Cracked 5 … November 23rd, 2019

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Cracked 5

Things That Angry Elephants Write on their Protest Signs

A. “We do have big bones.”

 

B. “Aren’t you afraid of mice, too?”

 

C. “Gray is the new black.”

 

D.  “I am not a Republican.”

 

E. “Working for peanuts.”

 

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The B. S. M. G. Report


Jonathots Daily Blog

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Looking for a way to bless

But stymied in the mess

Bad

For one hundred and ninety-six years, the United States stumbled and fumbled, but also struggled its way through discovering its own definition of a “Democratic Republic,” with only one occasion when the President of the United States was impeached.

Now, in the past forty-seven years, we have had three Presidents impeached. Also George W. Bush was repeatedly threatened with it, and even Ronald Reagan was nearly brought down by the Iran-Contra affair.

It’s time to realize that we have lost sight of what it means to be Americans and also have failed to follow through on the vision of what we set out to do so many years ago with the Declaration of Independence.

The figures speak for themselves.

We either cannot find good leadership, or we do not know how to pick a good leader.

SAD

When the vote was taken for the impeachment inquiry for President Donald Trump, not one single Republican cast an affirmative to proceed with the investigation.

The sadness I feel is not because I think the President is guilty, nor that I deem him innocent. I am saddened because this has become a partisan event, since it is most assuredly Democrats against Republicans.

Meanwhile, the pundits bicker and snicker.

MAD

We’re supposed to be the good guys.

We’re supposed to be the U.S.A. which travels the globe to help people out when there are disasters.

We’re supposed to be the nation that challenges other nations to be more honest, more democratic and more willing to pursue human rights.

It is truly maddening that we have lost our way, and gradually are becoming the laughingstock of a world which is intimidated, not just by our atomic warheads, but also by our desire to make things right no matter how wrong they may seem to be.

GLAD

It is like a tiny bugle in the distance. I can barely hear it. Shall we call it a “frugal bugle”—one that would love to blow a retreat from selfishness, politics and jealousy, allowing us to regroup into a nation indivisible?

For after all, it doesn’t do much good for us to be “under God” if we’re split apart by ethnicity, bigotry, political parties and religion.

I hear a faint bugle blowing.

It is a call by those who are weary of Republicans and disappointed in Democrats and would like to go back to the simplicity of a land where people are given equal opportunity and equal respect.

Listen for the bugle.

When you hear it, join the retreat from insanity and the gathering of those who will not move one more foot—until common sense is placed in charge.

 

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Not Long Tales … October 29th, 2019

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12.

Cam-Pain

The season had arrived for the thirty-first official mayoral race in the little village of Garrettsburg, Oregon, population 4,322 individualists.

Three candidates stepped forward to offer themselves for consideration. As was the custom in the community, these contestants were not identified as Republican or Democrat. They were perused for their ideas, their popularity and whether they maintained a personable profile in all their dealings.

The first was the present mayor, Derrick Collins. He was one of those gentlemen caught somewhere between the barnyard and rock and roll. His favorite wheels—a motorcycle. His favorite beverage was a beer. Home-brewed if possible.

One of the challengers was Maxwell Jones, a slender man who taught history and civics at the high school. He favored classical music, though if you pressed him, would admit some fondness for the Moody Blues. He wore wingtips, polyester pants which desperately tried to reach to his shoe tops, and oversized sweater vests in an attempt to appear hunkier.

The third comer in the race was barely worth mentioning, since she was a woman and there had never been a female mayor in Garrettsburg history. It wasn’t that the community was gender-biased—just that so far, no woman had fancied the position. Her name was Rachel Luxor, and she was of some foreign extraction—and even by Oregonian standards, a bit frumpy.

Each one of these race runners had a different approach.

Maxwell immediately went after the issues. There were four he had in mind: expanding the park, sanitation pickup twice a week, cleaner water and better fireworks on July 4th. At the last minute, he added another one to his list of four, which unfortunately for his symmetrical mind, made it five. But it was important: filling in the potholes.

His strategy was to stay on point with these points to make his point. Matter of fact, that became his slogan: “Maxwell Jones will stay on point with these points to make his point.”

