Sit Down Comedy … May 24th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4055)


I thought I would send along today the ideas that give me the spine and create the backbone for my faith and human journey.

There happen to be ten of them—but this has nothing to do with the original Commandments, just more or less my relentless respect for the symmetry of a good essay.

  1. Don’t be so shitty.

  2. Create instead of bitch.

  3. My opinion sucks.

  4. Don’t speak in God’s name.

  5. Politics makes assholes. Flee!

  6. Get good enough that you can be humble instead of needy.

  7. No help is coming. Learn to laugh!

  8. No one is better than anyone else.

  9. Pick up your trash.

  10. Don’t try so hard.

That’s about it. I could elaborate, but I think that might be best left to you.

So here it is:

The Ten Principles in “My Heeling Dogma.”


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Sit Down Comedy … April 19th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4020)


It happened two weeks ago.

I yelled at somebody when I should have chatted. I judged instead of questioned him. I attacked instead of approached.

I Could Spin It

I can tell you a thousand reasons why I did. I could even spin it so you would be on my side. Yet at the end of that exertion, you would be deceived, and I would still be wrong. I was overwrought.

I didn’t need a hammer when a toothpick would have been just as effective. It wasn’t necessary to scorch the Earth when no fire was required.

I did it because I could.

I was offended and I wanted to make sure the person who offended me felt as small and insignificant as possible.

Following this indiscretion, I was briefly tempted to be self-righteous. But there is a seed inside me which has grown into a full, blooming Tree of Life, which will not allow me to hide my motivations or make excuses for my iniquity.

Understand, there’s nothing special about me.

I’m an average person—not particularly a great guy. Just a dude.

Yet I found it intolerable to live with my bratty behavior. It bugged the hell out of me and the heaven into me. I had to make it right.

I didn’t want to.

My position, my prowess and my pride screamed that this one little breach of propriety was nothing, and I had a large enough resume that I should be forgiven no matter what.

This is the bullshit that shows up right after the bull does its dance—and the dancing bull always believes he’s right because he’s powerful. So he figures that where he shits shouldn’t matter. Everybody knows he’s a bull anyway.

Where is the Bonfire of Sanity?

I don’t want to live that way. I’ve never wanted to live that way. And since I’m just a “God-loves-me-anyway-piece-of-shit,” it tears at my soul that we live in a nation in which we can’t find two decent people to rub together to ignite the bonfire of sanity.

Our Attorney General has been thrust into an impossible situation—but still squeaks like a mouse.

The Democratic Party seems to be disappointed that there isn’t more filth to parade in front of the American people.

And our President is proud that his lame-brain ideas were not enacted by his staff and is taking a bow for being protected from his pending bloopers.

Is there anyone who could be just as contrite, torn-apart and upset as I am? I, who am the “me”—who am not much of anything?

On a normal day I would say that I am the chief of sinners, but I keep getting voted out of the position as the Tribal Council brings worse candidates forward for consideration.

Is there anyone who will join me in saying that there will be no justice until we finally confess the injustice in all of us?

Is the search for power so intoxicating that our consciences are rendered powerless?

I am tired of watching people who should be more intelligent, more forward-thinking, and more qualified than me act worse than I do. How could anybody find a lower position of character than I often portray?

Yet they do.

America Needs to be Cleansed from All Unrighteousness

But according to tradition, God is only faithful and just to do that once we’re willing to confess our sins.

 


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Sit Down Comedy … April 5th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4006)


Yes, let my opinions begin

I, for one, think the grocer should know what a plum is.

The plumber should be acquainted with his or her way around a toilet.

A toilet should certainly flush.

We should be flushed with excitement just over living.

Living should be easy.

Easy should be like Sunday morning.

And I contend that Sunday morning should be like heaven.

Yet we are observing life as if it is something that happens to us instead of something we control.

Do Not Accept

Even though I, like you, received DNA at birth, the three initials, in my mind, stand for Do Not Accept.

I do not accept that I am the sob-total of all of my molecules, colliding and fussing with one another.

I do not accept that I have to be white just because my skin has a tone, or a dominant male because of how I urinate, and some red-or-blue-state-philosophy due to my politics.

I do not accept that my life is pre-determined by birth, but instead, insist on daily being born again.

For I feel that if mankind can stop making the classic four mistakes, we could become humankind and start assisting one another to break out of the goo of procreation and start generating lives.

What are the classic four mistakes?

  1. We choose things by how attractive they are.
  2. We foolishly follow the crowd, thinking popularity means shit.
  3. Rather than being creative, we are defensive.
  4. We lie because lying is lying around, lying.

So, encrusted with these stale, day-old-bread mannerisms, we struggle to interact with each other in fresh ways and end up with burnt toast.

I think it begins with misconceptions about our “personal space.”

