The General Atmosphere

If you lost it, forget it.  If you missed it, forget it.  No matter what your “whiners” say, just ask yourself, how important could it have actually been if you missed-it and lost-it.

No one knows what he can really, really do ‘til he tries, then it’s too, too late, Jake.

The general atmosphere of the City seems to keep people from thinking completely.

All books should be written in alphabetical order.

At times I am want to tell the recruits to “ease up” on their present attempts to “convert the People,” (that is, change themselves), and turn their efforts instead to fully absorbing the new data, and then go-from there.

Unless there’s another way out, don’t leave.

J.

Don't Deal in Leftovers

Each day, the Real Revolutionist faces his duty anew, and he must further refine his secret, inner maps, for each day this is not done puts his charts and understanding another 24 hours off.

One view the Revolutionist can take of the apparent struggle is that he does not expect any overnight, complete victory, but rather, seeks to eventually bankrupt the opposition by continually raising the cost of its successes.

In the City, is there really any difference between “services promised” and their actual delivery?

Can discussions regarding the lack of delivery become acceptable substitutes for the services themselves?  Can the People, in fact, deal with their difficulties on a basis of, “Problems addressed are problems solved?”  Says one, “I am a terrible person, and should change,” and the “addressing of the problem” becomes the needed action.  No further services required.  Ah, the City…god, what a place!

Don’t deal in leftovers…never carry-over any chemicals, or emotions from one day to the next, they all spoil.

Heard it said in the City that, “A loss unknown is no loss at all,” and allow me to over-inflate just “this once,” just “one more time”…To wit:  The only lasting victory is one not immediately noted.

J.

Words to Go By

Tis indeed better to be dumb and famous than just dumb, or dumb and respected, than just dumb, even dumb and rich rather than just rich…(believe me, it helps a lot).

Announced in the City today, the discovery of a new neural transmitter, “Inter-feron” – it keeps you from thinking of what you wanted.

It is probably safest not to trust a man who doesn’t even own a guitar.

Words To Go By (if you’re not going TOO far):

“Always remember, there is no ‘I’ in the word ‘success’.”

The overall, saving grace of human existence is in the comforting, foggy approach of middle age, and the Statutes of Limitation.

J.

Sense and Non-Sense

It may just be possible, as a few suspected, that sometime in the past, god suffered from dizzy spells.

And there was the guy that would give you anything you got.

Another “Unproven Purpose of The Revolutionist”:

Someone’s gotta keep count.

Real, fresh data is free from all sense, AND non-sense; a lack of ordinary contrast.

Never agree to “Group therapy” unless you as a group are disturbed (and can afford it).

J.

No Fat People on the Moon

The churches developed such things as rosaries and prayer beads so that teenage boys might have at least ONE other thing to do with their hands.

There are no fat people on the moon.

The good ideas you have you should “say aloud,” and the REALLY good ones you should sing.

There was this “famous guy,” or at least, this kinda guy that got interviewed a lot, and whenever his host would begin the proceedings by saying, “We’re delighted to have you here,” he would say, “I know.”

Push, or be pushed.  Yeah, I know how it sounds, and don’t write me nasty letters…you’re the ones who swore you wanted to hear something new…

J.

Everybody needs Somebody

In the City, everyone seems predisposed to point-flashlights-at-the-sun…(I can only assume that this is in some way their continuing inept attempt to single out the obvious.)

Have you ever noted that no one accuses another thusly:

“You listen too much”?

Should you still doubt Man’s fear of change, consider this: From one view, all wars could be seen as a violent reaction to even the suspicion of change by one’s neighbor.

The most efficient, the most dangerous, and the most difficult masquerade is that of self-interest disguised as humility and stupidity.

Even during the harshest, most cold-blooded eras in Man’s history, I have always found some comfort and cause for optimism when I but recall the uplifting warmth of that most traditional Anglo hymn, that the British always sing in times of adversity, “Nearer My Dog To Thee.”

J.

The Most Difficult Masquerade

In the City, everyone seems predisposed to point-flashlights-at-the-sun…(I can only assume that this is in some way their continuing inept attempt to single out the obvious.)

Have you ever noted that no one accuses another thusly:

“You listen too much”?

Should you still doubt Man’s fear of change, consider this:

From one view, all wars could be seen as a violent reaction to even the suspicion of change by one’s neighbor.

The most efficient, the most dangerous, and the most difficult masquerade is that of self-interest disguised as humility and stupidity.

Even during the harshest, most cold-blooded eras in Man’s history, I have always found some comfort and cause for optimism when I but recall the uplifting warmth of that most traditional Anglo hymn, that the British always sing in times of adversity, “Nearer My Dog To Thee.”

