SENSITIZE 49
Every morning, Mr. Cring takes a personal moment with his friends.
Today: Humans don’t fit in the jungle, and they’re not ready for heaven. Cring talks about being just right for Earth.
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Sit Down Comedy … February 14th, 2020
Jonathots Daily Blog
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Donald John Trump is our President.
It is a position we are compelled to honor due to the tenacity of our struggle as a nation and the grace extended to us as a people.
In the fury of opinions and the peril of hurling insults, it is good every once in a while, to stop and acknowledge what is true and what is honest.
This gentleman won the election to be our leader in 2016.
With this in mind, and my heart full of compassion and dutiful propriety, let me offer the following observations:
Mr. President:
1. Dictators have no redeeming values.
To focus on their might pilfers our great arsenal of what is right.
2. They that live by the military shall die by the military.
Every nation, kingdom and territory over the centuries that tried to maintain its integrity through the use of force has eventually been cruelly overtaken.
3. The measure you measure out to others will be measured back to you.
There are some souls who have learned the value of being gracious, and other human beings who are barely out of the jungle—with blood in their teeth. It is good for each of us to remember that we increase our possibilities for survival and mercy by offering them first.
4. And speaking of mercy, the grace that we all often need to survive the tribulation and chaos of Planet Earth is only granted to the humble.
The whole system of Mother Nature is geared to resist the proud.
5. Not everyone who cries “Lord, Lord” shall enter the Kingdom.
With the profession of being a Christian comes the responsibility of following the lifestyle of the Master—Jesus himself.
6. Pussies don’t like to be grabbed.
If an invitation is not extended, it is an assault.
7. “Suffer the children to come unto me.”
This does not mean to make the children suffer, as they are separated.
8. Alienating nations, races and people of the Earth is rejecting their Creator’s craftsmanship.
Building walls creates nothing more than anger—and saying that there are “no good Samaritans” may leave you by the side of the road, without aid.
9. It is truth that makes us free.
Therefore it stands to reason that lying steals our freedom.
10. It is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.
And when the mouth speaks, the hearts that receive the words begin to accumulate an abundance.
Thank you, President Trump. Thank you for listening to these observations.
You are our President. We offer you place.
Sit Down Comedy … December 14th, 2018
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Bad inflow, stinky outflow.
The human race has been given lots of bad information.
Thus the stink in the air.
The collaborators are at work. They have gotten together and either lined up in one brigade or clumped in another–those camps being the secular notion that all human beings are basically good, just needing to be left alone to prosper within their own consciousness, or the religious assertion that we are rotten, and if God doesn’t save us and constantly monitor our activities, we are fodder for hell.
It’s spooky.
And trying to find a real life out of these warring armies of philosophy makes the common person like me wish for some peace. The problem is, I end up less productive than I wish to be.
Human beings are probably one of the simpler forms of life.
We are not creatures in the jungle, struggling for survival. We are not bees, frantically trying to make honey, and we also are not cockroaches, scurrying across the floor to escape being squashed by grossed-out adults.
We have two buttons. Yes, just two: LESS and MORE. Should we press LESS or press MORE?
The conflict arises when our ego tells us to press MORE when LESS is needed, or our fear demands we press LESS when it’s time to hunker down on the MORE button.
The entire Gospel of Jesus was a less and more proposal. Don’t take my word for it–you read it and you’ll see the principle. He came to guide us into what should be done less, what should be thought less and what should be felt less, and what requires a good dose of more.
You don’t have to go any further than the Beatitudes to find this in full application:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit.”
In other words, less ego about being spiritual because you really aren’t, and God doesn’t expect you to be anything but human.
“Blessed are they that mourn.”
More compassion is needed for others if we expect to feel the compassion coming back our way.
“Blessed are the meek.”
Less struggling, fighting, arguing, back-biting and cursing will give us a chance to buy time for a shift in society’s thinking or a change of scenery.
“Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness.”
We all need more energy in trying to learn to achieve our goals by using the most common sense we can possibly muster.
“Blessed are the merciful.”
It’s made clear that the more merciful we are to others, the more we receive in return.
“Blessed are the pure in heart.”
The less we inundate our emotions with unnecessary arguments, the easier it is to see God working in our lives.
“Blessed are the peacemakers.”
The more we stay out of the fracas of politics and religious intolerance, the more we will be viewed as individuals who make things happen–good things.
“Blessed are those which are persecuted for righteousness sake.”
Yes, less worry about whether we will come out on top. We should stop being concerned about goodness going out of style.
And the culmination: “Rejoice and be exceedingly glad.”
Bluntly, less fretting about whether things are going to turn out well for us here on Earth and in the kingdom beyond.
