Salient … April 16th, 2018


 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Let’s say you want to destroy human beings.

You could kill them. That’s called murder. Of course, there’s always the danger of prosecution, being convicted and jailed, losing your own freedom and being trapped forever, recognized only as a criminal.

Nah.

But let’s say you’re bound and determined. Why? Because so many nasty things have happened in your life that you want to make sure no one sprouts a smirk. You need to assure yourself that given unwelcome circumstances, all human beings will turn into creatures of vengeance and darkness.

Where should you start?

Homo Sapiens have three parts to them: what was, what is, what could be. So your attack would have to be levied against this trio of components.

Therefore you assault the “what was” by making people guilty about their past while simultaneously yearning and wishing that “the good ole days” were still here.They end up feeling guilty, but with foolish pride. Nice start.

Remember, the key is to introduce darkness without alarming the victim about the loss of light. So now you have them thinking about their past–partially in terror, but somewhat nostalgically.

Next comes “what is.” Quite simple. Inundate them with so much unnecessary information that they begin to stress over what they perceive to be a mess. If they take all of their waking hours to nervously contemplate how badly things are going, there’s no time left to improve them.

Stress over the mess.

Get your victims to complain until it drives them insane.

This leaves you with “what could be.” If you want to quickly dispose of your humans, just persuade them to embrace the notion that it really is “what will be.” In other words, their lives are out of their hands, mystically steered by destiny. They are merely pawns in a cosmic game between good and evil.

Yes, people really love that one. They do not like the idea of being personally responsible for their own success and failure.

Once they begin to think about what could or will be, they sprout the worry that brings fear and robs them of good cheer.

Let’s review:

If you are a disturbed personality who wants to prove that darkness resides perpetually in the soul of every Earthly human, you should focus on what was and make them feel guilty and prideful. This also makes them appear to be out of step with what’s going on with the present generation. (Just a bonus.)

Then take what is and establish it as a mess that demands their stress. Don’t tell them that they’ve already overcome similar problems in the past. Don’t suggest that they could achieve emotional health by speaking their feelings and misgivings aloud. Trap them in their brains.

And finally, turn them into creatures of destiny, with what will be. But if that doesn’t work, present a dismal view of the future–make movies, write books and have scientists explain how fearful things are coming our way, and therefore, any sense of good cheer is downright irresponsible.

That’s how you destroy a human being without ending up on death row yourself. Bring just enough darkness that they stop desiring the light.

Salient–what is truly significant and important. Today’s salient moment is this:

Human despair is always accomplished by dimming the light without any warning.

 

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G-Poppers… July 3rd, 2015


Jonathots Daily Blog

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Jon close up

It’s both.

Reality is realizing that human beings are capable of both good and bad.

G-Pop wants to communicate this to all of his children and grandchildren.

Those who envision a world where the only excitement is going to church and bingeing on episodes of “Little House on the Prairie” are imbalanced to the point of insanity.

Likewise, those more jaded individuals who have decided to transform the human race into vicious animals barely out of the jungle, possessing the brain power to destroy the earth, are equally as deluded.

Reality is admitting that human beings possess the knowledge of good and evil. We ate it up in the Garden, which thrust us into the jungle, where we must plot to get back to the Garden.

G-Pop wants to tell his children that he’s never actually been acquainted with a serial killer, although television and the movies would insist that every community probably has one. Likewise, much to the surprise of the movie industry, most folks don’t cuss and swear nearly as much as the average script demands.

G-Pop also wants his children to know that the forefathers of our country were neither saints nor sinners, but men who were trying to figure out a way to create a democracy lasting for more than a hundred years.

Men and women skirmish, it is true–but it is not actually an all-out war.

And there are millions of people in the world who believe without hating anybody.

Reality is a beautiful thing when it’s presented realistically.

For instance, terrorists are like everyone else. They are often too lazy or too broke to make terror.

G-Pop wants all of his family to know that even though there are many diseases floating about the cosmos, the human body possesses an amazing immune system to protect us.

