Sit Down Comedy … June 12th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

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If the world were a rainbow, I would swim in its swirling colors.

If the world were a promise, I would keep it.

If a song, I would write my own chorus.

A hope—I would find a way to start.

If the world were a pizza topping, I would pick something double-cheesy.

If the world were a thought, I would think it out to joy.

If a dream, I would live the parts I can do.

A sport, I would toss the ball at the goal until I made my points.

If the world were a political party, it would have no name, no agenda—just a heart.

The world, as a hat, would be a cowboy.

If the world were a wish, I would find my part and tenaciously pursue.

If the world were a piece of advice, it would be, “What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

As a kiss: soft, lingering, with heads turning halfway through the caress.

If the world were a question—”why not?”

An ice cream? Rocky Road one day, Cookies ’n Cream the next.

If the world were a fruit, it would be cherries—so bring your bowl.

A vegetable? It would “cauliflower” and present a blossom.

And if this old world of ours were a statement, it would say:

“To finish requires you begin.”

Catchy (Sitting 55) It Wasn’t a Terrible Idea…… July 1st, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

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No plan is perfect–except in the minds of those who want to declare it so, to calm their nerves.

And certainly, this particular plot put together by Charmaine and Thomas was only functional if every detail worked in unison.

Trouble began as soon as they hit the hallway heading into the rotunda. Thomas realized how out-of-place he was in his cowboy hat and serape, fearing that they were in danger of jeopardizing the plan. So he quickly removed them, searching for a trash can as Charmaine moved briskly down the hallway in front of him.

Rudyard Simmons, a fifty-three-year-old guard who had served the Capitol for twenty-five years, found it a bit suspicious that someone was disposing of their clothing in the trash, so he eased over to speak with Thomas. Mr. Kinear sprouted some nervous energy, which made Rudyard even more suspicious.

Simmons was a fine, old, wizened civil servant, who actually had achieved his job because his mother had the good sense to name him Rudyard (after Rudyard Kipling) figuring that white folks, who might be considering hiring him some day, would be aware that at least name-wise, he had brushed up against European tastes.

Meanwhile, Charmaine turned around, aware that Thomas was not behind her. Seeing Rudyard making his way toward her cohort, she made a fatal mistake. She panicked.

She instinctively reached for her gun, and before she could cover it up, one of the guards spotted the weapon and screamed to the whole hallway, “GUN!”

When Rudyard heard this, he turned toward the sound of the warning, and Charmaine realized that the scheme was unraveling. She pulled her .38 calibre pistol from her holster and aimed at Rudyard, as several guards moved toward her.

Charmaine fired her weapon at Rudyard, but he, still possessing some cat-like reflexes, ducked, hitting the ground so that the bullet flew over him and struck Thomas in the chest.

Without missing a beat, Rudyard–who had never used his weapon during his entire twenty-five years; never even pulled it from its holster–yanked it out with all his might, swirled around on the ground, pointed at Charmaine and fired, striking her with a bullet in the throat.

The two intruders lay bleeding in the hallway of the Capitol Building while Rudyard’s heart pounded like a marathon runner’s. Charmaine lasted about two minutes before she completely bled out. She was barely able to form any words, but did manage to gush an anguished, “Sorry.”

Thirty feet away, Thomas was dead. Quite dead.

The hallway was now full, as the gallery stood by in stunned silence. Slowly, two of the Capitol armed guards moved over to help Rudyard to his feet. With horror in his eyes, he asked his friends, “Did I kill her?”

No one responded, but instead, took him to the nearby office of the Speaker of the House and sought a doctor to examine him for any wounds.

It really wasn’t a terrible plan. Charmaine and Thomas had conceived to capture the Speaker of the House and take him into the Chamber, holding him hostage until their demands could be met.

Thomas had become a “knight in armor” for millions of Americans who were unable to afford their medications due to the rising costs of drugs. Charmaine had joined him when her mother was forbidden a particular treatment because the insurance companies deemed it unnecessary.

Maybe the two of them should have sought more peaceable means of presenting their plight, but when there’s smoke in the air, it’s difficult to decide which fires to put out.

That night the President of the United States secured time on all networks to speak to the people, but CBS sent a request to have Jubal Carlos address the country, right before the President spoke.

They had no idea if they would be able to connect with him, especially since he had just finished the series in North Carolina with the reporter, Jennifer Carmen. Not only did Jubal take their call, but he agreed to fly to Washington to share.

The network asked him how much time he would need. They were a little shocked when he responded, “Four minutes.”

