Jonathots Daily Blog
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That Can Be Learned by Reading the Story of Joseph from Genesis, Chapters 37 – 50
1. The ever-present danger of pride impersonating confidence
2. The necessity of perseverance instead of drowning in self-pity
Drawing Attention … April 22nd, 2020
Jonathots Daily Blog
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American Odds
(tap the picture to see the video)
art by Clazzy
Music: Movement 324 and A Chilling
from the Symphony, Ingathering by Jonathan Richard Cring
Scrambles … April 21st, 2020
Jonathots Daily Blog
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Take a few minutes and unscramble this week’s inspirational thought from the words provided:
problem
opinions
eliminate
the
you
with
can
When
deal
the
you
all
P. S. Find the unscrambled answer in today’s jonathotsjr.com
1 Thing the American People Should Not Be Permitted to Do
Vote for the President
The employees at Wal-mart don’t choose the CEO.
College students don’t cast ballots to pick the president of the university.
Why? Because they’re not qualified.
The job requires a specific set of skills and should not be a popularity contest.
The same is true with the Presidency of the United States.
We can involve the American people in a dozen ways, but when it comes down to selecting the individual to run our nation and bring together the three branches of the government, it should be a decision based on merit, not might.
Just consider the two candidates we have this year:
- One is a real estate developer who’s built up a formidable following, maintaining his present status
- The other is an aging politician whose skills are obviously diminished, who is worthy of honor but not necessarily prepared to chair the most important job in the world.
This present virus has shown us that there are governors, mayors, doctors and nurses all over America who have picked up the cross and carried it for the national leadership.
I have no feelings of anger toward President Trump or nominee and former Vice-President Joe Biden. But I do think one is unqualified and the other is over the hill—and that America can do better.
The system needs to be revised.
First, I believe we should have a President from one party and a Vice-President from another party.
Every four or eight years, that should switch.
There should not be majorities in either house of Congress. If bills are going to be passed, we need to institute interaction among the members.
And the President and Vice-President should both be selected rather than voted in. The system can still remain democratic and include the populace in some phase of the operation. For instance, we could boil it down to four applicants who are all suitable.
Since no one can be truly vetted and come out clean anyway, we need to stop being concerned with issues of morality, and instead, be more focused on productivity.
Until the United States is able to pick a leader that represents the history, authenticity and significance of our mission on the world stage, we will be stuck with those who can raise enough money and tell enough lies to wrangle the gig.
The American people are good for many things–choosing Presidents is not one of them.
Just look at our history. Not even fifteen percent of those elected into the role are worthy of mention. Some took us to war, some kept us in war and there is a shameful lack of a woman in the roster.
Foolishness. Pride.
That’s what keeps us pursuing the electoral college, embroiled in a two-party system, and allowing the country as a whole to vote for the loudest.
Things I Learned from R. B. (April 19th, 2020)
Jonathots Daily Blog
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Episode 11
The dust never settled.
Although our family spent three inspirational and life-changing years in Shreveport, Louisiana, we were never able to make it the home of our hearts.
It is no disrespect to the town itself. The problem was a combination of inadequacies. The community had pretty well determined by mutual decree to remain the same, and I was out to change the world.
So we bought an old, green van and took off to see America. (That particular journey I will relate at another time, when I am not placing my soul’s attention on R. B.)
The initial stop was Dallas, Texas. Actually, it was the first large city west of Shreveport. While Dollie and the kids worked on our plans for the week, I set out to find the telephone number of an old friend—or at least, I believed he was still an old friend.
This was well before the days of the Internet, so procuring the personal information or location of another human being was not so easy. But after four or five calls, I finally reached Maddie, who had been in the cast of our musical which had traveled across the country.
She told me she had run into R. B. in Dallas and had even shared a dinner with him. She generously gave me his number. When I asked her what he was like now, she offered a one-word pronouncement: “Different.”
So I dialed up the number and immediately the phone was answered by a voice I still recognized.
I told R. B. who I was. He acted as if he was trying to recall and place my name. I was offended—but said nothing.
After a few moments he warmed up and asked to take me out to dinner at a supper club the following evening. Just me—not the entire family, since the establishment served liquor and had scantily clothed female dancers.
I agreed. I showed up the next night in my green van, dressed casually but passable for a Sunday morning church service.
R. B. was late, and when he came in, seemed flustered. He was wearing a navy-blue polyester suit and a checked shirt, with his huge hairdo trimmed about two inches into the fairway.
We procured a table and sat down.
(At this point I wish to change over to a theatrical format so as to make it easier for the reader to follow the story without too many cumbersome clauses. I will add author’s clarifications when necessary.)
R. B.: Have any trouble finding the place?
Me: No. The directions were good.
R. B.: Do you want a cocktail?
Me: No, thanks.
R. B.: Oh, that’s right—you’re against drinking.
Me: No, I’m not against it. I’m just basically a kid and don’t like the taste.
R. B.: Not me. I love a screwdriver. You should try a screwdriver.
Me: What’s it have in it?
R. B.: (looking up to the ceiling as if searching for the answer, then back down) Hell if I know. I never asked. My boss always orders them. I thought it would look good to order what he ordered. Eventually I decided I liked them.
