Hell

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?

J.

Alarming

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.”

J.

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.

J.

Self-Rising

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.

J.

Heavy Summer Rain

In a radical kitchen, only a Real Revolutionist can separate his whites from his yokes without breaking his eggs.

The organization of interests can prove to be their demise.

(Systematize it and kill it…poor little darlings.)

A chap in the City once stated, “The good thing about plans, and talking about plans, is that they don’t cost anything.”  (But, contra, Pierre, they often cost EVERYING, that is, the proposed project IS replaced by the talking.)

A person considering a huge purchase excitedly notes that a friend has offered to help arrange the financing.  A listener thinks to himself, “I’m not at all sure that having someone prepared to help you go in debt is any cause for celebration.”

In the City, even during a heavy summer rain, you should not casually mistake kindness for a ’52 Lincoln.

J.

The Revolution is Evolution

In the City, I heard it said that, “There is an infinite difference between being smart, and simply making everyone else THINK you are.”  And one guy noted to himself, “Maybe, but if you can do the latter, you are smarter than everybody else.”

The Revolution IS Evolution: On the floorboard, wide open, driven sideways, in reverse on amphetamines; always turning the corner.

Rationality is the last refuge of intellectual minor leaguers.

Anything not native to a Man, carried far enough, takes on spiritual trappings.

If anybody actually knew what they were doing, there would be no need for room for experts.

J.

The Glue is You

All cries for justice are simply unrecognized pleas for more intelligence.

Nothing is of consequence until it is too late.

Remember:

When it comes to problems, difficulties, and all-around, sticky situations, the glue that holds it together is you.

Life DOES have some pity on Man, as witnessed by the fact that bagpipes are not naturally amplified…or preachers, for that matter.

A Real Revolutionist is His own crucible; His own melting pot, and His own severe test and trial.

J.

What a Race!

In another sector of this universe, Life once said, “Don’t make me laugh.”  And a Man said, “Where would I start?”

A Man can in no wise rightly think or speak of any form of “freedom” until he does not like, or dislike, any reflections of the Forces.

Remember that real dumb City feller I mentioned?  Turns out he’s got a trusty uncle who thought the Hippocratic Oak was a boorish physician.

If you run only undesignated races, and always for the first time, sight unseen, at least you’ll never know if you won, lost, or even completed the sucker.  What a race, what a race.

Hey, the less said about This, the better.

J.

Urban Up Keep

I heard this semi-plaid City sorehead declare, “Although I am not bound by old, silly religious beliefs, if I DID believe in evil, I think that now-a-days I’d see it known as “advertising.”

The time may well come, me ladies and gents, when it’s “Do, or BE do-ed.”

Along WITH City consciousness comes all of the routine headaches of urban upkeep.

In a sparse part of the forest, two wolves met, and began to run together, and periodically the dominate one would growl to the other, “Don’t you ever forget, I’m the head of the pack.”  And one day the other one thought, “Yeah, but don’t you forget, I AM the pack.”

A Revolutionist Reminder For A Friday:

All “problems” start out as something else.

J.

Self-Rising

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.

J.

Dumb and Dumber

It’s not necessary to be exceptionally dumb, just dumb.

If you are able to recall a trauma from your past, your memory is fearfully flawed.

If you don’t eat right, you can’t think right, (and only ole’ City folks think of food as the only thing you eat).

What IS a Revolutionist but a well rounded mutant?  (And what be the Troops other than right balanced anomalies?)

Update Number Blah-Blah-Et-Cetera:

“Personal relationships” are not a fit hobby for a Real Revolutionist.

J.

Problem Solved!

One City analyst said, “A mere re-STATEMENT is not a solution,” to which I say, “Oh Yeah?”

It doesn’t matter until you THINK it does.  And it doesn’t hurt until you ADMIT it does.

If everything WASN’T basically the same, there’d be no need for synonyms and antonyms.

One City cynic said, “The only trick to being, or at least, seeming, intelligent is to find problems that CAN be solved.”  Is that sweet or what?

Revolutionist Motto #R-17:

Celebrate or die.

 J.

Distant Relatives

If you ain’t smart you ain’t shit.  (Unless you’re in charge of kicking the asses of those who are.)

