By the way I’m Doctor Buck Moon -Jim Meirose

By the way; I’m Doctor Buck Moon.

Thus starts session three-hundred thirty-five of that there New Therapy all’s buzzing about, so, as usual, u’ take a seat. By the way; I’m Doctor Buck Moon. Thanks for coming, great to see you, listen up pips’q eak’ s, listen up, here goes what; for today’s it’s not knowing the year’s a definite syndrome, ye’ very definite, yes, ‘s, as syndromes go is, so; given the logical progression of new topics I am presenting to you today, what is the next logical syndrome I am on the verge the bring the brink of the verge or both or put a little bit differently, about to present? Anybody got a good ga’s ‘ues’?

No?

No?

No—it then may be just as well nobody’s here, actually—because at least one of you, whoever that may be, will say the answer which I the answer which I do the answer I do not answer I do not want to know the answer to, it is; even it is coming too close to say I you know, that word you know that word I that when said stabs—and no doubt to most of you will sound very foolish—stabs you down stuck on an analysis board or prisoner’s trap you know, since everything in creation’s got a name—and sometimes several names—by now, it’s like there’s an insect to be studied pinned to a study board inside of itself so that it’s pinned immobile so that

someone or some other pinned immobile as well—just as you and all others refusing to ever step out from inside your big doped-out heads, but—a little bit differently each time its pinned—to be studied like this great auditorium this great roundy-bout room within which we’re presently set, so bit round starting here ‘hind this podium curving off toward—and that’s true no which te ka matta’ you stend it tall out from it curves round our and round and out and around and back there—see it? See it? Iy curvsey round back there and out to be met each by the other back there, way up there—‘bout the back of what looks like the back side of some nose and also just under those backhinded dual eyeball-backs there those. Yes those. Those that swivel for some reason here inside what we’re of the but the facts are the facts, past our backwalls we’ll never know what s is ss what sss for inside of here is where you me were put ssss and this sssss is where we’ll ssss most likely be staying unless we sss can’t ss be s right about everything ssssss well can you? So.

Sssssss.

Any questions class s at this’s ‘s juncture, the same rules as for the last question do apply, know then well before deciding whether or not to say yes—and yes, listen hard now since you’ve all refused loudly to step out from inside your big doped-out heads—like, I have also never say yes I have, unless you actually have, may say clearly, and be prepared to defend the propriety of whichever question you pull from that sheaf of possible questions you come armed with in that quiver back there you don’t even know they got you strapped onto, y’ Robin sniff, Hood Robin, Hood even sniff, sniff, even Robin Hood knows as dumb as back there they all say was, knew a full quiver’s useless unless it’s packed with arrows and not those sicko damned questions you won’t give up the not knowing of, dull boy.

So any questions?

Any questions?

Any questions?

No? Plus got no big domed weapon to fire me back at me now, have you?

Of course not!

Sorry you are, sorry—you are to be so easily frightened down by mere words this is s study room not a fanned-out rockhurl, this is a learning room in here, not a fiery hosedown manned by big barkdogs. This is a place for knowing yes an opened up place for knowing so holy as to need total locking down as robbery’s inevitable so why in such a place as this do you refuse to know refuse tt to admit to ttt tell the truth don’t lie, don’t lie, tt t s ss sss you do!

You have questions!

Don’t lie!

Say them out single file, don’t lie!

At root there’s a reason that you cannot know.

Cannot know or.

So now; what year is this?

Spit it!

What year is this!

But is it closer at least closer at least or at least, a little bit closer now, than before?

See? There you go. It’s sure worth it. Don’t you think?

Hey.

Bu’, gak; that’s the end of session number three-hundred thirty-five of that there New Therapy all’s buzzing about—what? Oh no problem. You are very welcome—and be sure to attend what’s next, but—sorry. No autographs or photos. Not my fault! Bye.

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