Jonathots Daily Blog
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1 Thing You Can Do to Escape Distractions
Don’t talk about what needs to be done—do something
As you read this, you might conclude that this statement is so practical that it sounds common, and therefore could be considered just drivel.
But if you take a candid look at the flow of our present national conversation, you will discover that we have replaced taking action with a series of debates and dare I say, Town Halls, where we discuss all the life out of every idea, until it’s pronounced dead on arrival.
Yes, we’ve begun to believe that thinking, wishing, praying and conversing is equivalent to doing something.
How about a powerful piece of advice?
No problem is solvable—that’s why we’ve dubbed it a problem.
If we sit around and discuss our impasses and struggles, we will only grow more cynical and therefore, open the door to a stubborn spirit telling us we’ve done enough.
For instance, if the dilemma in the world is starvation, then find one family in your community which needs groceries and take over a few every week.
Discussing world poverty will provide no relief for the pangs of hunger.
But if you move out on what you have, there will be one family who benefits because you did something.
Likewise, if you believe that millennials are spending too much time on social media, then simply offer a millennial the opportunity to join into something other than download and scan.
Stop stumbling over the problem and start studying the elements that cause it.
Pick one problem and do something to address it.
You can yell all you want about gun violence or insist on the need for gun control, but it’s much more intelligent to take a group of kids at your church or in your neighborhood and present the pros and cons of what a gun is and what a gun can do.
The first step to removing yourself from being a clown is to take off the makeup.
If you look like everybody else, then you are everybody else.
So don’t discuss what the problems are. Instead, do something.
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Sit Down Comedy … April 12th, 2019
Jonathots Daily Blog
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If I were a woman or if I was a woman or if female and grammatically was sure which one was correct, I would need to understand that progress toward equality cannot be achieved through buying into some gender affirmative action.
Female Affirmative Action
For black Americans, affirmative action seemed to be a generous, practical means by which to even the playing field between the races. What actually occurred was an underlying cynicism about whether any person with darker skin had achieved success legitimately.
When you set aside the muscle mass of the male of our species and balance it with the birthing capabilities of the female, everything else runs pretty even. We still have a few jokers that hang around, insisting that females are more emotional than men. (They obviously have never visited the losing locker room at the Super Bowl.)
Pretending Women Are Superior
But the error lies the notion that we can bring peace between the genders by balancing things out artificially and pretending that women are superior.
We contradict this immediately with the “Me, Too Movement,” telling our feminine counterparts that they can bring up accusations from years, even decades, earlier, and because they were tongue-tied or intimidated in the moment, it is perfectly all right for them to delay their objection until now.
It is not.
In the realm of human interaction, there is actually a seven-day limit on lodging an objection or in making your point. If you can’t do it in the moment, then take a day. If after a day, you’re still uncertain on how you feel about what occurred to you, call a friend. Get input.
If you decide to remain silent out of embarrassment, then find someone you feel is empowered who can aid your voice to have greater volume.
But whether a man or woman, if you have not lodged, within seven days, your objection about how you were treated, how you were perceived or how you were allowed to conduct your affairs, then you must understand that rallying the “Me, Too Movement” to kick female affirmative action into gear, which supposedly allows you time eternal to come forward with your charges, is the best way to build a wall between the genders which will never come down.
If a woman, I would have to decide:
- Do I have a voice, or do I need someone to give me a voice?
- Do I have a legitimate complaint, or shall I wait until my complaint has worn out its statute of limitations and then thrust it forward, insisting that it still bothers me?
Even the phrase “Me, Too” is a statement of weakness rather than strength. It portrays to everyone around you that you do not possess the confidence to speak alone but must wait until there are many voices to gain spunk.
This will not work.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s Republican or Democrat, man or woman.
Each one of us has a right to be confronted by our accusers in a timely fashion
If we do not avail ourselves of this opportunity within seven days, we must be willing to take the blame for our own anemic trepidation.
I grant you that it falls the lot of both sexes to open their ears and hearts to the sentiments of the other, but it certainly requires a step of faith, courage and intellect for women to receive the equality due them by taking it in their hands instead of “wishing and hoping” from the sidelines.
