Sit Down Comedy … August 14th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

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First Comedians

If I’m able to yap in every language, or even sound like a televangelist, and I don’t have funny, I am a boring sermon or a bombastic speech.

If I can guess what’s going to happen next and explain how to solve the Rubik’s Cube, and I have mind control that can convince you that I’m miraculous, but I don’t have funny, I am a boob.

If I give all my pocket change to poor people or even donate my time to community service but I do not pursue funny, I am truly a snoozer.

Funny is impatient, but ultimately kind.

It does yearn for things—but it doesn’t cheat to get them.

And if it gets lucky, it’s grateful.

It doesn’t lie about folks but will poke fun at them. And because it pursues the laughable, it’s not so easy to get pissed off. (And if you have something funnier, you win.)

Funny doesn’t try to promote the dark side, but in its own way, is digging around for truth.

To put it this way, funny always protects the weak, trusts people to get the jokes, hopes the sponsor will rebook—and on a bad night, settles for a burger and fries.

But be sure of this:

Funny rarely fails.

Some people preach, but that will die out.

Other folks negotiate, but eventually the treaties fail.

And you can get enough education to make you a doctor of everything–except comedy.

Since we don’t know everything, we can laugh about most things and in laughing, sometimes we gain understanding.

When I was a little dude, I loved silly things.

Now that I’ve become a big boy, I speak silly things.

It doesn’t make me less mature—just more tolerable.

For it’s hard to understand what’s going on.

Maybe some day we will. Maybe not.

But our job is to promote good cheer—so we can survive.

Now, there are three things at work on Earth:

Facts

Faith

And funny

Hell … the greatest of these is funny.

G-Poppers … February 12th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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 G-Pop remembers when he bought a dog for his youngest son.

A trip to the rescue shelter, a scanning of canine candidates, and a selection of the family mutt–an animal with so many donors that breed identification was laughable.

The whole process, counting food and bowl, was $45. For that sum, a family friend was acquired, absent any pedigree.

Yet buried in the genetics of this pup was a little bit of hound.

The young son discovered this one night when he imitated a dog howling, and the mixed-up barker launched a woeful moaning into the air.

The dog resisted his inclination. He tried to refrain from being “nothin’ but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time.”

But eventually, the sound of hound came forth.

He was embarrassed.

Matter of fact, after the outburst, he drug himself from the room to reflect on his folly.

Just for the record, we are all mutts, too.

All us Americans.

We have so many breeds within that it would be impossible to find purity in any of us. And we’ve certainly got some hound.

Yes–there is much that hounds us:

• We are hounded by our selfishness.
• We are hounded by our fears.
• Certainly hounded by our sense of entitlement.
• And also, by our prejudices.

So politicians, ministers and corporations try to get us to release our disconsolate, mournful bay.

They tempt us to be mean and grouchy.

They lure us to our worst place, where we wallow in dissatisfaction, “the hound of hell.”

So then we whine. I do think we’re embarrassed by it–we want to run and hide because of our weaker nature taking over.

But shame on those who draw out the parts that hound us.

Our dog was noble, loyal and loving.

But sometimes, to establish our pleasure–and dominance–we made him howl like a hound.

G-Pop thinks it’s time for us to stop barking at the moon.

Matter of fact, maybe it’s time for all of us to find our better pooch.

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