Sit Down Comedy … November 15th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

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Life is like a bucket of bolts without a wrench.

Of course, it isn’t. It’s just one of those attempts at cleverness by an over-reaching writer trying to capture your darting attention to his overwrought work.

It’s kind of like when one of these hacks writes:

If everything has purpose, then God is one sick mofo.

You see what I mean? Trying to walk that fine line between street language, to make you think that he or she, typing the words, is in step with present-day pop culture, while also making you wonder if what’s being expressed is a squirt of agnosticism or a splash of raging against religious profanity.

Of course—maybe it’s just dumb.

Because I will tell you:

I saw an ant pushing a crumb of bread back to his hill. I thought, why doesn’t he eat the damn crumb, and then come back to his buddies and say he couldn’t find anything?

Ah, yes.

A gaggle of giggles to gurgle up an emotion emitting from every man, as alliteration is always alluring.

Of course, it isn’t really. It’s just an overuse of a practice that could benefit from some underuse.

Truth is: Life is a bowl of cherries that somebody already ate, leaving you the pits.

Yet we must not be too critical of those who at least try to make us smile while simultaneously offering food for thought. Granted, the food for thought is often Cheetos and candy bars, but as we all know, those can do quite well in a pinch.

Don’t you sometimes feel like standing on a mountain, or maybe a small hill in Kansas, and scream:

Excuse me, life! It’s your turn to have a good attitude!

But does the author really feel that? Or is the penner of the words merely pointing out that life is taken too seriously for how ridiculous it ends up being?

Because talking to a friend the other day, he said this to me: Life is meeting a beautiful woman and suddenly remembering you are gay. (Of course, this didn’t happen. I don’t have any gay friend.)

Now, there was a surprise, right? And the line is pretty funny. It might even tickle the bone until funny comes forth.

But my discovery is: Wisdom is when knowledge stops planning and starts working.

Wow. This kinda reads like the phrase a philosophy teacher might write on the chalkboard during the first class on the first morning of the first semester of the first year of an overly lengthy education.

So what is life? Or should that question even be asked? Is posing it just a setup for over-inspirational ideas or sardonic punchlines?

Does it cause us to come with a phrase like: Life is like getting a knee replacement and then breaking your leg.

At least there are layers. Gives you pause. Makes you twinge a bit in sympathetic agony.

One of my favorites is: Life is a beautiful bouquet of flowers that smells like poop.

Now, that could get some conversation going if you were really bored, had nothing to do and happened to be hanging out with a geek.

I don’t know—what do you think works? Do I really care—what works, and what you think?

Would you agree with me that we can’t be trusted on our own?

Human beings are too intelligent to be released with their flakey attitudes.

Here’s what I think:

We need a god if for no other reason than to keep us from worshipping ourselves.

And all the people said, “A-men.” (Did you say it out loud? Do you now feel stupid because I asked you?)

Our journey is a strange one.

Quite candidly: Life is a fork when you’ve been given a plate of peas.

Yes. That’s somewhat like it, isn’t it? Not.

Life is like a railroad, except there’s no train of thought and it’s hard to get on track.

Huh. I guess it’s not like a railroad at all.

 

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If I was going to make a cherry pie … June 7, 2012

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I’m not, by the way … going to make a cherry pie.

I don’t like to bake. It’s not some chauvinistic sensation that the kitchen belongs to the woman, for pot and pan rattling. I like to cook. I just never got into baking confections and such. Lots of people like to do that kind of thing. I have a granddaughter who thinks that baking a cake is the easiest way to get close to God (or at least to get people to worship you like you are one…)

I am more a baker of good intentions, similar to the individual who came up with the phrase, “If I had known you were coming, I would have baked a cake. But since you didn’t give me much notice, you’re stuck sharing a Little Debbie…”

Oh, how handsome this one turned out. Tasty, too. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But due to the magic of story-telling, and just my particular whim for the day, let us imagine that I WAS going to bake a cherry pie. Now, let me tell you, I picked cherry pie because it is NOT one of my favorites, but if you run across a particularly good one, it is well worth the exertion of picking up a fork. So what makes a good cherry pie? There are four elements.

1. The crust. Putting together a good crust for a pie is underestimated in my opinion. I once purchased a frozen pie crust from my grocer and tried to use it to construct some sort of dessert possibility. The crust was so tough after it was baked that even my dog wouldn’t eat it. (And let me tell you, he has astounded me with some of his choices…) Yes, a crust is more than an outer garment for a good cherry pie. It is more or less the tantalizing part that draws us into the concoction in the first place. It should be flakey, tender and really, almost be able to stand alone as a pastry unto itself. Lots of people spend a lot of time on a good crust.

2. The next thing is determining the sweetness. Cherry pie should be sweet, but not too sweet, very similar to the personality of the cherry itself. It is almost the definition of sweet and sour. It shouldn’t make you pucker but you also shouldn’t require a shot of insulin after indulging. Picking the right amount of sweetness for your cherry pie is probably better suited for the angels. How much sweetness IS good to put into such a project before the grains of sugar grit in your teeth or each bite from your particular piece reminds you more of lemons than cherries?

3. The filling. Now, you might think that the filling is the same thing as the sweetness, but not so. The filling has to have a particular thickness, depth and texture to it–and be present enough in the mixture to hold the lid of the pie up so it doesn’t sink down–with top crust nearly lying on bottom crust. How you fill your pie determines whether one slice actually looks like a serving, or if it just lies there on the plate, flat and lacking promise.

4. And finally, the cherries. You might think they are the most important ingredient in the cherry pie, but I don’t believe so. Certainly it would be wonderful to have top-notch A-1 cherries in your pie, but if the sweetness, crust and filling have been given enough tender loving care, you can put in a few second- and even third-string cherries for the line-up. As long as they attempt to hold their shape, maintain their color and could pass for a cherry during a blind taste test, they should be just fine.

Yes, most people are more concerned about the fruit in their pie than the outer crust that introduces itself to the public. But it’s rather doubtful that you will ever get people inside to inspect the fruit if the outer casing is unappealing or drives them away with its nasty taste.

So if I was going to make a cherry pie, I would put my main emphasis on the crust, which we might refer to as “the greeter.” Then following that would be the sweetness, which we could call “the host.” And then, I would carefully concoct a filling that was suitable for my endeavors, which we might name “the guest speaker.” And finally, I would select good cherries, but not be too bigoted in my perspective, creating the all-important “janitorial staff,” which is there for the clean up.

Now, of course, there is a certain amount of hypocrisy to this whole essay–because I don’t know what I’m talking about and there will never be a practical application produced by my hands. Still, sometimes it is fun to project forth images of what you think you might be able to accomplish–and then to intelligently NOT proceed to demonstrate your ineptness.

But in conclusion, this has been what I think about what makes a good cherry pie. Otherwise, you ought to just go down to the grocery store and pick up one of those Hostess ones in the wrapper, which have been tested and proven to be able to survive a nuclear winter.

Cherry pie:

• good crust
• stay sweet
• lots of filling.
• and a family of different-sized and quality cherries.

There you go. (For what it’s worth.)

Maybe this is why the myth was begun that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree. Maybe it was his way of getting back at his mother, who was a really, really terrible baker.

   

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity