Ordinary Ordinary

Isn’t it neat how ordinary, ordinary reality is.

I started to say that you shouldn’t do anything second handed, but everything they do in the City is second hand.

There might be some who could see from “here to there,” if it weren’t for all the distracting sights in between (or even think to that distant place, were it not for all the thoughts in between).

Has Life ever had Men call one of their poets a “serious, potent voice of his age,” who was not morbific, moss-coated, and as pessimistic as a banker on vacation?

Life goes on till the job gets done.

J.

I've Told You All I Can

“I’ve told you all I can.” 
“It’s not enough.” 
“I know.”

….and to further clarify: 
“I’ve told you all I can.” 
“It doesn’t SEEM to be enough.”
“I know, I know.”

It is possible that your parents COULD “know best,” unless of course, they’re actually YOUR particular parents.

If it’s not a rude awakening
it’s NO awakening.

Hangnails don’t count in the lifeboat.

Anyone who believes that two heads are better than one, doesn’t even have one.

J.

Trade Horse

A new-to-town-god, attempting to be up to date and with-it, hired a PR agency that presented him with the slogan, “I not only make ‘things,’ I make a difference,” and he loved it, just LOVED it.

While traveling in new, and perhaps rough terrain, in the attempt to expand your intelligence, do be careful not to damage your brain’s oil pan.

Someone who really cares for you, and who is smarter than you, will refrain from giving you advice when you can’t really use it, regardless of what you may say to the contrary.

When it comes right down to the operational bottom line regarding City based intelligence, it goes like this:  What you know is a trade horse for what you don’t.

Could it be knowledge hides out in ignorance…or even vice versa, maybe?  Giddy-up.

J.

The Winds of Wars

Out in the barren area between the City limits and the Bushes, I heard a faceless voice raised in song thusly, “Oh, the winds of wars, ripped by drawers.”

A guy read, in reference to neurological rehabilitation, that, “After serious brain injury all mental efforts become a ‘big deal,’” and he mused off to himself, “Why did they wait until an accident to realize that?”

Look, I’ve told you once for the last time.

If you’re truly in a hurry for additional intelligence, don’t stop and ask an alligator; he gets HIS luggage.

Upon hearing new evidence that cast fresh doubt on some of the accepted history of a certain religion, one follower noted, “Anyone whose faith can be shaken by mere scholarship had little faith to begin with,” and a passerby, hearing this, thought, “If you substitute a few words here and there like “faith” and “scholarship” you’d have a pretty fair description of the City’s intellectual situation.

J.

From the List of Nevers:

Never take a drug less intelligent than you are.

There’s a slick-haired man just outside of Nairobi, who claims to “know what time it is.”  “No, seriously,” he adds, “I mean what time it REALLY is.”

The long sought Alpha-&-Omega Law of Physics was unknowingly uttered may years before Newton, and far down the street from laboratories and classrooms, to wit, “The King can do no wrong.”  That’s all the scientific knowledge ever gleaned, or ever TO be gleaned.

One shined-up fellow declared that he was committed to “living in Eastern Standard Time and remembering it in Pacific.”

If you KNOW where you’re going, it doesn’t MATTER where you’re going.

J.

Twins

Other day in a City gathering I heard the term, “sensory overload.”  Was that from the same guy who coined “compulsive behavior”?

In the City it’s ALL a ploy.

Everyone’s knowledge has an evil twin brother.

To the early-morning-informed, a shout is as good as a biscuit.

Anybody that’d worry over little things will worry over big ones, and, I might add,

vociferous-versy.

J.

In Training

“What's the difference between being blithely dumb, and at least suspecting you might could be otherwise?” 
“I don't know.” 
“That's just the point, now ain’t it?”

A Revolutionist heard that a serious City maxim was that, “You should never start a fight you can’t win,” and whilst being captive of irrepressible laughter, he fell down and ripped his trousers.

There was this one fellow who, first thing in the morning, would declare, “Ah hah! Since they haven't killed me yet, I'm in good shape for the rest of the day.”

I heard a guy say to his little nephew, who was always complaining of how dumb other people are, the following, “They may be, but rather than being upset, you should be happy to be smart enough to help make up for it.”

Under a variety of conditions, a Revolutionist should always be thinking, “Training, it’s training...I’m still in training...”

J.

Side Door

Everyone has a garbage door; a side egress through which to dispatch stuff to the refuse heap.  And the door is named “talk”.

A young lad asked his grandfather about the nature of “disappointment,” and was told a story about a boy who sought the advice of a famous wise man regarding the same question, and was told to constantly look up into the depths of the heavens and ponder how “unimportant” he and his little disappointments were on the “great universal scale,” and after six or eight fruitless days of this pursuit, the boy suddenly thought, “Hey, regardless of all that philosophical stuff, I'm still important to ME.”  Afterwards, the grandson said, “So, that about wraps it up, eh Gramps?”  “Yeah kid, that about does it.”

I still kinda like this one guy's motto: 

He used to say, “Do all you can when you can, then later, perhaps, do nothing.”

As long as you see indignation safely passed off as intelligence and insight, rest easy, you're still in the City.

A Revolutionist has no return address.

J.

Warm Weather Weekend Edition

In warm weather you don’t need advice.

It’s not really charity if it appears to be so.

One guy sez, that the benefit of living in the City, is that you get better at forgetting.

(In the Bushes the boon is in your increased ability to ignore.)

A Real Revolutionist has a secret handshake, except no one’s ever showed Him what it is.

If you’re gonna go on and tell anybody what it is, you might as well go ahead and break a circumference in two.

J.

The True Purpose of Everything

The only way most People in the City can tell if they’re “getting anywhere,” is that they’re still breathing.

