(4109)
1. Give the lips some space and time to get acquainted—even if they are old friends.
2. Don’t rush in with the hands. Allow the lips, mouth and tongue a chance to do their best work.
3. Stop kissing for a few moments and look in your lover’s eyes, to find even greater inspiration.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4108)
art by smarrttie pants
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation for this inspirational opportunity
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4107)
It is my belief that all the people of the United States owe a brief moment of gratitude to President Donald Trump, for he spared us another administration of Hillary and Bill Clinton. When they were in the White House, they brought disgrace, confusion, deception and a certain brand of conceit that has troubled us for years.
It was a smart move.
In that moment, it seemed a prudent way to avoid many of the mistakes that were made by the Arkansas couple the first time they were bequeathed the honor of occupying the nation’s house at Pennsylvania Avenue.
We have all been novices. We immediately had to accept two important factors:
The novice we elected took a profile of already knowing instead of studying up for the job. The end result is that errors were made, and rather than correcting those mistakes, smoke screens were sent out to disguise the mishaps, and attempts were made to rally “we, the people” behind nasty causes.
That is why I tell you that the X word that should never be spoken or written again is:
It is a prejudice against people from other countries, but also other lifestyles. It is fostered because of insecurity.
For instance, there isn’t a black person in this country who isn’t a little nervous around the white folks who have caused him or her problems.
There isn’t a Native American who can’t point to mistreatment of his tribe by the immigrants who came from other lands.
Nor is there a Japanese American who is unaware that at one time, his great-grandfather or great-grandmother were put into an internment camp.
The Chinese Americans recall the history of how they were mistreated in the West during the great expansion of the nineteenth century.
And also, every white person in this country is a little sensitive about being cast into the role of the villain on all issues of race.
Somewhere deep in our soul is the desire to be kind and tenderhearted, but a fear of one another manifests as a hatred of each other. So when the drums of prejudice start beating, the accusations start flying, the bullets pierce black flesh at white hands, and the nation seems to look on those south of the border as trash, it is time for our leaders to calm us.
They should teach us to appreciate one another. Give us a chance to get used to skin colors and lifestyles, and acclimate to our neighbors. After all, we have an absolutely magnificent country in which to do it.
Shame on the Democratic Party for presenting Hillary Clinton with a side of her husband, Bill, as warmed-over hash.
And shame on the Republicans for failing to take their candidate and place him in adequate restraints for learning and growing into the job of President.
This will not be solved with a political solution. This will require the simplicity of neighbors chatting with each other and gradually coming to a national common sense that acknowledges that even though we are nervous—at times terrified—of the person standing next to us, America is still the best spot to be, this side of heaven.
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No one likes to be preached at.
We all hate “lecture mode.”
And certainly, no human being is going to tolerate receiving a “yelling.”
Since this is true, we must be careful to put ourselves in a position where we don’t have to hear preaching, can avoid the lecture and can escape being scolded.
There were at least fifteen people in front of me. As I got closer, I noticed that the interactions between the customers and the representative behind the desk were very tempestuous. Everyone was arriving pissed, and the young gentleman who had the job of hearing the complaints was losing his cool and becoming obnoxious. When there were four people in front of me, I started listening carefully to the exchanges. I wanted to know what was making this young man so cantankerous. It didn’t take long.
There were three things he wanted, which no one seemed able to provide, and he was explaining that because they didn’t have this information, he would be incapable of assisting them.
1. Do you have a receipt?
2. What is your reason for returning the item?
3. Since we can’t take it off your debit card, will you accept store credit for your purchase?
As I got closer and closer to my opportunity to interact with this human, I learned the appropriate answers:
Yes, I have a receipt.
Secondly, it was a gift and I don’t really want it.
And third, I would be willing to accept store credit—unless I can have cash.
By the time it was my turn to face the inquisition, he looked at me with wary eyes and asked his questions. I answered all three, already knowing what to say, what tone to use, and how it was best not to overexplain.
