A Gingerbread House

Since you can’t “live in it” – there’s no way to build a Gingerbread House wrong.

Later that decade, one of the Grimm Sisters fumed: “If that statement ACTUALLY has more to do with the nature of the secondary world than it does baking – I for one will not be surprised, but nonetheless, will be ‘put out.’”

The Baltic Minister of Bad Literature adds that anyone who understands all of this may leap from a tall mermaid, talk funny, and wait out eternity in a drafty ballroom.  (He further adds that it works for him and it might work for you.)

Men invented “One Way Streets” to try and compensate for the fact that they all seemed to be.  (That same Bad Lit Ambassador popped back in just long enough to say that – that’s what he just said – just in condensed form.)

And now for a Fairy Tale from a warmer clime:

There was once a man who was SO original that no one could even tell he existed.

The End.

J.

Don't Ask Me

Someone writes to Professor Imaginary:

“Dear Professor:  Do you think even a rebel could ‘explain-away’ guilt?”

“Sure,” replies the Professor, he’d probably say something like:  ‘Guilt is the cheap, too-tight cotton undershorts I wear during the week, but replace on the weekends.’”

And the make-believe writer says:  “Wow, thanks Professor.”

And the Professor nods and smiles.

And a reader opines:

“If you ask me – I’m not sure I like those where you apparently let everyday life have the last word.  My wife says that in truth – I don’t like ANY of them…but still…Yours, (as sincerely as I can BE), etc.”

“Hey,” said one messenger to the king, “Don’t blame ME – the truth IS obnoxious.”

One day a “kinda-try-to-be” rebel asked himself: “Has being any smarter made you any happier?” And then told himself:  “Don’t ask me questions like that!”

As the bus whizzed by, the man leaned from a window and yelled to himself, standing on the corner:  “Forgive me – but I must think what the others are thinking.”  And faster than any eye could see, a certain part of his street-standing brain grinned, understood, made an insulting gesture and managed not to hear any of this – all at the same time.

J.

Wombat Protocol

A lad asked his dad:  “Do things not alive actually exist?”

And the elder replied:  “There are quiescent areas of your own brain to which this question would be better put.”

And if you’re one of the ones going out of town this weekend, this Traveling Definition for you, (that also reminds you not to throw stuff out on the highway): 

A revolutionist is a person who laughs in everybody’s face, and no one knows it. 

He, in fact, doesn’t even tell himself.

An appointed spokesperson for tonight was forced – asked – to read this:

Many things fuel the secondary world, but they’re all the same thing, and none of them are what men think they are.  (Okay, you can let him go now.)

Life helps make up for the fear and uncertainty men have once they have functioning minds and realize that they don’t know what’s going on, by having their minds reassure one another that, “Yeah, I figure I pretty well ‘know-what’s-going-on.’”  (And of course, in private, they can all still go home, and wash out their mouths, fall on their knees, wring their hands and moan just like they wanted to in public with their friends.)

Wombat Protocol:

The mind is a secret weapon –
but one that can be kept TOO secret.

J.

Keep Your Brain Runny

And courtesy of the crack Investigative Team here at the newsroom, we are able to bring you another report on the dreaded, “World Wide Conspiracy”:  “One of the more impressive secret factions in this movement consists of a group of men and women who each wear a different sweater with no number on it.  Yes friends – keep your EYE-E-E peeled.”’

And those good burgers honestly and sincerely tracking the conspiracy suddenly said:
“My brain feels runny.”

Many a hearty exploratory ship was launched from Gibraltar.  For many years, they were hurled from the top of the rock.  Then, in more modern times, they began sending them off from the harbor.  “Yes friends, keep your brain runny and EYE-E-E peeled.”

On a Saturday, when the offices weren’t officially open, a man in a suit showed up on City Hall steps and made the following announcement:  “Words are as counterfeit as are the lives men live in accordance therewith.” 
And a woman in a nice dress stopped long enough to ask:  “Exactly WHAT does that mean?”  And the gentleman bowed and replied:  “Madam, I’m sure I don’t know – I do not work here.”

Rhetorical Moral:

A proverb that won’t fly will crash and burn –
but who’s fault is that – the pilot’s,
or, your chintzy landing strips?!

J.

