist never finds his clothes comfortable, and only truly feels so when plain nakedness is in fashion.



No matter what you may have heard, read, or imagined amidst City influences, there is no substitute for humans.



I guess one of Life’s more reassuring ploys is in having regular folks believe such stuff as, “Genes don’t predestine, they just predispose.”  Beautiful, no?



A person whose prime dream is to be a person “other people look up to,” could easily be a manager of a pigmy pole vaulting team.



The following IS pretty tricky, but I’ll mention it just the same:

Proper actions drive history from the mind.



Since almost anything can be a hobby; so can its opposite.

For instance:  If shopping can be a hobby, so can not-shopping.



Lenders have the best memories.



If your king seems to be developing a taste for practical jokes, move to another kingdom.



Just “loving somebody” isn’t enough.



A Man who knows what he’s doing doesn’t need a nickname.


Side Effects

Don’t EVER listen to ANY one who wants you to.



One somewhat testy guy with apparent revolutionary inclinations recently was overheard to say, “For years I wondered why other people weren’t as concerned as me over the generally low level of humanity’s intelligence, and then one day – BAM, it hit me, I understood ‘why’…and besides being initially, and momentarily frightened, I was soon supremely relieved.”



It may further come down to: laugh-or-be-laughed-at.



Being dumb is YOUR side effect of being alive.



If you’re gonna ask for favors, don’t ask -- DEMAND.


Every Language is a Foreign Language

Who are the dumbest?  The believers in religions, astrology, etc, OR the debunkers thereof? 

If you have the slightest difficulty in deciding, you too – remain in the running.



EVERY language is a foreign language.



One thing, at least, a Revolutionist doesn’t have to worry about is the recognition by, or the opinion of, his peers.



A Real Revolutionist doesn’t shoot aliens, or wound strangers.



A part-time nudist is a man without a country.



A central minded young man in the City, attempting some form of romanticism, wrote to his love thusly, “Each time I gaze upon your picture, touch the place where you last sat, and catch the lingering aroma of your hair, I think of me.”



The most common cause of death is from being treated.  Treatments kill, and remedies maim.



One City guy said, “Seems like I’ve wasted my whole life being me.”



If something’s got to be proven, it wasn’t true in the first place.



If you really know what you’re doing you can run over most commas.



If your cup truly “runneth over,” you, my laddie, have a demi-cup.



One ole City sorehead’s mortal survey seems to have consisted of the following comment, “Being human won’t keep you from doing what you want, it just keeps you from enjoying it.”



Don’t casually pretend to be dumber than you are unless you are absolutely, positively sure you ARE pretending.



Culture is just a substitute for intelligence.  (P.S., so is good taste.)



The advice bankers have given to governments, industry, and the public, has unfailingly been good for the bankers.


Ideas without Irony

If you wanna talk about what might be “real” philosophy, chew on this:  Ideas without irony.



A City man, evidently desperate to be a source of some good advice, informed his nephew thusly, “Never allow a cricket team from the Lesser Antilles to refer to you as ‘that portly gentleman over there.’”



In another one of those City philosophy books I read, and I quote, the following, “Even the gods can’t change the past.”  And to that I add, even if they could – what difference would it make?



Even if they smile and INSIST, “Ah, come on, tell us what you think,” – don’t.



I’m sorry, I truly am, but there is no substitute for intelligence…NONE…sorry.



In the City EVERY thing is ersatz.  (And damn proud of it.)



If anyone actually knew what they were talking about, there’d be no need for supras, infras, or the good ole C.F.’s.



Never introduce yourself.



What men ordinarily call “ignorance” is but an unexpected time delay.



Roundly partaking of real intelligence never produces a hangover.


Side Effects

Anything partially seen will always be seen as being something else.



And from deep within the shaky complex of his sexual wiring arose a cry, “If things get any more frightening you’ll have to call off the orgy.”



If you don’t become free enough to think anything you want, and anything you can, you, my tootsie, ain’t free for shit.



Another old City sore-type-head declared, “By and large, most marriages seem to become a gradual form of legalized murder.”



If a thing has no side effects, it has NO effects.



There’s no need to try and pretend to be something you’re not, because you CAN’T.



In the City, sweeping-things-under-the-carpet is one of the better approaches.



A certain cautious gentleman instructed his young son thusly, “Shhh, don’t disturb Life while its thinking.”



If, from any distance, you hear an unidentified group singing en mass, “Here we go gathering nuts in May, nuts in May, nuts in May…” – make a run for it.



