Sit Down Comedy … October 26th, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3837)

Knocked Out

Knock-knock!

Who’s there?

What do you mean, who’s there?

I mean, who’s there?

It’s me.

Me who?

Me who, who?

What is that–a Chinese philosopher? Man, that sounds really racist.

What are you talking about?

Me who who. Your joke.

I didn’t make a joke. I said me who.

Wait a second, I’m confused.

I’m just following the script.

What script?

The knock-knock script.

Is that anything like a knock-off script?

Was that supposed to be funny?

Funnier than me-who-who.

So what are you getting at?

I’m getting at that I just came to see you.

So why didn’t you ring the doorbell?

I thought it would be more charming to say knock-knock.

Actually, it was confusing.

Why is knocking at a door confusing?

A, because no one does it anymore and B, because it’s a setup for a joke.

What joke?

Knock-knock.

Who’s there?

So you DO know.

I just wanted to see how far we could go with it. And by the way, I’m not a racist.

No one thinks he’s a racist

Wouldn’t a racist think he’s a racist?

No. A racist thinks he’s proud of his color.

That sounds weird.

So does saying knock-knock.

How did that ever get started?

What?

The knock-knock thing.

Probably with two guys sittin’ around with nothing to do who should probably be working and making a living.

Are you referring to us?

Or any other two guys similar to us who have no real lives and try to come up with something they thought was funny and were astonished when it caught on–especially when they realized they had no patent on it and therefore could make no money.

You think the guys who came up with knock-knock didn’t make any money on it?

I know so. Because it was two women.

Is that a slam against women?

No, that’s a slam against what they get paid.

Well, I came to see you.

Why?

Actually, I can’t remember.

Why don’t you start over again?

Okay. Ding-dong!

You’re kidding, right?

It might catch on.

Okay. Who’s there?

King Kong.

King Kong who?

King Kong ding-dong.

I don’t think you understand this at all.

My friends used to play this when I was a kid but I always thought it was stupid so I would leave whenever it started.

Was that also true for history, math, English and sex education?

You see, that’s kind of funny.

Actually, it’s very funny.

But knock-knock is not funny.

It’s older than you and me put together.

So if something is around long enough, it has value?

That’s why hypocrisy is still here.

And hate, I assume.

And thank God, love.

Boy, has this gotten sappy.

It’s all because you don’t know how to play knock-knock.

I didn’t say I don’t know how–just that I didn’t like it.

I’m getting very tired of talking about this.

Just think how bored the readers are, having to go back and forth between two characters who aren’t named.

But we kind of trapped them, didn’t we? Because it looked short–at least not very wide, when they decided to start.

And now they’re wondering if we’re going to come to some sort of clever conclusion.

So you’re saying we tricked them?

Pretty much.

Do you think they’re still reading?

Most of them.

Why do you think that’s so?

Because they don’t understand that we’re really two klutzes who don’t have a closing for this bit.

How long do you think they would keep on reading?

A long time.

I think we just lost some right there.

I don’t because I’m going to accuse you of being a racist again and tell the readers that I’m about to name the top five racists in America.

Where did you get such a list?

Racists.com.

There’s no such thing.

Do you think they’re still reading?

Yeah, because they’re waiting to see if I actually name five bigots.

Are you going to?

Nope.

So we must have lost some by now.

But not all of them…

Why do you think that’s true?

Because they’ve come this far and they’re bound and determined to see it through.

So should there be a payoff?

We could just pretend it’s a political speech and make it long and meaningless.

I think we’ve already done that.

Knock-knock.

Who’s there?

People reading.

People reading who?

Us, dummy.

See the power of the knock-knock joke?

I still don’t like it.

Let me give you some good advice…don’t knock-knock it until you try it.

 

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G-Poppers … March 30th, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3627)

He was anxiously looking forward to spending the weekend alone with his beautiful wife, Claudia, near the sea. The responsibilities of his position were unyielding, leaving him negotiating all sorts of foolish squabbles, bringing him home at night still reeling from the grumpy day.

Unfortunately, Claudia had been the victim of many of his temper tantrums, as he ranted and raged about the inflexibility of the people who dubbed themselves “the children of Abraham.” He just needed to get away.