I was out of there in less than two minutes—and he even made an exception by refunding cash to me instead of store credit. As I walked away, the person behind me remarked:
I looked at the gentleman and replied, “No, he’s my teacher, and he taught me everything I needed to know.”
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4105)
All at once, Karin was chilled by a startling realization. She considered herself to be an intelligent, astute, and even clever discerner of human emotions, especially being able to separate the false from the true, with some regularity. Now she found herself completely overwhelmed by the common sense of two twelve-year-old boys, whose argument not only left her perplexed, but nearly breathless with its sincerity.
Was she going crazy? Had she spent too much time in the desert with these two youngsters? Or perhaps it was just her own internal questioning about the hypocrisy of the society surrounding her, surfacing and finding voice in the two adolescent rabble-rousers.
But there was no doubt about it—Karin Koulyea, newspaper woman extraordinaire, was stymied. She realized that Iz and Pal could not be coaxed back to their former lives through the presentation of treats or the sum token of receiving a little more freedom.
She took a deep breath and then growled at them with the most gravitas she could muster. “You see, here’s the problem. They are grown-ups. They have earned the right to be stupid. The years that have passed, that have grayed their hair, have also given them the privilege to do stupid things. I’m not telling you I agree, but I am telling you that nobody cares what my opinion may be on the matter. Guys, they don’t have to make sense. Of course hate is stupid! But hate is what they always do when they run out of ideas. And if you ask me, government is what people do when they feel they’ve lost control. If you’ll just hear me for a second, I, Karin, your friend, am just telling you that they are not going to let you continue to be your own little country out here in the sand.”
Iz interrupted. “I suppose you’re talking about the rally.”
Karin was taken aback. “Iz, how did you find out about the rally?”
He just shook his head. “They wrap some of our food in newspaper, so as we sit and eat the cheese and bread, we read the local news. We understand that next Thursday, they plan on coming out here and taking us away.”
Karin sat for a moment. Pal started to speak but Iz reached over and put a hand on his leg, encouraging his silence.
Finally Karin asked, “So what are you going to do?”
Iz lifted his hand, motioning toward Pal, giving him the moment. “You just don’t get it, lady. What do you mean, ‘what are we gonna do?’ We’re gonna stay. They’re the ones who are going to cause trouble. So as long as we don’t fight, they’ll end up looking like the troublers.”
Iz interrupted, “And we will end up looking like the heroes.” The two boys exchanged a high five.
Karin didn’t know what she felt about their statements. There was an optimism that might have a grain or two of truth, but deep in her heart, she was aware that the staunch purveyors of religion and culture would never be satisfied without dominating.
She reached out and took each boy by the hand. “They won’t let you be what you want to be—mainly because they all want to be something else but have convinced themselves that their God is mad at anyone who is truly happy.”
There was a moment of stillness, almost resembling understanding. Suddenly, Iz crawled away on all fours, across the desert sand, stumbling to his feet, and walked a few paces away. Turning, he said, with tears in his voice, “What good is it if we start something out here and don’t finish it? How are we any different from them? They make peace treaties, and the first time it becomes hard to follow, they drop it. They make promises to love and care, and then they just forget.” He stepped toward Karin. “We will not forget. And we will never give up.”
Karin struggled to her feet, stood and pointed at Iz. “Yes, you will. Because they will make you give up. They will defeat you and humiliate you and make you seem even younger and smaller than you really are.”
Karin turned to include Pal in her words. “Maybe when you’re men someday, you can change the world. But nobody changes the world with a child’s hand.”
Pal leaped to his feet and pointed to Iz and back to himself. “Doesn’t the Bible say, ‘a little child shall lead them?’” he asked defiantly.
“The Bible says a helluva lot of things,” Karin scoffed, “but the Bible always gets shouted down by folks with money and power.”
