SENSITIZE 53
Every morning, Mr. Cring takes a personal moment with his friends.
Today: The church calls me a sinner and the world says I’m a winner. Neither one is true, says Cring.
Click the picture below to see the video
Sit Down Comedy … May 29th, 2020
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4424)
Responsibility.
The ability to be responsible.
Sounds just a trifle old-fashioned. For after all, in this modern era, how can we determine the true height and depth of our ability? And likewise, what are we responsible for, given that our power is limited by the circumstances of the world around us?
Yet many years ago, when Darren and Karen (with rhyming names), after twelve years of marriage, suddenly found themselves on the verge of a divorce because Darren was spotted at a motel twenty miles away, with the high school choral teacher…
Well, literally the whole affair set our village ablaze with controversy, disagreement, judgments and opinions.
Karen was greatly wounded by the sexual misconduct of her assumed loving husband, but was also warned by the local minister that divorce was a “horrible sin in the eyes of God,” and that their two children could be damaged beyond repair if there wasn’t some way to bring about reclamation to their relationship.
Darren was embarrassed—almost appeared to be sorry, until three weeks after the temporary patch-up of their marriage, he was again spotted, at a different motel, with the choir lady–just humming along.
Darren and Karen decided their responsibility was to stay married.
Their further responsibility was to pretend it was working out really well.
No one would put up with such restrictions nowadays.
We’ve come up with the notion that our only responsibility is to be happy, and then, because we can’t seem to be, we permit ourselves many experiments to attempt to uncover our pleasure.
Meanwhile, responsibility has been carted away to the garage and set next to other words, which also seem to have no current relevance. Like “sinner”—that being one who gets too near sin.
Time pushes on.
Or does it march?
Perhaps slip on its greasy surroundings?
Or does time do a Rip van Winkle and just go to sleep, and wake up later, when the problem that existed is no longer considered problematic?
For we used to have a responsibility to tell the truth.
Now we have a responsibility to offer a convincing lie.
We had a responsibility to love our fellow-man. Now, all we have to do is “treat our families really good.”
We had a responsibility to feel guilty about the bigotry that existed in our country. Now we accept a cultural divide, which keeps us from thoroughly understanding one another.
We had a responsibility to be honest in our business practices.
Now we favor the old saying, “Let the buyer beware.”
Perhaps that’s what we should do at this season in our nation—have a deep-rooted discussion about our responsibility.
For certainly, threatening such a maneuver is a great way to terminate interest in this essay.
Sit Down Comedy … October 18th, 2019
Jonathots Daily Blog
(4201)
“Love your enemies.” A peculiar idea.
First, how does that happen? If you’re really a lover, how do you make enemies? Do some people just hate to be loved—therefore they have to hate you because you’re the one who loved them?
Or is it that you fail to love your neighbors, and in the meantime, they turn into enemies, so now you’ve got a real problem.
How can you love your enemies? Doesn’t the word “enemy” connote some sort of conflict?
Does Jesus love Satan? They’re enemies.
Does Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi love Donald Trump? They’re enemies.
There seems to be a prerequisite of a certain amount of disfavor, if not hate, in levying the word “enemy” onto someone else.
So what’s the purpose of the love? Are we speaking figuratively, as in, “compared to the amount of dislike we could muster, we sure seem loving in our discretion?”
Or is it that condescending “love your enemy,” like they do with gay people?
“I love the sinner, but I hate the sin.” How does one do that?
For this to work, the sinner would have to believe he or she is sinning, rather than following a sexual orientation. Any way you look at it, it’s hatred.
So how do you love your enemies? Doesn’t it express a weakness that leaves you vulnerable? Someone gets ready to punch you in the face, and you say, “Listen—I love you.”
Do we think it’s a deterrent?
Does “turn the other cheek” spare a cheek from being hit? Or just make you defenseless?
God knows, pessimism is a destructive virus. But likewise, optimism leaves us all gooey and doughy—half-baked.
I don’t know about you—I don’t want platitudes.
I don’t want someone to say, “Love your enemies,” and then if I try it, they chuckle and say, “No—not that way.”
Or, “Come on, kid. You’ve gotta stand up for yourself.” But we’ve been standing up for ourselves for a long time.
Israel stands up for itself in the Middle East. So do the Arabs.
Standing up for oneself is really the formula for a stand-off, isn’t it?
Yet what good does it do to introduce love into a volatile situation?
It seems so ridiculous to people, even those who claim to believe in the Gospel, that they try to ignore it and think of all sorts of ways to hurt one another.