Heard a Man, after being verbally exposed to some Revolutionist ideas, ask himself, “Does this mean that each one of my little cells has its own intellect?”  But I have a better, bigger query, “Does each one of his little INTELLECTS have its own intellect?”

Domestic violence is the primary cause of so-called “intellectual traumas.”  And, oh yeah, I’m referring to single-party, self inflicted events.

What may be funny in the basement is not necessarily so upstairs.

External foes are simply distant relatives you’ve never met.

The Day May Come

The day may come when you will never again hear someone say, “The day may come.”

Only the ordinary, at meal time, believe the only process in action is THEM-eating-the-FOOD, with no possibility of the ole vicey-versy.

If some “new idea” is just the same-ole-shit, then rest assured it’s just the same-ole-shit.

It should be visible enough by now that I can go ahead and put-the-words-on-it thusly:

If you’re gonna’ go on feeling bad, you’re just about done for.

Just as he was being completely swallowed by this gigantic opinion-constrictor, I heard the guy in the sham bush jacket exclaim, “Hey, this IS the wild kingdom!”

J.

Night Into Morning

When they start calling out the trains, don’t stick out your ticket until someone else does.

To worry about the “lasting impact” of something in the City, is to lose sleep wondering whether this night will last all the way into morning.

No real growth is possible based only an enjoinder, admonitions, and “thou shalt nots.”

Is the REAL joy of the Revolutionist in being, rather than in doing?  But is not “being” a super kind of “doing”?

The other evening I heard this guy with Bush stains on his jacket say, “The twin joys of an intelligent life rightly spent, is first in knowing you lived in full accord with Nature Herself, and second, in knowing that you had no choice.”

J.

Pick Your Own Birthday

That popular political slogan:

“It’s time for a change!” is one City idea with which a Revolutionist could agree.

All wars begin with relationships.

A man in the City, gazing out of his breakfast window, mused aloud, “Life is like a triangle.”  And his wife countered, “No, it’s not,” and he said, “Oh.”

A few who know what they’re doing can pick their own birthday.

What’s best for a Real Revolutionist is nobody else’s concern.

At a very early just-talking-stage-age, a Revolutionist pulled his young son into a butler’s pantry, closed the door, and confided in him the following, “So long as you have ANY desire to do so, I do not EVER want to hear anything about you.”  And the lad near swooned from the blinding brilliance of his father’s wisdom.

J.

Asses & Angels

One City philosopher said, “You’re no real intellectual until you can stand in a warm, dusty library and hear the books breathe.”

With City consciousness, you come in with asses, and pray to leave with angels.

Since “Only the powerless get angry,” is it any wonder we’re all mad?

Never sing, hum, or compose a folk song unless you’re TOTALLY out of bullets.

All enjoinders to “try harder<” are actually pleas to “be smarter.”

J.

Syndicated

Often have City pundits claimed, “To reach greater heights, Man must submit to greater reason,” but what they actually mean is, “submit to greater intelligence,” for ordinary “reason” is simply the marking of the end of one level OF intelligence.

In the City, it’s all either “this,” or all either “that”…just on and on and on…

In the City, nothing has any particular effect on anything else.

One Revolutionist once had a tattoo, where it was not normally visible, which read, “The beast is always near.”

Don’t be syndicated in a networked world.

J.

Many Doors

Those who don’t “know” the joke, ARE the joke.

In the City, many People believe there is entirely “too much” going on.

It’s not just that ordinary things can’t help you, but that the ordinary help ordinary things offer is NOT the help you need.

If People in the City actually knew one-fourth of what they know, I, for one, would be impressed, (and I might add, as happy as a double breasted wart hog).

In the mind are many doors,
while down below, only two.

J.

Small Minds = Good Times

Another anonymous submission I made to the City’s contest seeking a slogan of its very own, was this, “Small Minds Mean Good Times,”…you like it?

How could you ever describe to a dumb person how dumb he is?

There is this air-cooled gent in Bucharest, who says that, “Earth is not the correct name for this planet,” and that he “knows the right one.”

Never attend a family reunion if YOU’RE the only attendee.

Albeit irrational by City topology, do study on this map tip:

The fastest way out
 is not necessarily
 the way you came in.

J.