I was thinking about this just yesterday…


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Sit Down Comedy …March 22nd, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3992)


I bought a loaf of bread. I didn’t eat it all.

So on the eighth or ninth day, I visited the cupboard to see if I could get another slice of life and discovered that the bread had been overtaken by mold.

I paused.

I considered removing the wrapper, cutting the mold off and eating the rest, but the mold also came with a smell—actually, similar to beer. So reluctantly—maybe even a little aggravated—I took my last five or six slices, now moldy, and tossed them into the garbage.

I was a little surprised how fussy I was about it. I don’t know if I just had my heart set on a sandwich or if I felt cheated because my bread gave up.

But I knew this: mold does not get better. I couldn’t do some “treatment” to my bread and return the next day and find it unmoldy. Once mold arrives it takes over. Quite aggressive. And it isn’t pretty—grayish-green with little hairy arms.

It’s a nasty substance and it turns bread into shit. (You can hear by my words that I was really put off.)

Welcome to America.

I’ve heard us called “the breadbasket of the world.” I was told as a youngster that our farmlands could feed the nations. Not much talk about that of late—nowadays farmers are trying to survive and make their beans and corn cover their budgets. No one trying to feed the four corners.

But we once were the breadbasket. Then one day, we reached into our souls, our mind, our heart and into our principles and pulled out moldy bread. Really bad mold.

And as I told you earlier, mold doesn’t get better. You can’t reform mold. You can’t try to find a way to accept it and develop a taste for it. You have to throw the whole damn thing out.

That’s unfortunate. It’s unfortunate but it’s necessary.

Truth is, one apple does not spoil the whole bushel—but one little piece of mold does spoil the whole loaf, because the climate necessary to breed that mold permeates all the way to the crust.

Likewise, the insolence, selfishness and meanness that have brought about the present American way of dealing with each other has spoiled many of the treasures we used to hold dear.

Some things have just got to be thrown out. There isn’t a choice. It’s because the mold has taken over the “bread of life” in America and the mold is a simple poison. Here it is:

  • “My ideas are more important than you.”
  • “My faith is more valuable than your freedom.”
  • “My politics are divinely inspired, while yours are evil.”
  • “My lifestyle is superior.”
  • “Even my dog is more human than any of you.”

And,

  • “I and those who came out of my orgasm of procreation are much higher in quality, and it’s difficult to tolerate you anymore.”

There’s the mold. It’s gotta go.

You can try to save some of the stuff, but the arguing that we call politics has to be thrown in the trash, even if we lose some “debate.”

The beliefs we call religion have to be dumped even if we ignore a verse or two of holy writ.

And the definition of family needs to expand to include everybody twenty-five thousand miles in any direction throughout the entire Earth.

If we don’t do this, we’re going to start believing that the worst parts of the bread can be cut off, and the rest will be just fine, even though it tastes a little pukey.

We are permeated with the mold of those who are too old, too bold and too cold. Some things must be thrown away.

I, for one, am going to go into my cabinet, where I keep my soul, and start clearing out the nastiness. Anything that makes me believe that I’m better than you, or that my ideas are more God-like, or that my politics have the touch of grace while yours are imbedded with the sinister, will be dumped into the trash.

Buy fresh bread. Don’t get more than you need.

Matter of fact, start thinking of it this way:

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

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Sit Down Comedy …March 8th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3978)


I recently moved, abandoning my old fortress of solitude for new digs, which I now comfortably call home.

In my whole life I have done this process twelve times. I was a little surprised to discover that this is statistically average.

Whenever I move, the first thing I do is go out and buy a box of garbage bags. Why? Because I’m going to give away a whole lot of stuff. These are the materials that crept into my life, were used temporarily, and ended up being stored in my closet or corners, where I intentionally forgot them.

It’s a very easy evaluation process. As I begin to pack things, I look at each item and ask myself the following three questions:

  1. Have I used this in the past three months?
  2. Will I use it a lot in the next three months?
  3. Is there someone who would really like to use it right now?

It makes things so easy. I not only end up moving but am able to bless a whole bunch of people who get the rejects I’ve been keeping around out of sentimentality mingled with laziness.

But you see, likewise, every once in a while, when something in my life needs to be moved, shifted or rearranged, I will dare to enter my closet of emotions and see what might be in there that is unnecessary.

There are three main culprits:

A. Worry

It gets shuffled to the rear and pretends it’s not there until you glance at it and then, the apprehension surfaces.

B. Pride

It always likes to be hung up high where it can be seen but does nothing to enhance my being except puff up my ego and is quickly deflated by reality.

C. And finally, self-pity

This one really likes to hide, like a cockroach surprised by turning on the light in the middle of the night. It likes to pretend it doesn’t exist, but self-pity literally “bugs me.”