(I nodded my head with little desire to continue this particular conversation.)
R. B.: I know you don’t smoke, either, do you? We just might not have anything to do or talk about. (laughs)
Me: Oh, I think we can come up with something.
R. B.: Let me order for us—I know the menu.
Me: Cool.
(R. B. ordered off the menu, making specific requests which the waiter did not understand, leaving them both confused and in disarray. I eventually determined it was going to be some sort of red meat with potatoes and vegetables.)
R. B.: It’s been a long time.
Me: Well, you know—not really. You’ve been gone from Shreveport about eight months.
R. B.: Well, what brings you to Dallas?
(I proceeded to explain that I had decided to take the family on the road, going from town-to-town, holding meetings and concerts at churches as we journeyed. I also shared that we did not have anything already scheduled but were planning to do it spontaneously when we arrived in each town. The more I talked the more he rolled his eyes, even giggling a couple of times. At length, he interrupted to share his opinion.)
R. B.: Well, if you ask me, it sounds irresponsible. Of course, you’ve never had a problem with that, have you?r
(R. B. looked me squarely in the eyes, and when I stared back, he averted his gaze. At that point, I understood the nature of our evening and the purpose of his invitation. He was determined to establish his success, and my ongoing neediness.)
R. B.: Well, if you’re looking for donations, I’m sorry. I don’t have any money for that. Honestly, I don’t consider it a good investment. Sounds foolhardy.
(I remained silent. If there was going to be an argument, he would have to handle both sides of the conflict. His screwdriver arrived and he drank it down in less than a minute and ordered another. He watched me carefully to see if I would comment on his alcohol consumption. I didn’t. I think he might have been disappointed. Feeling the need to change the subject, I brought up Maddie.)
Me: I got hold of you by talking to Maddie. She said she had dinner with you several months back.
R. B.: I did. And it was pleasant. It’s always nice to see an old-time acquaintance. She’s just so…you know. So small-town. I think she might have been interested in seeing me again while she was in Dallas, but I was all tied up in business.
(I knew he wanted me to ask him about his business, but I also knew that if I did, he would act annoyed over me interfering in his affairs. So I waited.)
R. B.: Business is good. I have finally put my mind to the power of making a dollar. You know, we always sit around and talk about our dreams, but we sometimes fail to understand that wishing for them only makes them run away. All they need is funding. Do the work, make the money and then, address the dreams.
Me: I suppose that’s true.
R. B.: Don’t suppose. It is true. I used to sit around and pray for success. Can I tell you something? Success is not religious. Matter of fact, it makes fun of religious people. I don’t mean any insult to you…
Me: I don’t feel insulted. I don’t feel religious.
R. B.: But you are. You hang around with those people who count how many screwdrivers someone drinks, and probably would not approve of my lifestyle in any way.
Me: Are you making friends?
R. B.: I have a woman. Well, had.
Me: Tell me more.
R. B.: You wouldn’t approve.
Me: Listen, I’m not going to disapprove of anything you say for two reasons. Number one, I have no room to judge, and secondly, when I leave this restaurant, I may never see you again.
(R. B. was a little surprised, and thought about being insulted, but realized there was no intent of being harmful on my part. He lowered his voice to a whisper.)
R. B.: I hired an escort.
Me: An escort?
R. B.: Well, that’s one name for them. A call girl. A prostitute. Do you get the picture?
(I nodded my head, careful not to allow any part of my facial features to flinch with reaction. He continued.)
R. B.: Let me tell you, I just got tired of being a virgin. I had never been with a woman. I kissed for kind of a long period of time when I was in high school—one night on a hayride. But that was it. I don’t like masturbating. It feels nasty to me. I suppose that’s the last part of my Bible training. I got tired of waiting. I got tired of wondering. So I hired an escort.
Me: Do you want to tell me about it?
R. B.: (laughing) It was fucking great! And speaking of that, she—by the way, her name was Krystall. Isn’t that beautiful? She’s from Florence, in Italy. Anyway, she said I was good. I took that as a compliment, since she’s been with a few other men.
(I sat very still. This was R. B.’s story. This was R. B.’s night. He had paid for it. He had probably planned it out in his mind. It was my job to sit, watch and listen, like a ten-year-old the first time he sees an R-rated film. R. B. wanted me shocked—but he did not want me to offer advice.)
R. B.: I was surprised at how quick it was. Krystall told me that was normal. When I watched in movies, it seemed to go on for a while, but…well, anyway. It was so good that I paid to see her again. It’s pretty expensive. After the second time we were together, she explained that she was short on cash and needed some financial assistance. I felt, what the hell? So I gave her an extra five hundred dollars.
Me: That was generous of you.
R. B.: (shaking his head) It felt so good. Not just the sex, but she allowed me to kiss her. She said she doesn’t normally do that. And she lay next to me in the bed for an extra fifteen minutes, even though she was late for an appointment. Dammit, if I didn’t feel like a husband. Or maybe that’s not the word. I’ll tell you one thing—I felt like a man. More like a man than I had ever felt before.
