Cracked 5… June 2nd, 2015

 

   Jonathots Daily Blog

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Names Given by Different Professions for Putting On a Few Additional Pounds

A. Launderer: “Ring around the Collar Bone”

 

B. Economist: “Inflation”

 

C. Baker: “My Little Jelly Roll”

 

D. Philosopher: “Weighing My Options”

 

E. Retired Spanish Explorer: “Paunch is Me-Own”

 

 

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WITHIN

A meeting place for folks who know they’re human

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Untotaled: Stepping 40 (May 19th, 1967) Last Day of School ’67… November 15, 2014

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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(Transcript)

How does one describe the last day of school?

I suppose I could use the word “rapture” if it weren’t so entwined with the religious phenomenon.

I could use “orgasm” if it wasn’t so linked with what would be misconstrued by prudes.

So I guess the best word would be “carnivale.” Not that I’ve ever been to one–I’m just assuming the wild, abandoned glee over not having any more pressing responsibilities pushing in on you, realizing that there are a full eighty-eight days of summer ahead.

I never liked to be the first one to leave the school on the last day.

I liked to hang around for a few moments to walk the empty halls, with little clumps of dust still tumbling along, and discarded papers left to the discretion of the overworked janitor.

So by the time I headed home, everyone was pretty well gone, and it wasn’t until I got to my front door that I remembered I had forgotten to pick up an English book which my mother had insisted I bring home, because she had paid eleven and ninety-nine to purchase it because I had misplaced the provided copy.

So I had to weigh my options. My mom’s anger, or returning to the school I had just gloriously abandoned.

I walked back.

The door was still open and as I entered, there was an eerie sensation which crept down my spine at being in this empty edifice of learning, now so silent that you could hear the creaking hinges on the door.

I made my way down the hallway to Mr. Marshall’s English class, which also, miraculously, was still unlocked.

I crept through the door and walked to the storeroom where I knew he kept the books. I gently turned the knob, crossing the fingers of my other hand, hoping that it, too would be accessible. It was.

So I flung the door open in glee, only to discover that in the shadowy confines, not yet lit up by the overhead bulb, was Mr. Marshall, shirt unbuttoned, kissing Miss Crowley, the biology teacher, who had her top off, showing her “booba-toobas.”

(I developed the name “booba-toobas” in an attempt to be unique and humorous, and even though it was silly, I persisted in the terminology since a cheerleader once giggled upon hearing it.)

Honestly, in my entire life’s journey, I have never seen three people so frozen in time. Mr. Marshall, Miss Crowley, and dumb me, peering at one another.

No one knew what to do.

Finally, Miss Crowley grabbed her blouse to cover up her left “tooba” and said, “Jonathan, what are you doing here?”

I gasped, “I came to get my book.”

“You want a book?” she inquired.

Apparently my quest for knowledge was more surprising to her than being found in a closet with her paramour.

Mr. Marshall disconnected himself from the human apparatus, put his arm around me and walked from the room out into the hallway. He stood there looking at me for a long time. I wanted to say something but everything that popped to my mind seemed dangerous.

At length he sighed and said, “Well, Jonathan, we have a situation here.”

I nodded.

“Tell you what I’m going to do,” he continued. “I’m going to treat you like an adult. I’m gonna believe that you’re going to walk out of here with your book and never say another word about what you saw.”

Leaning in close to my face, he punctuated, “Because if you did, Miss Crowley and I would probably get in a helluva lot of trouble.”

I knew he meant what he said because no teacher would ever use the word “hell” in front of me unless he felt I was worthy to join him at the local bar for a drink.

All I said to him was, “I won’t.”

With this, I took flight out the door, running as fast as my fat legs would carry me.

I know he must have thought he was sunk, but on the way home I felt so grown-up.

I was trusted.

For the first time in my life, I was to be taken at my word without the threat of punishment.

And you know what?

I never did tell.

Even a month later, when my friends came over to sleep at the house and we watched “Chiller Theater” and everybody was getting real honest, I bit my lip and the side of my cheek, and stuffed a lot of pizza into my mouth to keep from blabbing.

When I returned to school that fall, Miss Crowley was gone and I heard she had gotten married over the summer–but not to Mr. Marshall.

The grown-up world is very confusing.

I never told anyone until this day, even though I have used memories of Miss Crowley’s “booba-toobas” to stimulate a few sessions in youthful lust.

 

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Jesonian: Don’t Stop Believing… March 16, 2014

Jonathots Daily Blog  

(2178)

book JesonianI hate religion.

Maybe it’s because I suck at it.

I’ve  tried to be religious. Actually, I was attempting to be spiritual but it ended up being a big dose of “holy bowling.”

I’ve gone to prayer meetings and sat with folks as we watched the time pass–contemplating, meditating, praying, mumbling…well, any number of things. I’m not proud to admit this, but I didn’t get more godly. I got sleepy.

I’ve tried to do a lot of Bible reading. I’ve read the Bible through several times. But I have to admit that often when I get involved in that process, the terminology, the locations and even the plot line can be bewildering, befuddling and leave me baffled.

I understand the plan of salvation. Golly, I’ve participated in it. I do have Jesus as a Savior. I have met thousands of people who possess him as their personal Savior, but frankly, they do not have much to show for that experience in their own lives.

Am I weird here? For after all, do you go to an amusement park and come back the same? Shouldn’t the experience change you? At least make you aware that holy roller coasters are a good thing?

Some people go a little further than salvation. They take Jesus on as their “prayer buddy.” In other words, when problems come up, they go to prayer and ask God to intervene, interact,  intersect or intertwine. That’s good, too.

But shouldn’t prayer make us better people? Because there are people all over the world who pray, and then grab guns and go out and kill innocent civilians and children.

I’m not comfortable with that. So I came up with this word, “Jesonian.” I don’t have illusions of grandeur–that it’s going to catch on and become the next popular thing in this country. Maybe I’m a little selfish. It works for me, so if other people don’t want to participate, I still benefit.

See, Jesus is not just my savior. He’s not merely my prayer buddy.

Jesus is my mentor.

He offers a philosophy, a way of thinking, a style of life, and an attitude that is conducive to success on Planet Earth.

Otherwise, what’s the point?

Just a month ago I heard a preacher say to his congregation that the gospel doesn’t make sense to the world, and that the world is destined to reject it.

I don’t get that.

Why would Jesus come to earth to teach something that was even more obscure than the Judaism that already existed, and alienate mankind just so the tiny clique which accepted him could walk around thumping their chests and pointing to the heavens, assuming approval?

No, you see, the gospel does make sense. After you get done with selfishness, depression, stupidity, arrogance and debauchery, you realize that life requires a certain amount of temperance, brilliance, creativity and mercy. Until then, you are a pestilence to those around you rather than a person of interest.

Jesonian is when we finally realize that a Savior who answers prayers would really like us to follow his words. Matter of fact, he said it:

“If you love me, keep my commandments.”

So when you hear me use the word Jesonian, what I’m talking about is going beyond the selfishness of salvation and the myopia of prayer, into discovering the lifestyle of Jesus–and then using that energy to become a better human being and a more successful force of nature.

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Click for details on the SpirTed 2014 presentation

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Please contact Jonathan’s agent, Jackie Barnett, at (615) 481-1474, for information about scheduling SpiriTed in 2014.

click to hear music from Spirited 2014

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