Step into your day with your two buttons: LESS and MORE.
Then take the time, all the good things you’ve learned, and choose which one to press when it is the moment to render an excellent decision.
We are delighted to announce that every afternoon from now until Christmas we will be posting sittings from the story, “Jubilators,” for your enjoyment. Good reading and Merry Christmas!
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Jesonian … June 30th, 2018
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He had done an excellent job explaining his “View.” He was plugging a new book.
Over the years I had enjoyed his commentary and appearances on television, as he invites a bit of grace and “courtly” into the American thoroughfare of thought.
The segment was winding down when he was asked a question about a recent retaliation a Congresswoman had proffered toward one of her enemies. I saw his countenance change. Suddenly, he appeared beleaguered. Perhaps merely pursuing kindness had left him in despair, causing him to look for more aggressive weapons to address all the surrounding demons.
He replied, “I know we’re supposed to turn the other cheek. That’s what Jesus said. But there’s a reason there’s only one Jesus.”
I stalled. There was a grumbling of approval from the audience, but I did sense that many of them, like me, were hoping that the words “turn the other cheek” had great validity–considering the fact that the alternative offers nothing but disaster.
When has retaliation afforded any lasting effect? Certainly all despots and murderous dictators have to eventually be ousted from power, but it does not keep them from coming back.
We need a more permanent solution.
We need to know that in the midst of making progress, we are actually progressing.
It would be absolutely divine to sense that God is with us. Can we take a moment to take a look at “turn the other cheek?”
The law of that day (and also our day) was “an eye for an eye.” So “turn the other cheek” was a clever way of explaining the process of losing your eye.
It begins with a hit to your face. No one is going to extract your eye without striking you. It is unlikely that the first blow will dislodge your peeper. So it offers the quandary:
Shall I fight back and lose an eye, or maybe die, or end up doing the kill against my will?
At this moment, the reasonable nature of a survivor needs to kick in to provide the possibility for sustaining life. Without this, something will be lost.
Every time two people fight, there are casualties on both sides. No one has been able to come up with a “clean war”–or even an argument free of damage.
And the question is, how many times can we be damaged before we’re beyond repair? And long before we’re beyond repair, are we not without faith?
Turning the other cheek is not a noble concept, lived out by an itinerant Nazarene minister two thousand years ago. It is the clever, intelligent, intuitive and revelatory approach to avoid losing your eye or being forced into extracting life from another.
Whether we like it or not, once we kill, we are murderers. Once we damage, we are destroyers.
The thing my brother failed to realize is that even though turning the other cheek demands that I use much more of my intellect than I would tapping my baboon instincts, those jungle antics always leave some creature dead.
A slap on the cheek is the beginning of an attempt to squash your eye.
You can either retaliate and hope that you are stronger, or, as you bleed out on the ground from your head, wonder if it might not have been better to interrupt the process by turning the other cheek–to buy time for more reasonable negotiations to be considered.
*****
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Jesonian … May 26th, 2018
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The key to success is a smart start.
Human beings fail because they start out on the wrong path, but determine to stick to the plan instead of changing their steps and beginning again. Sometimes it’s good to be perseverant, but often it’s like throwing marshmallows at a brick wall.
Jesonian is finding the heart of Jesus. His goal was to gain total humanity, while simultaneously using his spirit to “show us the Father.” Therefore, it is wise to tap his experiences.
You don’t have to go past the first verse of his manifesto–the Sermon on the Mount–to uncover what Jesus believed to be the key to attaining full awareness and a completed life:
“Blessed are those who know they are spiritually poor.” Thus: Find your weakness, discover your strength.
This is completely opposite from the way we are trained. The media thrust is always, “Find your strength, deny your weakness.” In other words, play up what you can do and play down what you can’t.
Yet what happens when we fail to deliver? We feel compelled to deceive. Otherwise, it may appear that we do not have enough self-esteem to carry the day.
There are two things the human race admires: humility and competence. This is why Jesus told us to lead with an awareness of our own weakness. “He that will gain his life will lose it.”
Why? When our claims are proven false and we fail, looking incompetent, we become defensive, which removes all semblance of humility. “He that would lose his life for my sake will gain it.”
Can we establish an inventory? Can we do it humbly? And then, can we give a competent performance which grows to excellence, startling our critics and increasing our value?
In today’s “super-church” promotion, we have the ongoing premise that “we are all great–we’re just waiting for the enemies in front of us to be destroyed by God’s hand, so that our miracle can be manifested.”
This may get you a hoot and holler in Houston, but it does not give you the kind of start in your life that is sustainable. “Blessed are those who know they’re spiritually poor.”
I am not good at spiritual things. I’m just a few steps out of the jungle, granted a larger brain than the ape and a soul provided by God, which I am still trying to comprehend.
