Sit Down Comedy … November 22nd, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4236)

Sit Down Comedy

Please allow me to use myself as an example.

I was born. (That was a good beginning.)

I developed a little musical talent. (So far so good.)

I discovered I could sing. (A great addition.)

I also stumbled upon some sort of ability to arrange music. (Certainly makes you interesting to other musicians.)

Along the way, I started writing songs. (Okay. We’re waiting to hear…)

And the songs were good enough that one of them got signed and performed by a national act. (Well, that certainly gives you permission to continue.)

I started my own music group. (Were you any good?)

We got signed and recorded an album. (Well, well, well. Congratulations.)

Then I decided to write a musical. (That sounds a little more tricky.)

The musical turned out all right, and the cast traveled the country to twenty-five cities (Well, there you go.)

This put an itch in my brain to write books. (That’s a big step. What you might call “the leap.”)

Well, thirteen books later, I’ve sold my fair share though I’ve never threatened anyone on the New York Times Bestseller List. (What do they know?)

Next, I decided to run for Senator in my state. (Wait. Wait. Wait! Danger, danger, danger…)

Exactly.

How about another example?

He has a really unique hairdo. (Well, that’s interesting.)

He has lots of money. (A very helpful thing.)

He likes to build buildings and put his name on them. (Good…if a bit vain.)

He enjoys promoting prize fights and beauty contests. (I’m listening…)

He deeply appreciates beautiful women. (Who doesn’t, right? Wink, wink.)

He was invited to host a reality show on television. (That’s pretty nifty.)

It did very well—so well there was a spin-off. (Impressive.)

Matter of fact, the ratings were very, very high. (Those doggone Nielsen families.)

He decided to run for President. (Wait, wait, wait! Danger, danger, danger…)

It’s important where things end up–and that goes for people, too.

Anyone who has ever tried to fix up a house to sell it for profit will tell you there are so many people’s numbers that end up in your phone—who have to work on this and work on that—that suddenly, you find yourself involved with people who need to install your toilet and lay concrete, that you accidentally know about their gastric problems, and whose wife is about to leave whose husband—and you know there is no way to make this really successful.

There are just people I should never meet. For instance, the state of Florida should never meet me. If I want to fix up a house, I’d better do it alone, because all of the scammers will not benefit my life’s journey.

And just because a guy knows how to wear an Italian suit, build a building and host a beauty pageant, does not mean he should be President.

And here’s another clue:

He told us that.

From the onset, Donald Trump told us the truth. He did.

He said, “I am a promoter and a liar.”

If you read his book, it is full of all sorts of approaches to deceiving the competition.

He never expected to be President.

Along with the help of the Electoral College, the hatred many people felt for Bill and Hillary, and a foolish playfulness on the part of the American voter, he was ushered into the Oval Office.

We were never supposed to see him there.

We were never intended to even meet the cast of characters who have come before us to testify about one another—and him.

The whole thing resembles a huge blow-up in a gymnasium at a high school, when people find out what other people have been saying about them.

It is a misplaced conclusion brought about by a misplaced representation urged on by a misplaced valuation of ability.

We are not all supposed to be famous.

The individuals who are presently serving this nation were meant to be hidden. They are servants. They are helpers. They should never have been brought to the forefront as if they are superstars, or worthy of being heard.

We are completely out of balance.

Case in point:

In a country which has never elected a woman as President, when statistics report that 46% of men would never vote for a woman, the Democrat Party still believes that offering five of them is a good idea.

And this party does not comprehend that the black church, which does believe the homosexual community should have civil rights but also thinks the lifestyle is immoral, well, they are not likely to line up to vote for the Indiana mayor.

Do I even have to address the electability of two accused socialists?

Or how about that left-over Vice President, who always seems to be on a confusing journey to find a subject or verb to hook up with his object when he speaks?

It’s not supposed to be.

We are not making America great again. We are dumbing it down.

We are pretending that conversations which we would have found insulting a few years ago are now worthy of an hour-long show on the 24-hour-news cycle.

It is not Make America Great Again (MAGA)

What it does feel like is Make America Small Again (MASA)—an ironic acronym, don’t you think?

Masa.

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Confessing … November 7th, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2745)

XXVII.

I confess so I can heal.

If I deny, I remain sick.

I was 23 years old, and already the father of two little boys. I had no regular job and was quickly becoming known for mooching lodging and meals off of friends and relatives.

My saving grace was that all the people of the town knew I had some musical talent.

I had proven this recently by winning a contest, and in so doing, being awarded a recording session with 100 free albums.

I was thrilled.

Every time somebody would ask when I was going to get a job, I explained that I was getting ready for the project. I was blessed to have a music group filled with friends who believed in my writing.

We went to do the record and ended up having a studio engineer who had seen us at the talent contest, and was very excited about working with us.

The first couple of songs went really well, but when we came to the third selection, I went into the booth to record my piano first, before we laid down vocals.

In the process of playing the tune, I hit a really bad note. It was isolated off by itself. I was trying to hit a Db, but my finger slipped and I ended up with a C included. Without going into too much detail, it sounded terrible and it was obvious I had made an error.

When I finished the piece, the engineer waited for me to request another go-through.

I didn’t.

I asked him to play it back and when the foul-sounding note came over the speakers, I pretended I had planned it that way. He even gently took me to the side and asked if I was sure I did not want to go back in to correct the note.

I told him I was fine with it.

Matter of fact, that note remained through the whole session, mix-down, and was pressed onto the final record.

I was so defensive over being a jobless dad that I did not want to admit I had made a mistake.

You see, my sin was not in being young, foolish and without money. My sin was being prideful and defensive about my situation.

I look back on that day in horror.

It is difficult for me to believe that anybody could be so stupid–and then I turn on the television set and listen to grown men and women in politics, defending their mistakes as if they had actually planned them.

Sometimes we hit sour notes.

Our only advantage is to point them out before others discover them, or at least change them … before they become part of the permanent record.

confessing piano

 

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