A man who knows what he’s doing, doesn’t have to be religious.


Unnatural Stability

It’s usually the one with the least poetic nature who is first to say, “Okay, weld that sucker.”



If you’re going to live in City consciousness, at least clean your streets as often as they do.



The unnaturally stable ARE unnatural.


The other night, out near that area between the City limits sign and the bushes, I heard someone singing this little ditty,

“I have this little friend,
who lives around the bend,
and I go to see him,
every now and then.”



On the City level, knowledge is merely lawful prejudice.


Evidence Is Meaningless

Overheard a City father fervently say, “I do hope and pray that my son will be a lot like me.”  Does this guy believe in safe prayers, or what!



There IS one organization that is actively, and directly involved with a “Great Undertaking,” but no one knows its name, or what it does.



An ole City sorehead said that if he HAD a religion, it would be one of “blind, serene faith tempered by blasphemy.”



Should we be not eternally and humbly thankful for those brave, insightful souls who have oftimes sang out in the name of Man, “Let us take what the fates have dealt us.”  (While the orchestra plays, “As Opposed to What?”)



Evidence is meaningless…and proof a waste of time.



Come on gang, raise your glasses, and let’s hear it for eternity.



At a City carnival one guy said, “The reason I don’t like merry-go-rounds is that they only go in one direction.” 
And another Man mused, “Hmmm, that’s the very reason I Do like them.”



The most complex, revealing thought ever thought, has never been thought.



Two guys were standing around the loading zone last night, and I heard one say that he had heard that this life was just a prep school for Men to LEARN to be serious.  (I trust that something heavy won’t fall on him later, if not already.)



Nakedness IS one of the better weapons.


Wax Your Shoes

A Revolutionist once realized, and noted to no one in particular besides his own ole rusty self, the folllowing, (spelled with three “l’s”):  What you really have is whatever is left after you have forgotten, or lost, all you THOUGHT you had.



That one ole City Philosopher I sometimes particularly enjoy, recently proclaimed, “There are two ways of looking at everything; this way, and some other way.”



In the City panaceas don’t cure anything.



Here’s a “what-if” for you heavy duty troopers:

What if brain molecules could speak directly, without having to go through the middle-man stage of the tongue?



If EVERY one’s gonna dance, you don’t gotta wax the bottoms of YOUR shoes.



A personal query the Revolutionist should keep before him, “What is equal to the correct?”



He who comes in last is a mirage, i.e., there IS no “last.”



Hell is filled with other people’s garbage.



There is a man who lives on a raft near Madagascar, who says he knows what it all means…insofar,” he adds, “as it means ANY thing.”



Remember, regardless of the various names that pop up from time to time, in all political affairs, (and in your own internal ones), there are only TWO partisan groups:  Those in power and those not.  You may also ignore all of the variously named political ideologies, for they are all the same, with the sole goal of “get the power.”  Isn’t it surprising how simple things are, once you get the right grip on the monkey?



Oftimes a Revolutionist has the opportunity, if not the inclination, to be someone just playing himself.



It does seem difficult for ordinary people NOT to get alarmed at the facts.



You’ll never get anywhere without encountering crossroads and forks.



Generally speaking, if you look right at it you won’t see it.



During a disagreement, one guy demanded of another, (or maybe it was of himself), “Who died and left YOU in charge?”  And came the response, “I did.”


Last Minute

Don’t look, unless you’re GOING back.



Can one somehow force words into meaning what the speaker wishes them to mean, or must one discover the words proper for his intentions?  (Rhetorical reminder:  When I say “words,” I of course do not mean words themselves, but that which the words merely represent.  Right?)



I heard this one City “blues singer” who just about took such matters to their needed limits when he sang, “And Sometimes I Even STILL Think of ME.”


Hey, you can forget all about a “new, fall season,” in the City it’s ALL reruns.



A Real Revolutionist sometimes waits until the “last minute,” in hopes that it really is.



This wide mouth gentleman challenged, “What could be worse than ‘sham emotions’?”  Well, if you simply consider the alternative, this is one time I believe I can leave the final answer in YOUR hands.



During times of REAL trouble, just remember who told you first.



If your flour isn’t self-rising, what is?



It is said that there is this ole man near Port Said, who has a full and perfect knowledge of all events very soon after they have occurred,



If a Revolutionist WERE to somehow, “fall in love with Himself,” it would surely prove unrequited.