Jonathots Daily Blog
(4523)
Today: Maple trees are supposed to be sappy. So are humans. Cring explains.
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4431)
A triple threat in alliteration.
She is forty-six years old, the mother of three children who range in age from twenty-one down to a precocious ten.
She is the assistant manager at the local Nordstroms, where she has been employed for twenty years, ascending in the ranks, and well-respected.
Mary was awake early that morning. She had lost her battle with insomnia hours earlier, trying to remain still as a mouse, hoping that sleep would be merciful to her fatigue. Giving up, she rose, made coffee and cinnamon toast—one of her favorites—and prepared for the day in the quiet of a very chilly pre-dawn kitchen.
She had one thought on her mind: should she go vote before work, or wait until afterwards and possibly face long lines?
Actually, that wasn’t the primary question. What had been haunting her mind for weeks was whether she could cast a vote in good conscience either way.
At least, moderate for Michigan.
She had voted for her share of Democrats and a similar array of Republicans. She felt she was informed and believed herself to be open-minded to opportunities offered by both parties. But the past few months had left her in a whirl, dizzy from disjointed facts and accusations.
Donald Trump seemed unqualified to be President, but his journey as a mature man of business seemed respectable.
Hillary Clinton, on the other hand, seemed more prepared for the position, but less sure-footed in the midst of entanglements.
But still, that wasn’t the real problem.
Deep in her heart, Mary of Moncrief, Michigan, felt that everything was just moving too fast.
She wasn’t against progress–she was upset about the speed being used to achieve it.
Abortion, for instance.
Mary believed a woman should have the right to choose the conclusions of her life, but she was uncomfortable about how the subject of abortion—the termination of a fetus—had become so cavalier. She especially hated the phrase, “abortion on demand.”
Wasn’t a little more humility in order?
Mary also knew she didn’t hate gay people. She was one of the first ones in her local church to rally behind the idea of civil unions.
But lickety-split, she was expected to not only honor gay marriage, but to be supportive of it whenever it was brought up, so she wouldn’t come across as a homophobe.
After all, the world of psychology and psychiatry had, for decades if not centuries, contended that homosexuality was aberrant behavior which required treatment.
Now, since that diagnosis had been recently abandoned, they expected Mary and all the American people to quickly shed several generation’s worth of comprehension and join the parade.
Mary wanted equal pay for women in the workplace, but when she rallied with those struggling to achieve this worthy goal, she found herself in the midst of some who decried motherhood and made fun of the simpler values Mary held dear.
Mary was especially troubled by the spiritual indifference, which seemed to reject any soul who believed in God, deeming such a person irrational or uneducated.
Everything was so quick.
Marijuana becoming legal. If marijuana was so safe, why did the people who smoked it always portray it in their movies as a brain-staller—and a pathway leading to no motivation?
Mary of Moncrief, Michigan, was very worried about a man who mocked women, weaker folks and other nationalities with a sneer. But on the other hand, how could she support a woman like Hillary Clinton, who defended her husband’s mistreatment of a twenty-one-year-old intern in the White House, and even to this day, joined into the attacks against poor Monica?
As Mary sipped her coffee in the kitchen, she heard rumblings from the bedrooms above.
Soon her family would join her. Her thoughts would be blended with their desires.
Realizing how important her decision was, she scurried around, deciding to leave for work, going to the polls early to beat the rush.
She called out her good-byes and best wishes for the day, jogged to her car, got in and drove off.
She was nearly to the polling station when she veered off at a graveyard. She sat, staring at the frosty granite stones. Still they were—and at peace.
In a moment of deep reflection, she asked herself what all these people who had once lived would want her to do.
Who would they want her to vote for?
Mary just wished that one of those who wanted to be President of the United States would acknowledge that affairs, nations, wars and social revisions were happening at such a rapid pace that we all needed a deep breath—just to appreciate where we are, who we are and what we’re about to undertake.
Was there an order in it?
It all seemed to be happening at the same time.
