Sit Down Comedy … July 31st, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4480)

Old people talk about old things.

That’s how you know they’re old.

They think they’re relevant. They think they’re talking about new things.

But they’re wrong.

They are old people talking about old things, sounding an SOS:

Same Old Shit.

The trouble is, not all old people are collecting Social Security. Some of the old people talking in our generation are supposed to be young. But for some reason, they’re talking about old stuff.

I don’t know why.

The Civil War? Are you nuts? Are we really still discussing a flag of a group of rebellious traitors who wanted to subjugate a race of people to be their slaves and decided to fight on every flat spot in the Eastern U. S., to try to prove their point?

The Civil War is over.

It has been decided. Slavery is not coming back. So all your banners are outdated. If you’re still talking about it, you are goddamned old.

Abortion? This has been settled.

It’s a nasty procedure that no one really wants to claim but needs to be a freedom given to a woman—because it’s her body. Sure, we would hope that it would not be used as birth control, or a way to get even with conservatives. But the discussion is over. If you’re still talking about it—pro or con—you’re decrepit.

And referring to politics, I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Republican and Democrat? These are things my grandparents talked about. You can tell it’s old stuff. The parties still use flyers, bumper stickers, buttons, slogans, attack ads… Are you kidding me? This stuff is old for old.

The election is really simple. We need to put somebody in the government who will allow us to live our lives fruitfully, make sure the roads are paved, and don’t blow up the rest of the world. If you want to call those “issues,” then I guess you could have one of your debates.

I stand dumbfounded when I hear people talking about race.

Are we really discussing color? Because honest to God, so many people have tattoos, I don’t know what color they are.

I heard an old woman say, “I just don’t think it’s right for black people and white people to marry and have children.”

“Fine,” I told her. “Then you probably shouldn’t fuck a rapper. And maybe don’t watch somebody else do it either.”

I’m astounded when I hear old people talking about rich and poor.

It’s so OLD. Get what you can and help everyone else. How hard can that be?

And by the way, can anything be older than religion?

We spend all of our time in a church talking to people (who are wearing jeans and crocs) about patriarchs in Israel. Old people talking about old things—stinking up the joint with old.

Can we ever get over the idea that men and women have to fight with each other? It’s so damn old.  Maybe we could do something new.

We could counteract our entertainment and create shows where men listen, and women are reasonable.

It’s all about human rights.

We cannot let these unfortunate, mentally stalled old people continue to insist on the fact that a few human wrongs should still be discussed.

You can identify old people because they talk about old things in an old way.

I would think, after Covid-19, we should be able to hear a scream coming from America. “I don’t want to debate the issues anymore!”

Don’t we all want to live in an America where there are only two rules?

Do the best you can.

Help somebody out when you can.

 

Catchy (Sitting Four) Ideas Are a Dime a Dozen… July 2nd, 2017

Jonathots Daily Blog

(3356)

The day arrived for the meeting of the minds. Landy rented a small conference room and catered in some delicacies and drinks. The three partners sat at the head of a table like a trio of judges at a Miss America contest.

The Shelley Corporation was the first to present. They had been given the job of producing three slogans. The first was a poster–a man dressed in a plaid leisure suit with his hair slicked back. The caption read, “But Jesus—He will never go out of style.” There was a grunt or two and a threat of applause.

The second poster was a close-up of a Jesus look-alike. The caption read, “Here’s lookin’ at you, baby.” Too commercial and might raise some objections from Hart’s estate (and perhaps from relatives of Humphrey Bogart).

The third one was a cartoon of Jesus playing soccer, kicking in the ball for a score. The caption, in large red letters, read, “Goal? He loves you.”

The partners liked this one least of all, finding it a bit confusing and reiterating to one another that soccer would never be an American sport, anyway.

Next on the chopping blocks came the “You Want to Know Survey Company,” with the results of a questionnaire that had been given to over fifteen thousand registrants. The ten questions were as follows:

1. Would you enjoy eating dinner with Jesus?

The choices were:

• very much
• might be fun
• never thought of it
• might give me the creeps

Fifteen percent of the people said they would enjoy dining with Jesus. Fifteen percent said it might be fun. Sixty percent said they had never thought of it and ten percent said it kind of gave them the creeps.

2. Do you think that Jesus is popular today?

Four percent said “Very popular.” Eight percent said, “Somewhat popular.” Eighty-eight percent said, “Don’t know” or “Don’t care.”

3. Do you think Jesus would be more popular without his beard?

One percent said, “Maybe.” Ninety-nine percent said, “No.”

4. Do you think Jesus would be more popular if he weren’t so religious?

Fifty percent said “yes.” Fifty percent said, “Don’t know.”

Randall stifled a yawn. There were six questions to go and he was already bored. If they couldn’t come up with an interesting survey, how could they ever come up with a campaign to promote Jesus to the marketplace?

The questions droned on as Randall began to think about his own experience. He was raised in a church environment, learning about the tooth fairy, Santa Claus and Jesus all in the same week. At four years of age, all three seemed equally plausible. By age ten the tooth fairy had fluttered away. At twelve, Santa Claus was “sleighed,” and at sixteen—well, at sixteen, girls came into the picture and Jesus got in the way.