So five were set aside, just in case, and promptly at 7:55–just prior to the eight o’clock hour when the President was due to speak–Jubal sat on the steps of the Capitol Building with a single camera framing his face.

“Horrified. Shocked. Despaired. These are words that will be used for today’s events in the hallowed halls of our legislature. We should be upset. But in the midst of it, some very powerful and positive moments occurred. His name is Rudyard Simmons and he’s fifty-three years old, and you would have never have known him. Nor would I, had this tragedy not occurred. Had this attack happened five months ago, I’m not so sure Mr. Simmons would have been ready for it. Just because insanity has an agenda–one which is evil–does not mean good people are prepared to do their part. What has happened in our country over the past months has not only built up our love, increased our hope, but it’s made our faith more sturdy.

“Rudyard Simmons saw something that didn’t look right–a cowboy hat and a serape in the Capitol Building being thrown away by an anxious stranger. He wasn’t judging cowboys nor Mexican immigrants. He moved decisively to find out if there was something that needed to be done. Over the past years we have lost our boldness. We nibble at each other. We fuss like little children. But today, a real man boldly walked over to ask a question, and in doing so, threw a wrench into a plan to silence our government.

“I don’t know what the President is going to say. You know I am not a political person. But tonight I am grateful for the boldness of Rudyard Simmons, and more than that, I am thrilled that his faith, along with his works, made sure that there weren’t many dead.”

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Catchy (Sitting 54) Meanwhile… June 24th, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

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The city council of Sunbury, Ohio set aside a parcel of land for those who wanted to come and commemorate spiritual renewal. It became known as “Soulsbury North.”

Likewise, outside Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, a wooded area was sanctified for similar purpose. “Soulsbury East.”

And just south of Eureka, California, people gathered, worked together and put together “Soulsbury West.”

One newspaper referred to the movement as “The New Awakening.” Historically there had been a “Great Awakening” in America in the mid-eighteenth century, but the current reformation was characterized by true questioning and a desire for humility.

Simultaneously, Jasper Carlos, who was floating on his newly found fame, turned out to be a stand-up comedian. He started touring the country and recorded a live album entitled, “We Made the Devil Do It.”

Possessing the same charismatic personality as his brother Jubal, but peppered with great jokes and antics, he was soon filling halls, sharing a message similar to his twin brother–just with lots of laughs and knee slaps.

Former Congressman Michael Hinston met a woman in Salisbury who happened to be a Lutheran minister. He fell in love, and was so careful to make sure that he wasn’t foolishly rebounding that he nearly scared her away. Fortunately, friends at the Soulsbury camp held them together, and lay wedding was in the future.

Matthew developed a severe liver infection which placed him in the hospital for nearly two weeks. The doctors weren’t certain of the origin, but Matthew was pretty sure that it must have come from some bootleg tequilla purchased in a backroom casino. Normally when people are in the hospital, they take the time to reflect on their lives. Matthew, on the other hand, used the occasion to daily expose the foolishness of the medical field. Soos flew in to be his personal nurse, and also prevent him from being justifiably poisoned by one of the nurses or hospital cafeteria staff.

Fifteen installments of the story of Jubal Carlos were aired on the NBC affiliate over the next thirty days. The nation was transfixed over the comings and goings of their new national prophet. Of course, Jubal, wearing heels, a gorgeous black wig and a great make-up job, found it easy to do the special about himself, since he was quite privy to the subject matter.

One of the surprises of the show was an interview with Jubal’s mother, Jenesca. She was not an old woman since she had the triplets very early. So not quite yet fifty years of age, she was filled with spunk and vinegar, and offered some insight on the life and times of the two remaining sons.

She offered a heart-wrenching tale of the death of Jamison. She described his loss as if stirring in the middle of the night, sensing that she’d lost all air and breath, except it happened during the day.

And meanwhile, in Washington, D. C., Thomas Kinear climbed into a black sedan with Charmaine Donaldson and headed for the Capitol building. Charmaine was an FBI agent-gone-rogue in pursuit of what she believed to be a noble cause. Thomas was a patriot–at least he deemed himself to be–and had made a decision to strike out for the cause of the American Constitution and liberty throughout the world.

Arriving at the Capitol, Charmaine knew of an entrance not normally frequented by either diplomats or the public. Thomas climbed out of the car wearing a cowboy hat and serape, and grabbed a machine gun from the trunk, tucking it under his garments as they slowly walked to the private entrance.

Charmaine stared deeply into his eyes. Thomas gazed back at her and replied, “Yes. I’m sure. Are you?”