The three stood in the desert, exchanging glances. Slowly, Iz stepped over and sat back down. He looked off in the distance as if speaking to the universe. “I don’t care about that. We have a plan.”
He quickly glanced over at Pal, who widened his eye sockets to well back the tears. Pal nodded and added, “Yes. A plan.”
Karin pivoted and turned to them, a little bit shaken by their tone of voice. “Well, come on. You can tell me what the plan is.”
As if on cue, Iz and Pal stood and began to kick the soccer ball back and forth, running in circles around Karin, bouncing the ball against her legs, off her hips and then, her head, closing in nearer and nearer to her.
“Quit it!” she screamed, angry and frightened. But they didn’t. They kept kicking the ball, dancing in a circle around her. She stumbled, nearly falling, and tried to push back at them, but they kept kicking the ball, encircling her. They were laughing.
“All right, you little jerks!” she screamed. “I’m out of here!”
Gaining her balance, she rushed past them and stomped away, but as she left, she turned and said, “This doesn’t change anything. You can chase me away, but you can’t chase the goddamn world away.”
The two boys continued their kicking and playing, ignoring her words. When they were sure that she was far down the hill and would not return, Iz stopped, wiping the sweat from his brow. He turned to Pal, panting, and said, “She’s just like all the rest. She doesn’t understand. No one understands.”
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4104)
A. Turn the Milky Way into the Snickers Galaxy
B. Make badminton crazy popular
C. Create smaller planets out of see-through farts
D. Get married and have “little angels”
E. Cure those damn sunspots
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4103)
Paralyzed by the immobility of a weary exasperation, I pause, waiting for the Senate of Sitters, the House of Misrepresentation, the President of Whim and the Court of Supreme Confusion to hatch a single egg of an idea from their coop of chickens.
I would suggest that it’s time for each of us to step up and become the solution before we are drug into the quicksand of indecision and suffocated by lameness.
So therefore, may I suggest the following mission statement:
A lways
B elieving in the persistent power of goodness
C oncerned
D eeply in our portion of the responsibility of carrying the banner of possibility, we
E ffectively craft a plan of action which has historical awareness, future vision and a great sensitivity to the present need.
F inding reasons to agree, similarities among us all
G iving us a common joy which beckons an uncommon strength to tackle our problems, while
H aving respect for one another and reverence for great ideals,
I join with you to form US, which is the “we, the people” who are in pursuit of a more perfect union.
J ustice is our mind, creativity our heart and mercy our soul.
K indly we enjoin.
L osing the fickle identity of political parties, we
M ingle.
N aturally becoming the melting pot of cultures that we have advertised ourselves to be,
O ur hope is an equality that lends itself to equity—
P ure of heart, to find the divine within us.
Q uiet in ignorance,
R allying toward learning who we are together, we
S urvive to expand what we know without shame over our lacking, for
T ruth is submission to the next well-proven revelation. We
U nite with each other in our hunger and thirst for what is better. Indeed,
V ictory is sweeter when celebrated by all, and
W inning, more peaceful when there are fewer losers.
X marks the spot where there is an atmosphere wherein
Y ou and I, once and for all, are able to look one another in the eye without fear or prejudice—to go out every single day and be:
Z ealously affected by a good thing.
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 | Steve Kimbrell on Drawing Attention … July… |
 | Maxine Mantooth on Drawing Attention … July… |
 | Jonathan Richard Cri… on Cracked 5 … June 29th,… |
| Jonathan Richard Cri… on 1 Thing You Can Do to Ensure T… |
 | edna jackson on Jesonian … January 27th,… |
| Jonathan Richard Cri… on Drawing Attention … June… |
| Steve kimbrell on 1 Thing You Can Do This Week t… |
 | jassoncring on Cracked 5 … June 22nd,… |
| Jonathan Richard Cri… on Drawing Attention … June… |
 | andseeallthepeople@g… on The T Word … June 18th,… |
A voice writing in the wilderness
