SENSITIZE 32
Every morning, Mr. Cring takes a personal moment with his audience.
Today: Politics, religion, business and entertainment are in agreement for the first time. Why is this?
Click the picture below to see the video
Things I Learned from R. B. (June 21st, 2020)
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Episode 20
I don’t really enjoy playing chess.
I have an understanding of the game, minus passion.
There are those who are thrilled with the prospects of a match. They refer to it as “the pastime of the royals.”
I don’t quite understand how it gained such a following. I suppose it has something to do with the fact that early on, it was associated with intelligence.
Yes, when I first learned how to play, I was told that I “should be very good at the game” because I was smart.
Well, I don’t know about that, but if interest has any bearing, chess stupefied me. I rarely played it and when I did, I often regretted choosing to do so—because my opponent was often grumpy and unwilling to lose even one piece from the board.
When I discovered that R. B. was an ardent player, I avoided ever mentioning that I, too, knew how to move the pieces. He explained to me that I needed to participate because he believed I would be excellent at it, and then we could play together. For many years I was able to subdue his advances by pleading my “chess virginity.”
Then a young man moved into my household—actually, three young men. Their father was struggling with anger and was beginning to take it out on them, so I was afforded the opportunity to become their godfather and welcome them into a safer haven.
One of the boys was very good at chess.
To preserve his innocence, we shall refer to him as Justin.
Justin was precocious. You see, precocious means whatever any adult wants it to mean. That adult can use it to describe a child he or she either likes or believes to be headed for reform school.
Being precocious, Justin immediately struck up a conversation with R. B. about chess. R. B. felt he had arrived in some sort of circle of heaven—where he could be the teacher and finally have a budding student.
The only difficulty came when Justin beat R. B.
And not just once.
Regularly.
Even though R. B. had studied the board and had even mastered some moves of the champions, Justin always found a way to get through his defenses, steal his queen and leave his king flailing in some corner, surrounded by a bishop and a knight.
At first, R. B. attributed it to “beginner’s luck.” But after many visits and many matches, it became clear to everyone that Justin was a superior prodigy. Everyone, that is, but R. B.
One night, after having lost two games, R. B. was surrounded by Justin, who was prepared to pronounce the “checkmate,” when R. B. brought his fist down hard on the table, knocking over all the pieces, scaring young Justin all the way down to his X-men underwear.
You see, Justin was accustomed to hearing an angry voice. He was well acquainted with a man whose temper was out of control—and he knew it usually meant that he was going to be in trouble.
Sensing Justin’s fear, R. B. tried to turn it into a joke and give the young man a hug, but when Justin nervously pulled away, R. B. was even more angry. He yelled at him. Some curse words flew through the air and young Justin was trapped, with no place to go.
R. B. screamed at him, claiming that it was a draw and they would play again on another night—and then left.
I was not in the house at the time, but when I returned, I immediately noticed the red in the corners of Justin’s eyes. He was reluctant to talk to me. Already in his young life, he had learned it was better to shut up and not have to face painful consequences.
But you see, Justin was also a young man with a good heart that was growing blossoms. He didn’t lie. After about an hour, he told me the whole story. I was infuriated.
He asked me to promise that I wouldn’t say anything to R. B. Justin asked me if he should play chess again with the irate fellow. I told him yes, but to wait a few weeks until I had a chance to do some maneuvers.
Perplexed, he smiled, gave me a hug and went upstairs.
Word of R. B.’s losing streak to Justin spread quickly through our family. The jokes piled up and were nearly ready to break R. B.’s spirit and release his bad temper. I had one plan—what you might call an ace in the hole if we were talking about poker, but since it’s chess, we shall say that I pulled out an extra queen.
One night while he was being teased, I stepped in and said, “Maybe R. B. just had a bad night. We could find out. R. B., why don’t you play me?”
R. B. was nearly beside himself. I had refused so many times, and now here was his opportunity, in front of our family, to redeem himself.
He was so nervous that his hands were shaking as he took his white pieces and set them up on the board. He didn’t need to be nervous. I had decided to play him a good game—but lose.
I figured a victory over me would quell his spirit, and once he had come to his senses, he might apologize to Justin.
Everybody was shocked when R. B. won.
And right after the game, he turned to me and said, “Would it be alright if I talked to Justin?”
Now, I suppose the story needs to end with me telling you that R. B. apologized to the boy and they lived happily ever after. But that’s a Hollywood ending—we lived in Nashville.
