Sit Down Comedy … June 28th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

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What it takes to be a:

PoliticianFinding yourself unexplainably interesting

MotherStill not crying over spilled milk

FatherHanging around to plan birthday parties

Football playerSurviving the hits

FarmerFirst, plant yourself

ChauvinistAct like a pig

ChristianHate religion but love Jesus

SoldierTake orders

BankerBe-A-Count-Able

ButcherA real cut-up

BloggerKeeping your parents’ basement reasonably clean

HousewifeA house, a husband…a kitchen

ModelCat-walking (no fur)

SingerCroon in tune

DancerStepping up to the routine

ProfessorBe noteworthy

PoetMaking rhyme with your reason

CarpenterNailing it down and not screwing it up

PilotStaying high at all times

SalesmanSelling out

Uber DriverUnoffended when angry people tell you where to go

AuthorFinding the words, editing the turds

DoctorSmooth operator

LawyerMaking a federal case out of everything

MatadorSwooshing through the bullshit with your glorious cape


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Sit Down Comedy …February 15th, 2019

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Even though it was his last name, all the folks called him Baker—mainly because he owned a little shop which sold pies, cookies, cupcakes and cinnamon rolls.

Baker was a big man. That’s what his wife said. His mother said he was just chubby. But his enemies called him downright fat.

Baker did real well as a portly man, selling sweets. But one day he woke up and realized he wanted to do some self-improvement, trim his waist and certainly improve his bottom line. He lost one hundred pounds and started trying to pass along his healthy lifestyle by inserting all sorts of new ingredients into his pastries.

His profits began to match his weight loss. Nobody was coming—especially when he came up with a way to use low-calorie cricket flour, freshly ground from dried-out crickets.

One day a friend stopped in and said, “Baker, you need to do yourself a favor. Stop selling cupcakes. Everyone’s thrilled that you’ve lost weight, but the people who want to frequent your business have no desire to hear about healthy cupcakes. You don’t believe in cupcakes anymore so stop selling them.”

Likewise, Bill was a Congressman in Washington, D.C. He’d been elected four times. He was quickly becoming a professional politician who knew the ins and outs of the system. He was fully aware that the American way of governing was more about discussing the philosophy of an issue and supporting a political party than it ever did making progress. Matter of fact, Bill never passed a bill.

It’s time for us to walk up to Bill and say, “Stop being a Congressman. You’re not good at it. Get somebody else in there who still believes something can be done.”

The Reverend just got his third doctorate in theology—this one on the Greek translation of the New Testament. He has more books on his wall than the local library. He has some of the prettiest robes to wear on Sunday morning that you’ll ever see. But when Margaret came into his office, needing a word of encouragement over a difficulty she was having, the Reverend was at a loss on what to tell her. You see, the Reverend doesn’t really believe in God anymore, which means he really doesn’t believe in people that much, either.

“Reverend. Stop preaching! Sell insurance.”

Mark writes books about relationships. He thinks he’s got a best-seller because it talks about men and women—how different they are and how it’s natural for the sexes to be at war, and that through this war we still manage to come up with a way to continue the human race. You see, Mark is a chauvinist. He really thinks men are better than women, but he believes that a man’s smartest move is to pretend a woman is superior and then do whatever the hell he wants behind her back.

Mark is an asshole. Mark needs to stop writing books about men and women. They actually need to hear about the commonality between them instead of constantly being bombarded with their differences.

“Mark, maybe you could start writing for a newspaper. Or join the Reverend in the insurance game.”

Some people need to stop doing what they’re doing because they’ve stopped believing what they’re doing has any value or has potential to make things better.

Are you one of them? Are you like Baker, Bill, the Reverend and Mark?

Do the human race a favor—don’t pursue what fails to give you hope. And if you want to go on a diet, by all means stop selling cupcakes.

 

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Catchy (Sitting 27) Loose Ends … December 17th, 2017

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Matthew felt like he was dragging his own corpse behind him across the Arctic Tundra, in search of a fire.

He was disgusted with himself. Wonderful, marvelous events were transpiring, but he felt abandoned. He had become such dead weight that Jubal and the band decided not to have him come along on the daily trips across the country.

He didn’t argue. He felt so damn out of place.

Everyone was so energized, so jubilant, so jazzed by the whole idea–but he sat around counting the hours until the drum stopped beating and he could get back on the plane and go home to a nice cappuccino.

Even Soos had become enamored with the revival–filled with the same spirit that inhabited Mr. Carlos.

So this morning, when Jubal took off on the plane without telling Matthew where he was going, discovering by watching “Good Morning, U.S.A.” that the troop had landed in Haiti and was performing an impromptu concert in front of thousands of citizens, while handing out bread and cheese, Matthew was not upset. He just sat back and shook his head. Everything was so screwed up.

The business he had begun with Randall and Landy–S.E.E.D.S.–was turning to weeds. Some of the clients were disgusted with the whole idea of “God-speak,” and the ones who weren’t were too wacky for his taste.