She quickly nodded and they covered the distance to the door. Finding it locked. Charmaine reached over and opened a window, saying, “I left it open just in case.”

Thomas winked. “Professional.”

They stepped in, made their way through a small library and into the main hall, scurrying toward the rotunda.

 

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G-Poppers … October 20th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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He was tall, lean, with tight jeans, leather skin, cowboy hat and a big cigarette puffing out of his head.

He was The Marlboro Man.

G-Pop grew up believing that this cowboy was the symbol of masculinity.

Unfortunately, G-Pop was so-so tall, portly, marshmallow skin, baseball hat, with no “Puff the Magic Dragon.” Needless to say, his appearance was not deemed macho.

The vision persisted until other images of emaciated victims of cigarette smoking splashed on the scene–the consequence of years of tobacco, tar and nicotine.

So nowadays we don’t really know what makes up a man or what constitutes a woman, though we are certain that the two sexes are better when they intertwine instead of interact.

What makes a man?

What constitutes a woman?

It does sound like the beginning of a very long essay, or a series done by a writer attempting to generate readership through a dribble of controversy. G-Pop shall save you the time.

• A man is a person who tells the truth, beginning with himself.
• Likewise a woman tells the truth, beginning with herself.

The absence of truth places every human being right back in the center of the animal kingdom, willing to do anything to survive.

And as Pontius Pilate sardonically phrased, “What is truth?”

Truth is what we understand to be factual, while waiting for more information to enlighten us.

There’s nothing sexier than telling the truth.

Nothing more romantic than making it clear that you can be trusted.

There’s nothing more valuable to another soul than being able to relax with the account that’s been stated, and have some measure of confidence that it’s true.

Matter of fact, the truth sounds terribly alluring until you realize that occasionally it demands confession, apologies and repentance.

There is a contingency of our society that has begun to believe that the best way to avoid difficulty is to always deny any responsibility. It is pukey, sickening and devoid of any of the clarity which makes it simpler to live life.

Somebody lied to The Marlboro Man about cigarettes, so he ended up lying to us. Somebody’s lying today, and we are being tempted to buy into the lies and offer them up as explanations.

God help us all.

G-Pop would love to encourage his children to tell the truth, beginning with themselves.

It’s not always pretty, but it is always beautiful.

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G-Poppers … June 23rd, 2017

 

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3346)

 

Identify.

G-Pop would love to have his children learn to identify the slippage of awareness that often comes into our society to re-invite old evils. There are many.

But the most startling cockroach trying to crawl under the door of our safe house is racism.

G-Pop understands that it has never gone away. Yet because the outbreaks have become more prevalent, or at least more publicized, it is time to realize how it is gaining a hearing again. It’s because we’ve allowed the whispers of intolerance to become acceptable.

Most people know what racism is: “White people are better than colored people.”

You can always pick out racists. They tell you that people with color in their skin can be equally as vicious.

Folks, it’s just a matter of numbers. When there are more of “your kind” than “their kind,” you will always be deemed the transgressor.

How about the definition of bigotry? People are naturally drawn to people of their own race. “Birds of a feather flock together.” It’s amazing that those who claim to be believers in God conjure a deity who likes to color-coordinate human flesh and place them in adjoining apartments. Highly unlikely.

Let’s move on. Prejudice comes along when we insist that we’re all different–the snowflake philosophy. “Since you’re different, I don’t have to deal with you, and I can tout that my differences are not really different–just normal.”

But the sneaky little brat trying to infest the playground of the Earth School is this new philosophy of “preference.” It’s even presented under the guise of education. It’s when we begin to proclaim that it’s a very good thing to study cultures and understand unique approaches.

G-Pop knows that many of his children reading this will immediately leap forth and say, “What’s wrong with that?”

But desiring to wear a sombrero instead of a cowboy hat does not establish a difference, nor a preference. Just a fashion statement.

There aren’t ten Earths, a dozen Mother Natures and twenty-five different codes of behavior that can work in a world that demands precise measurements and degrees.

We’re all here together to learn how this thing works so we can help one another find the better ways to accomplish our journey.

There’s only one pursuit that teaches true tolerance: “We are mostly alike.”

You can share with me how you celebrate Christmas–that’s fine. But that doesn’t have anything to do with the responsibility you have as a member of the Earth family, to learn and submit to the common good.

Racism will continue to flourish as long as bigotry is overlooked, prejudice seems passable and preference is lauded as a way to “just get along better.”

 

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