Jonathots Daily Blog
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“Come on in, Big Jon. We got pizza.”
Big Jon gave immediate heed to the call. He shimmied his way over to the box, lifted the lid, pulled out a piece and started to eat it, crust first.
Then came Scary Gary. When he arrived, the host also welcomed him with the generous offering of pizza. Scary Gary inched his way over and started lifting box lids, asking, “What kind did you get?”
The host, just a wee bit perturbed, replied, “Cheese, pepperoni, sausage and vegematic.”
Scary Gary grabbed a piece of cheese and waltzed into the room.
Then came Fussy Freddie. The host, still cheery, but a bit wary, said, “Come on in! We got pizza for everyone.”
Fussy Freddie paused, then walked very slowly over to the pizza boxes, and without lifting a single lid, demanded, “What flavors?”
The host cautiously replied, “Cheese, pepperoni, sausage and vegematic.”
First, Fussy Freddie did not find ‘vegematic’ humorous. He cited, “May I give you a suggestion? When you hold a party like this you might want to ask your guests what pizza toppings they prefer, so as to honor more tastes than simply your own.”
Fussy Freddie decided to pass on the pizza. He didn’t stay very long—mainly because everybody was afraid to talk to him, knowing that his subject matter was bitching about the party.
Now, let me explain. Over the years I have written about every subject under the sun and now seem to be heading into a new galaxy. But one thing I have stopped doing with my scribblings is presenting too many opinions, or for that matter, trying to be overly informative.
Human beings are simple to understand.
They line up everything they like and then give a name to it.
Whether this is political, religious or secular, their preferences become their faith.
So all I can do is help myself—and everyone I come in contact with—by stating what seems to be permissible for Earth interaction.
You can feel free to pick—in other words, there’s pizza there. Take a piece.
At a certain amount of risk, you can be picky. You can make it obvious that you have a preference of one thing over another.
But my God—don’t be prickly.
Even though we extol the power of our demands as a way of expressing our uniqueness, the human race as a whole considers it bratty to be prickly.
Pick? Yes.
Picky? Be careful.
Prickly? Goodnight, my love, goodnight.
It doesn’t matter what it’s about.
When you hear music, do you pick it up and enjoy it, no matter what style it is? Or do you criticize one style and tell people what you prefer? Or, worst of all, do you insist there’s only one kind of music—the tunes you revere.
Politics.
Pick a candidate. I guess you can be picky. But don’t be prickly. Don’t insist the person you want to vote for is the Second Coming of Charisma.
Religion.
Pick a god. If you’re going to be picky about it, nobody is going to listen to you anyway. And if you get prickly and demand that EVERYONE bow to your God, be prepared to have a large defense budget and find the initiative and end up killing people.
And the greatest notion I can give you on love is, pick someone you know who will probably continue to be thrilled to be with you. Don’t get so picky that you end up hunting out of your jungle and your appeal level. And please, don’t be prickly—unless you want to write a book on the joys of being alone.
- Pick.
- Picky.
- Prickly.
One keeps the door open to humanity, one makes humanity suspicious and the final one just pisses the hell out of everybody.
Jonathots Daily Blog 