How did I ever get goddamn enemies? Did I think I was loving, but ended up being an asshole? Or did I insist I imitate a loving person while being an asshole? Come on.
Words are useless unless you know what they mean.
When the words “love” and “enemy” occur in the same sentence, I, for one, need more information.
I’d rather not have enemies. Will being a loving person help with that? Now, there’s an idea.
I don’t want to pick a fight. Picking a fight is such a futile process. There’s a chance you’ll win. There’s a chance you’ll lose. But if you win, you still must have some sort of concern toward the person you beat the crap out of. Otherwise, people will think you’re wicked. I guess it’s alright to be hateful as long as you aren’t wicked.
When people say they’ll pray for you, do they? Or is the statement the prayer?
I think maybe the human race could do much better if high-sounding ideas like “love your enemy” were better explained, and really shitty attitudes, like, “every man for himself,” were exposed.
My thought is, if somebody is your enemy and you aren’t able to whoop him, you’d better find a way to get along with him.
And if you think you can whoop everybody, it’s safe to say that you’ll eventually get whooped.
I’m not in the mood for a good whooping—either to give one or to take one.
So I guess the thought is:
Once you find out that someone is pissed at you, control the vibe.
Nurture the energy that flows his or her way, and make sure they have no reason to turn the feud into a vendetta and the vendetta into a war.
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this inspirational opportunity
Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast
Sit Down Comedy … January 11th, 2019
Jonathots Daily Blog
(3922)
Marching Orders 2019
Scratch the itch
Just don’t bitch
Find the groove
Make your move
Begin the show
With what you know
Kiss the Earth
For second birth
Learn to cry
For the other guy
Remain bright
Eat so light
Don’t be a critic
Nor a cynic
This is your hour
So speak to power
Find true favor
Love your neighbor
The path to smart
Make a start
Have no fear
Pursue good cheer
The words they say
Straight or gay
Tell the story
Bring the glory
Honor the winner
Forgive the sinner
As you’re taught
Judge not
The future is waiting
So stop hesitating
Do what you do
God is in you
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this inspirational opportunity
Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast
Catchy (Sitting 65) Just As I Am… September 9th, 2018
Jonathots Daily Blog
(3790)
Matthew sat quietly in the rental car he had selected at the airport, having arrived early for a meeting with Milton Crenshaw–one he promised Jubal he would cover.
As he sat on the narrow thoroughfare winding through the trailer park leading to Crenshaw’s mobile home, he watched with great curiosity as a mama duck led her four babies across the road. She was so damn organized.
He suddenly felt very stupid because he envied her. She was just a duck–but she had a family. Matthew had no “honey” and no “sonny.” Just himself and a nice rental car. Oh–and of course, there was that little thing of being saved by his old friend, Michael Hinston and being given a second chance via a liver transplant.
Matthew knew he was an ungrateful son-of-a-bitch, but that didn’t make him any more thankful. When Soos called him that morning and told him it had been a hundred days since anyone had heard from Jo-Jay, he was concerned–but not engaged.
Likewise, it had been seven days since anyone had heard from Carlin Canaby. Matthew investigated, and discovered that Carlin had turned in all his rental properties and checked out of his suite at the Las Vegas casino. He was nowhere to be found.
Jubal felt that he should take over some of Carlin’s duties, so he asked Matthew to take the weekly meeting with Milton.
Matthew had been very reluctant. There was no real reason for it. Well, he didn’t like trailer parks. Or old men. And he wasn’t particularly fond of fat people–especially if they were “preachers of the Gospel.”
Overall, he just felt ill-suited for the task. However, the ducks completed their journey across the road, so Matthew decided it was time to go meet Mr. Crenshaw. Like a boy called to the dinner table on broccoli night, he took his time, dragging his feet. He trudged to the door, knocked, and a voice from inside bellowed, “Come on in. It’s open.”
Matthew stepped through the door. Sitting in a wheelchair was a big fat man with a grin. The fellow reached out a hand and Matthew took it. He then offered Matthew a seat. Matthew sat down and declined coffee, breakfast and water–he wasn’t staying long.
Milton waited for a moment and then realized that Matthew had no intention of starting the conversation. So he launched. “You’re a talkative one, aren’t you?”
“No disrespect, sir,” answered Matthew, “but you’re a stranger to me and I’ve never been particularly fond of strangers…”
Milton interrupted. “Especially big fat ones that preach the Gospel, right?”
Matthew was taken aback by the bluntness, but managed to reply, “Oh, no. Nothing like that…”
“So are you tired?” asked Milton.