J

Distances

Every place is the same distance from here.

Being shot is but one use for your chest.

Recruits need to find a place to camp where nothing is indigenous.

Never blame your intestines for what your stomach did. 

Never blame your stomach for what your mouth did. 

Never blame your mouth for what your eyes did.

And never blame your eyes for what you brain did.

AND never, never, EVER blame your “poor widdle brain” for ANY-thing…there, there little brains.

It is better to be “alive and well” than just “well.”

J.

Overview

In the City, ideas TOO strange do not get studied; those who present them, however, are.

To one seeking absolute, total, complete control, everyone is a potential foe.  (Praise-be for another safe “N.P.S.”, that is, “Nothing of Personal Significance”.)

The Real Revolutionist might be “faithful” only to willful and useless habits, and to Life itself.  (What choices are there, actually?)

Under certain passing circumstances, a Revolutionist could be temporarily full sleep, full of booze, even full of shit, but full of memories–NEVER!

It is said that out around the Bushes was once a guy who had no views, only an overview.

J.

The Notebook

And then there was the guy that signed his letters, “Love, me – no, I mean the REAL me.”

One should not write in a notebook larger than one’s own head.

Before settling down for what journey may lie ahead, find out first if anyone in the life boat speaks German.

Motto #23:  If you can’t presently overcome it, for god’s sake hide it.

I urge you to think twice before taking as a jogging partner, a rooster named Seiko.

J.

The Oh Occasionally School

Okay, you people there in the City, listen up, if you want the benefit of conversing with moi.  It seems as though you have two choices:  You can either tell me what you know, or what you think about what you know.  If your choice is the latter, excuse me for just a moment…

If a revolution is possible only when the People are in accord, and properly informed, then I strongly advise against the holding of one’s breath, etc.

It has been said that, “The brave and enlightened admit to no destiny,” which is all right…I once heard a drowning victim exclaim, “Water, what water?”

Although little known at the time, and absolutely forgotten, now, there once was a philosophical system known as the “Oh, Occasionally School.”  And when they were asked such questions as, thinkers would reply, “Oh, occasionally.”  (You think they were too splendid for their own good, or what?)

It is of extreme importance that one strive relentlessly NOT to suffer the “slings and arrows” of routine misfortune.

J.

Seize New Power

The Real Revolutionist sees that self-proclaimed victors who continue to non-physically attack their foe, have not only never conquered same, but have in fact, yet to even properly engage him.  (Do not expect applicable military history from famous atheists who spend their energies bad-mouthing god.)

The Revolutionist does not see Life as offering Man rewards or chastisements, just creative resistance.

Recruits should keep in mind that all victories are someone’s funeral…and it can be difficult to order flowers when the band is so loud in the background…it’s a good thing I already know my address.

The Revolutionist must, at all times, seize new power when and wherever he can, and worry about its uses and consequences later.

There was once a little hamlet that decided they wanted their own town square complete with a statue, but through lack of funds, could not afford to hire a sculptor.  The one fellow, who had been to some of the big cities, and seen their parks and statues, announced that he knew the “secret.”  He assured his neighbors that all they need do was lay out the town square and get a whole bunch of birds to hang out there, and that they would forthwith “attract” statues.  (And to think that some had the nerve to doubt that I could pass first year “Logic” if they would just let me take it ONE MORE TIME.)

J.

Song for Man

In the City Library I once read this comment, “The most pressing of Man’s problems are not to be solved, but merely outgrown.”  (I wonder how long he expected the rest of us to live?)

On his deathbed, one Ruling Power serenely summarized thusly, “Ah, all is surely well with my life as spent, how ELSE could I have possibly gone wrong.”

Truism Update #24:

“Evil is to who evil thinks.”

Update:

“Lithium is to whom lithium thinks.”

“And-then-I-wrote”…No, seriously folks, I composed this little song for Man, and it goes something like this: 
I got molecules that taste,
I got molecules that touch,
I got molecules that hear, smell and see;
then I got this “elemental sensation,”
 an “atomic generation,”
called “ME.”  (For the time being, supply your own tune.)

You should probably never agree to “hold hands” and “be buddies” with anyone who doesn’t like Latin music.  (Or, at least, Mozart.)

And off at a certain right angle, I surveyed the falling place of the few recruits, and discovered on each hidden headstone the same epitaph, “There was none, save one, to show me my way home.”

J.

Reverse Collar Will Travel

Is the Real Revolutionist the ultimate specialist, or the supreme generalist?

Listening to serious music
can make you serious.

Can a man feel “guilty” over any action unless he can mentally remember it and think about it?

Can the “conscience” conceived of in the City go any deeper than the width of words?