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Catchy (Sitting 58) Sand Building…. July 22nd, 2018
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Shifting.
A gradual erosion of confidence among the populace about the once-favored “Jesus movement.”
It was difficult to know where it started. Perhaps this loss of faith was just a trait of the human race–just no longer able to tolerate goodness.
Although folks insist they are in pursuit of “peace on Earth, goodwill toward men,” they still continue to huddle around the television set to hear of wars and brood over body counts.
A movie–a parody–was released by Hollywood, entitled “Dullsbury.” It was supposed to be a gentle poking of fun at the Soulsbury experience. The premise was that the government and the elite of New York decided to isolate all of the “stupid people” and place them in a huge camp in Upper State, telling them they had won the lottery. For some reason, it didn’t occur to the “winners” why the settlement was called “Dullsbury” and had streets named “Retard Lane” and “Brain-Dead Boulevard.” Yet attempting to maintain some sort of evenness, the Hollywood ending to the motion picture was that many of the people who deemed themselves to be intelligent packed up their belongings to go live in the simplicity of Dullsbury.
But the message was clear: good is cool, but bad is hot–and the majority of the American people like their burritos caliente.
Things were further complicated when Michael Hinston was indicted on suspicion of breaking campaign finance laws and taking a bribe.
Jasper also ran into problems on his comedy tour. In trying to explain the evils of racism, he used nasty words like “nigger, chink and wetback,” causing an uprising leading to cancellations. Liberals everywhere denounced his offensive terminology.
Not to be outdone, Jubal was recorded at a rally in Egypt saying that “it was up to the Israelis to come to the peace table in good faith, and compromise.”
He was immediately dubbed anti-Semitic. He refused to retract his statement, and so became the subject of great debate on talk shows.
It wasn’t an uprising–it was a deterioration.
Like so many things that happen in life, it simply took the steam out of a heated movement and turned it lukewarm.
The two surviving graces were Jo-Jay and Carlin. Both stayed faithful to the cause. Jo-Jay kept marching in the same direction with her boots on the right feet. And Carlin continued to counter the cynicism and scandal with humor and humility.
But pretty much single-handedly, he took on the brunt of communicating the mission with little reinforcement coming from anywhere–especially Las Vegas.
Matthew completely checked out–whatever interest or intrigue he once had for the project was gone.
He pursued a love affair with an oboist. He studied her. He played her. He leaned his feelings in her direction.
Day and night he thought of new ways to pleasure her in the bedroom, and when he wasn’t thinking of sexual techniques, he was remembering the ecstasy he felt when he was in her arms.
He was smitten.
He was old enough and smart enough to know it wasn’t love. He certainly could have called it by that name, but he knew it was actually an advanced dose of infatuation, mingled with personal affection.
But it was all about the sex.
Over the past year, Matthew had indulged in so much intercourse that he had forgotten what it was like to be sexually entwined–what it meant when someone kissed you deeply without fulfilling a checklist, racing toward orgasm.
The relationship between Matthew and Leonora would have been perfect if they never had to leave the bedroom. But even though the joy between the sheets was exhilarating, both of them struggled during their conversational times to make it seem purposeful, or perhaps, meaningful.
Interaction was awkward–especially since Jasper and Soos had dropped in, and it was obvious that Leonora possessed a hostile profile toward all things divine.
Matthew was not so inclined. He didn’t hate God–he just wished that God would move to the other side of town, and not frequent the neighborhood shops. He didn’t want a world without God, but he wanted no God in his world.
Unfortunately, he felt compelled to follow the energy of Leonora’s atheism. To compromise, he stopped taking all phone calls from his cohorts on the front lines of the Jesus campaign. It was his way of tipping his hat to Leonora’s aggression, without shaking his fist at the sky.
Carlin, realizing he needed to have contact with Matthew, flew into Las Vegas. But even though they found themselves in the same building, Matthew was careful to avoid placing them in the same room.
There was no meeting. There was no agreement.
Carlin felt that the weight of the calling shifted to his shoulders, and he was ill-prepared to play the part of “Chief.”