So the crucifix was tucked under the t-shirt, the Bible inserted in the closet with the Scrabble game and the Ouija board, and he was off on the pursuit of hormonal surges, drinking binges and mandatory orgasms. After exhausting all known religions, he formed his own—a delicate blending of humanism, hedonism and Methodism.

Meanwhile back at the meeting, the survey was completed, rendering no results. The only thing remaining was the panel of theologians– four in all. There was one Catholic, one Protestant, one evangelical Christian, and, for some reason, a Jewish rabbi (who was possibly selected to avoid any hint of anti-Semitism).

The Catholic priest spoke first. “If by popular you mean the Savior of the world in conjunction with his mother, Mary, and the intervention of the Saints, then Jesus is already truly the most outstanding figure in all of history.”

The partners nodded an exhausted assent.

The Protestant spoke next. “I think we have to do something to make Jesus groovy to the young people. You know how they came up with ‘Rock the Vote?’ How about ‘Vote for the Rock’?”

This time there was no way Matthew, Randall and Landy could hide their disapproval. After all, he said “groovy.” Matthew, who had long ago lost the ability to disguise his disgust, groaned audibly.

The evangelical literally leaped into the moment. “I think you need to just let Jesus be Jesus, because He said if He be lifted up, all men would be drawn to Him.”

“He has been lifted up,” inserted Matthew. “And Arthur Harts, the billionaire, didn’t think all men were drawn to him.”

“All men who have a heart for God,” replied the evangelical.

Matthew winced. He hated religions jargon. He called it “the God-out.” When in doubt, religious people would always bring God into every situation, so you could never argue with them without seeming that you were trying to disprove the heavens.

Randall smiled and thanked the enthusiastic believer.

That left the Jewish rabbi. “Well, I don’t know why I’m here, exactly, because, you may have heard, we accept Jesus as a great teacher, but we contend the problem is, he’s really not the son of God. I mean, if I were promoting him to Jerusalem, I would just put up his picture with a caption that read, Hometown Boy Is Acquitted.”

This brought some laughter throughout the room, but Matthew sprang up to terminate the meeting.

Even though it was a minor disaster, both Landy and Randall still wanted to pursue the project.

Greed. No other explanation.

They had pledged long ago that when two of the three partners were in accord on anything, they would do it. But it looked bleak. The slogans had been drab, the survey droll, and the theologians a drone.

Matthew had one idea. One wild and crazy notion. He got on his computer and looked up six names.

Michael Hinston, whom he knew as Mikey.

Joanna Lawrence, Jo-Jay.

Susannah Lacey, Soos.

Paul Padwick, who tolerated the nickname, Pee-pee.

Mary Rogers, who was now Mary Rogers-Kent, known by everyone as Mother.

And Lydia Lars, who loved Eric Clapton, and so was surnamed Layla.

Along with Matthew Ransley, whom everyone affectionately called, “God-guy,” they formed the Leaven of Seven.

They were his best chance at making some sense of this queer mission.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Once … September 19, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2009)

For once, I would like to be a part of a civil discussion without all parties involved arriving with pre-packaged, shrink-wrapped conclusions.

I would rejoice to be part of a dialogue about God and science free of scripture quoting, name-calling and the contention that anyone who believes in the supernatural is bare-footed and living in the bayou.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a debate about men and women that doesn’t place one group on Mars and the other on Venus?

I would like to believe that faith doesn’t have to be considered foolishness and a lack of faith the definition of intellectual superiority.

For once, I would deeply enjoy listening to a truthful presentation on why five to seven percent of our population prefers sexual interaction with the same gender, instead of being pummeled by Old Testament scriptures decrying the practice or schmucky television shows portraying that everything is acceptable “just because we say so.”

How about a conversation on sexuality free of giggles about pornography and absent being shut down by prudes who think it’s inappropriate to discuss the subject with anyone under the age of thirty, when that’s the age group which needs the information the most??

Abortion–is it possible for us to take a more clinical approach to the subject, free of displaying a picture of a disembodied fetus or using quotes from females insisting on their right to terminate pregnancies at will?

How about a simple poster-board example of good food to make a good diet instead of making fun of fat people, forcing them to sweat profusely and insisting that obesity is an act of free will, while we simultaneously claim that everything else is genetic?

Would it be possible to interface with one another as Republicans and Democrats and ascertain what it means to have a government “of the people, for the people and by the people,” without inserting campaign slogans, fund-raising and just general meanness?

And for once, could WE be the generation that refuses to look at people as “old” and “young,” viewing them only as a demographic, but instead finds a way to connect the humanity in all of us, despite our pimples or wrinkles?

I don’t think things are going to get better until we admit that they’re intolerable. As long as we think it’s “our right to be wrong,” we will continue to be wrong when we desperately need to be right.

For once, I would like to put my beliefs, feelings, culture, family, attitudes and fears on display–and have them either uplifted or decimated by the truth that makes me free.

Are you game … or are you just going to continue to play the game?

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

Please contact Jonathan’s agent, Jackie Barnett, at (615) 481-1474, for information about personal appearances or scheduling an event