Catchy (Sitting 23) Dorbe and Candy … November 19th, 2017

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3495)

Matthew was elated.

Not only did the great hamburger give-away get coverage from all the major networks, but McDonald’s chose to throw in 5,000 free hot apple pies in appreciation for the large order. Every newspaper carried the same picture–a little four-year-old boy sitting on a curb eating a hot apple pie, Coke next to him, with a huge smile on his face.

It was epic–the fresh burst of optimism which had been absent in the media for years. There had been attempts to create positive stories, but rarely did one seem to fall from the heavens, right into the laps of weary journalists.

Matthew wanted to do something special for Jubal, so while Carlos finished up at the rally, Matthew raced back to the complimentary suite that had been provided and made a few phone calls. The last contact was to the GG Escort Service.

So when Jubal Carlos arrived at the suite a couple of hours later, Matthew greeted him at the door, giggling from the effects of two slurped-down martinis.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, my friend,” said Matthew.

Jubal smiled. “I don’t know whether I can take any more surprises.”

Matthew chuckled. “I think you can take this one,” he said, with a slight slur in his speech. “You see, what I did was I called the GG Escort Service. Do you know what GG stands for?”

Jubal was surprised, but played along. “No. What does it stand for?”

Matthew patted Jubal on the back. “It stands for ‘Good Girls.’ You see, they promise that all their ladies are good girls. And I thought a good fella like you and a good fella like me deserved a couple of good girls.”

Jubal crossed the room and sat down on the plush couch. “I don’t understand. Why did you do that?”

Matthew, still standing at the door, responded, “I thought you might like to relax. Sit back. Have some fun.”

“Didn’t we have fun today?” asked Jubal.

“I meant you have fun,” said Matthew.

“I did,” replied Jubal.

“Are you gay?” asked Matthew.

Jubal stood to his feet, angry. “No, I’m not gay. I just don’t know why we’d want to end this day with women that you’ve purchased.”

“Sorry,” said Matthew. “I’ve already paid for them. They’re in the other room, waiting for us.”

“They’re here?” inquired Jubal, panic in his voice.

“Yes,” Matthew answered. “And calm down. You’ve had sex before, haven’t you?”

Jubal stepped across the room. “Yes, I’ve had sex before. I’m a Las Vegas musician. Are you an idiot?”

Matthew tried to lighten up the moment. “Yes, matter of fact, I am an idiot. I thought you might like to have some female companionship.”

Jubal stepped closer to Matthew. “You don’t get it, do you? This is just a game to you. It’s like you’re playing with Mommy and Daddy’s money. Or worse, it’s Monopoly money, so what difference does it make? So you think you can go out and buy whatever you need.”

Matthew was pissed. “Hey, back off, fella. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you think you can buy love,” spit Jubal.

“I’m not buying love, and we’re not little boys in grammar school,” said Matthew. “It’s just sex–and a chance to have it without having to apologize, explain or woo.”

Jubal returned to the couch, sat down and turned away from Matthew. “This is not my life. This is not what I would do. I thought we would come here, order some steaks, celebrate our independence and maybe even be grateful for what happened. Do you get it? People came together today. It wasn’t a mass shooting. It wasn’t a hateful demonstration. It was people eating hamburgers, listening to music, believing.”

Matthew shook his head. “You worry me, buddy. I thought you were a professional. You know–someone who had been around the block a few times. But you’re acting like you buy into this.”

“I’m not acting,” said Jubal.

As he finished his thought, the door of the bedroom opened and in walked two lovely women in their early twenties.

“What’s the holdup?” said one of the girls.

Matthew spoke up. “I’m sorry. My friend is just a little tired.”

The second girl walked over to Jubal, rubbed his shoulders and said, “That’s okay. I’ll do all the work.”

Jubal slowly turned around and looked her in the eyes, and asked, “What’s your name?”

Matthew interrupted. “I named this one ‘Yes’ and this other one ‘O-h-h-h, yes.'”

Matthew laughed uncontrollably, apparently having consumed more than two martinis. Jubal ignored him and took the young lady by the hands, and asked again, “No, what’s your name?”

She squinted, and then cautiously replied, “My name is Dorothy Beth, but my friends call me Dorbe.”

“Where are you from, Dorbe?” asked Jubal.

“Yankton County, South Dakota.”

Jubal motioned for her to sit down and she eased her way onto the cushion. “I’ve never been to South Dakota,” said Jubal. “What’s it like?”

