The Best Defense is an Offense

In the City they like to say that the “best defense is an offense,” but truly, an offense IS the only defense, and us being in the midst of a larger, living orgasm, we can never experience, or confront any “outside intrusion,” no attack from without.  All Man can do is to push against the flow, attempt to reverse it.  That is the offense, every time.

Only those beyond the pale of reason can properly laugh at things beyond the pale of reason.

In his own unseen, benign way, the Revolutionist treats everybody like shit.

When I have said that, from a Revolutionist view, all things are fungible, and that in the City anything can be seen as anything else, do you not yet get a feel for this?  Then ponder: Under all ordinary, 3-D conditions, a truly civilized man can also be seen as an anachronism, BEHIND the times and norms.  Only those still under the authority of paled-reason cannot see a wet within every dry, a but within every and.

P.S. Never trust a god who snores.

 J.

All Talk Radio

In regards to some of the City’s ordinary artistic activities, I heard it said that, “A poet without his poem is like a day without scorpions.”  (After retelling this once, one of my young cousins added, “A mime without an audience is like a disease without an ill.”)

A family moved from one locale to another, and immediately the husband began complaining because the new City, he said, “Didn’t have an ‘all talk radio station,’” and his wife countered,

“Hey, you didn’t leave your brain back home, did ya?”

Ordinary consciousness sees all things as flawed and somehow lacking, because, ole’ dears, consciousness itself is ragged and incomplete.  It’s simple as shit once you see it.  (Of course, it’s STILL simple as shit if you never see it.)

The Revolutionist, in his journeys through the internal landscape of humanity, discovers that no place is as great, OR as bad, as it is said to be.

One Revolutionist used to sometimes exclaim, “For the most direct shot, step right up to my front door.  They do, however, serve the abstract out back.”

J.

One Good Reason

Consistency is continually over-rated, (and periodically under-done).

A Real Revolutionist wouldn’t talk much about his secret, personal life for one very good reason…(come on, you know what it is).

Remember:

Just because something’s funny doesn’t mean it’s a joke.

From a Revolutionist view, boredom can only be defined as the “failure to pursue your full potential.”

The ordinary always dream of “things afar,” while the Revolutionist struggles to embrace the immediate and nearby, (or else to combine the two).

J.

May I Have This Dance, Redux

Never trust a god who gets mad.

A Revolutionist should have every feeling possible about any event, and yet, coevally, have no particular personal feeling about it at all.

It is not unseemly for a Revolutionist to become thoroughly sick of the past, and equally weary of the future, as it is described.

Although at times it seems inescapable, and he knows Life couldn’t survive without it, still, the Revolutionist hates to dance backwards, just HATES it.

All talk is self-incriminating.

J.

R-E-S-U-L-T-S

The primary romantic technique in the City seems to be whining, followed shortly by abuse.

If it WEREN’T for his unconscious mind, what WOULD an ordinary person have?

Never condemn anything for doing its job.

A Revolutionist works, not for applause, approval or acceptance, but for results.

Anything that stimulates consciousness is, itself, alive.

J.

At the Bus Stop

Ran across this notice in the City paper’s wedding section: “The betrothal was announced today between Alphonso ‘I-Won’t-Take-It-Anymore’ Johnson and Annabell “Oh-Yes-You-Will’ Smith.”

Those who love to sing about, “Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide,” must not have any place to run to, and no place to hide.

Some crackerjack City pundits proclaim a distinction between “fame” and “achievement,” but being famous IS the achievement they actually seek.

So long as you believe there is anyone who knows more than you, there is.  As long as you believe there are people better than you…I think you can take it from here.

Overheard on a busy City street corner, “My main concern is HOW this digital revolution is going to impact overnight, interstate bus travel.”

J.

May I Have This Dance?

The only useful struggles are always in real time.

All up-to-the-minute, sophisticated City stuff can be recognized as renovations of older, lower circuitry hungers.

Once you properly realize how Life treats you, a lower collection of cells, unmercifully in its own larger, impersonal drama, you can then begin to deal with your own inner, lesser entities in a like manner.

A Real Revolutionist can view Life as a kind of warfare, but a dramatized one in which successes are simply willful roles played to a pleasurable perfection.

One of the more dangerous City dances is one in which you will smugly accept a label.

J.

Unseen Colors

Everything ordinary consciousness perceives has unseen colors.

If it be true that, “If you don’t like someone, you won’t believe them,” what if Life doesn’t like you?  What then?

Can you see all City entertainment as a temporary shift in the dominant/submissive dance?

Episodic reality
is NO reality.

Overheard: “When you call me that, smile…no, when you call me that DON’T smile…come to think of it, just don’t CALL me that.”

J.

Get Read Friday

Never trust a god who says, “I told you so.”

All organizations must change from the top down.

In the City, they claim their aim is to prevail, but they’ll settle for learning to merely cope.

Hey kids, what time is it? 
“It’s ‘Get Real’ time.”

School Yard Rule Number 64:

If you really don’t wanna talk about it, don’t.

J.

Noisy Thursday

In the City, the notion of insanity is meaningless, and in the Bushes it would behave thusly: The belief that all NOT wired as you are, are MIS-wired.

Could it just possibly be true that anything really important can be said in three minutes, or in three words?

New, fresh data, is perishable, and does not travel well in time, or in space.

One ole’ City dude admitted, “Yeah, I reckon I am pretty damn predictable; and even I know which cards I’m likely to deal with every hand, but I’m STILL the best game in town.”  (Well, I reckon I could be a bit of a smart-ass and say a few words regarding the benefits of travel, and getting out of your own back yard.)

All that noise you hear in the City…it’s just noise.

J.

