At this level, The Great Dumb Machine produces all the energy necessary. (And aren’t we all extremely grateful.)
If information was linear inch worms, they would be in graduate school.
If someone has to tell you, “Don’t look now,” you should have already looked.
One ole planetary sorehead muttered, “If original thoughts were bloody, most folks could still wear their white suits."
Remember:
If you’re not smarter
than yourself
you’re not smarter
than anybody.
J.
Locally, the evidence of anything’s existence is in the act of you questioning its existence.
A new intelligence would see Life as neither hostile nor supportive, but merely as an environment.
A guy in a far time zone, who claims to have “really been around,” says that just before the “Big Trouble,” the very last sound heard was god saying, “Please don’t ask me to dance with your mother.”
On real plain planets, everyone wants to talk about the ineffable.
If you do not, at certain times, suddenly look around and laugh, you’re still not doing it exactly right.
J.
One guy, after a particularly frustrating day in his own brain-mines, would sometimes stare at himself in the mirror and remark, “I can’t really believe they had the Dark Ages without me.”
A man who’s written about his own life, doesn’t have much else to write about.
The past is everyone’s friend, and yesterday has a little something for everybody.
Most people are nuts! Hey, don’t believe me? Okay, I’ll tell you why. Since I’m correct and most people are nuts, most people aren’t gonna notice it – see?
A tongue driven
by insatiable hunger
is prone to exceed
a useful speed.
J.
If you faithfully hold on to what you got, at least you’ll always have what you got.
I heard of this one world that apparently aspired to complexity, if not more, and so sponsored a planet-wide contest, the premise of which was to guess the premise of the contest. (The grand prize was getting to make up your own contest.)
On many routine worlds, you can’t leave unless you know where to go, and on a few special ones, you can’t leave unless you know how to go.
Don’t think of yourself as special unless you really are, and even then, don’t.
Those who don’t think about thinking never mention it, and those who have trouble thinking say it is hard work to do so, and those who actually can, simply enjoy it.
J.
The motto of this one planet was, “Put everything back like you found it,” while another was, “Rearrange all the arrangements you find,” and a third world has as its, “Don’t pay any attention to those other mottos.”
One fellow had as his sole, morning prayer, “Oh god, don’t let me whine.”
Some phenomena produces its own side effects that serve to inhibit communication between those who experienced the phenome and those who want to study it.
One voice said, “Our need for meaning is fulfilled by our membership in the human race.” And a second voice looked at the first for awhile, pondered the matter and said, “But were it not for my forced participation in this clumsy contest, I would have no need for meaning.” And as the two sat silently considering all of this, a third voice said, “Wait a moment,” and they both turned, and looked intently at the new voice as it likewise gazed deeply in their direction. And they inquiringly responded by saying, “Yes?” And the third one said, “What time is it?”
This one fellow strode right up to one universe, surveyed it widely, smiled and announced, “Life is bustin’ out all over.”
J.
In the future, people won’t actually believe they live where they reside.
Reading routine predictions of the future is almost as much fun as not.
Portions of a conversation I picked up while visiting a nearly near-by star:
“That which is received is determined by the nature of the receiver.”
“So what?”
“My dear sir, do you not realize that by making such as statement as, ‘So what’ you have unwittingly exemplified the validity of my postulate?” And then the other voice either said again, “So what,” or else went, “Bow wow.” Was hard to tell.
It is firmly believed by some that eventually a man named Phooey will be elected president.
One ole sorehead defined the creatures of his little planet as “cannon guano.”
J.
There’s this one guy who sometimes looks at himself sorta dead-ahead, and sez, “Look, I hate to bring this up, but…”
At unpredictable if not unacceptable times, this one fellow was often heard to say, “I only have one question, and that is: What is the question?” And upon hearing this for the four thousandth time, his brother would sometimes chuckle, and sometimes he would not.
One little feller, just standing over there, said that at times he felt like idiocy was a mountain climber, and he was the Matterhorn.