“My flight wasn’t that long,” began Matthew.
Milton interrupted again. “I’m not talkin’ about your damn flight. I’m just wondering if you’re tired of dodging and trying to escape the obvious.”
“What is obvious?” asked Matthew.
“What is obvious?” mulled Milton. “Well, how about this? We’ve tried for several hundred years to live in a world where everyone is allowed to believe anything they want to, do anything they want to, and even form governments around that thinking, without any objection.”
“That’s what they call freedom,” inserted Matthew.
Milton laughed. “‘Freedom’s just another word, for nothin’ left to lose.’ That’s from Bobby McGee.” He peered at Matthew and added, “I’m sure thqt was before your time.”
Matthew sat up in his chair and stated, “Well, if it’s conversation you want, and you want it to be honest, I would just love to receive this report I’m supposed to collect and get the hell out of here.”
Milton smiled. “Well, I see you have some backbone. That’s good. So you want my report? Here’s my report. I’m sitting in a room with a man who has been blessed–who is so ignorant that he feels he has the God-given right to question the logic of the universe. How’s that for a report?”
“I don’t like you, Mr. Crenshaw,” said Matthew. “And it’s not because you preach the Gospel or because you are heavy-set.”
“You mean fat?” Milton interrupted.
“Your word,” countered Matthew. “It’s not because of that. It’s because you’ve eye-balled me ever since I walked in, as a potential conquest for your ego-stroking evangelical need to save the world, one damnable sinner at a time.”
Milton lurched back in fake horror. “Oh, my God! I don’t want you to get saved! Then you’d be my brother in Jesus and we might have to work together! I’m just pointing out that you find yourself to be so intelligent and erudite–yet the obvious continues to escape you.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What is the obvious?” asked Matthew.
“I didn’t say I’d tell you,” replied Milton. “I don’t usually waste my time sharing valuable information with those who are determined to be ignorant.”
Matthew stood to his feet. “And I’m not accustomed to hanging around to be insulted. I’ve had enough of this. I’ll just tell Jubal that it was great and you were super-fine. How’s that?”
“Sit down,” demanded Milton. Matthew didn’t move.
“Please,” added Milton with some tenderness. Against his better judgment, Matthew sat back down.
Milton paused. His demeanor changed.
“My dear friend,” he began gently, “if the human race does not find a common cause, a common kindness and a common appreciation, we’re just gonna fuckin’ kill each other. I hope you don’t mind me using that word. I don’t very often, but sometimes it’s the only one that grants correct emphasis on the desperation and futility of a situation.”
Matthew jumped in. “My problem with you is not that you say ‘fuck.’ My problem with you is that you’re a big, fat fuck.”
Milton laughed. He roared. He slapped his chubby thigh and he rolled his wheelchair closer to Matthew.
“That I am,” he said. “Do you know why?”
Matthew shook his head.
“It’s because while you deliberate two inches of rope to determine its strength, the world is hanging itself by the remaining length. Please understand–I don’t follow Jesus because I’m a religious man. Hell, I had a porn addiction at one time in my life. I had to fight it off like crazy. I’m not a good man; I’m not a pure man. Morality is not my primary concern. It’s common sense. You see, the reason they killed Jesus of Nazareth is because he was sensible. And the reason the church today does not preach Jesus is because it’s afraid their people will not tolerate the simplicity of ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’ It’s much easier to play the organ, the guitar, preach the sermon and feign worshipping the heavens with candles and eucharist. But meanwhile, the world keeps dividing into smaller and smaller groups. And the smaller the groups are, the more dangerous they become. Organization becomes easier. You see, it would take China months–maybe years–to get agreement to destroy the world from all its various leaders. But sixteen fanatics in a garage in Syria, with a dirty bomb, could pull off tragedy before the weekend.”
“If we don’t come up with a common message–a common goal, a common sense–we will kill each other. And you see, Moses won’t do it–he believed in killing. As did Mohammed, Buddha and all the religionists throughout history. Jesus never killed anyone. He never recommended it. He said God is your Father, nature is your Mother, I am your brother, and the whole world are your cousins.”
“If that message doesn’t permeate our society in the next twenty years, we will have diminishing results, which will end up in a foolish decision to prove some asinine point.”
Matthew was stunned, but didn’t want to act like it. “What gives you the right, Mr. Crenshaw, to make decisions for everyone in the world?”
