Sit Down Comedy … September 6th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog


Sit Down Comedy

Everyone sing along!

He’s a racist

She’s a racist

You’re a racist

I’m a racist

Wouldn’t you like to be a racist too?

Show your faces

Come be a racist

From all places

We are all racists.

Sitting on a park bench, a dog walks by, thistles stuck in its fur, dried fecal matter on its leg hair. Our reaction? “Poor puppy.” Matter of fact, we might look through our pockets to see if we might have a snack to offer the unfortunate creature.

Same day, same park.

A homeless man strolls by—dirty pants, nine-day-old growth of beard and tousled hair. We look at him and conclude, “Goddam bum.”

You see, it doesn’t matter what color we are. It isn’t as if white people don’t hate white people or black, black. Brown folks hate the various shades of beige, Asians attack Asians, and the Cherokee nation, the Navajo tribe.

It is not a color issue.

It is not a culture situation. It’s not a religious affiliation. After all, the Baptists bicker with the Baptists, the Catholics abuse their own, the Jews pull rank on one another and the Muslim terrorists kill more Muslims than Christians.

Staying with that dog example, if we were dogs, the human race would be pit bulls, adamantly insisting that the problem is not our breed, but rather, how we were trained.

Candidly, it wouldn’t matter if we finally found a way through eugenics to come up with one, single color for all Homo Sapiens. We would still commence murdering one another over eyebrows.

It may seem easier to blame it on color scheme, religion or patriotism, but we all are human racists. Allegedly, the first murder was committed by one brother on another brother.

In other words, they looked alike.

If we don’t get rid of human racism—an ironic hatred for our own beings—we will never be able to overcome the lack of similarities accomplished by evolution.

Here’s what causes human racism, if you’re interested in actually addressing it and once and for all identifying it in your being:

1. I need to be special.

Actually, you’re not, my friend—not unless you decide to do or be something special to the world around you.

2. I need to stand out.

The chances of that happening are few, and then could always be caused by your iniquity instead of your contribution to goodness.

3. I need to withhold praise just in case…

Yes, because you’re frightened that you won’t be appreciated enough, you decide to keep focus on yourself instead of valuing the gifts of others, even when their inspiration has benefitted you.

4. I need to hurt somebody.

Perhaps you prefer to do it in a civil way, using gossip or innuendo, but if necessary—if you find others completely annoying—you are willing to kill them for the cause of your country, your family or your Christ. So please, trace racism back to where it began:

Despising others because we’re dissatisfied with ourselves.


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And Then I Woke Up — October 3, 2011


It was weird.

I had this dream and it was really quite bizarre. I normally don’t share my dreams with you; it is not my intention in jonathots to oppress you with my repressed feelings. But this was so unusual that I felt I had to include it in today’s offering–I think mainly because it seemed so real.

Anyway… in this dream I set up my equipment in a church and was getting ready to present my program when this minister walked into the room. I think he was carrying some fruit. (Anyway, I digress.) But he walked in and told me there was a lady who was upset with my book, Twenty Other Reasons to Kiss a Frog, because, in her opinion, it was full of sexual innuendo.

I remember thinking, in my dream, “Oh, he’s probably just joking with me.” But when he didn’t laugh, I realized he was serious. So I asked if he had read the book.  He told me no, but that this lady had skimmed it and decided it was inappropriate. In my dream I asked him to have her come and talk to me because I was curious about what she had found to be … well, let’s say, sexual … in my little comedy book about frogs and their feelings. (I should have remembered the advice given to me by my good friend, Jesus, who said, “Don’t tell stories or try to be funny… they’ll crucify you.” Naturally, I didn’t listen to that good counsel, so here I was with my little book, which has been all over the country, purchased by tens of thousands of people who have laughed their way to inspiration, to only now discover that it has hidden messages of a  promiscuous nature.)

Then, in the dream some time faded and the next thing I knew there was this woman standing in front of me in the room, explaining me that the chapter in the book which jokes around about the length and stickiness of a frog’s tongue, was evil and filled with language that was too sexual for children. I was immediately shocked, because I have actually sold the book to children and realized that I was possibly propagating sexual perversion amongst youngsters.

I explained to her that it was in good fun and humor, paralleling the plight of a frog with the journey of human beings, as we discover how to use the gifts God has given us more effectively instead of complaining about how we came out.  She didn’t listen, intent on making sure that everyone knew I had written a book that was peppered with all sorts of innuendo and darkness.  It was really weird–I wrote a funny book about frogs, spirituality and how we all can do a little bit better if we try.  This woman was convinced it was Hustler magazine.

I was about to make another point to her when I looked over and she had suddenly disappeared–and then all at once I woke up.  I shuddered, quickly got out of my bed, dressed and went to the morning performance at the church. We talked about loving each other, laughing at ourselves and how Jesus wants us to have good cheer in our lives.

The people were wonderful. The pastor was a sprightly, intelligent fellow with great hopes for the future.  And–no frogs were harmed during the presentation. It had all just been a bad dream.

But just to make sure, I wrote it down today for you to read–because I guess all dreams come from somewhere, as either memories or warnings. And this one got me to think. They say that in our dreams we are every character.  So maybe I was that woman in the dream. Maybe I am sometimes too critical of things I don’t totally understand. After all, none of us have to accept everything we see or like everything we hear. Yet we don’t need to be sour or mean about it.

Yes, maybe the dream was about me. Maybe I was that angry woman, growling at myself for not being more tolerant of other people’s choices. For after all, we live in a great country where we don’t have to hurt one another or scream at each other or even accuse each other to make a choice of our own.

If we don’t like something, we can just use a magical phrase–a spiritual blessing instead of a curse. Yes, the woman in my dream (who by the way, was probably me) could just have turned and said about my book, “Not for me.  But God bless you.”


Jonathan sings “Let”

Jonathan Sings “Spent This Time”


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