Was she supposed to feel some beckoning or even a requirement to vote for a woman since she was a woman herself? Maybe she would have felt differently if Hillary had even visited Michigan—instead of assuming that the unions and the black vote “had it in the bag.”
The Democrats took too much for granted, and the Republicans granted so very little.
Time was passing.
She had a tiny window—about twenty minutes—to go vote and still get to Nordstroms for her shift.
But after weeks—perhaps months—of deliberation, she was no further along.
So she made a very quick decision in her troubled mind.
That night, as Mary of Moncrief, Michigan, watched the election returns, she was so troubled that she felt a chill go down her spine.
Donald Trump was winning. Would he rise to the occasion and be a great President?
Should Hillary have been the one?
Even though the campaign had drug on for more than a year-and-a-half, now it all seemed to be too quick. Too speedy.
Mary was not a bigot.
Mary was not conservative.
Mary was certainly not liberal either—not by present standards.
But Mary also didn’t favor people just because they were of a certain color or even just because they were victimized.
As the night wore on, it gradually became more obvious and then official.
Mary didn’t know what to feel.
Maybe she was a little relieved that there wouldn’t be any more Clintons in Washington, but also a bit frightened that a real estate developer would be leading the greatest nation on Earth.
But most of all, she was in turmoil about herself.
The employees at Wal-mart don’t choose the CEO.
College students don’t cast ballots to pick the president of the university.
Why? Because they’re not qualified.
The job requires a specific set of skills and should not be a popularity contest.
We can involve the American people in a dozen ways, but when it comes down to selecting the individual to run our nation and bring together the three branches of the government, it should be a decision based on merit, not might.
Just consider the two candidates we have this year:
This present virus has shown us that there are governors, mayors, doctors and nurses all over America who have picked up the cross and carried it for the national leadership.
I have no feelings of anger toward President Trump or nominee and former Vice-President Joe Biden. But I do think one is unqualified and the other is over the hill—and that America can do better.
First, I believe we should have a President from one party and a Vice-President from another party.
Every four or eight years, that should switch.
There should not be majorities in either house of Congress. If bills are going to be passed, we need to institute interaction among the members.
And the President and Vice-President should both be selected rather than voted in. The system can still remain democratic and include the populace in some phase of the operation. For instance, we could boil it down to four applicants who are all suitable.
Since no one can be truly vetted and come out clean anyway, we need to stop being concerned with issues of morality, and instead, be more focused on productivity.
Until the United States is able to pick a leader that represents the history, authenticity and significance of our mission on the world stage, we will be stuck with those who can raise enough money and tell enough lies to wrangle the gig.
Just look at our history. Not even fifteen percent of those elected into the role are worthy of mention. Some took us to war, some kept us in war and there is a shameful lack of a woman in the roster.
That’s what keeps us pursuing the electoral college, embroiled in a two-party system, and allowing the country as a whole to vote for the loudest.
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4341)
“Freedom and justice for all?”
“Land of the free and home of the brave?”
“All men are created equal?”
These are terrific thoughts. Can I offer a fourth possibility?
Yes—this one seems to have universal appeal.
The adult American maintains fragments of adolescent rebellion through most of his or her life.
I focus on Americans because other countries are so embroiled in wars, survival, calamities and tyrants that expressing “don’t tell me what to do” could quickly put you in the position of having the muzzle of a gun thrust in your face.
After all, a speed limit of seventy-miles-per-hour is not a rule. In our minds, it’s more like a recitation of suggested daily specials offered by a waiter when we arrive at a restaurant.
A “no parking” sign is the only sure way to guarantee that all the parking spots will be filled.
And if you put a button on a wall beneath a sign which reads, “Do Not Touch,” statistics show that at least seventy-two percent of people will look to their right and to their left, and sheepishly walk over and push it.
This in itself would be a great subject for an article—but let us add an additional question.
An amazing thing happens to the male of the species with the arrival of testosterone in his early teens. He begins to play team sports or joins the military—settings in which he is often ridiculed, yelled at or even kicked around by coaches or drill sergeants.
