Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … November 26th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Dear Man Dear Woman

Woman: I’m pregnant.

 

Man: What do you mean?

 

Woman: You don’t know what pregnant is?

 

Man: Yes, I know what pregnant is, I just don’t know why you would think you’re pregnant.

 

Woman: I was told I was.

 

Man: It’s not possible.

 

Woman: What do you mean, it’s not possible?

 

Man: I mean, I’m engaged to you and I know that I haven’t had sex with you, so the possibility of you being pregnant is zilch.

 

Woman: Listen, and listen carefully. I would like you to listen even if you don’t believe what I’m saying. And listen with the mind that the last thing in the world I would want to do is lie to you.

 

Man: You’re creeping me out. What are you trying to say?

 

Woman: I’m trying to say that I have been visited.

 

Man: You’ve had another man?

 

Woman: No, of course not. We’re going to be married. I… Well, I don’t know. Do you believe in angels?

 

Man: Are you asking me if I believe in angels or if I think there really are angels? Because it’s a different answer.

 

Woman: Are you saying you believe in things you don’t think are real?

 

Man: Hell, yes. There are two kinds of belief. There’s the belief that if I put seed in the ground, it will grow and I’ve got a good chance of a harvest. Then there’s belief in angels, which I’ve never seen, have no evidence of and just decide to go along with because the God who makes the seed grow insists they are real.

 

Woman: That’s interesting. Because the God who makes that seed grow has placed a seed in me that’s growing.

 

Man: Woman, you’ve lost me.

 

Woman: I hope not. I hope you can just listen a little bit more and understand. Because even if I’m crazy and this is all in my brain and I am stark raving nuts, I’m going to need you to hang around and take care of me. But if what I’m telling you turns out to be real, I’m going to need you to hang around to be part of it.

 

Man: Cut to the chase. What are we talking about?

 

Woman: An angel has told me that God is placing a baby inside me who is going to be the Messiah.

 

Man: What? Why you?

 

Woman: Thank you very much for that vote of confidence. I don’t know why me. Maybe it’s because everybody else turned Him down. Or maybe He knew that I was willing to at least consider it was possible.

 

Man: Let me go over what I’m hearing. You’re telling me that an actual angel spoke to you, telling you that God was going to give you a baby even though you haven’t been with a man…

 

Woman: Apparently that’s important–the fact that it isn’t coming from one fellow. The baby isn’t coming from one nation, or this baby isn’t the actual “seed of David,” but instead is a child of all the Earth…

 

Man: But you see, that’s where you’re wrong. The prophecies say that the baby will come through the loins of the seed of David, birthed from a Jew. Why would God have all these men in the Old Testament and then suddenly turn to a woman to deliver His messenger?

 

Woman: Actually, he’s supposed to be called Jesus.

 

Man: I am so freaking disappointed in you. If you made a mistake and slept with someone…I don’t know. Maybe I could forgive you. But at least I would not feel insulted that you thought you could deceive me with this tale of angels.

 

Woman: I completely understand your point. I knew when I came to tell you the story, I had to be prepared for the fact that it’s so unbelievable that you would not be able to comprehend it. I don’t know why the angel didn’t tell us together… but I think God just got tired of men dominating women, and He decided to do something with a woman, minus the man.

 

Man: There’s no history of it.

 

Woman: There’s never been a Messiah before.

 

Man: So what am I supposed to do?

 

Woman: You’re supposed to listen to me–which you’ve done–and decide for yourself if I’m a cheater, a deceiver, crazy, or blessed.

 

Man: No man could do that. No man could sort through this mess.

 

Woman: Maybe you’ll need an angel, too…

 

Man: Well, until my angel shows up, let me tell you that loving someone is not something that comes quickly and goes away just as quickly. Standing here, I feel bruised, upset, cheated… but in love. I need my thoughts to myself. I don’t want to say something stupid and hurt you, but I also don’t want to say something silly and find out you’re laughing at me.