R. B. continued to play Justin and Justin grew up and became more tolerant of R. B.’s idiosyncrasies. Yet R. B. never hit his fist on the table again—but did manage to color the air every once in a while with his language.
I suppose I should have stepped in and stopped the tournaments, but R. B. needed to learn how to be civil to young ones and the young one needed to learn how to survive an R. B.—even when you know you can checkmate him every time.
Cracked 5 … June 8th, 2019
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Less Reported Happenings During President Trump’s Visit to England
A. Meeting the Queen, the President requested “Bohemian Rhapsody”
B. President thought “D-Day” meant “Donald Day”
C. Yelled at limousine driver for driving on the wrong side of the road
D. President offered to be their King since all they had was a Queen
E. He was surprised that Liverpool had neither liver nor offered swimming
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … July 11th, 2018
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Every Winner
by Jonathan Richard Cring
Don’t look for me down the road just yet
I’m reveling in this particular spot
Don’t insist my feet need to be more wet
I’m really learning a lot
The race you run is exhausting to me
I like to stop–enjoy what I see
So speed on, dear friend, just let me be
I’m enjoying the power of free
I really lost my single soul
Trying to be the “Best in Show”
Teaching the old dog takes its toll
Yes, the bite is worse than the bark
I’m not a philosopher, nor a king
Not a possessor of all that’s wise
I want to wear simple shoes
And avoid the nasty lies
My feelings were raw and full of hurt
Frightened to make a start
So give me time to sense again
And open up my heart
God means nothing if I feel small
So I relax, peaceful, awaiting my call
There is no hurry, there is no worry
No need to toil and spin
Slow down the race and find my place
Perhaps I still can win
For today has come to keep me busy
Making my logical case
For every winner is still a sinner
Pursuing amazing grace
Today’s reader is Jerrod, who lives in Florida and works as an executive technician at 3G Productions, residing with his wife and two daughters
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … April 12th, 2017
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A Goddam Hill
I’ll bring the nails
You get the wood
The plan never fails
Who thinks it should?
He plays the hurt one
Toying with fire
Claimed he was God’s son
What a fuckin’ liar
I’ll find the place
You smack his face
Plenty of blood to drink
Never the time to think
Man lives by bread alone
We are merely flesh and bone
Shut the hell up about your heaven
First there’s four, five, six and seven
Give me that spear
I’ll stab the queer
Your putrid love
Is cursed by fear
Die today
For all the sin
Then on Sunday
Pronounce your win
Bring the whip
I’ll do the beating
Losing my grip
Passion is fleeting
Why won’t he leave me
In my misery?
Die, you feckless teacher
Alone, sucking for air
Be silent, ragged preacher
The world does not care
We are filth, a moral flirt
Squeezed together from the dirt
We are nothing but skin and trash
Shut your mouth, take the lash
We just won’t, can’t you see?
We just can’t, leave us be
Yet the stranger of Galilee
Continues to smile at me
Though wracked with pain
He will never refrain
So we murdered a King
On a goddam hill
Let his praises ring
For he trusts us still.
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … August 31st, 2016
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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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Jonathan’s Latest Book Release!
PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant
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G-Poppers … April 29th, 2016
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G-Pop has a healthy and energetic disagreement with those who say they’re “sick and tired.”
Matter of fact, this phrase has become one of the favorite patters of the pundits.
“America is angry…”
Of course they’re angry. They live in a democracy where most of the time they won’t get their way. It’s the law of averages.
How often will your particular preference be in the majority? And if it isn’t, you are culturally and politically pushed to the side in favor of the plurality.
As I said, it’s called democracy–and democracy is like broccoli. No one particularly favors it, but everyone knows it’s good for them.
For example, if you want guns, be prepared to accept gays.
If you want to choose how you worship, make sure you understand that you must give every woman the right to choose what she does with her own body.
And if you love to celebrate the heritage of your genealogy, be fully aware there are those who are trying to come into our country who would also love to begin their own experience of generations.
If you are intent on pursuing your path and agenda exclusively, you will have to find a leader–a king, a queen, a shah, a dictator, an ayatollah–who agrees with your ideas, and place this person in power, being aware that eventually this absolute ruler will come along and take away something you really enjoy.
Otherwise, you should stay with a system called America, which is horribly flawed, but equally punishing to all of its citizens. And what is this punishment?
- You’re not going to get what you want.
- You will be part of an experiment of discovering the common good.
So for those who think America is angry, let me say: Get over it.
You are free.
But so is he.
And so is she.
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