Jonathots Daily Blog
(4049)
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4048)
I am so roly-poly with the creative juices of exhilarated existence that I can no longer sip on the drip provided by a religious system which offers me exercises in worship, while robbing me of my strength, leaving me anemic and weak.
Likewise, I am plump with purpose, and can no longer sit around with the abstract questioning of politicians who only pursue the trap and the snare rather than allowing themselves to use their position to reconfigure the world.
I am chubby with mercy and will not constrain myself to go on a diet of selfish, judgmental decisions against those who are created in the image of the one I say is my Father.
Yes, I find myself obese with the humility that chokes the heartless part of me that would pridefully believe I can follow some sort of continuing, narrowing path, and never find my steps to those in need.
I am rotund with capital. Yes, money sufficient to care for my own self, and still coins and dollars left over for those the Spirit of God might bring across the pathway of my humanity.
I am too fat with abundant life to ever starve again on the leftovers provided by those who fear death so much that they can’t live.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4041)
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation for this inspirational opportunity
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4046)
art by smarrttie pants
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation for this inspirational opportunity
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4045)
There are times that it seems the human race is determined to come up with sneakier, or perhaps less offensive, ways to attack one another. Especially interesting is the way we acquire terms which separate us and allow each individual to feel superior to another without it coming across as bigoted.
This is why I tell you:
There is no circumstance where the word “odd” is positive.
If we’re attempting to be positive, we use the word “different”—but we all know even the word “different” can be the curse of death. None of us want to be that different. We want to be normal—and have as few people in our club as possible.
Odd is purposely setting someone to the side because you have determined that they are just not a good fit. Odd is what civilized people say to avoid the word “queer.” Odd is what bigoted folks proclaim so they don’t have to use racial epithets.
For instance, it’s the assertion that there actually is “a black thing, a white preference, a male predilection or a female intuition.”
Once we can establish that something is odd, we no longer need to deal with it, because ironically the word “odd” rhymes with “God,” and places us in the position to do His work by deciding who are the heads and who are the tails.
Odd has a three-step process:
Although we may insist that we can point out an oddity without judging its equality, the fact is, any time we assume that the actions of another person are unique, in no time at all we will view them as errant.
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If you don’t do this, your daily difficulties will line up, each insisting it is more important than the other. Pretty soon, all you’ll be able to hear are your problems screaming for attention.
I like to use the number system, starting with 5 and going down to 1. Let me show you:
5 is a situation that requires immediate attention.
4 is one that can be set aside for the afternoon.
3 can wait until tomorrow
2 is in no big rush—seems to be no hurry
1 is one of those bugaboos that might just work itself out without your interference
If you don’t assign numbers to your trials, they will all start seeming to be “1’s,” until suddenly you fear them as “5’s.”
There you go—that’s it.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(4043)
Karin was perturbed at herself—“perturbed” being the most civilized word she could come up with after rejecting some more colorful choices.
It seemed she had totally lost perspective. No, that diagnosis was much too clinical. She had just downright screwed up. Plainly, she had let sentiment take over her better judgment.
There was nothing wrong with being sentimental—as long as the work you set out to do gets done, the children are safe in their beds, the fire is lit and all the cows are in the barn. (She had no idea whatsoever why she had chosen such a rural metaphor. She was trying to be completely practical, and nothing seemed more “earthy” than a farm.)
After all the excruciating activity of the day, it turned out that she had not improved the situation whatsoever. Arrogantly, she had tried to solve all the world’s problems. She was aware that this was not her job—her actual job was two-fold: to keep from being a problem to the planet and try to keep all the crazies around her from doing outrageous things.
She considered—if each person with a lick of sense would just try to stay out of trouble and take a few moments to care for friends who couldn’t make things work, well, to quote the old song, “what a lovely world this would be.”
But she had not helped two boys stop their insanity. She had made it worse. After all, before she came on the scene, they were two young dudes out in the desert, chomping on food and giggling. Sure, they had a hand grenade—but they didn’t know how to use it. No, she was the one who provided that information to them. She brought the soldier. She caused the conflict. And she got those two friends spitting mad at each other.
Karin realized that she could work a lifetime and not tally such a disaster again. Yet she had done it in a single afternoon—not to mention losing the respect of her editor.
What perturbed her most of all was that she could not figure out why she had acted so “girlie.” She had been trained better and had certainly learned better. Frankly, she had never bought into the lingo of the day, which claimed that men and women were hopelessly non-communicating misanthropes. If men were from Mars and women were from Venus, why couldn’t they just build spaceships and travel to this good ole’ Earth and live together as humans?
The whole thing was rather ridiculous. But—and a very important “but” it was—she needed to do something. Her soul and conscience refused to stay out of the affair. It was frightening, considering this was how she got into trouble in the first place. Yet Karin Koulyea had a heart to be part of the solution instead of remaining a jagged edge of the problem.
So she pondered—a rather exhausting task after completing such introspection.
Then she remembered what the editor said. He was going to make some calls. Well, she knew how to use a phone. And God knows she would be safer in her apartment contacting people instead of in the desert, threatening to blow up little boys.
She opened up a book she had never used before:
The local Yellow Pages.
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 | Steve Kimbrell on Sit Down Comedy … May 17… |
 | Maxine Mantooth on Drawing Attention … May… |
| Maxine Mantooth on Drawing Attention … Apri… |
| publicist.kimbrell@g… on The J Word … April 9th,… |
 | Jonathan Richard Cri… on Cracked 5 … March 30th,… |
 | andseeallthepeople@g… on Cracked 5 … March 30th,… |
| Anonymous on Drawing Attention … Marc… |
| Anonymous on Drawing Attention … Marc… |
| Anonymous on The F Word … March 12th,… |
| Anonymous on Drawing Attention … Marc… |
A voice writing in the wilderness