How about this? Guns are not going to go away, so we should spend our time working on the people who own them, reminding them to refrain from killing each other.

Children are in more danger of being abducted by too much television than by crazy strangers.

It’s all about finding the reality–and any reality that is absent hope is evil, and any reality that fails to recognize evil destroys our hope.

Consider this: politicians are more inept than corrupt. But we’re stuck with them unless we decide we want to crown a king.

And even though many people enjoy escaping into fantasy, we don’t need too much magic. We need more mercy.

So looking at the world around him, G-Pop has come to the conclusion that to find good we must recognize the evil that attempts to block the path.

And in portraying evil, we must always truthfully admit that it is overcome by good.

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Populie: There Is No Hell … March 26, 2014


Jonathots Daily Blog  

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hellOnce again, politics, religion and entertainment have joined together to agree upon a message to massage the masses:

  1. No personal responsibility.
  2. No challenge.
  3. No questioning.
  4. No evolution.
  5. No real difference between evil and good.

The difficulty with this particular popular lie (thus POPULIE) is that when they seek a poster boy to represent their cause, they are shocked to discover that Jesus was actually a great proponent of hell. Now, maybe “proponent” isn’t the correct word, but since he was a common sense teacher, he realized there’s no yin without a yang, no heads without a tails, no day without a night–and no heaven without a hell.

The reason this “hell-free” populie is catching on so quickly is that it removes guilt, covers everything with some sort of universal blanket of grace, and makes everybody feel good about themselves.

The difficulty is that most of the time we are not attending pep rallies which encourage us in self-esteem, but rather, lying in the dark on our beds, trying to go to sleep and realizing who we really are, face-to-face.

Let me give you some simple points:

A. Effort without consequences eventually eliminates reward. Reward is a consequence.

B. Pursuit without a second mile leads to easily falling short of the first mile marker.

C. Salvation without responsibility generates lazy, self-righteous, yet unfulfilled disciples.

D. Entertainment glorifying the darker side of humanity discourages anyone from trying to be “the light of the world.”

E. Politics without progress fosters a ruling class of self-satisfied statesmen.

F. Parenting minus correction is the care-taking of animals which could have become human.

F. Romance without surprise is the doldrums of predictability.

And finally, heaven without hell is just a common bus stop for all travelers…instead of a new world for true explorers.

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Val’s Pals … February 14, 2012


 
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Valentine’s Day–a delivery system for chocolate, flowers, jewelry, aftershave, golf shirts and miscellaneous power tools. Yet–is it more than that? It could be–if we actually focused on relationship instead of just commemorating a once-great union of hearts.
 
In my lifetime, I have watched as the pendulum has swung from the extreme of Father Knows Best to “Mama Knows Everything.” There is a general misconception in dealing with interaction between the sexes that some sort of cushioning or compromise MUST be established–because we apparently are from different planets, arriving on spaceships fueled by diverse energy. Because of this false representation, we seek to compliment or ignore one another in the pursuit of domination. Domination is useless, especially when it comes to interfacing with someone we purport to love.
 
Yet in the times when Father was supposed to be the All Knowing, women were underpaid, not considered worthy of leadership on a national level (or even high management in corporations), a little unpredictable and ditzy and meant for the home, not the battlefield–be it war, politics or business.
 
Move ahead through years of alleged women’s liberation and cultural growth, and today we insist that women are smarter than men, as we continue to underpay them, forbid them high seats in government and the Fortune 500, think they’re very unpredictable and ditzy and keep them far from the front lines of the war–be it commercial, cultural or military.
 
So what has changed? All we have done is play a pretend game: “Women are really smarter than men, but after all, we don’t need smarter. We’ve got men!”
 
As long as the goal in any relationship is to dominate, we will never truly understand one another, no matter how many boxes of chocolates, bunches of flowers or trinkets are peddled. Somewhere along the line, we have to understand that true friendship is neither complimenting or ignoring, but rather, trying to stay on point and being as honest as we can, while dancing around trying not to offend.
 
