Iz and Pal (Bedouin Buddies)


Iz and Pal

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3994)

Sitting Twelve

A comedy of horrors, worst fears realized—for a bedraggled, sweaty soldier huffed and puffed his way to the top of the hill, screaming, frustrated and completely aggravated by the role of bully, which had been thrust upon him by two thieving, punk hoodlums.

A young Arab boy, gasping for his next breath, too frightened to move from the clawing hands of his attacker, the great Behemoth of military strength.

A seasoned female reporter, jaded by the world around her, reduced to becoming a screeching tearful lass in distress at the prospect of the mayhem unfolding before her eyes.

And then there was the young Jewish boy, sitting quietly, overly calm, holding a hand grenade and heaving huge sighs as tears careened down his cheeks.

The scene was an active one, filled with danger, yet unnervingly still, poised in the moment, as the great fear of all those concerned had now become reality.

The soldier, focusing in on Pal, pulled on his leg, yanking him down the hill as the boy pleaded in the many languages of his culture.

Meanwhile, Karin was punching the arm of the enraged soldier, shouting obscenities and trying to trip him with her legs.

Iz remained quiet. But then, all at once, he commanded, “Stop!”

It wasn’t that his voice was powerful and loud. He was standing on his feet, holding the hand grenade in his outstretched hands, his finger fiddling with the pin. Yet the soldier only delayed for a moment—then scoffed and continued pulling Pal down the hill.

Iz seemed peaceful, wide-eyed and aware when he squeezed the pin and pulled it from the fuse.

Everything halted.

Karin ran the few short feet to Iz as the soldier scrambled up the hill and grabbed the grenade from his hand. Iz remained like a statue—immovable. The sergeant, though well-trained, was petrified and froze.

Karin squalled, “Do something!”

Hearing those words, all of the training that Minioz had received kicked into gear. He wielded back and with the brute force granted only to a soul energized by adrenalin, he hurled the grenade across the desert, as everyone leaped to the sand.

That is, everyone but Iz. The young boy stood and watched as the grenade flew through the air and bounced on the sand about thirty meters away.

Everyone waited. Everyone held a collective breath. And then, everyone was bewildered.

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

Very gradually, each of them got up from the ground, staring in the distance at the tiny object lying on the sand, which for some reason, had failed to deliver its big bang.

“What happened?” whispered Karin.

Minioz wiped some sweat from his face. “A dud. Or maybe a fooler.”

Pal wiggled his way over to Iz’s side. “What’s a fooler?” he asked.

Minioz shook his head. “Sometimes they pretend not to work until you go over and try to move them again, and then they blow up in your face.”

All the gathered souls at the desert encampment paused for a moment and thought about the statement offered by the sergeant, each conjuring a horrifying word picture.

Iz finally spoke. “I told you to leave us alone.”

He possessed an unsettling tone—icy and cold, his pain seemingly buried deep inside. He walked toward the failed grenade.

Karin looked at Minioz, expecting him to do something. “Stop him!” she ordered.

The soldier just shook his head. “As I remember it,” he replied, “the one who throws it goes and gets it.”

Pal leaped to his feet and called his friend’s name. “Iz! Iz! Iz!”

Karin gained her feet and jogged toward the determined young man. The soldier rolled his eyes and simply said, “Oh, hell.”

He caught up and grabbed Karin’s arm. “I don’t want to be here when they pick up the bodies of a boy and a woman and ask me why I didn’t do something. I will get it. But in case you didn’t know, I really, really hate you.”

Minioz craned his neck and concluded, “You just make sure that crazy boy there stays out of the way.”


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Cracked 5 … March 23rd, 2019

 


Jonathots Daily Blog

(3993)

Cracked 5

Signs Spring Has Sprung

A.  Warmer weather thaws out the dog turds

 

B.  Nature is humping all around you

 

C.  Companies try desperately to make Easter non-religious

 

D.  Pants too warm, shorts too cold

 

E.  Spring cleaning is exposed as a farce

Cracked 5 Easter Bunny

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Sit Down Comedy …March 22nd, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3992)


I bought a loaf of bread. I didn’t eat it all.

So on the eighth or ninth day, I visited the cupboard to see if I could get another slice of life and discovered that the bread had been overtaken by mold.

I paused.

I considered removing the wrapper, cutting the mold off and eating the rest, but the mold also came with a smell—actually, similar to beer. So reluctantly—maybe even a little aggravated—I took my last five or six slices, now moldy, and tossed them into the garbage.

I was a little surprised how fussy I was about it. I don’t know if I just had my heart set on a sandwich or if I felt cheated because my bread gave up.

But I knew this: mold does not get better. I couldn’t do some “treatment” to my bread and return the next day and find it unmoldy. Once mold arrives it takes over. Quite aggressive. And it isn’t pretty—grayish-green with little hairy arms.

It’s a nasty substance and it turns bread into shit. (You can hear by my words that I was really put off.)

Welcome to America.