I’ve heard men say that, “To teach is to learn twice,” and I gotta admit that it will at least reinforce one’s present opinions and ignorance, and that IS what it’s all about, right?

If, as some City religions believe, wearing one’s collar backwards is good for one’s spiritual being, just imagine the benefits, were one able to do likewise with one’s head.

J.

A New Geometry

Only the ultra-common could truly hate a dead man.  (I don’t suppose any of you expect me to carry this any deeper into the unchartered interior.)

Back in the City I once read this, “The moment a man begins to ask himself the ‘meaning of life’ he is on the inalterable road to sadness and depression.”  I hardly know WHAT to say.

The Real Revolutionist knows that only the truly powerful can keep a secret.

The People do periodically display a belief that life “could be measured,” but they forever lack the resolve to discover the necessary, new geometry.  (Potential without execution, of course, remains but a dead man without a cause.)

Anytime you feel disturbingly despondent, serious, or excited, just remember, even the President doesn’t know all the words to “Louie Louie.”

J.

Thanks, Mom.

“What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”  “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”  “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”  It’s hard to believe that some human once said this…and almost as hard to believe that no one else understood it, (even if it is one word off).

You can theorize, rhapsodize, and poeticize about life all you want, but you still got to LIVE the son-of-a-bitch.

Two ways to tell it’s time to flee an otherwise apparently intelligent host:

First, when he reaches for his bible, and secondly, when he starts pointing toward his flag.

(Excuse me, but I believe I hear my mother calling me…Thanks Mom.)

Anytime that you forget that “the house always wins,” you have ceased having fun, and are now gambling with your own cerebral rent money.

You should never merely despise words, but rather, know them and treat them with all due respect and disbelief.

J.

Being a Success

Simply “being a success” is no sure sign of success.

For those with that certain, equal blood type, there is almost no joy like that of your own original, meaningful idea–almost nothing!

When you’re a dimension short, you’re always a day late.

Although in the City it is not improper for the pigs to feast on the truffles, on the Bus the Revolutionist should only execute his talents and expend his energies in a manner that is ergonomically and economically proper.

From a certain Revolutionist view, there is no such thing as “good” publicity.

J.

Surprise!

Is it harder to intellectually slip up and surprise an extremely intelligent man, or an extremely dumb one?  Are you sure?

When asked, point-blank, “Are you SURE,” only those deep in the greasy embrace of certainty can firmly refuse to answer, and likewise do so, and those who ran away while I was describing this.  (…And that’s more than you deserve when using such aggressive terms as “point-blank.”)

Everything everybody says
should be taken down
 and used against them.

Anyone who buys anything
should be forced to eat it.

No one with anything worthwhile to say
should be allowed to say it.

Anyone who writes anything
should be forced to believe it…(or eat it)

J..

Morality is Molecular

Unless your business happened to be in rodent-aromas, never hire those who always “smell a rat.”

To ordinary perception, it could be disconcerting to observe how easily and quickly new comers to the Bush will pledge their allegiance to almost any display of power.  (Yeah, but would you expect the chickens to stay for the weekend without finding feathers in the bed?  What do you people want anyway?)

All morality is molecular.

In regards to the external, it is said that a “revolution consumes an entire generation.”  Can you conceive internally what it would mean for you to lose twenty years worth of your own thoughts, beliefs and opinions?  (At least in the Real Revolutionist’s case he can truly bid his firstborn “adieu – AND “good riddance.”)

Real Art is not intended to glorify the subject matter, as with the King and his statues, but is an expression of personal joy from the artist.  (To an artist, the subject matter is irrelevant…and I guess it’s just as well the King AND the People don’t understand this.)

J.

Cream Puffs

Who in the wonderful world of 3-D sports, do you suppose would still “love justice” if there was no punishment awaiting the unjust?

The Revolutionist knows that if he ever acknowledges an apparent “good” done him by the Ruling Powers, he will most likely later submit to something a good deal less attractive.  Don’t ever take party favors unless you catered the party.

I’ve heard it said that, “There are some who may know their minds, but not their hearts,” which sounds plausible to City folks I guess, but let me ask you, can you conceive of an architect/contractor who produced buildings of only penthouses?  No foundations, no lower floors, only penthouses.  The thing about all 3-D truisms is that they are like cream puffs whose centers are filled with puff.

Do you still believe that it is normally possible to give advice, even to your best friend, that is not based on the apparent self interests Life has installed in us all?

Would singers give it up if they could act?  Would actors give it up if they could write?  Would writers give it up if they could run?  And would runners give it up if they could sing?  Whew, I hope that wasn’t as tiring as it was demoralizing, I mean, confusing.  Whew.

J.