G-Poppers … August 3rd, 2018

One of G-Pop’s children suggested that it be referred to as a “Pop-cast” since it was G-Pop doing it. Although terribly cute, endearing concepts like that often do not fare very well in the present marketplace.

But let us say that G-Pop’s children were thrilled when he started a podcast to share his humor and ideas all over the Internet.

Now, here’s the problem: The first question that comes out of anyone’s mouth when they discover you have a podcast–whether they’re interested or just polite–is, “What’s it about?”

Well, G-Pop’s podcast is on the most interesting subject on the entire planet.

People.

When dealing with people you have two choices. You can tell them what they want to hear, which opens the door to some popularity, or you can tell them what they need to hear, which has been known to empty many a room.

So when G-Pop started his podcast, “Good News and Better News,” he decided the key was to talk about the most practical things possible in the simplest, and hopefully, most humorous way, and perhaps, in so doing, Mary Poppins may be proven true–that a “spoonful of sugar” does “help the medicine go down.”

Because no human being ever begins their journey until he or she learns that there is the person you are, and there’s the person you want to be. If for some reason you decide to skip to the person you want to be, you have to lie an awful lot about the person you are.

And everyone knows what the problem is with lying: you get caught.

The minute any of us decides that we are not ashamed of the person we are, and do not walk away from the reality of our present situation, then we find ourselves in the position to negotiate–to seek and find ways to gradually become the person we want to be.

Because bluntly, you can’t save your soul until you find your soul.

So “Good News and Better News,” which is broadcast on Tuesday every week and available on all the major outlets, helps you to find your soul so you won’t be so frightened about the person you are and can keep a good sense of humor on the journey to the person you want to be.

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … March 5th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Dear Man Dear Woman

 

 

Dear Man: Have you done any thinking about our discussion?

 

Dear Woman: Discussion? What discussion?

 

Dear Man: Are you getting senile?

 

Dear Woman: Don’t you have to be old for that?

 

Dear Man: No, just forgetful.

 

Dear Woman: Oh, I know what you’re talking about. The flirting thing.

 

Dear Man: “Flirty Thirty.”

 

Dear Woman: You know, it’s really true. I just feel better when I know that I’m attractive, and I also feel that I am giving good things to people when I let them know that they have beauty also.

 

Dear Man: That was really well said.

 

Dear Woman: So therefore I’m not senile?

 

Dear Man: We shall see. Let’s continue. After you get done with the “Flirty Thirty”–that 30% of each of us that needs to feel attractive–you move into the “Heavenly Seventy.”

 

Dear Woman: The name’s a little cute.

 

Dear Man: I know. But it does help you remember it.

 

Dear Woman: I suppose. So what is the “Heavenly Seventy?”

 

Dear Man: It’s the part of the relationship between men and women which is completely lost because we’re so self-absorbed with maintaining differences, hoping that the thirty percent of flirtation will carry the relationship through.

 

Dear Woman: Thirty percent isn’t a whole of anything.

 

Dear Man: Exactly. But what we’re afraid of is the word “human.” Matter of fact, we’re so frightened that anyone who says “human being” or “human race” is looked on as a doctor–or a hippie from the 1960s.

 

Dear Woman: Why do you think that’s true?

 

Dear Man: I don’t want to subscribe to conspiracy theories, but there is an abiding notion that if we can keep each other separated by color, culture and gender, then we can continue to feel superior to some group and therefore, establish our dominance.

 

Dear Woman: I don’t want to be dominant.

 

Dear Man: Good. Then you’ve got a chance at being human.

 

Dear Woman: So what makes us human?

 

Dear Man: Are you really interested, or is it just that you can’t find a way to get out of this conversation?

 

Dear Woman: To be honest, I don’t know if I’m interested because I don’t know if what you’re going to share is interesting or not.

 

Dear Man: More than your approval, your affection or even your genitals, I need your humanity.

 

Dear Woman: That’s a bold statement. So what is my humanity? What makes up this seventy percent? How do we break down the walls and become human beings?