Last week he had lunch with Randall and Landy, who sat across from him munching on salads and sipping Chablis like two jilted lovers. He had no idea how to explain where he was coming from or what he was going to do. Matter of fact, his life was just a series of loose ends, untied from all reality.

Jo-Jay had been out of pocket for weeks, pursuing some conspiracy against Jubal.

Sister Rolinda got herself in trouble with the Catholics by referring to the Pope as a “chauvinist,” suggesting that his head was beginning to fit into his pointed hat.

Worst of all was Prophet Morgan, who was jittery and upset about being ignored, and had broken the pact of secrecy with the press, doing two interviews, which, according to backstage sources, paid him three thousand for one and two thousand for the other. So two weeks ago, Prophet had appeared on “Tell All” with Bart Champion, and three days earlier, he was on “Rasur’s Edge with Carlita Rasur.” Ms. Rasur was so capable at her craft that she got Prophet all worked up into tears, as he apologized over the air for his relatives, who had once owned slaves.

Morgan looked ridiculous on television–an anachronism–pompadour hairdo, gray gabardine suit with a large, wide tie. Both Bart and Carlita tried to get secrets out of him, but since Prophet knew very little, they were quite disappointed with the information about scrambled instead of fried eggs, and Jubal’s insane appetite for black licorice.

The whole world seemed crazy to Matthew.

Michael Hinston wouldn’t take his phone calls anymore. Matthew tried not to be offended, but the last time he telephoned, he could hear Michael in the background, whispering instructions to his secretary. “Tell him I’m not here!”

Matthew just didn’t fit in.

On one hand, there was the burgeoning awakening of a Jesus movement going on in his midst, while at the same time old friendships, dreams and goals were sliding away into a pit of meaninglessness.

Rising from his chair, he picked up his cell phone and called the airport. “I need a one-way ticket to Washington, D.C.”

Matthew had decided to try to find Jo-Jay, and maybe surprise and corral Michael. The last time he had seem either of them, they were in the nation’s capitol.

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … January 2nd, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Dear Man Dear Woman

 

Dear Woman: Why don’t you like sex?

 

Dear Man: Who says I don’t like sex?

 

Dear Woman: Well, I guess me since it just came out of my mouth.

 

Dear Man: Where’d you get that idea?

 

Dear Woman: Let me put it this way. Maybe I overstated it, but here’s what I know. If I turned to you and said, “Would you like to go out to dinner?” or “Would you like to go shopping?” or even “Would you like to go visit your mother?” your response would be positive.

 

Dear Man: Even though that’s a generality, I suppose it’s pretty accurate.

 

Dear Woman: OK. But if I said to you, “Do you want to have sex?” your response is not always positive.

 

Dear Man: Who does that? It’s so abrupt. I mean, who asks that? Sex kind of just happens, right?

 

Dear Woman: Yeah. But not enough. So I was just curious.

 

Dear Man: I wouldn’t call that curiosity. It’s more an accusation.

 

Dear Woman: Wow. I don’t know how we got there. I am really interested.

 

Dear Man: Really? Are you sure? Are you sure you want me to be honest?

 

Dear Woman: Well, if you can do it without being mean.

 

Dear Man: Yes, I can do it without being mean. The question is whether you’ll think it’s mean.

 

Dear Woman: Try me.

 

Dear Man: OK. Let’s talk about amusement parks. Let’s say we go to an amusement park and my job is to walk around all day with you while you go on the rides and you come back after you’ve completed the experience and explain how wonderful it was, and I’m supposed to get my pleasure through you being overjoyed with your ride.

 

Dear Woman: So you’re saying you don’t enjoy sex?

 

Dear Man: What I’m saying is, we go on the ride until you’re satisfied, not until I’m satisfied.

 

Dear Woman: So you’re not satisfied.

 

Dear Man: See? You’re already defensive, because you’ve been taught that it’s your job to satisfy me.

 

Dear Woman: What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that love?

 

Dear Man: No, that’s arrogant. It’s my job to learn my own sexuality–my own body–and be able to satisfy myself. Your job is to listen to me as I listen to you, so you can help me and be there when I achieve my satisfaction.

 

Dear Woman: Wow. That just sounds kind of weird.

 

Dear Man: See? You’re talking like a chauvinist. What you really want is for me to pretend that I’m satisfied with what you do. That’s what you call a good wife–a good sexual partner.

 

Dear Woman: Well, not exactly. But I do want to feel like I satisfy you.

 

Dear Man: And I want you to feel like I know how to get satisfied, and have you interested in discovering what that entails.

 

Dear Woman: So you like sex?

 

Dear Man: Just like you. I like orgasms. And what I’m trying to tell you is that sex without orgasms is like doing situps. You may sense the benefit but it gets tiresome.

 

Dear Woman: Wow. I don’t know whether I’m glad I asked or not.

 

Dear Man: Be careful what you ask. You may get an answer.

 

 

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Finding the “man” in manly … August 4, 2012

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Macho. I got very weary of that particular profile early on in life. Watching a bunch of young guys strut through a shower room naked while other, more humble participants huddled against their lockers to hide their more private moments  quickly cured me of any notion that manliness is equated with physical attributes. Yet merely objecting to an overabundance of testosterone, or “showing off the guns” in some sort of prideful pose is not enough to establish what truly being a man is all about.