Caesarea was perfect.

It had been built by the Roman occupiers as a little piece of home–and freedom–in the midst of this inflexible, dim-witted region. For a few days, he could pretend he was civilized again instead of trying to govern a pack of wolves who refused to accept the fact that they were caged.

Resting in his bed, he was awakened early on Friday morning with a request to meet with Caiaphas, the high priest of the Jewish people, to adjudicate a particularly difficult matter. Worse was that Caiaphas and his entourage refused to come into the Great Hall to see him because they were in the midst of their Passover celebration, and to be in the presence of him, a Gentile, made them unclean.

He shook his head, baffled by how foolish they were to make these contentions, for some reason thinking they were not offensive.

Arriving in the outer hall, he was surrounded by bearded, austere theologians, who ushered in a weary, wobbly man obviously suffering from punishment.

Within seconds, he realized that their request for his intervention was not needed. It was one of their pieces of fussiness–something about their God. A reference to a Messiah.

Realizing that the young, abused gentleman in front of him was from Galilee, he decided to pawn the situation off on Herod, whom he hated. As he went back to his chambers to tell his wife of his great solution, she appeared before him with terror in her eyes.

She’d had a dream. It was a dream about a man who would be brought to him, who was accused of great indignities, but was truly innocent.

He listened carefully to Claudia. She was not normally given to such outbursts. He trusted her. She advised him that he must avoid bringing any judgment on this man.

They had barely finished their conversation when Caiaphas and his entourage returned. Apparently Herod had passed the case back over to him.

A little spooked by Claudia’s dream, but even more, aggravated by being disturbed on the morning of his departure, he strolled onto the porch of the outer hallway to interview the young Galilean.

He was a little embarrassed. The religious leaders of the Jews seemed very intent on harming this man, while the fellow stood quietly by, offering no defense. Normally a man in this position, surrounded by accusers, would become defensive, agitated and sometimes even violent. But not this chap.

It was unnerving.

Accusation after witness after lie after deception were presented, with nothing congealing into an airtight complaint against the young man from Nazareth.

Then Caiaphas brought up Caesar. It was a name that terrified him. He considered the fact that he had been made governor of Judea to keep peace, and try to bring civilization to this backward nation. It was a formidable task. Of course, Caesar wouldn’t know that. He would only gauge results.

The religious leaders wanted the young man dead.

On this Friday morning, Governor Pontius Pilate was anxious to get away for the weekend. Who was he to challenge the contents of their oral law and practices?

So…he relented.

Symbolically washing his hands clean of the whole affair, he sentenced the quiet Nazarene to death. It was the quickest, simplest and seemingly most intelligent course of action.

In less than an hour, he had packed his things and by nightfall he was in Caesarea. He had a brief flashback about the morning’s activities, but it was quickly forgotten when Claudia cuddled up to him and they sipped delicious wine from the vineyards of Italy.

He had no idea that his Friday morning, seemingly insignificant encounter with Jesus of Nazareth would be the only remembrance that history would provide of him.

He was the one who gave permission to kill the Christ. He was in too big a hurry to consider any other possibility than ease.

G-Pop is thinking about that on this Good Friday.

What might he be ignoring?

 

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Jesonian … February 3rd, 2018

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3572)

Slow, stalled, passed the exit.

These are positions we find ourselves in when it comes to the progress of our lives.

Sometimes it feels like things are going too slow.

Certainly we can feel stalled.

And those who possess a pint of wisdom are fully aware that you can go so fast that you pass the exit.

The human instinct is to cover up the situation–for after all, it’s difficult to admit that you’re slow or stalled, and confessing to being oblivious and missing an opportunity is extraordinarily painful.

Jesus was human–therefore he went through this.

After all, he didn’t get started until he was thirty. Talk about a failure to launch. History is kind to him because once he got going he was rather productive. Yet had he continued to minister with the same passion he demonstrated as a carpenter, the most famous Jesus in the world would be a baseball player from the Dominican Republic.

The secret to his emergence is found in John the 2nd Chapter. It’s a seven step process–which sounds formidable, but since it is so logical, it may be fairly easy to remember.