Impossible History

More of “Torted and Neat, Though Impossible, History…(emphasis, maybe, on the ‘Impossible’)”:

The idea for masturbation came from the body watching a rebel’s mind pleasurably free itself WITH itself.

Two View-Patterns were yacking it up and one of them said:

“It strikes me that all of life’s really great people were also kinda weird.”

“Yuck-o!  What can we do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

At this year’s annual “Smart Guy’s Convention,” the lead speaker spoke these inspiring words:

“We, of superior intellect, yet ‘stand on the shoulders’ of the giants who have gone before us, and of course, we pea-brains have a similar past support network.”  (And meanwhile, next door, the History Conference threateningly muttered:  “Those guys better WATCH IT!”)

One man’s Operating Premise Regarding Everything:  If it can be compared – it sucks.
(And an unauthorized biographer unrequestedly adds:  “Coulda been a contender – coulda had a premise.”)

And for your continued “living benefit”:

Life can take a lot of crap.

J.

Part of Being In is Wanting Out

From the mail bag:

“Trying to determine if this is all serious or not has proven to be…well…well more difficult than I’d imagined.” (As life curtsied and left this time, it stuck out its horrid little tongue in your direction.)

Noted for you one aspect of everyday life:

Part of “being in” is to say you “want out”. 

(I won’t bother to ask: “Can you dig it, for if you can, you wouldn’t reply anyway.”)

Over at the speaker’s area in the City park this morning was a chap handing out cards that read:  “Talk: the only form of energy that the monopolies haven’t yet figured out how to control and charge for.”

And that Top-Hatted Topographer from Additional Dimensions said:  “No matter how ferocious or voracious a snake may be, it will never eat its own tail.  Oh, not because it might not want to, (if it had secondary “wants”), but because primary needs do not permit it.”

Human speech:

That extraordinary, special bridge between the primary, and secondary world is rigorously protected as befits its singular status.

J.

Being Your Own Rebel

History note from the Rock Pits & Slides:
Men invented “show business” when the food and sex had temporarily run out.

And a local culture said:  “Hey, you can’t talk like that!  My mother was in show business!”

Ole Mr. Efficiency noted:  “Being your own rebel can save you a lot of money – since no one is as entertaining as you are.”

In memory of his late, “darn-near, tardy,” grandfather, the Jolly Woodsman named the newly discovered tree: 

“Everybody dances,
And everybody bitches,
Except hermits – who just sit together along the wall and complain.”

While the repair man was trying to fix the Foosball Game at the Ole Sorebar’s Head – I mean, Sorehead’s Bar – one of the ole regulars told the waitress as she cleaned the table:  “An intellectual with a degree is like a truck driver with a license…but no truck.”  They all thought that was pret-tee funny, until the guy working on the machine raised up his head and said, “You can’t talk like that – my mother used to be a truck.”

J.

Tag!

When this one kid got too old, (or maybe that’s too “big”), for gifts of corduroy knickers, or mis-matched jigsaw puzzles; to himself he handed over the following notion:  “It may turn out that life is just a game of Tag – and we’re all ‘it’ – and if I be correct, the neatest aspect is how there’s really no place to hide.”

And then, we have the Revolutionist –
who can set up shop anywhere in the building.

And, A.R., (Another Reader) writes, T.N., (The News):

“Although my brother’s quit reading the Daily News, he says he still thinks you might be right about what you said about roaches causing stupidity. He says he doesn’t know how else to explain it.”

In the City; one man had severe “personal problems,” but no one noticed.  (Oh, they noticed all right!  They just didn’t blinkin’ CARE!)

As it bowed and departed, the City passed out cards with its private home number on them.

J.

False Alarms

One fellow decided that, “All alarms are ‘false alarms,’ if you can look in the mirror and you’re still alive.”

And from the Control Tower a voice crackled out:

“More ‘Flying Fortresses of Wisdom’ than can, on a dark night, pass for ‘Pea-Brained Piper Cubs!’”

In some swanky European Cafes, swanky-wanky patrons do not CARE for their proverbs served invertedly.

And now this regally presented Royal Query:

Why would the king bother to not have it announced that the stupid were to be shot?

(Some verbal area in some reader’s brain thought: “I don’t think I like that one for some reason.”)

J.

Shallowness

Now stepping center stage:

“There is a great deal of difference between a particular dog’s natural disposition, and a man’s overall emotional moods.” 