(R. B. paused to order his third screwdriver. I wasn’t counting, but the waiter was reminding him, since the supper club had a policy of limiting the alcohol and prompting the patrons. After a long pause, R. B. spoke again.)
R. B.: I don’t hate God. But I sure the hell hate what He represents. When I was with Krystall, I felt more spiritual than I ever did sitting in church. I know that probably shocks you…
(I decided to change the subject.)
Me: Do you ever think about us?
R. B.: (surprised) Us? What do you mean?
Me: What we’ve been through together. The nights we prayed so we wouldn’t feel like we were the only person screwed up. The songs. The music. The sense of wonder whenever something worked out that shouldn’t have. The silences that left a chill down the spine. Just knowing that something you said or something you gave made someone’s life a little more sensible.
R. B.: Nope. I don’t think about that. Because I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t know why. I’ve just reached a point in my life where I want to earn, and I want to possess. I’m not selfish. I’m just tired of being ignorant in the name of God.
(The meal arrived. It gave us the chance to chew on something other than our feelings. There were passing thoughts—brief memories of times on the road. Then R. B. finally continued.)
R. B.: I almost decided not to come tonight. I thought you might try to talk me out of my choices or criticize my relationships. I don’t want to go without having a woman. I can’t find one who wants to be my wife. Hell, I haven’t met any who wanted to go further than “how do you do?” I don’t want to screw every night, but when I want it, I want it. Just for a while, I’d like to make the decisions instead of trying to find them in a big, black book. Do you condemn me for that?
Me: I wouldn’t even if I could.
(Things went slower after that. Both of us knew we had exhausted what each of us came to do. It was concise, eventually became awkward, and soon was over. After dinner, we went to the lobby, through the door and out into the parking lot. There was a moment when we both knew we should have hugged, but instead, exchanged a clumsy handshake.)
R. B.: Listen, good luck. Don’t bother with my joking about what you’re doing. I hope you’ll be safe.
Me: And to you, too. I wish you well with Krystall.
R. B.: (interrupting) She’s moved away. But it’s a big world.
(I nodded my head. Something we could agree on.)
It is a big world.
Cracked 5 … April 18th, 2020
Jonathots Daily Blog
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Items You May Need to Go Out and Deal with Bull
A. Crap detector
B. Red cape and a clown
C. A bully
D. A bulldozer
E. Seductive pictures of cows – utter porn
Sit Down Comedy … April 17th, 2020
Jonathots Daily Blog
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“Preparing for our new normal…”
It seems to be the catch phrase of the day.
Yet hearing it sprouts questions which ping-pong in my brain.
What if I didn’t care about the old normal?
What if I found it obtuse?
What if the old normal aggravated my emotions with its continual flood of personal attacks?
What if I found myself alienated from a society that was too frightened of aliens?
What if I don’t want to return to what we had?
The braggadocio attitudes of small-minded humans being given platforms to scream their ridiculous claims and espouse horrific prejudices does not seem to be the “normal” where I can be normal.
Life, Mother Nature, science, humanity and God, himself, have granted us a time-out for our incorrigible behavior.
What should we do with it?
You should do what you deem necessary.
Me? I’m going to take a pause from the cause.
There are too many things I believe in that have sharp edges which cut and hurt other humans.
I’ve worked on it for many years, but my blades still extend.
I must take a pause from my cause.
Can I suggest to you that this is a possible alternative to meaningless repetition? For instance:
If you possess a fervent belief in God, at least admit to yourself there are times that atheism seems comforting.
My brothers and sisters who are Republicans may want smaller government and less interference, but keep in mind that the stimulus check still arrived at a sweet moment.
How about you Democrats take a pause from your guilt trip—blaming others of wealth and substance for every evil that has befallen the Earth?
And you, committed to pro-life, standing firm against abortion, must at least pause and consider what you would do if your sixteen-year-old daughter came to you with the results of a drug store pregnancy test, and her only excuse was that she was told “if you drink lots of lemon juice, you can’t get pregnant?”
Yes, God bless America, you patriots, but keep this in mind: your family does not live in a war zone, where the danger of being blown up, ravaged or murdered are a constant threat after your meager dinner is consumed.
Mr. Macho–what do you think it would be like to be pawed at and disrespected all the time, while your abilities were set to the side in deference to discussing your rack?
And my sisters may want to mull how their brothers have to battle testosterone and the urge to be overly aggressive with physical prowess.
Whether it’s black or whether it’s white, take a pause and channel the other color. If it’s yellow or it’s red, consider what it’s like to wear the skin of another.
Those who are heterosexual—do they really believe the gay community is embroiled in perversion, or, just like you and me, in search of a defining love?
Can the rich remember a time, or project in their minds, the anguish involved in being short on the rent?
And can the poor man and woman understand that not all money is inherited? Some of the green stuff is procured by “greening” a great idea–and patiently working it as it grows.
I am not ready to find a new normal.
And I am certainly unwilling to return to the old.
For before this virus, we had grown much too cynical and selfish, welcoming back into our hearts latent racism, causing us to be pious about our own ignorance.
I shall take a pause from my cause…to study my flaws.
Jonathots Daily Blog 
