Hey, there’s no need to come in out of the rain; it doesn’t do so for you.
Heard about this one ole dude who was so sharp he could think “right off the top of his head.”
A Real Revolutionist might think, “I’d like to stick around longer, but I don’t.”
It’s not only more fun than they imagine, it’s more fun than YOU imagine. (Imagine that.)
The best thing you can do for most people is don’t.
J.
If it goes in one ear and out the other, you got one too many ears.
If you do have to hang around in the City, at least keep this in mind, “Don’t hang around in the City.”
The tromp l`oeil world of the mind again carried to its deserved limit:
A man is given the job of counting the number of automobiles entering a parking lot since it should legally accommodate only fifty, and he leaves after getting to thirty, figuring, “It’s been correct so far, and probably would be on up to fifty.” Adios, small details.
Playing in a Latin band is no guarantee you’ll speak Spanish.
In the midst of a not-feeling-so-hot spell, a traveler finally concluded, via self-diagnosis, “Ah, I guess I’m just homesick.” But, he then realized, “Can’t be, I don’t even HAVE a sick.”
J.
Okay, listen up:
On the 3-D P & L sheet, the bottom line is this -- there ain’t one.
If you’re already Bo Diddley, there’s no need to look for a stage name.
The problem with really NEW ideas is that you never hear about them until it’s too late.
If you can stop now, you never did actually begin.
Be sure, (even if you’re not).
J.
Never depend on anyone who sez, “You can depend on me.”
Upon running across the phrase, “The dignity of history,” one Revolutionist laughed so hard he dropped his snow cone.
Every single little molecule has its own little intelligence; some of them just won’t admit it…at least not to humans.
The intellectual energy of the Revolutionist is the supreme hospitality.
I hate to even sound pessimistic but, you’ll never put-it-all-together if all your pieces came from the City.
J.
There’s not much need to be concerned over the sometimes sound of gunfire in the distance, for if you could hear better, it is there all the time.
Don’t hold your breath, for those eight thirty reservations waiting to ever actually hear this, but I have at least composed the “Truthful City Blues,” whose first and final verses go something like, nay, almost exactly like this: “Although you mistreat me, I love you just the same. Although you mistreat me, I love you just the same. I guess I’m just a stupid son-of-a-bitch.”
A passing lapse in your dumbness may not mean much.
There is no defense against a circle.
Then again, it may come down to this:
Make history,
or BE history.
J.
Don’t be rude unless you understand its proper purpose.
No matter what the signs say in certain parts of the City, if you don’t see it, don’t ask for it.
Being short is no crime; thinking you are, is.
After all, what IS being civilized but expressing your regard for those lucid intervals.
One ole City sore-noggin seasonally said, “The sure cure for being impressed by our lawmakers is simply to go to our legislative chambers and get a good look at them,” but, jeeze, ole timer, that’s true about EVERY thing.
J.
A Man who had what appeared to be some type of revolutionist, with bruises about his head, was heard announcing, “Ahoy, ole and hooray! I have built an invisible structure with unknown materials on non-existent land. Hooray, I say.”
Don’t forget now:
In the City, what Ever it is they may do to you, it is as they like to say, “For your OWN good.”
It IS further from here-to-there than it is vicey versey.
Under most conditions, if the City powers just KNOW you, they can blackmail you.
A Man’s best friend’s
just around the bend.
Be advised,
and -- Watch it:
Those who’ve “gone before”
are back.
J.
Rolling on the floor won’t help you score, (then again, it might).
To be a really proper revolutionary leader, no one should fully understand how you operate, or think.
There is a place outside symmetrical, and asymmetrical; that is beyond intellectual topology that is uniform and orderly.
Those who’ve given up, instruct.
Regarding the fact that Life, in its genetic generalities, is dumber than it is in its individual particulars, we could propose these two pertinent, competing slogans, “Breed To Succeed,” vs. “Read To Succeed.”
J.
No need to go away if you’re just coming back.
Then someone declared, “The sound definitely came from somewhere.”
Truism Bi-Scan, TJ4:
Those who take cynicism, sarcasm and criticism for intelligence, deserve it.
Or, the sooner sarcasm and criticism replace intelligence, the better for all of us.
One City guy, who apparently knows what he likes said, “If god hadn’t intended Man to drink, he wouldn’t have created him.”
Those who live alone, think alone.
One benefit of a life well-spent is that the mortuary never realized you stiffed ‘em for the bill.
How about this:
I heard a guy say, for reasons known only to somebody, that, “If you don’t look at me when I speak to you, I won’t speak to you when you look at me.”
Waiting until the last second is quite proper if you are in the process of executing your last thing.
It is indeed a spoon-bending fashion statement to wear a hair shirt with a silk tie. (Oh my.)