It is not up to women to define manliness. Women are just as confused on the issue as are their male counterparts. They gyrate between wanting to be dominated and looking for a sensitive fellow who at least understands why Thelma and Louise decided to go off the edge of the Grand Canyon. Candidly, one of the worst ways to evaluate your manliness is to try to use women as a determination for your value and prowess.

I’ve just come to the conclusion that there are two attributes that make up what is involved in maintaining the integrity of the “man side” of our species, and they both begin with the letters m-a-n: (1) Manners; (2) Manifest.

By manners I am not referring merely to the ability to discern the difference between a salad and dinner fork or where to place your napkin while dining. That particular style of awareness is really an off-shoot of a mindset rather than a learned activity–because you can teach your children to be mannerly, but as soon as they leap into a corral of over-zealous “guys,” they will immediately abandon that particular training and situate themselves right in the middle of what is deemed acceptable in the bull pen.

What I am referring to by manners is the abiding outlook that a man has on the world around him. For I believe the doorway to being mannerly, courtly, respecting others and giving place to the human beings around you is to possess a steadfast, unwavering commitment to the idea that “NoOne is better than anyone else.”

The minute you believe that by some right of birth or genetic tendency or even locale that you have gained some sort of supremacy over another fellow-traveler, you will eventually succumb to obnoxious behavior, self-righteousness and whatever prejudice has become ingrained in the environment around you. Don’t be fooled. If a man thinks that he is better than a gentleman of another race, he will just as surely believe in his supremacy over women. Any man who believes that Americans are better than Chinese will have no trouble whatsoever making the maneuver to the preference of one skin color over another.

Once prejudice has found a home in your heart, how you treat other passers-by will be contingent on whether your first viewing of them is favorable or casts them in a dimmer light. I have never met a male chauvinist who is not also bigoted racially, and I have never met a racial bigot who thinks a woman is capable of doing equal work to a man.

If you want to build a man you must first place deep within his soul the conviction that “NoOne is better than anyone else.” It will cause him to give respect to those who serve him instead of treating them like common servants. It will cause him to give place to a woman without needing to become effeminate himself. It creates a knowledge deep within him that since God is no respecter of persons, then any attempt we make to differentiate one body from another is merely an ongoing aggravation to the Divine.

I don’t care if it’s a political party, a religious sect or a corporation’s Madison Avenue advertising campaign. Any conglomeration of people who try to alienate one group of individuals from another is removing manners from human interaction, and therefore is giving the status of manliness to little boys with hair in the right places.

I did not become a man until I realized that “NoOne is better than anyone else.” When I did that, I ceased to be a threat and became an advantage to those around me, and because I had the sniff of benefit instead of the stink of an adversary, I found myself embraced and my confidence boosted.

A man needs manners–and manners spring forth from understanding that “NoOne is better than anyone else.”

Now, after that revelation is registered deep in the heart of the male of our species, it is time for him to manifest. This gives a whole new meaning to the phrase “man up.”

Because “NoOne is better than anyone else,” a true man will stand tall and say, “I have set my sights on doing better.”

He will proclaim, “I’m not speaking for anyone else–just me. The whole world doesn’t have to follow my example. Society does not have to concur. I will manifest something in my life that is born of my passions, nurtured by my talents and brought to the finish line by my perseverance.”

The sure way to lose the respect of the world around you–especially a female’s–is to make claims, set goals … and never accomplish anything.

A true man manifests. He brings to fruition realities that show he is aware of his weaknesses and is moving towards solutions.

  • It is sexy because it’s sensitive.
  • It is intelligent because it shows we’re thinking.
  • It is spiritual because it allows the possibility for repentance.
  • It is emotional because it shares a vulnerability with an aspiration towards improvement.

The notion that manliness is expressed by refusing to admit wrong has caused at least eighty percent of the pain, evil and darkness that has befallen our world. I want leaders who flip-flop. I want to be around men who are given new information and instead of ignoring it, burying it or pretending they already were aware of it, they implement it into their next decision.

I do not know where we got the idea that manliness means “being right.” Being a man is pursuing right, and therefore, being willing to be wrong. The foolishness of our art, entertainment, politics and even our religion in portraying men as hunters and domineering has placed pressure on mere human beings to cover up their flaws instead of deciding to do a little bit better every day.

The most romantic thing I have ever done in the presence of a woman is to tell her where I have erred, share with her my plan and then follow up with some evidence that my convictions are bearing fruit.

It is time to put the “man” in manly.

Manners–they are set in motion when we finally comprehend that “NoOne is better than anyone else.” It tenderizes the human experience into compatibility instead of competition.

Manifest“I will set my sights on doing better.”

There are only two things you can do in life to pass the time: think up excuses for why you aren’t changing, or make a plan on how to change. One is the profile of an ignorant coward and the other is manly. Would you join me in putting the “man” back in manly?

Perhaps it will be easier for women to understand their heart and purpose when they don’t have to spend nearly as much time figuring out why little boys never became men.

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