 

Dear Man: Well, this is just my opinion, but it’s kind of a process. And it starts with, “Will you listen to what I say?”

 

Dear Woman: Yeah, I listen.

 

Dear Man: No, I mean that being human is listening to what someone says without having an opinion about it.

 

Dear Woman: So what you’re saying is, you hear them. You just stop for a moment, listen, and hear what they have to say.

 

Dear Man: Exactly. And then you try to encourage what you can of what you’re hearing.

 

Dear Woman: Obviously, if they’re trying to commit suicide, you shouldn’t suggest methods.

 

Dear Man: Very funny. Obviously. But once you encourage what you can, then part of being a human being is gently but firmly holding them to their promise.

 

Dear Woman: That’s tricky. Some people would call that interference.

 

Dear Man: Not if it’s their idea and their words.

 

Dear Woman: What if they change their mind?

 

Dear Man: Then help them to forgive themselves for failing. It’s okay. It’s all part of being alive. If life was about success, most of the time we’d be depressed.

 

Dear Woman: So it’s important to forgive them and help them forgive themselves for falling short. I see that. So that gives them the chance to start over.

 

Dear Man: That’s why most people are miserable. They’re stuck in a failure from years ago without feeling they have the grace to start over.

 

Dear Woman: So it’s our job to help other people achieve that.

 

Dear Man: And it’s also our job to help them laugh. It’s rather difficult to forget stupidity unless you can laugh at it.

 

Dear Woman: That’s powerful stuff.

 

Dear Man: It’s why the “Flirty Thirty” makes us attractive, but the humanity makes us enjoy each other.

 

Dear Woman: Why isn’t this taught? Why are we so ignorant about this? Why is it all romance and flowers?

 

Dear Man: Because if every problem can be solved by sending flowers, then we don’t have to really care that much, do we?

 

Dear Woman: It’s a great process.

 

Dear Man: Now, let’s make it our own.

 

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Untotaled: Stepping 24 (August 17th, 1965) Walleye… July 26, 2014

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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(Transcript)

There once was a young man named Jonathan who somewhat resembled me.

He was old enough to think but too old to be cute and thought about very much. His mother was busy and his dad a trifle old–and everything Jonathan really enjoyed was not appreciated by anybody else in his abode.

His dad and brothers favored hunting and fishing. It made them feel macho. Jonathan, on the other hand, was more “couch-o.”

But he was still willing to try.

He took the gun thrust into his hands and went out to chase rabbits. He liked shooting, but couldn’t hit any of the fuzzy bunnies.

The male members of the herd were greatly disappointed. A “stalefate.”

One sunny afternoon, he walked with a pole to the city reservoir to fish. An hour passed. Then two. Yet all at once, he had a bite on his hook. He pulled in the biggest fish he had ever conceived.

He ran home with his prize, stopping along the way to pant and catch his breath.

Jonathan’s dad was thrilled. He told Jonathan that he had caught a walleye–one and one-half pounds. The father was so impressed.

Then an hour later the newspaper showed up to get the whole story and take a picture. It was in the next week’s edition.

For a full three days following the print-out, Jonathan was small-town famous–the young man who had bagged a reservoir walleye.

For a while his dad was proud. No doubt about it.

It felt good.

 

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Arizona morning

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Published in: on July 26, 2014 at 1:14 pm  Comments (1)  
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Johann, I’ll Be “Bach”…. June 30, 2012

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Babies aren’t cute.

I felt it was my responsibility to step in at this point and dispel what seems to be a universal misconception. When you factor in their bald, often-misshapen heads, with eyes that are threatening to cross and drool that spouts from their mouths like a Texas oil-well gusher, you really cannot insist that these creatures possess the stamp of approval from Cute, International. And that is without mentioning the weapons of mass destruction they often leave in their diapers for unsuspecting parental victims.

And of course, they cry a lot. Inconsolably.