In despair, frustrated and angry, Carlin headed back to the airport to return to Washington, D. C., to meet up with Jo-Jay and try to find a way to still “go into all the world” and share the Gospel.
As Carlin stood in the security line at the airport, two gentlemen in black suits, white shirts and black ties approached him on his right and left sides.
Lefty whispered in his ear, “Would you please come with us?”
Carlin looked to his right and then back to his left and realized he was wedged between two mountains of male humanity. He thought it best not to make a scene. He was led down the thoroughfare, through a door. A private jet stood ready.
Safely out of the airport, Carlin began to struggle with his captors. They were too strong. He shouted, but the roar of the jet engines covered his screams. In no time at all, the two hooligans physically lifted Carlin and carried him up the air steps and into the Learjet.
They dumped him into a large, comfortable seat.
Carlin quipped, “I sure hope this flight has a meal. So far the service sucks.”
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Catchy (Sitting 10) The Three Muster Tears … August 13th, 2017
Jonathots Daily Blog
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Randall changed his mind.
He came into the office on Monday morning, apologized for the legal maneuvering and explained that he was interested in being part of the project.
Matthew was suspicious. Perhaps Randall was just trying slip into the inner workings to find out if there was any money in play–to gain further ammunition for the court battle.
Matthew always hated himself for being cynical, regretting it even more when he was right.
Randall apparently sensed Matthew’s skepticism. “I suppose you wonder if I was visited by three ghosts, who spooked me into joining the club.”
Matthew said, “Well, I wouldn’t call you Ebenezer Scrooge, but you certainly might have attended one of his seminars.”
Randall laughed. “I was trying to explain it to Landy last night. She was pissed off at me. But you see, I’ve spent my life watching opportunities come my way, and analyzing them so much that they seem to run away from me in terror and leap into the lap of friendlier faces.”
Matthew got quiet, allowing Randall some space.
Randall continued, “I thought about it. Here’s an old man who dies who wants to give 250 million dollars to take an old religious icon who is known for loving and giving, and make the dude popular again. I thought to myself, what in the hell is wrong with that? Sure, I wish it wasn’t religious, or tied to some church, but when you need a cure, you don’t ask where the medicine comes from, right?”
Matthew just nodded his head.
About that time, Jo-Jay walked into the room and said, “I feel the same way. At least, I think so. I don’t want to miss out on something. I feel like I missed drugs and rock and roll. I never protested against anything. I missed civil rights. Gay rights. All rights. And by the way–what is heavy metal anyway?”
“It’s when you stack up a lot of light metal,” Matthew answered, chuckling at his own joke.
Randall added, “It was worse for me. I even missed Barry Manilow. My parents were very strict. It wasn’t all religion–part of it was our culture. But I wasn’t allowed to do much but study, go to school and attend church.”
Matthew sighed. “So you’re a church boy…”
Randall shook his head. “No–I went to church but I was never a church boy. I used the hour in church to quietly express my hatred for the Divine. While others sang praises, in my mind I asked God questions and then laughed at Him when He failed to come up with an answer.”
Jo-Jay stared in disbelief.
“So you want to do this because…?”Matthew posed.
Randall shook his head. “I don’t know. I know there are no answers in politics. Most of the law is mumbo-jumbo. Education just makes people smart-asses. There’s gotta be something else. I really don’t think it’s Jesus, but maybe we could at least get people to think.”
“Or maybe,” said Jo-Jay, “we just advertise the church and they end up ripping off more money from poor folks and spreading the message of doom and gloom.”
Matthew shook his head. “You know how sometimes the more you think about something, the better it sounds? I gotta tell you–the more I think about this the more it seems like a gigantic turd factory.”
“So you’re quitting?” Randall asked, surprised.
“Well, actually, I never started,” responded Matthew. “I just said I would check it out.”
“And here I came along to go on the magic carpet ride and Aladdin’s folding up shop.” said Jo-Jay.
Matthew squinted his face. “I would be Aladdin?”
Randall inquired, “And the magic carpet ride would be what?”
Jo-Jay laughed. “You guys are definitely over-educated, under-informed and without any natural feeling.”
“Part of me thinks I should say thank you,” Randall said.