Acknowledging my status launches me into discovery of what talents, gifts, abilities and attitudes I can muster, developing them into strengths to counter my weakness.
The power is in our weakness because once established, it opens the door to progress.
If we lead with strength, then when our weakness shows up, we appear to be insipid liars.
Yes, being Jesonian is making a choice.
Will you follow the folly? Or will you pursue the wisdom of one who came to learn human life, show us God, and empower us to make this journey more and more like heaven on Earth?
*****
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Salient … April 23rd, 2018
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We called him “Denny the Dork” because we were twelve-year-old jackasses. He was socially awkward, walking around in a mental fog from the bog.
We could have been nicer, but when you’re twelve years old, nice is something you think people should do to you. It never occurs in your adolescent mind to be the initiator.
Denny was the equipment manager of our seventh-grade football team. If he had just brought water and taken care of the uniforms, he would have been fine. But Denny was inquisitive–what you might refer to as “an experimenter.”
One day Denny decided to replace the pads in the football pants with poster board. For some reason, nobody noticed while donning the uniforms–and after the practice, everybody arrived back in the locker room with extra bruises, and one kid had a dislocated knee.
When Denny’s act was discovered, he quickly explained that he wanted to learn the purpose of the pads, and thought the best way to do so was to remove them.
This made complete sense to him. It did not to the coach. Denny was kicked off the team and spent about six weeks coming to school early, to help the janitor clean the toilets.
Likewise, we have a lot of people in our world today who are determined to extract civility and kindness just to see what happens.
Is it curiosity? Is it a fear that goodness makes us all look weak and simpy? I don’t know. But because that emotional padding has been removed from our society, people are showing up bruised and broken.
Unfortunately, there is not one “Denny the Dork” to blame. All parts of our society–religion, business, politics, entertainment and even education–are permeated with the contention that dominating one another is preferable to accommodating.
We have allowed the jungle to be released, but unfortunately, none of us have the girth of the elephant, the tough hide of the lion, nor the universal survivability of the cockroach.
We are a vulnerable species that needs to be treated tenderly, or we break.
Yet there seems to be a competition to see who can be the “assiest hole” or the “assholiest.” (Yes, I think that second one fits it better, don’t you?People who act like asses but portray it is the holy mission of self-esteem they pursue.)
Yet in a room full of people who are crazy, suggesting mental instability is neither helpful or healthy. So today I stand as one soul speaking to you, saying that we have removed the padding which protects us from bruising each other.
It’s time to call ourselves dorks, and change this pattern.
So here is your salient moment:
You can’t make omelets without eggs, just like you can’t create a beautiful life without courtesy.
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Catchy (Sitting 35) Feel the Steel … February 11th, 2018
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Tremaine Wilkerson was black…to this day.
He and Matthew had become friends in high school, mainly because Tremaine was the only black student within three counties and also, Matthew wanted to place on his college entrance application that he had a black friend.
Their closeness was cemented when the two of them were elected to attend a conference in Atlanta, Georgia, and they were driving around at night, in a car which they had boosted from one of the sponsors to go joy-riding, when they were stopped by an Atlanta police officer.
It was two o’clock in the morning and neither Tremaine nor Matthew appeared a drizzle over sixteen years of age. Matthew was at the wheel so the officer asked for a license and registration. (Matthew was impressed that he was able to come up with half of the request.) The policeman was not appeased.
The cop was greatly interested in Tremaine. For you see, Tremaine was a very large boy–the kind you think should play football or basketball, although he had given no attention to either sport. He had also allowed his hair to go natural–so he had a huge Afro, which would only have seemed appropriate for a dancer on Soul Train. The Atlanta constable did not find it particularly appealing.
He had Tremaine get out, pushed him up against the car, had him spread his legs and searched him for anything that might seem the least little bit controversial.
Matthew realized he needed to do something, so he interrupted the cop and said, “Listen, I have to admit I’m a bratty kid–wealthy–and this young fellow is my butler. He didn’t want to go out on this drive, but it was his job to keep an eye on me. I foolishly borrowed this car, and now I see how ridiculous it was. So if you will just forgive me, I’ll drive us back and we’ll never do anything so stupid again.”
Matthew knew the speech was very flimsy, but the policeman seemed relieved that the black fellow was not an equivalent, but rather, a servant. He gave a stern warning to Matthew and sent them on their way.
Tremaine never forgot it.
So when Matthew was trying to draft a plan to get information about what was really going on with Jo-Jay, Carlos and the mysterious death of Prophet Morgan, he decided to contact Tremaine, who was now married, living in Kalamazoo, Michigan, working as a chemist, writing poetry on the weekends.