 

Woman: I understand all of that. Parts of it hurt. Parts of it are reassuring. But I know this–even if I’m crazy, it’s my crazy. And I can’t turn my back on it. I promised I would be willing to see it through.

 

Man: Maybe we should sleep on it.

 

Woman: Maybe we should.

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … September 17th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Dear Man Dear Woman

Dear Woman: Do you want to have children?

 

Dear Man: No, but I’d like to have a family.

 

Dear Woman: What’s the difference?

 

Dear Man: Huge! A family is a group of people sitting around the living room, all of which have been potty trained and know the working end of a Kleenex, enjoying pizza night and watching Disney movies.

 

Dear Woman: And children would be…?

 

Dear Man: Creatures who suddenly appear, squalling and pooping everywhere, trying to control the environment.

 

Dear Woman: That’s pretty negative.

 

Dear Man: I’ve always found it better in life to work backwards from negative to find positive things, instead of leaping in with happy-go-lucky, to later retract your statements because of the abundance of weirdness.

 

Dear Woman: I would like us to have a baby.

 

Dear Man: You see, that’s the problem. Vestiges of male chauvinism and female oppression lie dead-center in the middle of this process of procreation. It’s further accentuated by the new domineering attitude–especially in black and Latino communities, which portray women as “Baby Mamas,” and these conquering studs spreading their seed across several different mothering units.

 

Dear Woman: Wow. That’s harsh. Maybe even racist.

 

Dear Man: Sexist is worse than racist. I don’t care if you’re black, brown, or whatever color you are–if you’re treating the mother of your children like she is a nanny, then you’re wrong.

 

Dear Woman: Well, I wanted to have children together.

 

Dear Man: But what does that mean? In our society, we have single moms, but single dads are kind of a joke. In other words, if a man stays home and decides to take care of his children we think he’s a lazy bum, but if a woman does it, she’s a responsible female who has made a positive choice for her youngsters.

 

Dear Woman: I can see that. But how would you rectify it? I mean, what would you do to even the playing field so men and women can be perceived as partners in this project of birthing and raising a child?

 

Dear Man: Get rid of sentimentality. Mother’s love is not stronger than father’s love–not in our species. A woman getting tears in her eyes because she’s thinking about her children does not mean she loves them more. You love them more if you work with your partner to turn them into decent human beings instead of rapists, serial killers, televangelists and politicians. And not necessarily in that order.

 

Dear Woman: I think I understand what you’re trying to say. You want me to be as invested emotionally, mentally and spiritually as you are forced to be physically.

 

Dear Man: Exactly. The same amount of effort it takes to transform my body into a birthing machine is the same kind of commitment I want both of us to have, to change ourselves into parenting units.

 

Dear Woman: So what would you change?

 

Dear Man: As I said, get rid of the sentimentality about mother’s love being superior to father’s love. Then involve the man in the process of the conception, birthing and raising of the child as an equal participant, not merely a bread-winner. And stop putting special significance on one sex over another when it comes to the care, maintenance and maturing of the child.

 

Dear Woman: I agree with all of that.

 

Dear Man: Maybe you do. But that will mean that most nights you’re not going to be able to go off with your buddies and watch the game, but instead, stay home with your child and me, watching the game on TV, laughing and doing puzzles.

 

Dear Woman: I can do that. Matter of fact, when you explain it this way, it seems like the way it should be. But because we want to maintain the superiority of the man over the woman, we manufacture this false sense of “ultimate motherhood.”

 

Dear Man: Absolutely. I don’t mind having children with you if we can change diapers, change attitudes and change directions as parents together.

 

Dear Woman: Most people will think that’s weird.

 

Dear Man: That’s why most people have children that are out of control instead of offspring they can be proud of.

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Ask Jonathots … January 28th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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One of my friends believes that sexual repression is the reason for almost all problems, from behavioral to criminal. How important is sexuality? Is there such a thing as a religious calling, or, as my friend says, is that the sole reason for the sexual scandal in the Catholic Church?