Lowered Expectations

If something were TRULY unnatural, the question wouldn’t be whether or not to “do it,” but whether or not you COULD do it.

Don’t offer hostility when it is info that is needed.

In a vitriolic tome, I ran across the following attack-sentence, “History is shamelessly strewn with distorted views of Man.”  So?

Only a Revolutionist knows whether “success” is more than merely doing better than someone else.

Heard another ole City sorehead aver that: “Most things in life definitely benefit from lowered expectations.”

J.

Code of Conduct

If there WAS no Code Of Conduct, the Revolutionist would have to invent one.  Or, perhaps, vicey-versey.

As far as certain “City views” are concerned, only a Real Revolutionist can willfully, and cheerfully, “totally miss the point.”

Update R-47: If it’s native to the City, it doesn’t count.  You may, however, create a Revolutionist version OF it, out in the Bushes.

Anyone who responds to you by saying, “Well, let’s see, my first thought is, blah-blah-blah…” is generally not going to have a second one.

From one of those many little campfires you see dotted around the edge of the City, I heard this stated, “If I ain’t better by tomorrow, there ain’t gonna BE no tomorrow.”  My query to you is this:  Was that a comment on time, or health?

J.

Wise Up!

The other night, out near where the Bushes begin, I heard a voice shouting out in the dark to somebody thusly, “Hell, if you ain’t worth a LOT more than you think you are, you ain’t worth spit.”

Never tell your children to “Wise up!” unless you’re absolutely positive they’ll never become your foe.  (And please don’t make that gauche mistake of believing all children are external phenomena.)

All bread is buttered on both sides if you’re intent on dropping it.  (Lizzy Borden took an axe, and gave her children sixteen pats, of margarine.)

From the List of Nevers:
Never trust a god who’s shorter than you.

Remember:

The object of City games is to establish rules that make it difficult to score, (much less, win).

J.

No One Knows How to Change

Be warned:

You gotta bend over to be a critic.

No one REALLY knows how to change, or they wouldn’t talk about it.

One weekend thinker declared, “All change is illusionery,” and his running partner retorted, “Yeah, but so’s all stability.”

Oh, here’s a new one I copied off a bathroom wall back in a City dive, I mean, “refreshment emporium,” let’s see, it went, “He who would be a sailo,r must first learn to navigate land…”  Did I copy that down right?

One half-alert City poet put it this way, “I sometimes fear that with man, Nature may be a bit too much.  But who can imagine her without us?”

J.

The Fear of the Known

A one-time, would-be Revolutionist, whilst having a few, no make that many, confided to a City General the way to keep any Real Rebels from hanging around the edges of town: “Just go out,” he said, “and paint the Bushes beige.”

One aspect of the Real Revolution is right there between the partners.

A Real Revolutionist never actually hates the foe.  (How could he dislike mere resistance when that is how HE himself began?)

Out in the glorious Bushes, much talk signals little sense of duty.

This may sound obvious at first, but I’ll note it just the same: If you don’t know what you’re talking about – don’t.

Only the Revolutionist can continually live with the fear of the known.

J.

There is no In-Between

 If you can get up close enough, there IS no in-between.

I will now quote for you, from that fabulous City, more, “Famous First Words,” and I quote, “There then began a LOONNGGG digression…”

From the List of Nevers:

Never trust a god who calls collect.

Never let one desperate for approval carry the flag.

Never wave to the enemy unless they’re retreating, or you’re on the way home.

J.

Severe Tire Damage

To the Real Revolutionist, all is permitted, (except for those two or three things you already suspect).

Which should be more cogent, a lesson or a celebration?

Tommy Rot is not a fitting name for an agricultural leader.

The axiom, “everything in its place,” could mean much more to a Revolutionist, in that it might serve to remind him to be on the lookout for things that are not, so that something might be done about it.

Aggression with restrictions is aggression for children, (and can result in severe tire damage when you try and back up).

J.

Your True Address

A Revolutionist’s true address is whatever he SAYS it is.

An ordinary person’s address is whatever they’re TOLD it is.

Asserted one curious smelling City speaker, “And lo, I beheld and be-heard the million, billion, trillion footsteps of the little feet of the human intellect marching across the plains of history, and lo, most of them were out of step.”  Lo, indeed.

The supreme marketplace of fair trading, inequitable exchanges, balanced transactions, and coercive transfers, is in the bell of Life itself.

More from Ole’ Mister Sorehead Number 2:

“Yeah, I read a quote once; didn’t like it.”

J.

Echoes

Everything’s an echo of sorts.

A Man overly infatuated can’t get off the train.

If you wanna get in some good practice for the Loud Screamers Contest, get someone to keep asking you “if you’re jealous?” “if you’re envious?” “if you’re mad?”

In, I suppose, some moment of unscheduled stupor, a downtown fellow once wrote that, “Those who pass most comfortably through this world, are those with good digestive tracts and hard hearts,” and for the life of me I can’t imagine why Life’s Chamber of Commerce doesn’t have this placed as a welcoming motto on all its City limits signs.

I’m not sure we were supposed to find any religious implications herein, but a certain ole’ City sorehead recently noted, “Each Man’s life represents a mad rush towards a place where he can just hang out, stagger around in circles, and spit.”  Hey, don’t laugh, he could be right.

J.

Things That Don't Matter

Things that don’t matter, shouldn’t.

From the List of Nevers:

Never trust a god who takes sides.

When playing chess with a blind man be sure he’s blind, or else be sure you forget he’s blind.

While one guy was telling a story, his listener suddenly threw in a line of his own, which caused the speaker to stop and admit, “That’s better than what I was going to say anyway…but hell, ANYTHING is always better than what I was going to say.”

Only the strong survive and live NOT to tell about it.

J.