Sit Down Comedy … August 16th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4138)

Can you play the game?

What is the game?

People interaction. Intimacy. Give and take.

The “get-along-ism” of the human prism.

Does it bother you that it’s a game? Shouldn’t it be called a mission, a ministry or an odyssey?

“Love your neighbor.”

A little piece of optimism, don’t you think? Some sort of idealistic drivel promoted by theologians. Generous and compassionate, but in its own way, foolish.

And it would be ridiculous to ask people to “love their neighbor” if that was exactly how the commandment was phrased. But it isn’t.

“Love your neighbor as yourself.“

Actually, it’s a very cynical concept. In other words, since you’re madly infatuated with your own comings and goings and can’t pass by a mirror without glancing into it, might you consider sharing some of that concern with the people in the world around you?

After all, Jesus wasn’t stupid.

Jesus wasn’t hoping we would become angelic while praying that we would avoid devilish. He was merely asking us to play the game. The game is very simple:

Don’t expect anybody to give a rat’s ass about you if you don’t give a rat’s ass about them.

Perhaps not as eloquent as “love your neighbor as yourself,” but nevertheless, a practical paraphrase.

And by the way, be prepared for a five-to-one ratio. In other words, for every five minutes you’re willing to listen to someone else, they will probably return a minute of attention.

If you’re foolish enough to say that’s unfair, then you’ll end up with nothing.

If you decide you don’t give a shit about anyone, that’s fine, but you’ll discover that nobody gives a shit about you, and worse, they’ll probably try to find a way to get back at you because you didn’t give a shit about them.

Let’s tip our hat to President Trump. It’s obvious that he doesn’t care about anyone else. He is very interested in himself, and you can have a delightful conversation with the man as long as you’re willing to discuss Donald, and not “trump” him in any way.

On the other hand, the Democrats are less truthful. They pretend that they care about the farmer in Iowa who’s struggling with the loss of his soybean profits, while posting over and over again on the Internet the need for more donations—hoping to rise higher in the polls to make the next debate.

If you understand it’s a game, you can keep from being cynical.

If you think it’s supposed to be spiritual, moral or ethical, then you will find yourself broken, despondent and left with faith drained from your body.

I play the game.

Even within my own family, the interest level they have for me is limited and only comes forth when I first send out a query about their efforts and wishes.

Can you play the game?

Are you willing to take the five-to-one ratio?

Or do you think that if it’s not completely pure, that it has no heart?

It’s time to decide. If you can play the game, you will win.

If you can’t play the game, you will not only lose, but you will turn everyone who interacts with you into losers, too.

 

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Our Redeemer… October 12, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2032)

It was a five-pound mini-barrel of pretzel chunks, stuffed with peanut butter, given to me by a friend who was beaming with delight when I opened it on Christmas morning and eyeballed the monstrosity for the first time.

He was nearly leaping with joy, explaining how he purchased the gift thinking it was ideal for me, in my travels, to have a ready-made snack which would last for quite a while–and to make sure that every time I grabbed a handful, I should think of him and know that he was praying for me.

Having some acting chops, I was able to feign great appreciation over the humongous container of over-salted carbohydrates and even dodge his ongoing discussion of it during the day over turkey and dressing.

Here’s the truth: nothing is more useless to a traveling person than a five-bound barrel of peanut-butter-stuffed pretzels. Even if you enjoy the flavor, lugging such a burden around is not worth the occasional benefit you would receive in tastiness.

I regifted.

That’s much the way I feel about the idea of heaven. Being informed by highly theological sorts that if I accept certain beliefs and receive adequate amounts of grace, that I will someday have an eternal home with golden streets and jasper walls just doesn’t get me through the daily chores of human struggle. I can’t become a better person by thinking about the day when I will no longer BE a person.

So as I head off tonight and tomorrow to Our Redeemer Lutheran Church in McMurray, Pennsylvania, I will tell you what I think of the word “redeemer.”