Dorbe thought for a second. “Well, it’s like North Dakota. Just a little further south.”

Jubal laughed. “You are very funny, Dorbe.”

He stood up, walked over to the other young lady, took her hands, and said, “What’s your name?”

She glanced at Matthew, who just shook his head, so she replied flatly, “My name is Candy Cane.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “No, your real name.”

She placed her hand on her hip and blurted, “It is my real name. My mother loved Christmas.”

Jubal thought that was funny, too. “My friend, Matthew, tells me you’re good girls.”

“No, that’s our escort service,” said Dorbe. Candy Cane threw her a darting glance.

Dorbe stared back, and said, “He’s a nice guy. I thought I could say ‘escort service.’ I don’t think he’s a cop.”

Jubal motioned for Candy Cane to sit down, too. She complied.

“No, I’m not a cop,” said Jubal. “But I do try to be a good guy. And so does my buddy, here. He’s just like all of us–he gets some things mixed up. You see, he’s the guy that’s thinking about starting a campaign to make Jesus popular again.”

“I read about that in the newspaper,” said Dorbe.

“When did Jesus get unpopular?” inserted Candy Cane.

Jubal stepped toward Matthew. “You see, my man? These ladies don’t think Jesus is unpopular. You know why?”

Matthew shook his head, like he was caught in a bad dream. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“It’s because they’re working people,” replied Jubal. “They’re the kind of people who not only know Jesus, but they want to be friends with him.”

“You do know what we do for a living?” interrupted Dorbe.

“Hush, bitch,” said Candy Cane in the nicest way possible.

“Yes,” answered Jubal. “I know what occupies your time. But not tonight. You see, my friend and I were about to order some steaks. Or was it lobster? How about both? And we were wondering if you lovely ladies would join us?”

“You know we’re already paid for, right?” asked Dorbe.

“I suppose,” said Jubal. “But I want to give you a choice. You can keep your money and leave, or you can stay here and eat a delicious dinner with us and join in conversation.”

Just conversation?” Candy Cane asked, suspicious.

“Just conversation?” Matthew repeated.

“Yes,” said Jubal. “There is so much to talk about, so much to celebrate, so much to be thankful for that we don’t have to go weird to have our fun.”

Dorbe shook her head. “You are an odd man. Are you a preacher? Don’t get me wrong–I’ve been with a lot of preachers.”

“No, Dorbe, actually I’m a drummer. Congas.”

Candy Cane stood to her feet and clapped her hands. “Oh, I love congas! They’re just so … drummy.”

“I couldn’t have said that better myself,” said Jubal.

“Yes, you could,” said Matthew.

“So what do you say, Matthew? Shall we order in some dinner for our ‘Good Girls?'” asked Jubal.

Matthew stood quietly in the doorway, where he had been stuck the entire time. He was still waiting for an exciting evening of pleasure, and was being offered dinner and talk.

He didn’t understand Jubal. He was aware of people who were self-righteous, or just hated sex–but Mr. Carlos didn’t seem to fit into either of those categories. There was something mysterious about the story of this man that he knew he would have to uncover so as to protect himself–and the money.

But not tonight. Tonight belonged to Carlos. Tonight was a time to submit to the common good.

Tonight was a celebration with two good guys and two good girls.

 

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Cracked 5 … May 24th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2944)

cracked 5 logo keeper with border

Rejected Ideas for New Candy Bars

A. Goo-Guts

A marshmallow, chocolate and cherry sauce confection in the shape of a human cadaver

 

B. Z & Z’s

M & M’s with just a hint of a sleeping pill added

 

C. Badfinger

Same as Butterfinger–just in the shape of a middle digit

 

D. Milky Gay

With a rainbow wrapper!

 

E. Mr. Good-4-U Bar

Little pieces of orange peel, broccoli, squash and kale, dipped in caramel, with a whipped zucchini center

 

Cracked 5 Candy's bar 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … April 23rd, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Dear Man Dear Woman

Dear Woman: Not all men are gay.

 

Dear Man: Of course not.

 

Dear Woman: Not all women are lesbians.

 

Dear Man: Is this some sort of homophobic rant?

 

Dear Woman: No, not at all. My point is, men get along really well with each other without sex, as do women.

 

Dear Man: That’s why society insists that men and women have differences which create incompatibility.