At thirty years of age, he decided to find himself.

1. Find yourself.

Yes, don’t annoy the world around you by arriving at your dream without a map–especially absent the GPS to your own soul.

Jesus went into the wilderness, he dealt with his appetites and emerged with the correct meshing of awareness and humility. Once he discovered himself, he went out to:

2. Find some friends.

It’s usually more a mutual discovery. When you clarify your position and you’re transparent, other humans who share your convictions stumble upon you.

Sometimes we try to make relationships work. Truthfully, if they don’t, they don’t. You can have a thousand conversations and never arrive at a point of agreement.

Embracing some friends led to the next step:

3. Find your place to start.

In the case of Jesus, since he had a message, his instinct might have been to preach or teach. He wanted to lead people to a greater understanding of themselves as children of God.

Jesus knew his goals. He aspired to share a manifesto which was simple to follow.

So Jesus went to a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It was the next thing on his calendar and it was his way of expressing that those who pursued him should welcome a celebration instead of a series of seminars.

Find your place to start.

And at this point in his ministry, five disciples came along to enjoy the festivities.

Almost immediately, Jesus was in a position where, like all of us, he needed to:

4. Find your calling.

This may surprise you, but Jesus was immediately cornered by a family member. His mother.

She felt it was her obligation to steer him in the right direction. After all, she was his mama, right?

So when she heard they had run out of wine at the wedding, she came to Jesus, explained the predicament–but also prodded him to use the occasion to manifest his workings.

At this point, Jesus chose his calling over his mother. Although he loved her, probably for the first time in his life, he referred to her as “woman.” Not “mother.” Not “my dear.”

He said, “Woman, what have I to do with thee?”

In that moment, he established an adult relationship, letting her know that they would now be walking the Earth as peers, not as “Mother Mary and little Jesus.”

If you can’t break away from your family obligation enough to find your calling, you will use those binding responsibilities to excuse your lack of activity.

5. Find your time.

That’s what Jesus said to Mary. I’m looking for the right time for me. Not your right time. Not my disciples’ right time. The time that’s right for me to do what I believe I’m supposed to do.

After considering this, Jesus did the bidding of his heart.

6. Do what you do.

He had the servants fill up the ceremonial clay pots with water. Hours earlier the water within those pots had been used to cleanse dirty feet, but Jesus asked that they be put to work again. Once they were filled, the contents of the vessels should be drawn off and taken to the master of ceremonies.

Speaking of that, all of this process grants us the privilege to:

7. Do it with flair.

People weren’t turning water into wine. They certainly were not using foot-washing pots to do it. The most common phrase uttered by those who had an encounter with Jesus was, “Wow. We’ve never seen it like this before.”

Don’t expect to make a difference if you aren’t different.

If you plan on following the common grid, filling in the blanks faithfully, you will also find yourself standing in line your whole life, with no distinguishing gifts.

Jesus took a wedding feast to establish the fact that he had found himself, acquired friends, had picked the place to start, and was ready to walk away from family obligations to pursue his calling. He had selected this time to do what he was able to do, and he performed it with flair.

This was not only the first public miracle of Jesus–this was his coming out party.

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Catchy (Sitting 24) For So They … November 26th, 2017

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3503)

Many frat pranks and moon-doggies ago, Michael Hinston carried a double major in college. History and political science.

Michael’s reasoning was that the history would tell him the mistakes to avoid, and the political science would open doors to teach him to become the kind of civic leader to change the world.

Now, as a congressman, he spent most of his time raising money. Because he had to be elected every two years, at least one of those years was a perpetual fund-raising bash. The rest of his time was divvied among family, uncomfortable parties and meetings with people who were desperately trying to get his vote.

Lobbyists.

It might be fine if they would actually work in the lobby–but they invaded the hearth, home and even mind of every congressman. Michael had once pledged to himself that he would never be involved in scandal. He hated the word. It sounded rotten and smelly. But he found, as a congressman, that he was already at the mercy of organizations, corporations and causes which seemed to be inexplicably linked together into one gigantic chain around his neck.

