Jonathots Daily Blog
(4001)
Sitting Thirteen
Karin ran out of ladylike ways to handle the situation. She wanted to seem intelligent, in control or even demure. But the sight of a young boy walking toward a hand grenade which was capable of tearing his body to shreds, not to mention casting lethal shrapnel in her direction, stirred up all of her jungle instincts.
She ran and tackled Iz and threw him to the ground as the soldier made his way up the embankment to the grenade.
Even though Iz struggled—apparently possessed by some sort of demon of self-destruction—Karin climbed on his back and held him down, as the two lay panting, staring at the stumbling soldier like two chums on their bellies in front of a movie screen.
When Minioz came within two meters of the grenade, he paused, chin rubbing, head scratching, hands on hips, with loud cursing. He then gently tiptoed a centimeter at a time, closer and closer. Then, in one lightning-fast motion, he picked it up and held it in his hand.
Karin braced herself, ready for the impact of explosion.
Nothing.
The absence of nothing.
A perturbing, chilling silence.
Minioz looked around at the desert like a man discovering treasure, wondering if others passing by had seen. He was grateful.
Then he fell to his knees and started digging a hole. The sand was loose and light, and in no time at all, a two-meter chasm was unearthed. He dropped the dud inside and used his arms to quickly spread the sand over the top.
In the meantime, Karin had gradually climbed off Iz as the boy calmed, gaining sensibility. She flipped him over on his back, pinned his arms and shouted into his face, “Iz, what in the hell were you thinking?”
He stared at her—no, beyond her—and replied, “It just seemed like the time for us to die.”
Before Karin could respond, the sergeant, having completed his burial detail, suddenly stood and ran down the hill toward his jeep. Karin quickly pulled Iz to his feet. “Listen, I need to catch a ride with him. I will be back. Do you understand me? I am coming back. You must promise me…”
She stopped. What did she want to say? What was he supposed to promise? The young fellow was obviously damaged and needed some help. His friend was on a lark and didn’t realize the serious nature of his buddy’s situation. So what promise could Iz keep?
In the midst of her deliberation, Iz pointed and said, “Lady, look.”
Karin quickly glanced down the hill as the soldier leaped into his jeep, frantically started the engine, put it in gear, whirled it around and took off.
Karin just shook her head and said, “Wow.”
“I guess you’re stuck here with us,” Iz said.
Karin collapsed back onto the sand, half in exhaustion and half exasperation. She said, “My mother told me never to date soldiers. She said everything they have is a weapon, and unfortunately, they’re still in training.”
Pal walked up and looked down at the defeated reporter. “I guess we don’t have a grenade anymore,” he said.
Iz shook his head and intoned, “That’s not good.”
Karin looked at the two boys, who had obviously separated the little bit of sense they once had from the reality they now knew.
They didn’t understand.
No one understood.
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Jonathots Daily Blog 
Sit Down Comedy …March 29th, 2019
Jonathots Daily Blog
(3999)
I, too, have no collusion with rushin’.
Slow down
That’s what I say.
Slow-cooked chicken. Give the bird a chance to reflect on its journey before you dip it in the gravy.
I like the slow lane on the freeway, just in case, on a whim, I decide to exit.
I’m the guy you honk at because I’m going the speed limit
And for some goddamn reason this has ruined your life.
I had to quit football because there was running. I loved the blocking. I loved the tackling. Looked pretty good in the uniform. I could not convince my coach that running was unnecessary. He explained that the other team would have people carrying the ball, and we must chase them, and stop them. I suggested we surround them and move in slowly for the kill. He didn’t agree.
I was at a department store yesterday, entering the door, when two ladies in front of us stopped to chat with a friend. It blocked the entrance. I was happy. For a few moments I didn’t have to move.
The lady right in front of me, turned and peered at me, hoping to get support for how stupid it was for these two women to be talking to another human, blocking her progress. She move her cart around them, but there was no room. Finally the two women who were having the delightful conversation realized they were being assaulted from the rear and stepped aside.
The lady zoomed by, disgusted.
She’s fast.
I’m not. All my turtles win by a “hare.”
So you can imagine how ill-suited I am for a season in which how speedily things are accomplished is more important than the quality of what is produced. I dare to say that’s the entire problem in our nation.
We have the evangelical church, which is racing around looking for signs of Armageddon and the Second Coming of Christ, while young people are testing the temperature and depth of the oceans, convinced we’re all in hot water, preparing to cook like lobsters.
Here I am, slowing down
We have picked our past four Presidents because they were like fast cars and we were acting like teenagers.
Bill Clinton was not ready to be President. He and his wife had not yet made their peace about his flirtations and womanizing.
George W. Bush should never have been President. We should have put him in charge of CIA Black Ops, and he could have murdered Saddam Hussein, which would have saved tens of thousands of lives and about a trillion dollars.
Barack Obama was also ill-prepared for the transition. Although a pleasant man, he did not understand the futility that had to be overcome to lead the country and fell victim to cunning minds.
And Donald Trump was doing extraordinarily well working with buildings and an “Apprentice” here and there, without being given a job which cannot always be negotiated through “The Art of the Deal.”
It was all too fast
And because of that, we are in the midst of an ongoing “clean-up on Aisle 3,” with mistakes being made which don’t seem to mop up.
So not being in a hurry to give my opinion, and allowing myself a space of time to think, I will tell you…
(to be continued)
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on March 29, 2019 at 8:22 pm Leave a CommentTags: Armageddon, Barack Obama, Bill Clinton, black ops, blocking, CIA, climate change, collusion, Donald Trump, evangelical church, football, freeway, George W. Bush, hare, honking, lobster, President, running, Russian, Saddam Hussein, second coming of Christ, slow down, social commentary, speed limit, tackling, The Apprentice, The Art of the Deal, turtle