 

Dear Woman: No, that’s wrong. That’s not the reason. The reason is that heterosexual men and women lead with sex. They try to find a passion of romance instead of a reason for conversation. So in the gay or lesbian community, they have the same problem. They fight like cats and dogs, just like heterosexuals.

 

Dear Man: Well, actually it would be cats and cats, and dogs and dogs…

 

Dear Woman: Very cute. Our culture has taught us to look at the opposite sex as a means for gratifying our physical needs. And then we wonder, when the thrill of that sexuality plays out, why people grow disinterested.

 

Dear Man: Well, how would you change that? Men are always going to look at women as potential partners in the bedroom. And women do the same thing in their own style.

 

Dear Woman: It doesn’t have to be that way. Men who aren’t gay still have passion for each other if they become involved in a common cause–like war, family, politics, sports, business…

 

Dear Man: Well, women, too.

 

Dear Woman: Exactly. But it works because the passion is always in the third position, not the primal one. If you try to get football players worked up to win a game, and they have no business or friendship with each other, nothing clicks.

 

Dear Man: I see what you mean. You’re saying that the problem is that we advertise sex so much in this country, that once the impact of the original fling is over, we have no real interest, so we terminate the overwrought passion.

 

Dear Woman; I couldn’t have said that better myself. Whether you’re religious or not, the tale of the Garden of Eden does lay it out correctly, and shows where things went astray. God gave Adam and Eve business and friendship, and He assumed that passion and family would spawn from that. But the minute Adam saw Eve, he was sexually drawn to her, and because the relationship was “bone and flesh,” as he put it, they didn’t develop the business and friendship that was necessary to keep them from falling apart.

 

Dear Man: That’s wild. And so true. So at a very early age we should have boys and girls work together, develop friendships, and then see what sparks in passion.

 

Dear Woman: It’s why when people have affairs, they usually happen with someone they work with. The work stimulates closeness which leads to a friendship with laughter and interaction, lending itself to passion. But if you start off with passion, you’ve got nowhere to go.

 

Dear Man: Or you end up trying to force a friendship and a business.

 

Dear Woman: So even though folks think it’s immoral, people living together before marriage might be a successful project, if there was no sex involved. They could prove that working their business together could grow into a deep-rooted friendship.

 

Dear Man: So if it begins with passion, it will soon lose its fashion.

 

Dear Woman: You rhymed!

 

Dear Man: I’d like to say I did it on purpose, but that would be a lie.

 

Dear Woman: We begin with business–a common goal, which leads to friendship–a common feeling, and ends up with passion–a common pleasure.

 

Dear Man: I like that. Common goal, common feeling, common pleasure. If we take that path, we are constantly feeding the excitement for one another with the new experiences of our business and friendship.

 

Dear Woman: And if we don’t, we’re depending on our bodies to keep it interesting.

 

Dear Man: That’s too much to ask of “any-body.”

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … March 23rd, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2876)

PoHymn Judas

The Unusual Suspect

Did you know the man?

Please tell us what you can.

Did he live alone?

Ever use your phone?

Was he the kind to smile?

We need this for our file.

Would a woman make his day

Or was he openly gay?

Believe in the divine?

Seeking for a sign?

Search your memory.

What did you watch and see?

Would you trust him with your kid?

Did he ever flip his lid?

When did he come for dinner?

A loser or a winner?

Silver seemed to be his preference.

Do you know of any particular reference?

Go by Judas or Jude?

Was he ever rude?

What about the number thirty?

Would you describe him as timid or flirty?

Did you see any of this coming?

We hear he was often heard humming.

What was his favorite tune?

He moved here back in June.

Anything weird that comes to mind

Will give us the motive we need to find.

Was he on the level?

Did he worship the devil?

What would be your vote?

Did he leave a suicide note?

‘Cause he’s dead, you know

By a rope.

Went completely nuts.

Couldn’t cope.

Search your memory

Nothing’s too small

We’ll leave you our card

Give us a call.

For we need to close

This stupid case

Of this careless sumbitch

Who betrayed our race.

Sorry to bother you.

Thanks for your time.

Sometimes there is just

No reason or rhyme.

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … February 20th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2850)

Dear Man Dear Woman

 

 

Dear Man: Do you think a woman could be President?

 

Dear Woman: Do you think a man could be sensitive without coming across as gay?

 

Dear Man: Do you think a woman is able to teach men?

 

Dear Woman: Do you think a man is able to carry on an intelligent conversation with a woman?