The latest was a visit from the Christian Liberty Operation (C LO). They met with him to discuss the Jubal Carlos situation in Las Vegas, and shortly after the meeting, Mr. Carlos was arrested, which set in motion a whole series of events which were very displeasing to the C LO

They made it clear. They were upset.

Even though Michael was not in charge of arranging Jubal Carlos’ arrest, he was blamed for the mischief that had been perpetrated because of the flawed plan. The CLO wanted this “popular Jesus idea” thwarted, and now it was gaining national attention.

It was especially disconcerting to Michael when Jo-Jay showed up at his door, a bit surprised herself. For she had been given a tip about where the original order had come from–to hassle Jubal Carlos. The tip she received led to an address, which placed her on the front doorstep of Michael’s home.

So it was an extraordinarily fretful exchange between the two old university friends. Michael did his best to convince Jo-Jay that her contact was completely mistaken–that he knew nothing about any Jubal Carlos or organizations trying to bring him down.

Jo-Jay was nice–but Michael knew, deep in his heart, that she did not believe him. Jo-Jay was a bullshit sniffer. For years he had admired her ability to detect lies and deception, but now he just wished she would keep her nose to herself.

Jo-Jay apologized for the inconvenience, made a lame attempt to suggest they “connect later,” and headed down the sidewalk, seemingly out of his life.

But something was wrong. She was onto him. She knew that he knew more than he claimed.

Michael didn’t know what to do. The honest truth was, he was scared to death of the people he was working with and the lobbyists who were tramping into his life. They were much too energetic, much too determined and much too violent in their mannerisms.

Yet he knew if he failed to report the visit from Jo-Jay, there would be punishments. He didn’t even know what that meant, but was positive he didn’t want to find out. So he called the Christian Liberty Operation and updated them on the visit.

Less than half an hour later, there was another knock on his door. He opened up, and standing before him was a tall, broad-shouldered man, about six-foot-four, with black eyes.

Michael was startled.

The gentleman at the door asked if he could come in. He introduced himself simply as “Joshua,” and for the next ten minutes he questioned Michael about Jo-Jay.

Who was she?

What were her political leanings?

Was she a religious woman?

What was her relationship with Jubal Carlos?

Was she part of the scheme to popularize Jesus?

Where did she hang out?

But what chilled Michael’s soul was when Joshua asked one final question. Do you know anything about her allergies?

Michael didn’t. Michael was suspicious. Michael should have asked this “building of a man” why Jo-Jay’s allergies were of any interest to him. He stayed silent.

Michael was afraid for his old friend.

But Michael did what he had learned to do over his months of living in Washington. He answered the questions, nodded his head and offered no objection.

The next day, a letter arrived on stationery from the CLO. The stationery read, “Christian Liberty Operation,” and the by-line was, “For so they persecuted the prophets before you.”

It was unlike any professional letterhead Michael had ever seen. It seemed sinister. Even though the words “Christian” and “Liberty” were displayed in the title, there was something about the operation that chilled him to the bone.

Who was Joshua, and why did he want to know so much about Jo-Jay?

More importantly, who was Michael Hinston, and was he going to warn his old friend?

 

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Catchy (Sitting 16) Switch … October 1st, 2017

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3447)

Matthew was still so rattled from his meeting with Jubal that when he arrived back at his hotel on the Vegas strip, he couldn’t remember his suite number. So in his usual overcomplicated, confusing way, he explained his situation to the front desk clerk, who retrieved his number from the records and then said, “That suite, 772–your wife was here earlier to pick up the key.”

Matthew didn’t have a wife.

His face apparently communicated that thought, because the young desk person giggled and winked.

All the way up on the elevator, Matthew wondered if he was headed toward a surprise hooker hired by some of his clumsy friends, or if there was a serial killer waiting to end his brief and tumultuous life.

He took the key provided by the winking worker, carefully opened the door and walked in. Sitting on the edge of his couch–pensively, as if waiting for a dental appointment–was Soos.

“What are you doing here?” asked Matthew, quickly shutting the door.

“I followed you. Well, we followed you.” She said, rising quickly to her feet.

Matthew crossed the room, leaned against a chair and asked, “Why did you follow me, and who is we?”

