You've Almost Got It

One interested little soul, who had kinda “studied” with a certain Revolutionist, one day said to his teacher, “I don’t get it,” and was told to “keep pressing on.”  And after a few years more the little soul again insisted to the rebel, “I tell you I just don’t get it,” and once more was directed to “keep one with it.”  And finally, after even a few more years, the would-be insurgent confronted his radical leader, and began tearing at his clothes, ripping at his hair, leaping up and down in fits, and finally falling to the floor as he shook and trembled, all the while shouting and screaming, “I don’t get it, I tell you – I don’t get it now more than ever!” and the Revolutionist grinned and exclaimed, “Why you’ve almost got it.”

A guy in a slightly altered time zone recently assured me as follows:  If you “know the trick” you can lay down with fleas and get up with dogs. (Now that I think about it, who was the goddess of linearity and predictability?)

The Real Revolutionist can die with no honor other than that self bestowed.

Being equipped for a job is not the same as having a job, and vice versa, all of which is definitely to man’s advantage, or else we would all be out of work.

In his attempt to “play Revolutionist,” this one person would assure himself that he “needed no assurances.”

J.