If a woman can’t find that in her mate, she will have a best friend she converses with and a husband she tolerates.  May I immediately point out that merely tolerating another human being is not the greatest aphrodisiac to lead into the bedroom? So then we get to preach that “women don’t like sex and men do.”
 
Now, this particular Mexican standoff doesn’t vary, whether in the secular or in the religious realm. The religious community believes that men should dominate and that women should raise the children and take care of the household. In some religions they’re even willing to cut off her sexual organs to make sure she doesn’t forget her mission.
 
In the secular community, the pretense is that women are much smarter, more organized and able to direct, while simultaneously they are relegated to a submissive position where they are basically housewives, even in the office (coffee and comfort), and they’re disemboweled sexually by being forbidden true authority.
 
Here’s my suggestion–let’s do something special on this Valentine’s Day. You don’t have to reject the power of the flower or the thrill of the drill, but you might want to sit down and have a conversation with the person you say you love that begins with this statement:
 
“Honestly… Well, I am not always honest with you, but instead, compliment or ignore you because I foolishly think, because of my training, that I am supposed to dominate you. I would like to stop that and instead, maybe for the first time in our journey together, find out who you are and what you want … and ditto for me.”
 
Now, if I thought the farce of “romantic America” could continue without creating chaos, I would never even bring up the subject. After all, America believes that McDonald’s makes the best hamburger and really, no harm, no “fowl.” But when you think that complimenting or ignoring your love to create domination is the best way to interact with another human being, while internally you find them obtuse or irrelevant, there is a nasty hypocrisy going on that will eventually flare up and decimate your contentment.
 
This is why we often step back and say, “I never thought they would get a divorce.”
 
Just removing domination from a relationship allows for two people to actually begin to talk again. The reason we didn’t like dating is because we had to chat. It is exactly the reason we should return to it.
 
So if you look at Val’s Pals on this day, they are  com through gifts and the action of ignoring expressed by pretending that somehow or another we forgot that it was a special day. It is all an inglorious ploy to create domination. Neither Father nor Mother know best.
 
Actually, we never get the best until Father and Mother learn how to communicate with each other.
 
 
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Below is the first chapter of Jonathan Richard Cring’s stunning novel entitled Preparing a Place for Myself—the story of a journey after death. It is a delicious blend of theology and science fiction that will inspire and entertain. I thought you might enjoy reading it. After you do, if you would like to read the book in its entirety, please click on the link below and go to our tour store. The book is being offered at the special price of $4.99 plus $3.99 shipping–a total of $8.98. Enjoy.

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Sitting One

 I died today. 

I didn’t expect it to happen.  Then again, I did—well, not really.

No, I certainly didn’t expect it.

I’ve had moments of clarity in my life.  Amazingly enough, many of them were in the midst of a dream. For a brief second I would know the meaning of life or the missing treatment to cure cancer.  And then as quickly as it popped into my mind it was gone. I really don’t recollect dying.  Just this unbelievable sense of clear headedness—like walking into a room newly painted and knowing by the odor and brightness that the color on the wall is so splattering new that you should be careful not to touch it for fear of smearing the design. The greatest revelation of all? 

Twenty-five miles in the sky time ceases to exist.

The planet Pluto takes two hundred and forty-eight years to circle the sun. It doesn’t give a damn. 

The day of my death was the day I became free of the only burden I really ever had.  TIME.

Useless.

Time is fussy.  Time is worry. 

Time is fear.  Time is the culprit causing human-types to recoil from pending generosity. 

There just was never enough time. 

Time would not allow it.  Remember—“if time permits …”

Why if time permits?  Why not if I permit?  Why not if I dream?  Why not if I want?  Why does time get to dictate to me my passage? 

It was time that robbed me of my soulful nature.    It was time that convinced me that my selfishness was needed. 

I didn’t die. The clock in me died, leaving spirit to tick on.  

So why don’t we see the farce of time?  Why do we allow ourselves to fall under the power of the cruel despot?  Yes, time is a relentless master—very little wage for much demand.

I died today. 