Sex is an appetite.

It’s very important to realize this.

It is neither holy, nor is it hedonistic.

If monkeys can do it, it’s probably not super-spiritual, and if the end process of the procedure is procreation–the birthing of other human beings–it’s probably not evil.

You have to find the balance. What is the balance?

For instance, another bodily function is a bowel movement. Constipation makes us sick. But diarrhea is also a sign that we’re ill. What we want are healthy bowel movements.

And what we also want is a healthy sex life.

Since sex is not terribly difficult to do, it’s probably unrealistic to think that people are going to avoid it until they get married at age twenty-six.

Yet because it has so many physical ramifications, disease possibilities, and the potential of pregnancy, it should probably not be open season beginning at the age of twelve.

There are three reasons that people say they have sex:

  • They love each other
  • They want each other
  • They desire a child

Of course, there are variations on those–and different intensity levels. But as you can see, those three do not naturally connect.

In other words, love for someone can be manufactured because we are physically stimulated.

Wanting someone can be extremely temporary, until the orgasm is achieved.

And having a baby is an eighteen-minute production for an eighteen-year problem.

So the church tends to teach that the best practice is to refrain from sex until marriage, even though there are no people sitting in the pew who feel that is actually possible–or followed the practice themselves.

The world, on the other hand, or the secular community, thinks that free sexual expression is essential as a choice of adulthood, but offers no comfort for those who are heartbroken or stricken by disease because of promiscuity, or left with horrible choices due to unwanted pregnancy.

We are in the process of finding a balance.

To me, the best way to achieve this is to make it clear to young people–and older folks, for that matter–what sex is.

1. Sex is pleasure.

The fact that a creative God also uses it as a means of procreating our species is just smart due to the fact that if making babies took great effort, we would soon be extinct.

Trying to make sex anything other than pleasure is putting a golden crown on a pig.

2. As pleasure, it is a lesson in discovering how to mutually respect the person we are sharing the experience with at all times.

The idea that women are growing up believing that sex is for men and that they are not necessarily supposed to have an orgasm is one of the greatest abuses to the female.

3. Sex is emotional.

Here’s the trick and here’s the problem: as human beings, we seem to be incapable of separating the physical act of pleasure from the emotional tie of friendship or love. This introduces jealousy. This promotes some revenge. It causes sex to become a tool of pain rather than the promoter of pleasure.

4. Sex is attached to our passion.

Just because you said you loved someone ten years ago doesn’t mean you want to crawl in bed with them and have a crazy night of love-making. If the emotional, mental and spiritual energy does not continue, then the horniness quickly wears off. So we develop silly words like “soul mate” to describe the latest person who excites us.

Human sexuality is tainted both by repression and too much expression.

It is a physical act with emotional overtones, stimulated by mental commitment and spiritual energy.

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Cracked 5 … December 22nd, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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According to this author’s not-so-humble opinion, the saying “Baby Mama” has to go.

These other phrases can also be classified as “anti-maternity:”

A. “Belly Buster.” (Similar to calling a man, “Little Petey”)

 

B. “Prego.” (It’s a spaghetti sauce)

 

C. “With child.” (You aren’t Shakespeare.)

 

D. “Plowed field.” (You also aren’t Amish.)

 

E. :Tummy tumbler.” (Save “cute” for after the baby’s born.)

Cracked 5 Jerry Springer

 

 

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Johann, I’ll Be “Bach”…. June 30, 2012

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Babies aren’t cute.

I felt it was my responsibility to step in at this point and dispel what seems to be a universal misconception. When you factor in their bald, often-misshapen heads, with eyes that are threatening to cross and drool that spouts from their mouths like a Texas oil-well gusher, you really cannot insist that these creatures possess the stamp of approval from Cute, International. And that is without mentioning the weapons of mass destruction they often leave in their diapers for unsuspecting parental victims.

And of course, they cry a lot. Inconsolably.