A woman, on the other hand, often has little opportunity for team sports, and unless she purposely tries to find a combat position, will usually never experience such radical treatment.
Because of this, none of us are accustomed to being challenged, questioned or ordered around by a female.
And if a woman does gain authority, the characterization is quite different:
Just consider the three people presently running for President of the United States.
What if Donald Trump was Donna Trump? She would be dismissed as a dirty old lady.
What if Bernie Sanders was Beatrice Sanders? She would be a nasty-tongued wench.
And how about Joe Biden as June Biden? A little bit slow—perhaps senile.
But because they’re men, they are assigned integrity for their positions and are taken seriously—simply because they have prostates.
No, but the average American has little experience with women being in control—not since they were little kids listening to their mothers nag about the laundry and dirty shoes next to the door.
Harken to this:
We had a whole caravan of females running for President this year. What we need to ask ourselves is, if any one of them had been male, based upon her credentials, her platform, her debate skills, her energy and her patriotism, would she still be alive in the contest?
But each one was eliminated because eventually a tear came into her voice at the wrong time, which made her sound weak, even though when Joe Biden does it, it’s called empathy.
Or in the midst of making a point, her speech became more of a shout than a proclamation—although Bernie Sanders makes his living ranting at everybody.
Or she was a little too off-the-cuff or maybe not quite lady-like—although we refer to Donald Trump’s comments as “spontaneous” and “just his way.”
You will never know if you are free of misogyny until you can listen to a woman disagree with you, or even be your superior, without thinking you are back at home being criticized by “Mommy Dearest.”
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4236)
I was born. (That was a good beginning.)
I developed a little musical talent. (So far so good.)
I also stumbled upon some sort of ability to arrange music. (Certainly makes you interesting to other musicians.)
Along the way, I started writing songs. (Okay. We’re waiting to hear…)
And the songs were good enough that one of them got signed and performed by a national act. (Well, that certainly gives you permission to continue.)
I started my own music group. (Were you any good?)
Then I decided to write a musical. (That sounds a little more tricky.)
The musical turned out all right, and the cast traveled the country to twenty-five cities (Well, there you go.)
This put an itch in my brain to write books. (That’s a big step. What you might call “the leap.”)
Well, thirteen books later, I’ve sold my fair share though I’ve never threatened anyone on the New York Times Bestseller List. (What do they know?)
Exactly.
He has a really unique hairdo. (Well, that’s interesting.)
He has lots of money. (A very helpful thing.)
He enjoys promoting prize fights and beauty contests. (I’m listening…)
He deeply appreciates beautiful women. (Who doesn’t, right? Wink, wink.)
It did very well—so well there was a spin-off. (Impressive.)
Matter of fact, the ratings were very, very high. (Those doggone Nielsen families.)
It’s important where things end up–and that goes for people, too.
Anyone who has ever tried to fix up a house to sell it for profit will tell you there are so many people’s numbers that end up in your phone—who have to work on this and work on that—that suddenly, you find yourself involved with people who need to install your toilet and lay concrete, that you accidentally know about their gastric problems, and whose wife is about to leave whose husband—and you know there is no way to make this really successful.
There are just people I should never meet. For instance, the state of Florida should never meet me. If I want to fix up a house, I’d better do it alone, because all of the scammers will not benefit my life’s journey.
And just because a guy knows how to wear an Italian suit, build a building and host a beauty pageant, does not mean he should be President.
And here’s another clue:
He told us that.
From the onset, Donald Trump told us the truth. He did.
If you read his book, it is full of all sorts of approaches to deceiving the competition.
He never expected to be President.
Along with the help of the Electoral College, the hatred many people felt for Bill and Hillary, and a foolish playfulness on the part of the American voter, he was ushered into the Oval Office.
We were never intended to even meet the cast of characters who have come before us to testify about one another—and him.
The whole thing resembles a huge blow-up in a gymnasium at a high school, when people find out what other people have been saying about them.
It is a misplaced conclusion brought about by a misplaced representation urged on by a misplaced valuation of ability.