Actually … a piece of time named after me was cast away.

Teaspoonology … February 13, 2012


 
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I understand and I am certainly not offended.  To the mindset of the average person in our hectic society, my little  philosophy seems frivolous, if not futile. I call it “teaspoonology.”
 
I have no grandiose notion that my contribution to life is going to come in some sort of magnanimous flood of information and wisdom. But daily I am provided a teaspoon–and I realize that I’m going to dump that portion into a vast ocean of life.
 
You might wonder how I was introduced to my particular brand of teaspoonology. Some years ago I noticed that “sour” was becoming the countenance, the taste, the thinking and reaction of those around me. A puckered face became the preferred visage.  It was like we had all decided that life was meant to be just a little bitter, so why fight it? And it was ushered in along with the assertion that presenting reality meant studying the dark side of humanity.
 
There was once a time when our literature, art, religion and politics presented our more bleak options as obscure, unnecessary and escapable. But then that changed. Goodness became the elusive; mediocrity and evil became the commonplace. It “soured up” the flavor of human life. So that’s why I decided to take my little teaspoon of contribution afforded to me every day of my life and sweeten it. So when it is added into life’s mix, for a brief time there is just a hint of a change in taste. Within moments it gets stirred in and the more discriminating soul might be able to notice the subtle difference.
 
I have discovered that I don’t have more than a teaspoon, but I do have the power to make sure that the elixir I add becomes sweeter and sweeter as I adjust its intensity. Yes–more potent with the nectar of possibility instead of adding vinegar to the already-tainted contents. For after all, what power is there in succumbing to stupidity? What joy in insisting that only sadness rules the roost? What victory in bowing one’s head in the presence of death instead of fighting to the end? It is my little concept of struggling against what most people would consider to be inevitable.
  • Yes, I am angry at religion. It makes people believe they have no hope unless they embrace a God they are told they can’t understand.
  • Yes, I am infuriated with politics.  It persists in a message of doom and gloom in order to garner a vote which grants power which is rarely used to improve anything.
  • Yes, I am baffled by an entertainment industry which tantalizes us with images of our creature instead of the possibilities of our creative.
But I will not allow my anger to overcome my mission–and that particular odyssey is quite simple: to take my teaspoon of contribution, sweeten it more each and every day and faithfully drizzle it onto the great concoction before me.
 
It is a childlike precept. May I share it with you? “Since no one is better than anyone else, let’s ease up, take our teaspoon … and sweeten the pot.”
 
Does it work? Case in point:
 
When I arrived at my present lodging location, I met a maid who services the rooms and befriended her. I gave her a few dollars for her generous work and treated her as I would want to be treated if I found myself in her station. Last night, when I went to perform my final show at Cokesbury United Methodist Church, I left a bag of money in my room accidentally–not realizing that the maid was going to come in and clean my room. When I came back and saw the room was spotless, my mind immediately went to that vulnerable clump of cash. You know what happened? Even though she had to move the money to do her cleaning, she restored it in entirety to its proper place. An honest woman, true. But might she have been tempted to be dishonest if her first encounter with me had been a jolt of sour instead of a teaspoon of sweet? I don’t know–and I don’t care.
 
I am determined to take my teaspoon and blend it into the broth of daily life, working on increasing the intensity of its potential while encouraging others to simply reject the sour and embrace the sweet. It was my message yesterday. It will be my message tomorrow.
 
I do not think we can change the world by insisting that the world is too big to change.
I do not think we can personally be happy as long as we spend most of our time in despair over the unhappiness that surrounds us.
 
Somehow or another, we need to purify our teaspoon of involvement, sweeten it up and pour it in. If enough people would do it, it might alter the taste of our society just enough that others might notice and want more of the flavor. Certainly it is a piece of idealism, but without it, we are left dumping our refuse of bitterness into the common pot.
 
And this I know: the only way to truly stop misery is to refuse to participate in its insanity.
 
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Jonathan wrote the gospel/blues anthem, Spent This Time, in 1985, in Guaymas, Mexico. Take a listen:

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