 

Dear Man: Do you think a man and a woman can be friends without any romance?

 

Dear Woman: Sounds like we’ve got all the questions down.

 

Dear Man: But I don’t hear you answering any of them.

 

Dear Woman: I’m not gonna be the first one to jump into that puddle.

 

Dear Man: Chicken.

 

Dear Woman: Cluck, cluck.

 

Dear Man: Well, answer this. Why do you think the questions exist in the first place? After all, we don’t ask if women can be friends with each other or if men can be friends.

 

Dear Woman: That’s easy. Breasts and balls.

 

Dear Man: What do you mean?

 

Dear Woman: From the time you and I were little kids, we were told that women have breasts and men have balls, and that those two dangling pieces of human skin symbolize unique roles.

 

Dear Man: I see what you mean. So because I have breasts, I am viewed as a sexual object, even though breasts have much more to do with feeding a child than they do with luring a man.

 

Dear Woman: Not from my perspective! I am taught that the only way I can get your attention is by demonstrating my masculinity and kind of letting my balls hang out there.

 

Dear Man: Kind of, you mean…

 

Dear Woman: Yeah. It’s the only thing that the secular world and the religious world agree on. Men are strong–balls. Women are weak–breasts.

 

Dear Man: So even though the Miss America Pageant has a talent competition, and they ask them a question, everybody tunes in for the swimsuits.

 

Dear Woman: Hell, yeah. We run our society on sexuality while simultaneously, in our art, we insist that the sexes are so malfunctioning that sexual relations are rarely fulfilling.

 

Dear Man: So if you chase what we’re taught, you’re dissatisfied. And if you don’t chase it, people clump you in as a feminist.

 

Dear Woman: Don’t you think a man could be a feminist?

 

Dear Man: Not really. I think a man who’s smart and understands equality could call himself a realist. After all, we’re not going to do this separately. It’s gonna have to be together.

 

Dear Woman: So I guess in this society we’re stuck with breasts and balls.

 

Dear Man: There is another choice. It’s called brains.

 

Dear Woman: That’s easy to say. It sounds good. But how do you ever convince people that brains come to play in the conflict between the sexes?

 

Dear Man: I think that’s easy. Ultimately, nobody wants to be stuck with a stupid lover. Nobody wants to spend their life with an uncaring buffoon who is completely unaware of what’s going on.

 

Dear Woman: So do you think if brains were brought to the forefront in a relationship between a man and woman, that breasts and balls could be put into perspective?

 

Dear Man: Now there’s a question you don’t often hear. Here’s what I think. People become more attractive when they are pursuing an intelligent path toward solving the problems in their lives instead of trying to be seductive with their breasts or overpowering with their balls.

 

Dear Woman: So how can we use our brains without having the breasts and balls try to take authority?

 

Dear Man: Stop believing what people tell you about yourself unless your experience agrees with it. I don’t feel stupid. I don’t feel weak. I don’t feel like a sex object. I don’t feel I should be forbidden to teach men. I don’t think it’s impossible for a man and a woman to have a friendship.

 

Dear Woman: Me either.

 

Dear Man: That’s two of us. And two people agreeing together, using their brains, can make some pretty wonderful things happen.

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … January 16th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2815)

Dear Man Dear Woman

Dear Man: Do you like M & M’s?

 

Dear Woman: Yeah, I suppose so.

 

Dear Man: What flavor?

 

Dear Woman: I haven’t given it much thought. I guess the red ones.

 

Dear Man: Is that strawberry or cherry?

 

Dear Woman: Like I said, I don’t think about M & Ms much. It’s kind of a kid’s candy. But I guess cherry.

 

Dear Man: There’s only one flavor. Chocolate.

 

Dear Woman: What do you mean?

 

Dear Man: I mean that the candy-coated shell is just a color, not a flavor.

 

Dear Woman: Are you sure?

 

Dear Man: Positive. They were trying to sell chocolate, wanted to find a cute way to do it, so they surrounded it with a candy shell and colorized it.

 

Dear Woman: Wow. I hadn’t thought of that before.

 

Dear Man: I have. Especially recently. You see, that’s what they’ve done to us–men and women.

 

Dear Woman: Turned us into M & M’s?

 

Dear Man: Exactly. We’re really both chocolate. We’re just human beings. 99 percent of our physical makeup is identical. But society comes along and coats us in a candy shell and gives us a color.

 

Dear Woman: So what’s my color?