That being said, I do have to admit that the four little sprouts I had the privilege of fathering were reasonably attractive. But recently I discovered that we are going to be birthing a new grandson. Before I discuss this new little boy–who has already been named Johann–I would like to give you a brief history of my experience in having children.

My first son was conceived on our senior prom night–obviously, not by design. He was born nine months later and we were married five months prior. The doctors were concerned that my wife was going to be startled by this first birth, so they put her under, losing a great ally for pushing out the newborn package. Forceps were required, rendering my first-born with the appearance of a child that possibly should have been placed in the “rejected” pile.

My second son was born a year-and-a-half later, since my wife and I had no concept of birth control–and we were white and possessed no rhythm. She was not sure she was in labor, so she walked down the street to see my mother, who was working in a loan company that she owned and operated. When my wife didn’t come back immediately, I became concerned, so I trotted my way down to the loan company, only to arrive as my child was being born in the back of this institution–on a couch normally reserved for nervous patrons seeking financial assistance for home improvement. It was the talk of our little town, as literally hundreds of people lined up outside that loan company to see the baby who was born “abnormally”–outside the hospital.

My third son was unique in the sense that my wife was nervous about informing me that we were going to have a third one, so she waited until she was six months pregnant to tell me. So my enthusiasm only had three months to hatch, and then on top of that, she called me and told me that she was in labor, so I drove the thirty miles to the hospital and arrived just after the baby was born. Her entire labor was forty-three minutes.

At this point, we decided not to have any additional children, which didn’t make any difference in the scheme of things. At the worst possible time, while we were traveling around the country with our children, one of whom had been severely impaired by a hit-and-run car accident, my wife once again discovered she was pregnant–this time informing me. But as it turned out, she was not correct on the exact time of her conceiving, so the baby arrived two months early by her count, but absolutely correct by the other mother involved (nature). The blessing was that I actually got to be there for the birthing of this one.

My two granddaughters, Isabella and Lily, were born without my presence. My grandson, Wyeth, was born in China, where I also wasn’t, and my other grandson, Justice, was born before my son was married to the woman who is his mother.

So as I head off this week to Nashville, Tennessee, to continue my tour, I am also directing myself towards the possibility of being in the town where my latest grandson, Johann, is due to be born soon. Understanding my history, I am sure some unusual occurrence will prevent me from having full access to the event. But I am still optimistic over this latest arrival. I know some grandparents would object to a child being called Johann–because we Americans are so fixated on the top-twenty names for the little ones. But I think we need some distinctions–and having a unique name is a great conversation starter. And conversation is the ultimate starter to all things good.

And Johann certainly has great tradition, with the sprouting of beautiful music from Johann Sebastian Bach.

So even though I don’t think babies are cute, I do think they’re really important. They are God’s way of reminding us that we are not doomed to our own mediocrity. New possibilities are offered all the time, and as long as we can survive the onslaught of drool and poopie, we might just be able to raise up the next human being who will teach us how to love one another.

So before I arrive in Nashville, Tennessee, to have some sort of experience with this new grandchild, I would like to state the three hopes I have for his future:

1. Johann, don’t imitate the world around you. Society often tends to be erred, and then adds the curse of stubbornness and pride to keep change from happening earlier. Ignore the masses; listen to your heart.

2. Be unashamedly creative. Being creative is not gay. Being creative is not feminine. Being creative is finding God in every situation.

3. And finally, my dear grandson, Johann–would you go ahead and be bold and brave, and do better than us? To achieve this, you will have to be able to possess the better parts of our efforts and forgive us our trespasses. Don’t let your genetics rule your dreams, nor follow the traditions of family and nation simply because they seem to be so prevalent.

So there you go. I am off to pursue a birth. There is no star to follow, which is fine, since I am not a Wise Man; there is no history of inspiring stories to propel me on my merry way. I am happily looking for a new experience with a new human being. And I hope in the process that I may be able to find the very first baby in the history of mankind that truly iscute.

   

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