Sit Down Comedy … November 22nd, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

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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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Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 32) Episode 4… December 4th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Reverend Meningsbee

When Episode 4 of “Gar-SIN-ville” aired on USBN, the entire town sunk into a puddle of melancholy.

The citizens had hoped to be recognized, heard, appreciated and valued, but instead were diminished by carefully edited interviews into creatures of weakness, frailty and in some cases, iniquity.

For instance, it was aired that the Swanson church, while pursuing “the perfect soul mate,” had members who slid into illicit affairs, deep confusion and even domestic violence.

Sammy Collins and his little congregation were characterized as bigots who were actively attempting to prevent the settling of Mexicans into the community.

Perhaps saddest of all was that the Bachman family was brought to tears on camera, discussing the suicide of their son, as Mr. Bachman was captured pleading, “I wish I did believe in God–so I could hate him.”

The community had chosen to be candid and forthcoming, hoping their stories would be welcomed with understanding. But the clever editing of the USBN staff made the town appear to be the most hypocritical community since Salem, Massachusetts burned imaginary witches.

In response, the Holiday Inn Express canceled the contract on Swanson’s church, refusing to let them meet there. The few folks who were coming to Sammy Collins’ house for church were too embarrassed to be seen parking in the driveway. And the Bachmans were bombarded with criticism and evangelistic rhetoric, warning them of a devil’s hell.

To complicate matters, Meningsbee received another visit from USBN. This time they sent their chief counsel, Hector Geminez, to the church office with a threat–veiled as an opportunity.

“We have noticed in all of our dealings in the town that your church could certainly use a kitchen and a pantry, which could be mobilized into a food service for those who are less fortunate in the community,” Hector shared, posing concern.

“We’ve thought of it,” said Meningsbee.

“Well, thoughts don’t feed many people, now, do they?”

Meningsbee paused and then challenged. “What is it you want, sir?”

“Please call me Hector.”

Meningsbee nodded.

Geminez continued. “I have been authorized by USBN to inform you that we have a donation of $25,000 for your church to put together such a kitchen and pantry to aid the community.”

“And why would you do that?” asked Meningsbee.

Hector sat for a long moment, eyeing the reverend. “Listen, pastor. We are both men of the world, even though yours is a bit cloistered. So let me not mislead you. The Garsonville series is doing so well in the ratings that we’re thinking about changing it into a weekly series. Since we have so much footage, we could easily cover a season.”

Meningsbee must have appeared startled, because Hector inserted, “Now, I know this is…ah…displeasing to you, so it was our hope that if you and your church could find a purpose by helping others through this kitchen arrangement, you might be willing to give your backing to such an endeavor.”

“Why do you need my backing?” asked Meningsbee. “The people in this town don’t necessarily like me that well. Why do you think my support will carry any weight?”

Hector suddenly stood to his feet, accentuating the drama. “Oh, but you’re wrong, good Reverend. They may not like you but they respect you.They believe you have insight. We’ve had several people unwilling to cooperate just simply because you placed a fear in their hearts that our intentions are not pure.”

“Well, they aren’t pure,” said Meningsbee.

Hector squinted his eyes. “They are pure in the sense that they represent the truth of the information that’s been provided to us. The public has a right to know what goes on in communities like Garsonville.”

“No, they don’t,” said Meningsbee. “None of us have the damn right to stick our noses in anybody else’s business. And by the way, you can quote me on that, Hector.”

“Well, they told me you might not be cooperative,” Hector said, easing himself back down in the chair. “So I wanted to let you know that we have data about some of your personal dealings–or shall we say, problems?–that might be intriguing to the people of the town.”

Meningsbee smiled. So it was USBN that had stolen his computer, to copy his browser.

He paused, wanting to make sure that his reaction came from a quiet place in his soul instead of the fury of his rage. He waited so long that Hector decided to continue.

“Now, we’re not threatening you. And we really don’t want to use what we have. God knows we all have a private life, right, Richard? What we want to do is make this arrangement to everybody’s mutual benefit. You get a food pantry to help the poor and we get a season of highly rated television programs that enlighten the American public.”

“So you feel you’re enlightening the American public,” barked Meningsbee.

“Well, it does say in the Good Book that the truth will make you free,” cited Hector.

“My dear friend, you have no idea what that verse means. Truth is a beautiful thing when it is revealed by the person with the secret. But truth is a nasty monster when it’s disclosed by strangers, leaving the exposed person condemned.”

Hector stood again and walked to the door, turning as he put his hand on the knob. “Listen, I didn’t come here to have a theological discussion. I’m an attorney. I deal with legal ramifications. We don’t need your blessing to do anything. We don’t need your permission to expose you. We were just providing a courtesy–to you, your congregation and the community–which might create a general welfare for all parties involved.”

He concluded, “I know you’ve heard the phrase seventy-two hours. In case you don’t know, that means three days. If I don’t hear from you in three days, I think you can assume that your predilections will be included in the format of Episode 5. You can have a kitchen–or be dealt a heaping helping of humiliation. It’s up to you. Nice meeting you, by the way.”

Hector Geminez turned the knob, opened the door, walked through and disappeared.

Meningsbee felt like chasing him down and giving him a good piece of his mind, but thought better of it.

He realized that he would probably need all of his brain to figure out what to do next.

 

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