On the other hand, Derrick Collins was not quite so energetic. Already occupying the job, knowing the job and the city having printed business cards with his name on them, he felt very secure in his domain. What Derrick decided to do was, anything that Maxwell brought up to achieve—well, Derrick just took it to the next City Council meeting and proposed it himself. He figured it was perfect. If the proposal passed, it would then be to his credit, and if the Council thumbed their noses at the idea, then it really wasn’t his fault. So no matter how much Maxwell railed on an issue, Derrick just took the issue, put it to a Council vote and removed any potential for Maxwell following through on a campaign promise. So it seemed that Derrick Collins would once again be voted into the Mayor Chair.

Now, the two men and one woman had made a pledge to one another. A vigorous campaign would be waged, but there would be no dirty tricks. No insults. No personal attacks. And no punches below the beltline.

Well, since Derrick cheated—at least that’s the way Maxwell saw it—the promise was negated. A poster was printed with a picture of Derrick Collins drinking a beer at the monster truck extravaganza the previous fall. Underneath it was printed, boldly, “Here’s your man—if you want a redneck.”

The folks of Garrettsburg were not what you would call sophisticated, but they certainly did not want to be considered rednecks. Once this circular circulated through the community, Derrick decided the gloves had come off. He printed his own poster, showing Maxwell reading a book. Beneath the picture was the caption, “Your socialist at work.”

Once again, none of the citizenry were raging political animals, but they were pretty sure they did not want to be socialists.

The buckets were gathered, the lines were drawn, and the mudslinging began.

Maxwell said that Derrick once called an African American a Negro.

Derrick found a book report written by Maxwell back in high school, where he referred to Darwin’s volume, The Origin of the Species, as an “evolving read.”

According to Maxwell, Derrick was sympathetic to terrorists.

According to Derrick, Maxwell just might be one.

They scoured for dirt—back and forth. At first the community watched, pretending to be horrified, while lapping up every word.

On and on it went. It got nasty.

The two men refused to be in the same room with each other, which made things difficult since they ate lunch every day at the only diner in town. Therefore, it was agreed that Derrick Collins would arrive at 11:30 and eat until 12:15, when Maxwell would come from the school and eat from 12:16 to 1:00 P.M. Of course, that one minute in between did create some problems as the two jousters occasionally bumped into each other, like two bulldogs, growling and snorting.

Yet what was particularly aggravating for both camps was the fact that polling was not determining if the attack ads were successful—mainly because the populace was holding out its opinion, wondering what the next accusation might reveal.

There was no longer any discussion about filling potholes, and the quest for cleaner water dribbled away. It was a war of words and the two men were trying to put poison into each syllable.

Election Day rolled around. A gray cloud hung over the town—and not just emotionally. Since it was Oregon, and there were often gray clouds, the rain came pouring into the village like the wrath of heaven. It curtailed voter turnout.

Matter of fact, by midday, so few people had voted that the candidates decided to drive around town banging on doors, begging people to wade to the polls and cast their choice.

The weather also interfered with the counting of the ballots, so it was the next day, around one o’clock, before the tally was totaled. It was then posted on the window of the Garrettsburg newspaper, for all to read:

Derrick Collins got 32% of the vote.

Maxwell Jones also got 32% of the vote.

A tie.

But Rachel Luxor, from her backseat position, ended up winning with 34% of the vote (two percent of the electorate voted for a combination of Beyoncé, Tom Hanks, the Rock, Kim Kardashian and Tom Brady, the Patriots quarterback.)

There was a collective gasp that went through the community—well, maybe not the whole community, but certainly City Hall and the high school, where Derrick and Maxwell joined in a mutual head scratching, trying to figure out the source of their defeat.

It was perplexing.

After all, Rachel Luxor—now, Mayor Rachel—had campaigned on only one issue, with one slogan.

The issue was better school lunches. And the slogan?

“Carrots for Garretts(burg).”

 

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Sit Down Comedy … October 11th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

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Sit Down Comedy

I sat and listened quietly, almost mouse-like, as two fellows in their early thirties launched into a great debate, right before my ears, about whether the Joker, as presented in the latest film, would actually be as murderous as predicted.

The discussion became vehement, nearly volatile. Each one of the fine fellows was certain that he had a pinpoint understanding on the true character, if not mental profile, of the villain.

Internally I was smiling.

The truth is, they both could be right since the Joker is a fictitious character.

Yes—you can conjure almost any scenario about him you want in the pursuit of advertising your theory or feathering your nest with ticket sales.

