Sit Down Comedy … January 10th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4285)

Sit Down Comedy

About a week ago I woke up grumpy.

I don’t do it often, but every once in a while I set aside the time, just to stay in practice.

Usually during these grumpy mornings I am well out of my mood by the time I enter into the actual work of the day. But on this particular occasion, I languished in my self-pity and remained grumpy well past the noon hour.

When I finally emerged from my dark cloud, a thought came to my mind. I realized that I had luxuriated in my vice of “cranky,” never considering that if my reaction—my temperament—were multiplied by eight billion, we would be in a helluva lot of trouble.

What would happen if the entire world woke up grumpy?

Certainly by nightfall—and I do not exaggerate—we would be involved in a thermonuclear war. We would blow everybody’s ass to Kingdom Come for daring to be grumpy on the morning we had reserved for the privilege.

Think about it.

We’re always so critical of life—and even one another—yet fortunately, we don’t all decide to go nutzoid at the same time.

There’s always someone who, when the idea of bungy jumping comes up, frowns and expresses some negative points that eventually bring the room to sense, which prevents us from jumping off a bridge head-first, at the mercy of an exaggerated rubber band.

Moving on from grumpy…

How about hungry?

If every person in the world woke up hungry—all eight billion of us—we’d have a situation.

Because the truth is, everyone in the world does wake up hungry. But fortunately, most of them don’t complain because all they have for their bagel is unflavored cream cheese. If the whole world woke up hungry and fussy over the choices provided, by nightfall the entire face of this planet would be overrun in terrorism.

How about horny?

Would we be dealing with rape and incest, not to mention a proliferation of babies conceived that we might not be prepared for?

Just simply this: if everybody in the world—all eight billion souls—decided next Tuesday to wake up sleepy (as I oft contend to be) how many airplane crashes would there be?

It is fortunate—even divinely inspired—that the human race does not destroy itself merely by sharing common vices at exactly the same moment.

Can you imagine four hundred people going to the DMV on Magnolia Street on the same day, who all arrive in a murderous rage?

It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Yield to Oncoming Traffic.”

Don’t you find this significant?

Stop—let this change your life.

We are not alone. If we were alone, we would find a way to line up our bad attitudes in agreement, point them at one another and destroy all that we are.

In the midst of every grumpy, hungry, horny and sleepy human gathering, there are some souls who have have chosen to wake up

…kind.

Yay-yay!

Sometimes it’s a choice. There are special occasions when the pillow is exceptionally soft, and the mercy of a good night’s sleep turns us almost angelic.

But every single day, if four billion people wake up nasty, then, in order to balance things out, we are required to have four billion waking up kind.

And these kind people provide three essential gifts:

  1. They water down the hate so it’s not so poisonous.
  2. They spice up the boredom, so it doesn’t cause us to have a cranial meltdown.
  3. And they sweeten the disposition, so we do not aggravate one another.

The world is not without hope.

Every day, it is basically a numbers game.

PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant… March 11, 2015

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2528)

pohymn March 11

Imagined

A parcel of land

Unknown to me

Yet strangely familiar

Overgrown with nature

Unfriendly to my eyes

I walk twenty paces

Through grass yellowed

By the treading of trodders

A stifling heat

A burst of sweat

Exhilarating exhaustion

A bend to the left

A field of clover

Cooling, morning dew

I linger. longingly

“Push on, pilgrim!”

A clearing in the distance

Legs I do not possess

Moving where I need go

The cliff appears

A halting of progress

What lies beyond?

What dangers beneath?

Climbing down the rocks

Slip, gain footing

Sliding again

A plateau provided

A resting place

Can’t stay long

Too small for permanence

Too much more to see

Reaching, pulling, breathless

Up, down, look around

No particular direction

Pausing to gain air

Peering for beauty

Wondering where I am

Curious who I am

Oblivious to why

A pool of water

Still, running deep?

Motionless, poisonous?

What do I really know?

My mind stores without understanding.

I am a collage of misinformation

No real possession of thought

Is this really happening?

Has it been done before?

So present, yet vacant of memory

Is it the whim of my wishes

Or the wish of all whims?

I grow weary of movement

Journey with no compass

Turn and head back!

Which way?

I forget

So do I travel in oblivion?

Or stop and settle bearings?

Suddenly, a deer by my side

He accepts me as friend

He is so confident

My deer, I do not belong

The deer does not care

I am alone, placed by myself

No comfort in my choice

So I follow the deer

After many steps

Back at the clover

He likes it

So do I

But I am not a deer

Born to languish in clover

I stumble away

This is neither my parcel

Nor my portion

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