Be proud, be brave; don’t be a slovenly knave. 
Stand right up and say, “I’m not me, and I didn’t do it.”

There was this one guy who, whenever he would start to talk to himself, would say, “Look, I can’t talk just now.”

Once you are a full-fledged Trooper, and totally unemployed, at least you can’t be fired.

The true purpose of everything is something else.

J.

The Fastest Train Running

Remember, weekend warriors:

In someone else’s game your scores never count as much as theirs. 

And, oh yeah, ALL games are someone else’s.

For a Revolutionist, the fastest train running hasn’t ever left yet.

This fleshy sort of City father noted to his anxious son, “Look, if I’ve told you ONCE, I’ve already lied to you.”

“Hey, let that be a lesson to you.” 
“What?” 
“That’s just the point.”

Just remember this:

When it’s four o’clock HERE, it’s five o’clock later.  (Disregard at your peril.)

J.

A Dog Story

Those with an agenda will never hear the doorbell ring.

No gunfire is heard from the cemeteries.

A Man with a dictionary may still be a Man, but a pig with a clarinet is another matter altogether.

How is it that to a Revolutionist, a story can mean something, not mean something, and then mean something all over again?  Just for instance:  A guy who claimed to love his dog about as much as a human can love anything, always bought the same kind of food for his canine companion, and when asked about his insistence on this one particular brand of dog food, he said the he purchased it because it “looked yummy to him.”  And the questioner replied that such a reason was spurious inasmuch as a Man’s sense of the delicious was not necessarily the same as that of a dog, and even less so merely based on its visual appeal to the human, no matter HOW much he may cherish his pet.  And the dog’s master replied, “May be, but you missed the whole point,” which he had, didn’t and then some.  How is it, you reckon, that to a Revolutionist, life can oftimes mean something, not mean something, and then mean something all over again?

In the City, anyone who gives you personal advice of any kind, doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

J.

Yesterday News

Only the rude ask, “Why?”

If it’s “yesterday news” it’s YESTERDAY’S NEWS.

In a Revolutionist world there is no such science as pathology.

As you skate through life, remember this:

The last drop is always either the best, the worst, or unnoticed.

A son finally asks his father, “Do you have any advice for me?” 
Father sez, “No.” 
Son sez, “Good.”

J.

Expecting Perfection?

From those trees, over near where you’re standing, a voice cried out, “You and your kind ARE the environment.”

All opinions agree in the dark.

Life is dumber in general than it is in particular.

(Of course, so is everything else.)

Armistice Day should always come on the weekend.

Only the imperfect expect perfection.

J.

Dreams of Corvettes

A pause in the fighting may not mean much.

No one should have a hobby smaller than yourself.

At the calm center of all tornados is a quiet, bloody dance floor.

Nothing succeeds like success, except of course, talking about it.

Only what he now possesses does a Man know to be true.  All else he simply dreams so. 

(Your present Honda is valid; your hope for a Corvette you imagine so.)

J.

Brevity is the...

Unbeknownst to you, Life is always having a sale, and the unseen ads proclaim, “My loss, your gain.”

If having feet were any proof that you could run, then having a head would assure that you think, right?  Fat chance.

Chapter Four:

That – you guessed it – same man, while fondling his morning juice, gazed out the dining room window and said, “What a beautiful day!”  And his – you got it – wife replied, “That’s no day,” and he said, “Oh.”

No matter what they told you over at the Magician’s School, don’t attempt to catch bullets in your teeth if you have the gun in your hand.

J.

Two Words

You do realize that it’s okay to be ill mannered,  IF you’re the last one in line.

In the City, they say that the blind can’t lead the blind, but they never question the deaf leading the orchestra.

Would a Real Revolutionist apostate have to be palindromic?  That is, would he ever have to be rebellious toward his new leader, allies, state and beliefs?  Well, would he?

A young lad with the proclivity to handle his tricky-parts, heard his elders speak of the matter by stating that he was too young to understand the evils of “self-abuse.”  And one day whilst alone, he took down the family dictionary and looked up the term “self-abuse,” and upon realizing its meaning, mused to his little self, “Hmmm, I wonder if adults call everything else by its opposite meaning?”

Two words
don’t make a right,
but three
‘round the corner
just might.

J.

You Talk Too Much

If you’re gonna talk to yourself, then leave it at that.

Anyone who sincerely claims that they “talk too much,” is either not really sincere, not from around here, or not too bright.

If you really like someone, then, at least around them, wear squeaky shoes.

A man told his son, “No need to go looking for trouble.  It ain’t lost.”

If someone asks you to play, “I’ll tell you my troubles, then you tell me yours,” wait till it’s your turn to fool ‘em, and tell ‘em somebody else’s.

J.

A Sunday Story

Look, I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you again, whenever they shout, “Dumb,” don’t raise your hand and make it that much easier for them to spot you.

There is a rather damp gentleman, who sometimes stays in a hotel near Bangkok, who says that you may refer MOST inquiries to him.

If time WERE equally shared by all, loan departments wouldn’t issue payment books.

Out at that City park I sometimes visit, last Sunday a full figured chap stood upright and loudly declared, “When it comes to life, EVERYbody’s on the short end.”

If you’re not SURE it matters, don’t guess.

J.

The Best Test

You may be in a good area if you hear someone say, “And just as things were getting good, they got TOO good.”

As they might say in certain City quarters: 

A life ill-spent
is a life still spent.

Boy asks his father, “Were words first in dictionaries or in people’s minds?” 

Pater sez, “Go look it up.”

A rebel with intelligence
is a play with legs.

In City matters, I suspect that the safest test is no test at all.

J.