There was a knock at the door. Matthew opened it to find a large man dressed in bib overalls and a plaid shirt, with a huge head of hair combed straight back. He reached out a big paw for greeting. Matthew placed his little hand into the acreage, shook it, and asked, “May I help you?”
The big, burly country boy responded. “Yes. My name is Prophet Morgan. I’m here to help you make my man Jesus, popular.”
All at once, Jo-Jay broke out in tears, which for some reason stimulated Randall to do the same, causing the recently arrived Prophet Morgan to sprout his own waterworks.
Matthew stared at the three of them in disbelief. “What in the hell is going on?”
Jo-Jay cleared her throat and managed a little smile. “I don’t know. But it’s neat shit.”
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … February 1st, 2017
Jonathots Daily Blog
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What Is Kind
Today I viewed a kindness
Which healed me of a blindness
For the lies make me weary
My soul dark and dreary
Drowning in the carnal swill
Cynical, angry, had my fill
When there it was before my eyes
The reason for learning, the essence of wise
All it was–opening a door
An insignificant, meaningless chore
Patient he was, allowing her to pass
Grateful she seemed, this aged lass
A smile passed between the two
“As unto others” is what we do
I stood and peered at the holy place
Where new friends came, face to face
And yearned to join their heavenly band
Find my place to lend a hand
I noticed a man with a cardboard sign
“Will work for food” read the line
I pulled a five from my stash
He popped a grin–so little cash
I nodded to him and sealed my mind
The only cure for crazy
Is to discover what is kind
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Jonathots Daily Blog 
G-Poppers … December 8th, 2017
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G-Pop is a bit alarmed that his children have become obsessed with reality:
Reality TV
Reality supposedly showcased in movies.
Reality in politics.
And reality even in relationships among human beings
These darkened perceptions, focusing on the more base and sinister aspects of humanity, have allowed for a quiet cynicism to emerge, coaxing us to resign ourselves to a bit of doom mingled with gloom.
It revolves around a false premise: what is, is.
Once we become thoroughly convinced that the present climate is the norm, we cease to pursue standards which historically have proven themselves essential to the human race.
There was certainly a point in antebellum American when slavery seemed to be entrenched in the culture, never able to be removed. Realism would perhaps have been to accept a North and South United States–one slave and one free.
For those living in Germany in the 1930’s, it absolutely appeared that Nazism was the trend of the future, since they were touting that the dynasty would be around for a thousand years. It would have been easy to say a quiet “Heil Hitler” because you’d given up on the notion of something better.
Yet reality is actually what sane people decide it’s going to be.
When the insane members of our society are promoting virulent and extreme lifestyles as “cutting-edge trends” of natural social evolution, we bog down in apathy and eventually are overtaken by our foolish appetites.
Quite bluntly, I think it’s fine if the Kardashians want to have a television show, as long as they don’t lead people to believe it’s reality.
If you want to watch a bunch of Netflix programs that paint the condition of your fellow humans with blacks, dark grays and navy blues, feel free–as long as you don’t insist it’s “trending.”
We presently are in danger of sacrificing three essential pieces of truth, which hold our species together. Under the “what is, is” philosophy, we now contend:
1. Lying is inevitable
2. Prejudice is a part of our make-up
3. And “mean” is the best way to protect ourselves from being overtaken.
Matter of fact, if you were to talk to anyone under the age of thirty in this country, they would say it is pure idealism to seek truth, overcome prejudice or make a lifestyle of kindness. Any character in a drama who chose such a path would be executed by the writer in the first act.
G-Pop wants his children to know that evil is temporary. It always has been. It blows through town, creates a storm, and when it’s unable to sustain growth, love and talent, it is exposed for the fallacious piece of shit it is.
Read a history book. You’ll find out this is true.
It’s time for G-Pop’s children to rise up and say, “What is, isn’t.“
Reality is when we take what’s good–and find a way to make it popular.
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on December 8, 2017 at 3:37 pm Leave a CommentTags: antebellum America, cynicism, doom and gloom, evil, G-Pop, Germany, Heil Hitler, history book, Kardashians, lying, meanness, movies, Nazis, Netflix, popular, prejudice, reality TV, slavery, social evolution, talent