That being said, I do have to admit that the four little sprouts I had the privilege of fathering were reasonably attractive. But recently I discovered that we are going to be birthing a new grandson. Before I discuss this new little boy–who has already been named Johann–I would like to give you a brief history of my experience in having children.

My first son was conceived on our senior prom night–obviously, not by design. He was born nine months later and we were married five months prior. The doctors were concerned that my wife was going to be startled by this first birth, so they put her under, losing a great ally for pushing out the newborn package. Forceps were required, rendering my first-born with the appearance of a child that possibly should have been placed in the “rejected” pile.

My second son was born a year-and-a-half later, since my wife and I had no concept of birth control–and we were white and possessed no rhythm. She was not sure she was in labor, so she walked down the street to see my mother, who was working in a loan company that she owned and operated. When my wife didn’t come back immediately, I became concerned, so I trotted my way down to the loan company, only to arrive as my child was being born in the back of this institution–on a couch normally reserved for nervous patrons seeking financial assistance for home improvement. It was the talk of our little town, as literally hundreds of people lined up outside that loan company to see the baby who was born “abnormally”–outside the hospital.

My third son was unique in the sense that my wife was nervous about informing me that we were going to have a third one, so she waited until she was six months pregnant to tell me. So my enthusiasm only had three months to hatch, and then on top of that, she called me and told me that she was in labor, so I drove the thirty miles to the hospital and arrived just after the baby was born. Her entire labor was forty-three minutes.

At this point, we decided not to have any additional children, which didn’t make any difference in the scheme of things. At the worst possible time, while we were traveling around the country with our children, one of whom had been severely impaired by a hit-and-run car accident, my wife once again discovered she was pregnant–this time informing me. But as it turned out, she was not correct on the exact time of her conceiving, so the baby arrived two months early by her count, but absolutely correct by the other mother involved (nature). The blessing was that I actually got to be there for the birthing of this one.

My two granddaughters, Isabella and Lily, were born without my presence. My grandson, Wyeth, was born in China, where I also wasn’t, and my other grandson, Justice, was born before my son was married to the woman who is his mother.

So as I head off this week to Nashville, Tennessee, to continue my tour, I am also directing myself towards the possibility of being in the town where my latest grandson, Johann, is due to be born soon. Understanding my history, I am sure some unusual occurrence will prevent me from having full access to the event. But I am still optimistic over this latest arrival. I know some grandparents would object to a child being called Johann–because we Americans are so fixated on the top-twenty names for the little ones. But I think we need some distinctions–and having a unique name is a great conversation starter. And conversation is the ultimate starter to all things good.

And Johann certainly has great tradition, with the sprouting of beautiful music from Johann Sebastian Bach.

So even though I don’t think babies are cute, I do think they’re really important. They are God’s way of reminding us that we are not doomed to our own mediocrity. New possibilities are offered all the time, and as long as we can survive the onslaught of drool and poopie, we might just be able to raise up the next human being who will teach us how to love one another.

So before I arrive in Nashville, Tennessee, to have some sort of experience with this new grandchild, I would like to state the three hopes I have for his future:

1. Johann, don’t imitate the world around you. Society often tends to be erred, and then adds the curse of stubbornness and pride to keep change from happening earlier. Ignore the masses; listen to your heart.

2. Be unashamedly creative. Being creative is not gay. Being creative is not feminine. Being creative is finding God in every situation.

3. And finally, my dear grandson, Johann–would you go ahead and be bold and brave, and do better than us? To achieve this, you will have to be able to possess the better parts of our efforts and forgive us our trespasses. Don’t let your genetics rule your dreams, nor follow the traditions of family and nation simply because they seem to be so prevalent.

So there you go. I am off to pursue a birth. There is no star to follow, which is fine, since I am not a Wise Man; there is no history of inspiring stories to propel me on my merry way. I am happily looking for a new experience with a new human being. And I hope in the process that I may be able to find the very first baby in the history of mankind that truly iscute.

   

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