Soos sat down, took a deep breath and replied, “We is Jo-Jay and myself, and why… Well, that’s why I’m here. You see, Jo-Jay has a crush on you and she wanted to follow you to Vegas hoping that something might actually happen in Vegas that could stay here. Well, she was too chicken to come by herself so she asked me to come along, and then when we got here, she was too scared to come up here. So she asked me to go first and talk to you to see if you were interested in her and if you would mind her coming to visit your room.”

Soos stopped speaking, as if she’d actually made sense.

“Are we in the fourth grade?” queried Matthew.

“No,” Soos answered. “But to be completely fair, it’s been since the fourth grade that we had to do stuff like this to find out if people like us…”

Matthew eased down into the chair. “Well, of course I like Jo-Jay. And I like you, Soos.”

“What do you mean?” Soos sparked.

Matthew paused. “Well, I mean I think we have a lot of history, and you’re an attractive woman, I’m a reasonably acceptable man with good grooming habits…”

“And nice eyes,” interrupted Soos.

“Thanks,” replied Matthew. “I don’t see them often. Basically the mirror.”

“They’re nice,” said Soos with a smile.

Matthew considered the situation. “So let me get this straight. You’re supposed to come and find out if I would …welcome?…a visit from Jo-Jay so she won’t be embarrassed if I wouldn’t? Do I have this right?”

“Sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” Soos inserted sheepishly. She continued. “It’s especially weird because I like you, too. I can’t tell her about that because it would make her crazy. So I thought I would just lay in the weeds, so to speak, and see if you rejected her, and then wait a respectable length of time…say four days…”

Matthew jumped in. “Four days, huh? Where’d you come up with that?”

“It just seems like a little more than three days,” explained Soos. “Anyway, I would then be able to tell you that I think you’re attractive also, but I wouldn’t feel bad about it because you would have already kicked Jo-Jay to the curb.”

Matthew stood to his feet and sighed. “I’m not gonna kick anybody to the curb. I’m just tired and I’m going to bed.”

Once again, Soos leaped to her feet and moved closer to him. “Would you like some company?”

She touched him on the cheek.

“So we’re skipping Jo-Jay…?”

Soos interrupted. “And the four days. I’m too damn young to be alone tonight in Vegas, and way too old to wait.”

Matthew chuckled and headed toward the bedroom. Soos pursued. She pulled him over to the bed by his belt and said, “Are you interested in me?”

Matthew, looking down at her hands, said, “I’ve always found it very difficult to be disinterested in any woman who had her hands in my pants.”

“Not very eloquent,” said Soos, “but who am I to be picky?”

She pulled him down to the bed, he fell over her, and she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. She started to remove her blouse when suddenly there was a commotion from the other room.

“Hi! The door was open. I hope everybody’s decent!!”

It was Jo-Jay. There was no time to reframe the choreography. Jo-Jay walked in the room with an expression she might have displayed upon finding herself as a time traveler arriving on the deck of the Titanic at about midnight.

Horrified.

Matthew felt the need to speak, but his brain disagreed. Soos jumped in to fill the awkward moment. She slowly untangled herself from her hold on Matthew as she self-consciously buttoned up her blouse and explained, “Listen, this may seem weird, but it really doesn’t have to be. We are all mature sophisticated adults. The atmosphere is here, the moment is understood and the participants are ready. Why don’t I just move away from the bed and Jo-Jay can come in and resume the action-in-progress? I know it sounds a little avant garde, but a few kisses, a couple of tweaks–and it’ll be a distant memory.”

At this point, Soos moved over and tried to push Jo-Jay toward the bed to create the switch.

Matthew was perplexed, intrigued and somewhat repulsed by the whole situation.

For a brief moment, Jo-Jay considered the extraordinary hostage exchange. Then she stopped in her tracks, turned to Soos and said, “I thought you were my friend.”

Soos replied, “I am your friend. But it’s also been a long time since anybody’s rung my bell.”

Matthew felt it was time to speak. “Listen, I’m not trying to ring anybody’s bell, or whatever euphemism you want to insert. I just came to my room to go to sleep.”

“So why is she in your bed?” asked Jo-Jay.