The individuals who are presently serving this nation were meant to be hidden. They are servants. They are helpers. They should never have been brought to the forefront as if they are superstars, or worthy of being heard.
We are completely out of balance.
Case in point:
In a country which has never elected a woman as President, when statistics report that 46% of men would never vote for a woman, the Democrat Party still believes that offering five of them is a good idea.
And this party does not comprehend that the black church, which does believe the homosexual community should have civil rights but also thinks the lifestyle is immoral, well, they are not likely to line up to vote for the Indiana mayor.
Do I even have to address the electability of two accused socialists?
Or how about that left-over Vice President, who always seems to be on a confusing journey to find a subject or verb to hook up with his object when he speaks?
It’s not supposed to be.
We are pretending that conversations which we would have found insulting a few years ago are now worthy of an hour-long show on the 24-hour-news cycle.
It is not Make America Great Again (MAGA)
What it does feel like is Make America Small Again (MASA)—an ironic acronym, don’t you think?
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this inspirational opportunity
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4232)
Avoiding becoming insane
But never wanting to complain
A young man sprawls on the ground, broken, writhing in pain, as thousands of people watch in horror, torn between sympathy for him and fear over what this might mean in pursuing a national championship.
One week earlier, the same fellow played in a game twenty days after having ankle surgery, limping and agonizing along to his team’s defeat.
Don’t we all?
How many of us are eager to go back to work on the sixth day after a cold?
Do any of us want to walk across a room and get a cup of juice after having stubbed our toe?
But for some reason—a very bad reason—selfish, greedy, older men (and maybe women) who are long past their prime, want to relive their youth on the backs and bodies of determined athletes.
It’s TUA much.
It’s TUA much to ask of anyone.
Let us admit that we are the ones who pressured him into accepting the erroneous decision of a novice young man when he proclaimed, “Put me in, Coach. I’m ready to play.”
Working off the answers to find the questions. Truthfully, it’s what human beings are better suited for in the long run.
Maybe that was on Merv Griffin’s mind when he launched a television game show called, “Jeopardy!”
Alex is the over-stated, ever-loving geek who sometimes—even as you want to hug him with delight—causes you to roll your eyes over his pretentious attempts to utter foreign words in an exaggerated accent, insert little mentions of his world travels or become perturbed when some contestant fails to understand that every answer was to begin with an “O.”
Despite his quirks, we love him.
And when he read, “A fourth-stage disease which requires immediate treatment but is also terminal,” he filled in the answer to: What is Alex Trebek’s cancer diagnosis?
It’s ridiculous to think the world won’t go on without Alex Trebek (or any of us, for that matter).
The Muddle East.
I have often told my children to always try to find a second reason for everything they do. It takes away some of the pressure of thinking that you’re hanging on a limb by one twig.
So with that in mind, if you aren’t convinced of climate change and the need to back off fossil fuels, then consider this second reason:
To keep us out of a region of our world filled with religious fanatics, nationalists and misogynists: The Middle (or as I stated it)—the Muddle East.
Rather, it is a soulless, arid climate, manufacturing despair as its only byproduct.
And although it is true that oil and water do not mix, neither do oil and blood.
I am tickled pink with rosy cheeks at the prospect of more candidates entering the Presidential campaign. I find myself overjoyed and grateful.
Let’s leave it open.
Why can’t we learn from our very recent error? You know what I’m talking about:
Just three short years ago, when we were convinced that one candidate had the right to be elected President simply because she was a woman and had a predominant name.
And that another fellow was worthy of the White House because he scored high ratings on a reality television show and was fairly adept at hotel placement.
Let us not be foolish.
It is a position which requires a human being to free him or herself of the ego of actually wanting the job.
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| Steve on From the Stacks … Octobe… |
| Maxine Mantooth on Scrambles … October 20th… |
| Maxine Mantooth on From the Stacks … Octobe… |
| Maxine Mantooth on Scrambles … October 13th… |
A voice writing in the wilderness
Jonathots Daily Blog 