Likewise, of late I have sat in the presence of my Republican and Democrat brothers and sisters as they have mused over whether Jesus would agree with some portion of their political piety. But you see, here’s the problem–in this second discussion between the politicians, they fail to remember that unlike the Joker, Jesus was not a mythical figure.

There is some actual historical confirmation of his life, quite a few renditions of his thinking, and even a record of his untimely demise, recorded for all time by the fastidious Roman Empire.

It is much more difficult to turn Jesus of Nazareth into a mascot rooting for your team.

The Republicans may want to make him conservative as the Democrats profile him as liberal, but the fact of the matter is:

Jesus was Jesonian.

He had a way of thinking, doing, being, believing, loving, caring and moving.

If you choose to study these motions and imitate them, then you might be able to call yourself a Christian. But if you’re going to ignore the biographical information available and the obvious choices he made as a human being, you may pretend he is a mythical being, but it will be very easy to prove his timeline.

Let’s be clear:

Jesus never claimed that he was “Almighty” or “a stable genius.”

He also did not profile himself to be the preacher for the poor—out to get the top one percent of rich folks.

He didn’t rail against abortion and demand that people sacrifice their free will.

But of course, he did favor children, and said they were “like the kingdom of heaven.”

Yet rather than going through a litany of issues that have been placed upon his shoulders as burdens to carry, let’s look at two things we do know about him, based upon his own words and actions:

1. On a fine afternoon, when approached by a rich, young ruler, who addressed him as “Good Master,” Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? There’s none good but God.”

Now, Jesus had done enough kindly deeds, and dare we say, even merciful acts of miraculous proportions, to have absorbed up the word “good” without seeming to be puffed up.

But you see, he didn’t.

He portrayed that one of the great frailties of human thinking is to believe, promote and toot your horn as you trumpet your goodness to the populace.

Once again, he refused to call himself good.

2. Talking to his disciples one morning, he said, “When you’ve done that which is expected of you, call yourself an unprofitable servant.”

This was certainly an unpopular position with folks around the world who wanted to feel persecuted, let down, set aside or ignored.

Jesus made it clear that if you’re not excelling, you’re bitching.

So when it comes to those Republicans who love to talk about how great our nation is or what mighty deeds are being achieved, how they’re “the deciders,” or even how exceptional we are as a country…

Don’t get ready for Jesus to show up at the rally.

He kept his perspective.

Human beings don’t gain any power by insisting they have it.

There’s none good but God.

And for all my Democrat buddies out there, who think the bad rich people who have made money are the reason that the poor folks are unmotivated, broken, selfish and begging, they should take another gander at what Jesus really promotes before they dress him up in his blue robe and roll him out at the Convention. For Jesus said, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you do what you’re supposed to do, that doesn’t even get you in the door.”

Set your GPS for the second mile.

Now, if you like this statement of Jesus, I would invite you to join me and a chosen few in living it out joyfully. If you don’t, then hang around.

There’ll be an elephant or a donkey along real soon to carry you to the voting booth.

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Sit Down Comedy … May 10th, 2019

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“But know this—that if the good man of the house had known when the thief would come, he would have watched and would not have suffered his house to be broken up.” *

We weren’t watching.

Maybe it’s because there isn’t a good man among us. I don’t know.

Maybe we thought there weren’t any real thieves out there.

Perhaps we were bewitched into believing that a Republican or a Democrat possessed any spirit to follow through on basic human integrity.

Maybe it’s because we were afraid to admit that the whole political system is evil, and nobody can exist within its parameters without absorbing the filth.

Again—I don’t know.

The thieves have come in and broken up our house.

We could get angry.

We could call all the politicians “sons-of-a-bitches.”

We can insist the ones who wear red hats are righteous or the ones with the blue hats are benevolent.

But we’d be missing the point.

The tree is corrupt, so the fruit will be rotten.

Moving forward, if we’re going to protect the American house, we need to make sure we’re not allowing thieves to come in and handle the national jewels.

This will require that we stop prancing around the room, talking about voting, civic responsibility and checks and balances, but instead, ask more internal, piercing questions of those who would desire to lead us.

I only want to know four things about anybody.

I don’t care if he mows my lawn, distributes my groceries or is the President of the United States. And the answers to these questions tell me whether I can trust him or her and therefore grant my support.