Matthew answered, “Well, if I was using sports terminology, I would say she tackled me for a loss on the play.”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Jo-Jay in a huff. “I liked you and wanted to spend some time with you…”

Matthew interrupted. “So why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because good girls don’t cavort. That’s what my mother told me long before I knew what the word ‘cavort’ meant. Since I now do know, it would be improper for me to offer myself to you without knowing whether the offering would be acceptable.”

Matthew shook his head. “Hell, have we just gone Old Testament here? Please, ladies, nothing personal. No decision is being made about the future. But right now I need to be alone without the temptation of any lovely lasses.”

Soos said, “Well you don’t have to insult us.”

Matthew sighed. “I don’t know how I insulted you but if I did, I’m sorry, but since I don’t know what I did, maybe we should just talk about this later when we’re not in a room together playing musical beds.”

Jo-Jay turned on her heel and headed toward the door, stopping briefly to throw back a final comment. “I will leave the fornication to the two of you.”

Soos grabbed her purse and followed along. “Wait! I’m not gonna fornicate. I just came up here to represent you.”

Jo-Jay turned around and hugged Soos. “I know. The brute seduced you.”

Matthew lifted one finger in the air. “Let me point out that I am neither a brute nor did I seduce anyone. Just stating for the record.”

Jo-Jay responded, nearly in tears. “I thought you were different.”

“I am different,” said Matthew. “I thought you were not crazy.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Jo-Jay replied. She scurried out the door and into the hall.

“I wouldn’t call her for a couple of days,” Soos whispered to Matthew. “She’ll need some personal space to work this out.”

Matthew lay back on the bed, the memory of female hands in his pants still dancing in his head.

But mostly on his mind was what he envisioned to do with Jubal Carlos.

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Good News and Better News… May 29th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3320)

There is something of a phenomenon going on in our society. Yet it is not phenomenal. That would connote it possesses goodness.

Somewhere along the line–maybe fifty or sixty years ago–people began gauging history from the time of their birth.

It’s getting worse and worse. Matter of fact, many younger humans will pop off and tell you, “That was before my time”–as if it does not matter or it might not happen again.

This came to my mind Thursday night when I was at a music rehearsal. I introduced the participants to a song by Dottie Rambo. One of them said they didn’t know the song and another piped up, “Most people don’t know who Dottie Rambo is.”

It angered me–not just because this fine woman wrote hundreds of well-known gospel songs, but also because she was instrumental in integrating American gospel music.

In the early seventies, there was a complete segregation in the music field between what was known as Black gospel and Southern gospel. When a young man of color, Andrae Crouch, began his group, “The Disciples” out in Los Angeles, he introduced contemporary Christian music to the nation. It spread like wildfire.

Everywhere except the Southern gospel community.

Oh, yes, there were a couple of groups who recorded the songs, but there was strong resistance to inviting Andrae to the National Quartet Convention, which was more or less the Mecca of gospel music at the time.

It was Dottie Rambo who stood up for Andrae Crouch, traveled with him and even encouraged him to record one of her songs.

It took about one year.

At one convention Andrae was not welcome, and by the next convention he was invited and tore the house down.

You see, the good news is that things can change.

And the better news is that if we become involved and have a sense of history, we will learn that it is individuals who create the change.

Not committees.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … August 31st, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3050)

PoHymn changing history

Changing History

What do I look like to you?

Take a moment–what’s your view?

Do you merely see my hat?

Or make note that I am fat?

Please share–give me a clue.

What do you think of my song?

Is it pleasant or just seem strong?

Do you enjoy the beat?

Were you tapping your feet?

Or did you find it too long?

Bother you I’m a stranger?

Do you sense hidden danger?

But are you sure you are right?

How about some fresh insight?

Or are you the only voice?

Yet faith demands some hope

And love is how we cope

To inhale a breath of air

Welcoming what is fair

Expanding our limited scope

I am not the Master

That would be a disaster

But you are not the King

Just blessed with what you bring

Sooner, better, faster

For when the day is done

With the setting of the sun

One truth will still remain

A glistening, golden refrain

If I can find you

And you can find me

We can find God

And change history 

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