Good wars don’t need to be advertised.
J.
The quicker you get finished over here, the sooner you’ll be finished over there.
True improvisation doesn’t require that you “know the song,” it’s not even necessary that you know ANY song.
To truly “circle your prey” would require that you teach wagon trains to attack a circumference.
It takes just as long to do two things as it does one, (if it is the right one).
Why keep writing when your fingers have run out of anything to say?
J.
There is never a full conversion of energy, Men, or ANY thing.
On this train it is not possible to both “be on board,” and BE bored.
Any Man who speaks about the “all” of anything, speaks of the “nothing” of his intelligence.
A good ruler always welcomes advice. (You don’t believe that do you?)
It is extremely tacky to stand up in a temple and shout out to the priests, “Okay, how many coaches have actually ever played the game?” Extremely tacky.
J.
It’s weird, but sometimes the crowd seems more than the players. (You mean you find it NORMAL for the audience to outnumber the actual combatants?)
Heard of one guy who supposedly told himself, “Hey, you don’t interest me enough to even be boring.”
Remember this:
It gets dark at least ONCE almost every day.
The dead don’t dance.
The best policy may well be NO policy.
J.
As declared in the City:
The three most important areas of contemporary life are health, wealth, and gossip.
You generally only have one chance to “say it right.”
The kind of discomfort most people are prepared to endure is in recounting their everyday irritations.
Recently heard a wild-eyed bricklayer, who had been attending night classes at a City college, pronounce, “The aim of culture seems clear enough to me: To keep regular guys from enjoying themselves.”
One guy told his son to quit belly aching about every little thing, “Hey, just look at life as a ‘cheap ticket.’”
J.
Heard one guy say that he “had it up to here with knocking on patience’s door.”
Never let ‘em film the final hours of a revolution.
Time is the ultimate, 3-Dimensional measurement.
One literary chap claims, in reference to his theories on the power of words, that history, for instance, would have been kinder to the poet Thomas Brown if it were easier to rhyme with his name.
Some of you, well, a few of you, ARE beginning to glimpse me when I tell you that things are not as bad as you THINK they are UNTIL you think they are. (Of course, the terror beyond even this fright is that NOTHING is as you think it is until you think it is, but we’ll leave that little part for some later Saturn weekend.)
J.
Oiling your hair will hot cure squeaky feet, (or vicey versy).
Living in the penthouse may be neat, but one cost you should note is the increased distance from your car.
Out in that free-wheeling park I mentioned in the City, I recently saw a man leap up and shout, “Where do I go to resign?”
At least those
with worry as a friend
have a friend for life…
Memory is for keeping Men from trying anything TOO new (…and you know who added: It’s also to keep Men from trying too HARD.)
J.
If it’s organized it can be, “hazardous to your health.” (It for SURE is hazardous to its OWN health.)
Don’t give ‘em an act unless you either have another one to back it up, or none at all.
A City reviewer recently said, “Like all ‘great books,’ this one raises more questions than it answers.” Praise be to Zeus that we’re not subject to more NON-great books, eh what.
Yelling at the King, don’t help.
A shout suddenly arose from the Revolutionist training area, “My GOD, this thing’s ALIVE!”
J.
Those who indeed, “try too hard,” are, I fear, giving it the ole-wrong-try.
Some in the City find the truth far too stiff and uncomfortable, and thus see a benefit in massaging it.
Looking-around
won’t get-you-down.
Think of the wardrobe savings enjoyed by those who find sarcasm ALWAYS in fashion.
Stay advised: Always lurking around the edges is the edges.
J.
Whilst in the City, doing City things, never fail to go where they offer “The Best for Less,” or at least where they promise that “The Best Costs No More.” Ah, say I again, the City, what a place what a place!
Do you realize that if anyone could actually hear anything extraordinary, (such as how Life is truly arranged), that all hobbies and normal experiences would be shot all to Pittsburgh, I mean, hell?
A City chap recently started a brand new type of service, and was asked how he referred to those who dealt with him, and he replied, “Those of limited finances I call Customers; those whom I can charge more I call Clients, and those with boundless funds I call Friends.”
Things that are not known, are not. (Those of proficient neural legerdemain could, I suspect, fashion this into an intellectual John-The-Conqueroo.)
Even those who apparently know something, don’t. (See, some of you have already forgotten that appearances aren’t deceiving, they’re simply appearances.)
J.
Everyone’s had fair warning.
Financiers never have to ask customers if they approve of the goods.
It would appear that one of the City’s more popular pastimes is being-in-debt.
While strolling through some bushes near a reputed Revolutionist camp, I heard a voice sort of sing, “If I were any happier, I’d almost be human.”
You’d really be better off not to take general, genetic needs, for individual pleasures or possibilities.
J.
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