Randall Caron and Landy Loren were Matthew’s partners in S.E.E.D.S.
Randall was Matthew’s junior, a gentleman in his thirties–skinny, with the energy level of a mosquito, and the greed to match. Matthew always lamented that Randall seemed to lack sufficient conscience to balance his ego. But it was hard to argue with his productivity and the ruthlessness he employed to plump the bottom line.
Landy was a woman in her forties, which she coyly referred to as “fortyish.” She was short and pudgy enough to disguise a fading attractiveness which had once dazzled young men and now left the same suitors satisfied with conversation.
The three partners met every morning at 9:30 to discuss upcoming projects and share a cheese Danish, an English muffin and an Irish coffee—a personal nod to continental cuisine.
On this morning, Matthew wasted no time, feeling idle chatter should not trump a two hundred and fifty million dollar proposal.
“I got a call.”
“And…?” said Randall, with a crumb or two of muffin creeping out the corner of his lips.
“It was a lawyer,” Matthew continued.
“Uh-oh,” inserted Landy.
Matthew interrupted. “No. A good lawyer, if such is possible.”
“A good lawyer?” questioned Randall. “What would that be?”
“Good in the sense of. . . well, good in the sense of money.”
“A lawyer offering money instead of demanding payment?” questioned Landy.
“Freak show, huh?” Matthew smiled.
“Where did you ever get that saying, ‘freak show’?” Randall asked, irritated.
“College.”
“Well, it’s weird,” said Randall. “Kind of gives me the willies.”
“The willies?” Matthew chuckled. “Now, that’s weird.”
“Sorry–works for me,” Randall responded.
“Anyway,” continued Matthew. “It seems that old man Harts—you know, the billionaire that died a couple of weeks ago?—left two hundred and fifty million dollars for some advertising agency…”
Randall almost spilled his Irish coffee on his gray gabardine slacks. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“What do you mean? Who? You mean us?” Landy could not contain her excitement.
“Maybe…” Matthew said tentatively.
“Maybe?” Randall leaped to his feet. “I’d do anything for two hundred and fifty million dollars.”
“Sit down. Now, tell me what you’re talking about,” Landy demanded.
Matthew leaned back in his chair and dropped the remaining portion of a Danish into his mouth. “Here’s the catch,” he said as he brushed his hands to dispel morsels of sticky crumbs.
“There’s always a goddam catch,” said Randall, sitting back down.
“For two hundred and fifty million dollars I might put up with a hundred catches,” said Landy.
“The old fart wants some agency to take two hundred and fifty million dollars to promote—are you ready for this?”
“Stop stalling and tell us,” interrupted Randall.
“…to make Jesus popular again.”
“What?” Landy gasped.
“Popular with who, or is it whom?” asked Randall.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I guess popular with everybody,” said Matthew.
There was a sudden stillness—not reverential, but more a stomach-aching quiet that ensues upon seeing two hundred and fifty million dollars tumble into a bottomless cavern.
“What a crock.” Randall finally broke the silence.
“Who could do that?” Landy asked.
“You mean make Jesus popular?” Matthew smirked.
“Yeah,” replied Landy. “I mean, Jesus is Jesus, right?”
“Well, there’s our slogan,” said Randall with a grin.
“No, I’m serious,” said Landy. “I mean, if you’re looking at him like a product…you know what I’m saying? There are only certain things you can do with it.”
“New and improved…” ticked Randall.
“Misunderstood and now finally revealed…” added Matthew.
“Under new management,” concluded Landy.
“Okay, I’ll grant you, it’s bonkers,” said Matthew. “But it is two hundred and fifty million dollars.”
“I don’t care if it’s two hundred and fifty billion dollars,” said Randall. “It’s impossible, therefore it’s immoral to take the money.”
“Ahh. Suddenly a man of principle,” said Matthew.
“The main principle I’m interested in is the principle in my bank account,” said Randall. “But…”
“Can we get back to the proposal?” Landy broke in.
“You’re not taking this seriously, are you?” Matthew was shocked.
“I can think of two hundred and fifty million reasons to be very serious,” said Randall.
Matthew got up and walked across the room. “I was just making conversation. I mean, obviously, I told the guy we weren’t interested.”
Randall leaped to his feet. “You what?”
“Without asking us?” Landy challenged.
Matthew sighed. “Come on, guys. It’s ridiculous. You said it. Jesus is Jesus. The product is worn out. I mean, for instance, what could you do with Quaker Oatmeal?”
“Lace it with grass. I don’t really care. For two hundred and fifty million dollars we could at least try,” said Randall. “I mean, someone’s going to get that money. Why not us? We can fail at this just as well as anyone else, and have a few dinners and a new swimming pool at the same time.”
“I want a Lexus LE,” said Landy.
Matthew strolled across the room and sat back down. “Don’t you think it’s kind of creepy—I mean, weird—to take money that you know you’re just spending because the project you’re working on is—well, it’s non-promotable.”
Randall sat down beside him and patted him on the leg. “Maybe not. What do we know? I mean, are we theologians? Why don’t we do this–why don’t we express an interest? Why don’t we ask for, say, a hundred thousand dollars in advance to do a feasibility study?”
Landy crossed the room. “A feasibility study? Go on.”
“Yeah, you know,” said Randall. “Subcontract. Ask for a few ideas. Take some surveys. Who knows? It might be fun.”
“Fun?” asked Matthew flatly. “And you’re not worried about your immortal soul?”
“Hell, I sold that years ago for stock options in Microsoft.” Randall downed the last bit of his Irish coffee and winked.
So it was decided.
Randall called up the lawyer, Mr. Tomlinson, who readily agreed to release a hundred thousand dollars for a study on the feasibility of making Jesus more popular.
Contacts were made for slogans, surveys were passed out to testing groups and a panel of theologians was invited. The date was set a month in the future when all the participants would gather and share their ideas.
Hopefully, divine ideas on how to promote the founder of Christianity.
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity
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