When I look at these emotions—worry, pride and self-pity—I know deep in my heart that they’re worthless, but I keep them around for those times when others are not concerned, praising me—or they might even be ignoring me.

They suck. Yes, these fretting emotions literally suck the life out of me.

Because when I pose the three questions to them, which need to be asked of any emotion, they always fail. The three questions are:

  • Is this emotion making me money?
  • Is this emotion making me friends?
  • Is this emotion making me smarter?

Honestly, I do not feel old, but I am too ancient to waste time worrying pridefully in a puddle of self-pity. I need things in my life that make me money, friends and turn me into a smarter being.

So will you join me in grabbing a sack, finding your worry, your pride and your self-pity, bagging it up and giving it away for Goodwill?

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Sit Down Comedy … October 26th, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3837)

Knocked Out

Knock-knock!

Who’s there?

What do you mean, who’s there?

I mean, who’s there?

It’s me.

Me who?

Me who, who?

What is that–a Chinese philosopher? Man, that sounds really racist.

What are you talking about?

Me who who. Your joke.

I didn’t make a joke. I said me who.

Wait a second, I’m confused.

I’m just following the script.

What script?

The knock-knock script.

Is that anything like a knock-off script?

Was that supposed to be funny?

Funnier than me-who-who.

So what are you getting at?

I’m getting at that I just came to see you.

So why didn’t you ring the doorbell?

I thought it would be more charming to say knock-knock.

Actually, it was confusing.

Why is knocking at a door confusing?

A, because no one does it anymore and B, because it’s a setup for a joke.

What joke?

Knock-knock.

Who’s there?

So you DO know.

I just wanted to see how far we could go with it. And by the way, I’m not a racist.

No one thinks he’s a racist

Wouldn’t a racist think he’s a racist?

No. A racist thinks he’s proud of his color.

That sounds weird.

So does saying knock-knock.

How did that ever get started?

What?

The knock-knock thing.

Probably with two guys sittin’ around with nothing to do who should probably be working and making a living.

Are you referring to us?

Or any other two guys similar to us who have no real lives and try to come up with something they thought was funny and were astonished when it caught on–especially when they realized they had no patent on it and therefore could make no money.

You think the guys who came up with knock-knock didn’t make any money on it?

I know so. Because it was two women.

Is that a slam against women?

No, that’s a slam against what they get paid.

Well, I came to see you.

Why?

Actually, I can’t remember.

Why don’t you start over again?

Okay. Ding-dong!

You’re kidding, right?

It might catch on.

Okay. Who’s there?

King Kong.

King Kong who?

King Kong ding-dong.

I don’t think you understand this at all.

My friends used to play this when I was a kid but I always thought it was stupid so I would leave whenever it started.

Was that also true for history, math, English and sex education?

You see, that’s kind of funny.

Actually, it’s very funny.

But knock-knock is not funny.

It’s older than you and me put together.

So if something is around long enough, it has value?

That’s why hypocrisy is still here.

And hate, I assume.

And thank God, love.

Boy, has this gotten sappy.

It’s all because you don’t know how to play knock-knock.

I didn’t say I don’t know how–just that I didn’t like it.

I’m getting very tired of talking about this.

Just think how bored the readers are, having to go back and forth between two characters who aren’t named.

But we kind of trapped them, didn’t we? Because it looked short–at least not very wide, when they decided to start.

And now they’re wondering if we’re going to come to some sort of clever conclusion.

So you’re saying we tricked them?

Pretty much.

Do you think they’re still reading?

Most of them.

Why do you think that’s so?

Because they don’t understand that we’re really two klutzes who don’t have a closing for this bit.

How long do you think they would keep on reading?

A long time.

I think we just lost some right there.

I don’t because I’m going to accuse you of being a racist again and tell the readers that I’m about to name the top five racists in America.

Where did you get such a list?

Racists.com.

There’s no such thing.

Do you think they’re still reading?

Yeah, because they’re waiting to see if I actually name five bigots.

Are you going to?

Nope.

So we must have lost some by now.

But not all of them…

Why do you think that’s true?

Because they’ve come this far and they’re bound and determined to see it through.

So should there be a payoff?

We could just pretend it’s a political speech and make it long and meaningless.

I think we’ve already done that.

Knock-knock.

Who’s there?

People reading.

People reading who?

Us, dummy.

See the power of the knock-knock joke?

I still don’t like it.

Let me give you some good advice…don’t knock-knock it until you try it.

 

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Sit Down Comedy … September 7th, 2018

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3788)

Weeds

Weeds weeds

Still grow from seeds

Grass and reeds

Don’t meet no needs

 

Look quite green

Is what I mean

Strongest bean

I ever seen

 

Pull them, son

Come on, it’s fun

But they are plenty

Much too many.

Most folks ain’t bad

More often just sad

Stop being mad

Make someone glad

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