I’ve heard us called “the breadbasket of the world.” I was told as a youngster that our farmlands could feed the nations. Not much talk about that of late—nowadays farmers are trying to survive and make their beans and corn cover their budgets. No one trying to feed the four corners.

But we once were the breadbasket. Then one day, we reached into our souls, our mind, our heart and into our principles and pulled out moldy bread. Really bad mold.

And as I told you earlier, mold doesn’t get better. You can’t reform mold. You can’t try to find a way to accept it and develop a taste for it. You have to throw the whole damn thing out.

That’s unfortunate. It’s unfortunate but it’s necessary.

Truth is, one apple does not spoil the whole bushel—but one little piece of mold does spoil the whole loaf, because the climate necessary to breed that mold permeates all the way to the crust.

Likewise, the insolence, selfishness and meanness that have brought about the present American way of dealing with each other has spoiled many of the treasures we used to hold dear.

Some things have just got to be thrown out. There isn’t a choice. It’s because the mold has taken over the “bread of life” in America and the mold is a simple poison. Here it is:

  • “My ideas are more important than you.”
  • “My faith is more valuable than your freedom.”
  • “My politics are divinely inspired, while yours are evil.”
  • “My lifestyle is superior.”
  • “Even my dog is more human than any of you.”

And,

  • “I and those who came out of my orgasm of procreation are much higher in quality, and it’s difficult to tolerate you anymore.”

There’s the mold. It’s gotta go.

You can try to save some of the stuff, but the arguing that we call politics has to be thrown in the trash, even if we lose some “debate.”

The beliefs we call religion have to be dumped even if we ignore a verse or two of holy writ.

And the definition of family needs to expand to include everybody twenty-five thousand miles in any direction throughout the entire Earth.

If we don’t do this, we’re going to start believing that the worst parts of the bread can be cut off, and the rest will be just fine, even though it tastes a little pukey.

We are permeated with the mold of those who are too old, too bold and too cold. Some things must be thrown away.

I, for one, am going to go into my cabinet, where I keep my soul, and start clearing out the nastiness. Anything that makes me believe that I’m better than you, or that my ideas are more God-like, or that my politics have the touch of grace while yours are imbedded with the sinister, will be dumped into the trash.

Buy fresh bread. Don’t get more than you need.

Matter of fact, start thinking of it this way:

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

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3 Things … March 21st, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3991)

3 things to improve your life

That Will Try to Rob Your Potential

 

  1. Needing too much praise too soon and too often

  1. Locking your brain in on one idea

  1. Expecting other people to be as passionate as you are

   

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Drawing Attention … March 20th, 2019

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3990)

Genesis

(tap the picture to see the video)

art by smarrttie pants


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Published in: on March 20, 2019 at 10:09 pm  Comments (1)  
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The G Word … March 19th, 2019

THE

Image result for gif of letter g

WORD


The G word is God

It is definitely a word that needs great clarification before it’s spoken in a room occupied with human beings. After all, I don’t know whether you’re talking about the one who blesses, or damns.

I don’t know what intention you have in referencing the Almighty. The name of God has been used to foster genderism, racism and nationalism, not to mention rape, war and murder.

It’s just too easy.

The Great Fix: when in doubt, mention God.

Your political campaign circling the toilet? Make some reference to your faith and how you feel God has called you to pursue government position.

Get caught abusing young boys and girls? Explain that your work for God left you desolate of the fortitude to withstand your own temptations.

Is this a God that blows up buildings, or a God who laments the loss of the unicorn?

Is this G-O-D you’re tossing in my direction a blanket of comfort or a hand grenade to blow up my dreams?

We can no longer allow people to utter the word “God” in parlor conversation, and then turn around on a whim and assign all sorts of duties, actions and even atrocities to Him.

I would much rather hear you explain what your faith is going to do than have you hand me a book of text verifying how old and sacred your belief truly is.

“God” is a word we need to stop using—unless we’re prepared to back it up with a life that honors His creation instead of decimating it.

Because even the One who was proclaimed to be the Savior of the World said to beware those who come crying, “Lord, Lord”–but know nothing about the Heavenly Heart.


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1 Thing You Can Do This Week to Chase Your Fear Away


Speak it out loud

Fears prefer silence.

Fears love to hide out and pretend they don’t exist.

Fears love to control our internal hope and choke out the faith we require.

Just speak it out loud.

You will be astounded how many people share the same apprehensions that you do. You will be equally amazed at how many allies you rally to your side simply by making it clear that the fear that once ruled you is now being exposed and “ratted out.”

Some fabulous things happen:

First, hearing your fear actually builds your faith because faith comes by hearing. It is the silent terror inside us that keeps us from believing.

Secondly, there is the fear that inhabits us and the fear that controls us. Once fear is brought to the forefront, it may hang around for a while, but it no longer has the key to your choices.

And finally, without sharing your fear, you never really have fellowship with anyone else—because simply trying to disguise your nervous energy prevents you from offering your true heart. And because you are never known, you cannot truly know.

It’s up to you–but if you’d like to chase your fear away, speak it aloud.

It’s always beneficial for a fresh cleansing of your soul, and many times a good hearty laugh.


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