(Then, bowing, continued:  “And now for my next joke…”)

Another “Neural Myth”:

There is a group of beings somewhere who believe that there is a strange creature, which, if you kill it, not only returns to life, but returns in duplicate.

In considering his relationship to the affairs of ordinary life, one man thought: “My shallowness is matched only by my capacity to become even more shallow.”

And a correspondent writes:

     “Although, (just for an instant), I did like that last one, what I do not like is when you do a good one like that, but just say that ‘a man’ thought it, instead of ‘a rebel’ did.  Are we supposed to recognize the distinction for ourselves – or, oh my god, it just hit me!  Is it going to finally reach a point where it shouldn’t matter to us whether you say ‘a man’ thought something in particular, or whether ‘a revolutionist’ did?!  Wow and Gad-Zooks!  The more I think about it along these lines, the happier I am that I decided to write you about it.  What a Wowie, Gad-Zooks good time and concidence.” 

     A friend.”

There’s one ole sorehead who comforts himself with the consolation: “It don’t cost one bit more to be alive and be pissed, than it does just to be alive.”

J.

Inspiration Comes in Many Forms

A man with a straight-ahead-mind has at least two friends in the world.

A man writes to complain:  “My body seems to affect the way I feel?”

Inspiration comes in many forms,
and a rebel carries his with him.

As far as “self-reference” goes, dig it:

One reason the secondary world is so great, is because it tells you it is.

A man says that his sex life has gone “totally in the dumpster” since he began spelling foreplay as, “f-o-r play.”  “Oh no,” he suddenly adds, he says he meant to say that his “mental life” had gone completely off the scale since he’d started this form of spelling.  (“Whew,” he concludes, “A-noth-er close call!”)

J.

Collective Thinking

Men invented the concept of history so they’d have something to look back on.

Men invented the concept of archeology so they’d have someone to look down on.

Men invented the concept of “intellectual individuality” so they’d have something to look forward to.

Men invented I.Q. tests so they could say:  “Monday – they’re giving it next Monday?  Gee, I gotta be out of town next Monday.”

Collective thinking: The only place you can sink using someone else’s boat.

J.

The Quest

The original, true Order of Mystical Knights, upon which all other myths are based, was one in which the King never sent anyone off anywhere on a mission. ...You figure it out from there.

A father noted to his son, "One of the (shall we say) lesser, side benefits of realizing the nature of man is that you no longer admire anyone."

He who tells the ordinary
that they live in a dream
lives himself in a dream.

The difficulty in trying to convey The Secret to another is that to "ride-the-wind" each man must mount his own back.

After years of reading about knights off on The Great Quest, in search of The Grail, one lad decided that when he grew up he wanted to be a night's horse, since he'd begun to strongly suspect that knights didn't actually exist.

(Think what a surprise he's in for when he discovers that none of it exists except for the prize itself -- and THAT you can be! Or otherwise put: that you turn out to be).

What a surprise! -- Gotta Love It!

J.

Serious Matters

City Playground News:

You can “beat-up” dumbness, but not enough to do it any harm.

Talking about serious matters
gives men a sense of seriousness.

One man said he could see his reflection – which was “kinda weird” since he wasn’t there!

The Bunting Brothers said:  “Perhaps we should roll him back up?!”

And Commander Obvious said:  “Rat-recognition is important only to rats.”

(And a person in the city, with a nice suit, a nice smile, a nice hair-do, a nice degree, and appropriate deportment asks:  “So where does that leave me?”)

Norwegian Brown Moral:

If you’re gonna keep living in the city, there are some things you shouldn’t oughta ask about.
(Squeak, ya’ll.)

J.

Roomates

A chap was exposed to this and said:  “Brief ideas are TOO Brief for ME.”

And the Rebel Chaplin added:  “Hey, ‘expose` this – trout mouth!”

And a subscriber writes:  “I don’t think I’ll even bother to write and object to this one.”

And scratching his noodle, one chap mused:  “What the hell happened?! We started out talking about BREVITY?!!”

P.S.  If you think and talk about other people,
they’ll come to live with you.

J.

Must-Have Mojo

Immediately after lightning had struck the roadhouse for the third straight time, the jukebox began to flicker and then play this song which had not previously been there:

“The word, the word, the secret word;
From those who knew it, nothing is heard.
The Word.”