Candidly, if Jesus is no more than a sacrificial lamb for my sins, it will be difficult for me to conjure any sentimentality for him in the midst of a traffic jam in the Steel City. At that point, I will revert to my training, giving into my frustration and festering nasty notions of mythical murders of nearby motorists. Here’s the kind of redeemer I need:

First and foremost, he needs to be a friend.

• A friend is someone who tells you the truth but you still like him enough that you want him to hang around.
• A friend is someone who catches you on a bad day but still shows up at eight o’clock the next morning for the next round.
• A friend is someone who sticks closer than a brother.

My redeemer also needs to be a spotter.

• I’m referring to that person who stands nearby when you’re lifting weights in a gymnasium, just in case what you’re attempting to take on becomes too much, and he or she can walk over and help lift the danger from your head.
• I need a spotter who knows that I’m constantly trying to lose weight, and gently nudges me towards less caloric choices.
• I need a spotter who knows me, loves me, but also challenges me to not bathe in God’s grace, but instead, pursue excellence by multiplying my talents.

And finally, I do need a savior.

If I were to describe the journey we call human life, I would refer to it as “pulling up a little short.” There always seems to be a few feet necessary to complete the task just when exhaustion suffocates our soul. At that point, I could use someone to carry me across the finish line.

If all God has to offer is heaven, He’s going to have some awfully crappy followers on earth. But I believe there’s more to being spiritual than waiting to be “spirited away” to the angelic Holiday Inn.

I believe that our redeemer is our friend, our spotter and our savior.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

Please contact Jonathan’s agent, Jackie Barnett, at (615) 481-1474, for information about personal appearances or scheduling an event

The Night Visitor… October 2, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2024)

He comes very late at night, although I think he would insist it is actually early in the morning.

You see, that’s the problem. He not only has his own opinions, but definitions for terms that are separate from mine.

The creepy part is that he insists he IS me–and in my weakened state of sleepiness, I find it difficult to resist his will.

• He has the same memories I do.
• He has many similar beliefs.
• He has encountered the emotional conflicts and victories which are part of my history.

But physically, he is smaller. Yes, he takes up less room. And he lets me know it.

He shares ideas with me which certainly make sense in the dim light of the evening, which don’t come to mind when I’m in the shining light of the day. He has four repetitive, nagging subjects:

1. Why didn’t you act kinder?
2. Do you really think you’re achieving your goal?
3. Why do you think you can continue to be so fat and survive?
4. Wouldn’t it be easy to change these things?

You see what I mean?

It’s an annoying mixture of reality, self-righteousness, valid points and impossibilities.

But when I’m lying there on my bed, it does make sense. I do feel the inadequacy and the conviction to improve my situation. But somehow or another, this vigorous being who visits by night is completely vanished by the morning light, leaving me with the emotions of upheaval without the step-by-step solutions to victory.

Yes, I am abandoned.

It doesn’t make me angry. It doesn’t make me sad. It just baffles me enough that I want to eat something. It triggers the worst part of my appetites, which are devouring my future birthdays.

I want to figure out how to turn the conversations with my night visitor into a true motivation, to trim up the areas of my life that have caused me to become lumbering and clumsy.

But how can I retain the impact of the midnight confession into breakfast time  and the construction of a realistic “things to do today” list?

The truthful answer is I don’t know.

I’m not sure if my visitor is an incriminator to demean me or an angelic presence trying to spur me on to more noble causes. I’m not positive that the encounters I have with him are beneficial or just aggravating enough to cause me to slip a little further down the rock-slide of bad habits.

But I guess it’s just like everything else–if we view it as good, we can somehow carve it into a position to strengthen us. If we view it as bad, it can be used to discourage us and leave us wanting.

There are parts of the philosophy of my night visitor that I desire to possess. Honestly, I can’t be as hard on myself at ten o’clock in the morning as he is at two o’clock in the morning.

But if I can take bits and pieces, maybe I can launch a great idea which could eventually cause the man that I am during the day to make peace with the visitor who comes by night.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

Please contact Jonathan’s agent, Jackie Barnett, at (615) 481-1474, for information about personal appearances or scheduling an event