Just four questions—and if you agree, you can stop concerning yourself with immigration, the economy, health insurance and social standards. The answers to the questions tell you whether an individual running for office truly gives a damn about anybody.

So here are the questions I want to ask anybody I ever meet, to inform me where he or she is coming from and where they’re going:

  1. Can you tell the truth?
  2. Can you confess your faults?
  3. Can you learn?
  4. Can you love your neighbor as yourself?

After I ask them, I listen to the answers. I don’t accept, “I’ll try,” or “Everybody tells a fib now and then,” or “Who do you think I should confess to?” or “I’m pretty smart the way I am but I could probably learn,” or the classic—“Who’s my neighbor?”

The answers are actually easy:

  1. I not only can tell the truth, I want you to hold me to the truth, and when you catch me, I want you to stop me.
  2. I will confess my faults, because I know you will find them eventually anyway, and if I confess them, I have a better chance of being healed.
  3. I don’t work on being smart. I work on increasing my capacity and hunger to learn. There are too many angles for any one person to figure out.
  4. I will love my neighbor as myself because it’s the only way I can guarantee a positive ending to any situation.

You can go ahead and believe in politics if you want to—but as the “good man of the house,” I see the thieves coming around again, and I, for one, am going to do everything I can to make sure they don’t come in and break up our house anymore.

*Matthew 24:43


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Cracked 5 … April 27th, 2019

 


Jonathots Daily Blog

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Cracked 5

Jokes the Elephant Man Hates

 

A. Stand back! I’m allergic to peanuts!

 

B.  Don’t forget to pack your trunk!

 

C. I hear you are all ears.

 

D. Is everything as big as your feet?

 

E. How long have you been a Republican?

 

Elephant Man

 

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Sit Down Comedy … April 12th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

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If I were a woman or if I was a woman or if female and grammatically was sure which one was correct, I would need to understand that progress toward equality cannot be achieved through buying into some gender affirmative action.

Female Affirmative Action

For black Americans, affirmative action seemed to be a generous, practical means by which to even the playing field between the races. What actually occurred was an underlying cynicism about whether any person with darker skin had achieved success legitimately.

When you set aside the muscle mass of the male of our species and balance it with the birthing capabilities of the female, everything else runs pretty even. We still have a few jokers that hang around, insisting that females are more emotional than men. (They obviously have never visited the losing locker room at the Super Bowl.)

Pretending Women Are Superior

But the error lies the notion that we can bring peace between the genders by balancing things out artificially and pretending that women are superior.

We contradict this immediately with the “Me, Too Movement,” telling our feminine counterparts that they can bring up accusations from years, even decades, earlier, and because they were tongue-tied or intimidated in the moment, it is perfectly all right for them to delay their objection until now.

It is not.

In the realm of human interaction, there is actually a seven-day limit on lodging an objection or in making your point. If you can’t do it in the moment, then take a day. If after a day, you’re still uncertain on how you feel about what occurred to you, call a friend. Get input.

If you decide to remain silent out of embarrassment, then find someone you feel is empowered who can aid your voice to have greater volume.

But whether a man or woman, if you have not lodged, within seven days, your objection about how you were treated, how you were perceived or how you were allowed to conduct your affairs, then you must understand that rallying the “Me, Too Movement” to kick female affirmative action into gear, which supposedly allows you time eternal to come forward with your charges, is the best way to build a wall between the genders which will never come down.

If a woman, I would have to decide:

  • Do I have a voice, or do I need someone to give me a voice?
  • Do I have a legitimate complaint, or shall I wait until my complaint has worn out its statute of limitations and then thrust it forward, insisting that it still bothers me?

Even the phrase “Me, Too” is a statement of weakness rather than strength. It portrays to everyone around you that you do not possess the confidence to speak alone but must wait until there are many voices to gain spunk.

This will not work.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s Republican or Democrat, man or woman.

Each one of us has a right to be confronted by our accusers in a timely fashion

If we do not avail ourselves of this opportunity within seven days, we must be willing to take the blame for our own anemic trepidation.

I grant you that it falls the lot of both sexes to open their ears and hearts to the sentiments of the other, but it certainly requires a step of faith, courage and intellect for women to receive the equality due them by taking it in their hands instead of “wishing and hoping” from the sidelines.

 


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