(It flashed one more time, and then resumed its normal operations.)

When it came to creative thinking, one man’s mind had two speeds:  Good and REAL Good.

Local ignorance laughed at the small size of the man’s weapon.  And the neural warrior retorted:  “You look in a mirror lately?!”

A man must come to realize that:  “I am part OF the answer.”

Nothing that men do makes any difference – but if they didn’t do it, everything would be different.

And now…no “wrap”:

A rebel’s got to have some mojo – even if he doesn’t have any.
And even if none exists – he’s still got to have some.

J.

No Stop Signs/No Brakes

If they told of such things in revolutionist camp, this would be one of the things they might tell about:
One man progressed from, “Not asking for Mercy,” to not asking for anything.

A reader informs us:
“I have applied a personal, ‘mathematical formula’ to all of the Daily News.”

The primary world has no stop signs –
the secondary, no brakes.

A certain successful city father went to see a famous spiritual teacher and guru.  The man said to him, “My boy wants to come study with you, and there seems no talking him out of it.  And I will allow this, and will pay you the outrageous tuition you require, but in return I want one assurance, (and that is), after its all said and done, you will not end up by telling him that:  ‘A man-of-understanding, understands but one thing – and that is that no one truly understands anything.’  Will you give me such an assurance?”  And the holy one replied with his own question:  “Will you be paying in CASH?”  (Moral:  The only reason local life permits men to criticize, scoff or scorn it, is because it doesn’t give a damn what men think about it.)

If, you’re alive and not excited about having a mind, you’re not completely alive.

 J.

Metaphors

And since you hadn’t asked, this now confirmed:

It is more difficult to tell when time is running out on a rebel mind.

(And History asked, “Is that why I’m so reliable?”)

And for the Post-Graduate neurons, this update:

Metaphors:  Symbols with an “escape clause.”

Each morning, as part of his hygiene-routine over the bathroom sink, this one man would conclude by throwing open his skull, holding his exposed brains up close to the mirror and loudly proclaiming, “Hog butcher to the world!”

One man sharpened his tongue
to help it get to the point.

Whatever you’re having – life’ll “pick up the check.” (Which is kinda fair, inasmuch, as you’ll be having whatever life WANTS you to have.)

J.

The Good Mother City

One by one, as they are born, the city installs in all of the dense – I mean, the ordinary – the following “Secret Message” in their brain:

“You can trust a man with glasses;
You can trust a man with a hearing aid;
You can trust a man on crutches;
And you can trust everyone who notices
Everyone else’s condition,
But other than them, forget it!”
 
(A good Mother City doesn’t want her “little-ones” wandering off into the woods, to be possibly eaten up by “god-only-knows-what” – What!)

After spending all day in the car driving together, a man turned to his uncle and said: “My theory is that a revolutionist would be mad at anybody he knew who got sick; which sounds pretty rotten – but I further bet that he’d get mad at himself if he did.”

“Dear Miss Etiquette:

Every time I get too close to my mind I begin to ‘smell funny.’”

The Resident Thinker-cum-Historian down at The Ole Sorehead’s Bar, lays this latest one on us all:  “Kings always build these giant, humongous tombs for themselves, cause they know that along with all-l-l people – they sure ain’t comin back!”

And on your combined screens flashes this short subject:

Whenever he’d think about life as ‘tis normally lived, this one man would feel bad. 
So he quit thinking about it.

J.

Plane Ride

Correction:

Every man IS an island – and everybody else, his beaches.

At least once a year, all local realities send out this coded message:

“Don’t pick on ME – and I won’t pick on you.”

A kid asked his ole man:

“Since everybody seems to realize that the basis of knowledge is ignorance, how come they don’t apply this in thinking about sanity?”  (“And now for all you passengers in First Class, as we await the Sky Caps to present the wine, and as we circle Newark, let’s play a game.  Now someone tell me what did the ole man reply?  And the first one to correctly guess gets to jump out of the plane at no additional charge!”)

And as some other “court business” was going on, the King leaned over to his Prime Minister and whispered, “Is there some way we could tax people for talking-to-themselves?”

Never before revealed “Cosmic Pillow-Talk”:

The primary whispered:  “Forever is a long-g-g time.”
And the secondary replied:  “Not-t-t long enough!”

Having a pet: The supreme, “domination trip.”

J.