 

Dear Man: You know. The standard. Pink for me and blue for you. They will also let you be brown. But you’d better not choose yellow, red or even green, or you could be accused of being…well, you know.

 

Dear Woman: Shall we say effeminate? Since it would be completely politically incorrect to say gay? But on the other hand, as a woman you are allowed to be a little bit blue, but if you turned brown, then you would be too macho.

 

Dear Man: Or the politically incorrect term, butch. And even though there’s no validity to the colorations and the candy shell doesn’t produce any flavor, we still live by the colors. And did you know–there are rock and roll bands who insist on having only green M & M’s?

 

Dear Woman: Clever. But what’s your point?

 

Dear Man: I guess my point is, the more we try to designate each other by color, race, religion and gender, the less we realize that we’re all chocolate.

 

Dear Woman: But aren’t some differences a good thing? Isn’t it important for men and women to have unique aspects, to keep the mystery in our romance?

 

Dear Man: I guess if that actually did happen it would be alright. But we use our difference to prove how separate we are–therefore establishing that it’s basically impossible for us to coexist without arguing or fighting. Can I tell you something? You’re a great guy, but you’re not all blue.

 

Dear Woman: What do you mean, I’m not all blue?

 

Dear Man: Well, you’re afraid of spiders. You don’t like to get your hands too dirty. And you don’t sit around drinking beers and watching football all the time.

 

Dear Woman: What’s wrong with that?

 

Dear Man: Nothing–except it adds a little pink to your shell. At least by the standards of our society. They say you’re supposed to be the aggressor and I’m supposed to be the vanquished.

 

Dear Woman: So what color would you say I am?

 

Dear Man: Well, kind of purple. Not a raving lavender–more a mauve.

 

Dear Woman: This is so stupid. And by the way, you’re not all pink. You’re kind of purple, too–because for some reason, you like to check the oil in your own car.

 

Dear Man: You see what I mean? We’re both shades of purple. Even in the M & M world, our candy colors are more alike than different.

 

Dear Woman: So why don’t people recognize this?

 

Dear Man: Because there are billions of dollars to be made by insisting there’s a war between the sexes instead of finding our common flavor.

 

Dear Woman: You really think it’s all about money?

 

Dear Man: “The love of money is the root of all evil.”

 

Dear Woman: Do you think it can change?

 

Dear Man: I think it can, if we put away childish things…like M & M’s.

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Ask Jonathots … September 3rd, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2681)

ask jonathots bigger

 

I like animals more than people. I own four dogs and volunteer at the animal shelter once a month, and regularly canvas my co-workers to donate to the shelter and also to other animal charities. I dress my doggies for the weather and buy them special cakes for holidays and their birthdays. Two of my co-workers referred to me as “unbalanced” because I treat my dogs like they’re my children. I told them that I think animals are more trustworthy than humans. What do you think?

I am curious about the way you have framed your paragraph and question. In other words, if you had begun your statement by telling me about your delightful four dogs, your work with charities and the fact that you treat these animals as your children, I would have said,”Absolutely fabulous.”

But the fact that you chose to begin your feelings by saying that you like animals more than people does warn me that you are dealing with a neurosis.

I would feel the same about someone who led off by saying they liked people more than animals. My question would be why?

If you truly contend that animals are part of God’s creation and therefore deserve our respect, tenderness and appreciation, that is one thing. But to isolate them off as superior to people–another part of God’s creation–is no different from someone telling me they like gay better than straight, white better than black and female better than male.

The unbalanced part of your personality lies in your need to prefer instead of just honoring.

Honestly, animals are not more trustworthy than humans. I have very few friends–or even enemies–who would eat my dead body if they were locked in a room with me for three days without food.

But animals not only have a purpose, they are symbolistic of what Jesus called “the least of these, my brethren.” They need our care, they need our attention, they deserve our respect, and they also anticipate that we will have the insight to place them in the correct position in our lives.

It’s not that people are better than animals or animals are better than people. It’s just that when you set apart some segment of creation as superior to another segment, you are on the slippery slope of bigotry which lends itself to tyranny.

  • I love animals. I love animals to let them be animals.
  • I love people. I love people enough to let them be people.
  • And I love God. I love God enough to let Him be God.

Because in your hour of need, you can certainly believe that God cares about your situation and will help. There is also the potential that people will come along and assist, based upon their compassion.

But if you’re broken down along the side of the road, your dog will just sit there and bark, waiting for a treat.

 

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