Milton leaned forward and said, “What gives you the right, young man, to deny that the decision has already been made, the price has already been paid–and all that remains is for each one of us is just to walk into the wisdom of loving one another and being kind and tender-hearted?”
Matthew laughed. “And you think you’re kind and tender-hearted? You think the way you treated me this morning is the spirit of love? If your attitude is Jesus, then you can stick the motherfucker right back up on the cross as far as I’m concerned.”
“Very dramatic,” said Milton. “I can see why they asked you to take on this mission. You have the power of your convictions even when they’re wrong. You started out your life–you wanted to be funny. You are funny. You wanted to have your own business. You do. You wanted to be successful. You are. You wanted money. God knows you got that. You wanted people to look up to you. Accomplished. Yet you sat in your casino suite and nearly drank yourself to death. How gentle do you think I should be with such arrogance?”
All at once Matthew broke. It really wasn’t anything Milton had said. It wasn’t a conviction from the challenge. But tears filled Matthew’s eyes. Not the usual weeping, where he conjured self-pity over some perceived injustice to his character. These tears were coming from another place, out of his control, streaming down his face, though he willed them to cease.
Matthew wept. Then he sobbed. And then he cried out, “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”
Milton backed up his wheelchair and turned away to give Matthew a private moment.
Matthew was moved–but angry at the same time. He didn’t want to be some common, everyday sinner, repenting and weeping over evil actions. He hated himself for being weak.
But none of that stopped the tears.
Quietly, Milton spoke–nearly under his breath. “Just as I am, and waiting not, to rid my soul of one dark blot. Just as I am, without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me.”
Through a gushing of tears, Matthew squalled, “Why did they kill him?”
Milton paused and turned slowly to Matthew. “Because they foolishly thought it would stop him.”
This brought an even greater torrent of mourning. Milton eased his wheelchair over and put his arms around Matthew, who laid his head on the old man’s chest and cried like he had lost everything.
No one hurried the moment. No one spoke again. Neither Milton nor Matthew knew exactly what it all meant.
Yet something was different.
The producers of Jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation for this inspirational opportunity
PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … July 11th, 2018
Jonathots Daily Blog
(3730)
Every Winner
by Jonathan Richard Cring
Don’t look for me down the road just yet
I’m reveling in this particular spot
Don’t insist my feet need to be more wet
I’m really learning a lot
The race you run is exhausting to me
I like to stop–enjoy what I see
So speed on, dear friend, just let me be
I’m enjoying the power of free
I really lost my single soul
Trying to be the “Best in Show”
Teaching the old dog takes its toll
Yes, the bite is worse than the bark
I’m not a philosopher, nor a king
Not a possessor of all that’s wise
I want to wear simple shoes
And avoid the nasty lies
My feelings were raw and full of hurt
Frightened to make a start
So give me time to sense again
And open up my heart
God means nothing if I feel small
So I relax, peaceful, awaiting my call
There is no hurry, there is no worry
No need to toil and spin
Slow down the race and find my place
Perhaps I still can win
For today has come to keep me busy
Making my logical case
For every winner is still a sinner
Pursuing amazing grace
Today’s reader is Jerrod, who lives in Florida and works as an executive technician at 3G Productions, residing with his wife and two daughters
*****
Enjoy today’s PoHymn? Buy the book!
$9.99 plus S&
*****
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity
PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … April 25th, 2018
Jonathots Daily Blog
(3653)
Walk Away
Upon this rock a church to build
And then we pray, “Pews be filled”
Waiting for the sinner man
To accept the Christ, be born again
Giving that tithe once a week
To fund this haven for the meek
But the gates of hell are unafraid
Evil seems to have it made
We perch, debate the Holy Ghost
Wondering which of us has the most
Of God’s favor, we call grace
A free pass to heaven, the Holy Place
Yet where’s the salt or the light of Earth
Evidence that we truly have rebirth?
We gather and make a pious scene
Every week at ten-fifteen
And listen to David, Moses and Paul
With stained glass on each and every wall
Or strum a guitar, beat the drum
Standing still, we barely hum
Time to find something clever
While spouting “nos” and certainly “never”
The younger humans are leaving each day
Looking to achieve a better way
And the old saints insist we keep it the same
Searching to find a devil to blame
Jesus wanted to have a people
Not a gravesite with a steeple
It begins by respecting one another
That includes sisters–not just brothers
And walk away from the power of fear
Delighting ourselves to be of good cheer
*****
Did you enjoy today’s PoHymn? Buy the book!
$9.99 plus S&H
*****
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly donation for this inspirational opportunity
Jonathots Daily Blog 