One guy who had a brother, denied it, and another guy who didn’t, claimed to. It’s known as The Brother Gambit.
In some parts of some places, things abhorrent on a small scale become dazzling on a larger one.
J.
On this one planet, one of their more interesting customs is that when one creature has offended another and in seeking forgiveness asks, “What might I possibly do to make amends for my transgression?” the aggrieved party responds, “Gimme seven thousand dollars.”
Part of a dialogue overheard in the transient sector:
“Every man was a child before he was a man.” “So what?” “So what? My good man, do you realize that a comment such as, ‘So What?’ is a sure sign of lower class breeding, or else of rabies?” I couldn’t hear much after this, what with all the growling and gun shots.
I heard of this one galaxy where celebrities were paid to endorse reality.
In a lot of places people will tell you almost anything to either get you to listen to them, or else, to leave them alone.
One pallid looking laddy said he wanted to go where “talking is a team sport.”
J.
Super-serial-justice-is-still-persuasive, example number forty-seven:
In a near-distant, unnoted conflict, one side sealed and secured themselves behind a barricade and defiantly proclaimed their position and intransigence by declaring, “This will mark our stand, and ‘tis here we are prepared to die.” And the other side thought, “Well, how simply perfect, for ‘tis there we’re equally prepared to kill you.” (And they all lived ever afterward – sort of.)
There was this one guy, at this one time, in this one place, (all the details of which I shall not dignify by describing), who, after having some exposure to the type of information inherent in activities such as This, wrapped it up to his satisfaction by the following comment: “It’s air conditioning for the mind.”
This one guy I met wanted me to present the following question to the proper authorities, and pertinent parties I might encounter along my merry way, so here comes his poser. Now, you kids stand back away from the radio. Okay, here it is, he asks: “If certain info does not appear to be ‘user friendly,’ are we to conclude the fault lies with the data, or the potential customer?”
One guy, on a certain one-guy-journey, came to yet another fucking bend-in-the-road and suddenly thought to himself, “Hey, I don’t need most of this shit.” And one of his brother’s voices slapped him on the forehead and said, “My good man, you can’t think things like that!” And he slapped himself back and said, “That’s the very kind of shit I was talking about.”
Portion of a conversation overheard somewhere,
First Voice: “Garbage doesn’t smell.”
Second One: “You’re crazy, it always stinks.”
First again: “No, I mean it has no sense of smell so as to detect the presence of garbage.”
Second voice: “Huh? I don’t get the point.”
First voice: “Well, let me try it this way: “The simplistic don’t smell.”
“Huh?”
“Forget it.”
J.
From a more enriched local view, the silliness of it all, is the reality of it all.
After overhearing remarks regarding people “talking to themselves,” this one ole dude thought, “Boy, that wouldn’t do for me, for as hostile as I am, I’d sure enough end up in an armed confrontation with myself.” After a further bit of pondering he also thought, “And hell, no matter who won, I’d for sure regret it.”
In this one time zone, a fellow said, “Reality is the totality of facts, not things.” And a cohort injected, “Reality is the totality of thought, not facts," and a third guy, obviously either in a hurry, or on to something added, “Reality is the totality.”
“Out there” is someone else’s play.
“In here” is our intrusion into the proceedings.
Looking back
can make you
go back.
J.
Some galaxies have words that don’t mean anything…(Some galaxies are not as far away as you might think.)
In certain parts of the universe, density is held in higher esteem than in others.
A language that has itself as its only point of reference, is a self-renewing resource in a shoebox.
In some districts of the universe, the opposite of talking about something is not hearing about it.
If you can get back down from there, you weren’t very high to start with.
J.
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.”
J.
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.
J.
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.
J.
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.
J.
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.
J.
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.
J.
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.)
Boy,
don’t you
just hate
talking
about it?
In the future, all real artists will burn their own work.
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.”
J.
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.
J.
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