Matthew outlined the following plan:
He wanted to use Tremaine’s ethnic appearance to scare the shit out of Michael Hinston. So Matthew hired four good-natured buddies who were “goon-like” to assist Tremaine in kidnapping Michael Hinston following one of his handball game at the local Y, and take the distinguished Congressman to the back unit of a storage facility in Alexandria, Virginia.
Tremaine listened carefully, trying not to interrupt, but about three-quarters of the way through the unfolding of the plot, he felt compelled to interject.
“Matthew, you do know I’m a chemist?”
“I do,” said Matthew, “but can I say that I’m interested in some of the other aspects of your chemistry?”
Tremaine frowned. “You mean the fact that I’m black and have a ‘fro?”
“Yes,” said Matthew, “and pretty muscular.”
“I work out,” said Tremaine.
“It shows,” cited Matthew.
Now Matthew knew that Tremaine was an altruistic soul. Matter of fact, Tremaine had a soft spot in his heart for the black kids on the south side of Chicago, and volunteered every summer for two weeks to assist with the young folks, and gave money based upon his budget.
Matthew offered, “If you’ll do this for me, I will donate $25,000 to the dudes from South Chicago.”
Tremaine shook his head. “You do know kidnapping is against the law, right?”
Matthew feigned surprise. “No…I wish you hadn’t told me.”
Matthew laughed but Tremaine didn’t. Yet for some reason the passive black man from the Wolverine State agreed to participate.
It was not terribly complicated. Michael Hinston popped out of the YMCA whistling a happy tune and was immediately nabbed by the four hired goons, had a bag thrown over his head, and was tossed into a nearby beat-up Ford van.
Realizing that Tremaine was not going to be prepared for such an encounter, Matthew had written a script for him.
“Lay there quietly and don’t say a word or I’ll slit your throat,” warned Tremaine, with too many delays for the speech to sound natural.
Congressman Michael kept objecting while offering money, favors and possible other Congressmen who would be better to kidnap because of their more powerful positions.
Cued by the script, Tremaine continued. “Shut up! Shut up, honky bastard! Shut up, Congressman Whitewash!” and finally, “Shut up or I’ll kilt you!”
There was one other line, which was, “Stop axing too many questions!”
Arriving at the storage unit, Matthew met the van with a finger on his lips, warning Tremaine and the goons to remain silent so the Congressman wouldn’t know he was present.
The script continued with stage direction: “Tremaine, you do the lines, and I, Matthew, will do all the motions.”
They carried Hinston into the storage unit, pulling down the door for privacy, sat him in a wooden chair, tying him to the slats and legs. Michael was obviously distressed. Matthew motioned for Tremaine to read his next line.
Tremaine looked down, reading ahead, and then back up at Matthew, perplexed. Matthew nodded, encouraging him to go ahead, so Tremaine uttered, “I be knowing that yous be a killer. You kilts the Prophet and took the young woman and spit her out in the jungle.”
Tremaine turned to Matthew, looking like he had just bitten into a lemon. Matthew again encouraged him to continue.
“I be’s tellin’ you this one time. You talk or I’m gonna cuts your tongue out and stick it in your hand.”
Tremaine stepped back and admired himself for this particular performance. When Tremaine mentioned “cut your tongue out,” Matthew lifted the bag, stuck a knife underneath and rubbed the cold steel against Michael’s cheek. Matthew then pointed at Tremaine.
Tremaine glanced at the script, and using his best inner-city voice, growled, “Feel the steel.”
Michael peed his pants.
It was unpleasant to experience, but made the goons standing in the background giggle uncontrollably. Matthew tried to silence them but he, himself was quite amused.
There was no need for further intimidation. Michael began to expound on the story of his life. He shared everything he knew–which ended up being very little.
He explained that he had been coerced by the CLO to have Jubal Carlos arrested in Vegas, and to suggest that there should be an investigation into Jubal and the movement over the mysterious murder of Morgan.
He knew nothing about Jo-Jay.
He knew nothing about further plans.
And he closed off with a whimpering sigh, whining, “I’m nobody. Just ask anybody.”
Matthew believed him. He walked over and quietly loosened the ropes on Michael’s wrists and legs. Tremaine had one final line:
“You stay here for an hour, you white bastard, and then you can loosen yourself and leave. But don’t you be makin’ trouble for my people. Life began in Africa, and your life could end there.”
When Tremaine finished the line he gave a huge grin and a thumbs-up to Matthew, approving the script.
Matthew, Tremaine and the four goons departed.
Matthew made good on his $25,000 donation and gave a thousand to each goon.
So for under thirty thousand dollars he found out nothing, except as always, the easy explanation was never the correct one.
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