Bob Jonas's Blog, page 3
December 5, 2022
Shut Up!!!!!
In the movie Network, Peter Finch eloquently raged: I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore. The movie showed people shouting this from rooftops, at their televisions, and everywhere anyone needed to scream for a well-deserved catharsis. That time has come again, in a way unimagined in our darkest nightmares. Speaking for myself, I can barely open my computer these days without wanting to see it explode the way that computer does in The Good Fight. Not since Network came out in 1976, have the American people—minus the ‘basket of deplorables’—been trapped in an oozing pile of quicksand. Its death grip is so vile that at times we fear we’ll never be able to break free.
.
I have a solution.
At this point in Trumpsuckian hell, when you think he can go no lower, he does. Nothing surprises and nothing shocks. I want him to be gone so I don’t ever have to hear his voice or see his picture again—but there is nowhere to hide. I try to do everything I can do to quell the stench but as with most of us, nothing we do touches him. We are now constantly told, vote in November. By then, will we still have a country? Will we still be sane?
As an informed person all my life, overseas and at home, I never realized, until now, how much power the executive branch of our government had. With his gross tonnage on the scale, the idea of checks and balances does now not apply—he comes out a winner every time. He has changed the rules of decency and redefined words like intelligence, honesty, and morality—for a start. But I don’t want to digress, repeat all the horrors we find ourselves repeating in a never-ending cycle.
I have a solution.
I am now desperate to do something more. I am with Robert De Niro, in spirit. I as feel as strongly as he does and would love to shout what he said from the rooftops every time I feel my disgust welling up. I do shout it often at the computer. I totally agree with the sentiments of Samantha Bee about Trump’s daughter, but would never debase myself by saying what she said in a public forum. I completely share the spirit of what Kathy Griffin did with his blood dripping head—best he’s ever looked. I use the “f” word a lot but not in public. I never use the “c” word and would never do what Griffin did. Although I might seem hypocritical, I admit a kinship to all their feelings and displays of anger and frustration. I’ll risk the label.
In all the ways he has bastardized the position he holds, the one where I can make a personal statement has to do with his vulgarian approach to language. I can’t and I won’t be dragged down to his level, especially in a public forum. It is heartbreaking to hear, on a daily basis, the impact his foul, scum-filled mouth has had on public figures, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. I think it would be fair to say they are doing their best to fight fire with fire, pull off the gloves, respond in kind, but in a fight they can never win. The “f” word has become so common I hear it from people I would never have imagined. I was a truck drive for fifteen years so I’ve heard, and said, my share of rough words. I still say all those words and now 45 has forced me into designing strings of epithets I had no idea I had such talent for, ie. pond scum leach infested filth, indecent flea covered rat turd, etc. You get the picture. Most of my offerings are spontaneous outbursts, some worthy of saving, but probably not. At times I feel so much anger I want to spew enough filth to cover any Trumpsuckian situation. Although we feel the anger and the pain I strongly believe we need to keep and remember the good things in our lives, enough to someday reclaim the moral high ground, proving to our kids that we were the gatekeepers, the cultural and intellectual guardians of civility and decency and what is right.
Since retirement I have subbed at least once a week in the high school where Susan works but feel like such a fraud whenever I hear inappropriate language used arbitrarily, as it is everywhere. My response, if I am to tow the line, is to remind kids of their transgression by simply saying, “language.” They hear it everywhere; TV, movies, social media, constantly reinforced, 24/7, by the worst excuse of a human being I have ever been exposed to. There is no red line anymore. I have never considered myself a prude, but when it’s in my face all the time, listening to the influence it has on kids, trying to set a good example makes me feel like the world’s biggest hypocrite. I will not buckle, I will not lower myself to the giant flea bitten Turds depths.
So what’s my solution? It’s a lot like what Peter Finch had to offer: catharsis.
The expression SHUT UP has been on the minds of educations, especially those who deal with younger kids, for decades. Kids are told these words can be as hurtful as any standard four-letter word, especially when used to make fun or hurt other kids’ feelings. But we are all adults, so please forgive me if my suggestion/solution involves the use of the word SHUT UP. Mind you, not shut the “f” up, or “shut your f—ing mouth,” just the words SHUT UP. That’s what I want to say the fake, corrupt hunk of sleaze running our country; non stop, all the time, joined by millions who hate the idea of his existence, telling him he has no, none, zero respect from the overwhelming majority of Americans who didn’t elect him.
SHUT UP!!! This is the strongest message I can think of without debasing myself, falling into his rat filled cesspool. Part of my proposal is to replicate what actors did in Network, shout these words from the rooftops, all the time, anytime a person needs relief. I want to silence him in the most disrespectful way I can. SHUT UP!!!! Whenever I hear anything about him: SHUT UP!!! Whenever I need to make a comment to a story online: SHUT UP!!!! Not from the point of view I am hiding out in my head, or in the sand, or to avoid what’s going on, but to mute his dirty mouth, his filthiness, his indecency, his uncivilly. SHUT UP!!! to 45, to the man we did not elect, to the obscene dirt bag desecrating the office of the president. It makes me feel better in my own way, to tell him to SHUT UP!!!! You are not my president, you do not represent me; in a political sense, as human being, or any way imaginable.
If I could, I would use GofundMe to raise money to buy a full-page ad in the New York Times: see the attached example. Unfortunately, a full-page ad runs $150,000.00. Could I ever hope to ask for that much cash when there are so many people and organizations in need? I don’t think so, but what a message it would send.
SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!! you lewd, immoral, rude, obnoxious, moron. Think how that would look in a full-page ad in the New York Times. Okay, done. Writing this and imagining the ad are part of my catharsis. Hope this gives many of you a way to deal.
Please forgive me, I lied, it’s not really a solution, but it’s all I’ve got. Good luck to us all.
Sorting Myself Out
It is happening: A way to assure Susan that I am not just eating chocolate bon bons and reading movie magazines (like I did on the job). Of course she is thrilled with my daily electronic scribbling but the sporadic royalty payments only seem to stretch as far as a six pack and a few good cigars each week. But things are beginning to change. As the invites for author presentations start to dribble in, she is relieved to have her own six-packs and fine cigars, while knowing the challenge of travel and talking to kids plays a vital part in keeping Bob’s old bones from rusting up.
I’ve always known that visits to schools would be a great way to continue the work I did with kids all the years I was a school librarian. With the validation of three published books under my belt, I can actually, in the way many authors do, suggest a fee, or an honorarium.
Fun as it is to bag a few extra dollars, this should come as no surprise as I’ve been the person dipping in to school budgets for authors for over two decades. I’ve sponsored at least twenty authors in my years on the job. I’ve shelled out anywhere from 500 to 2,500 big buckaroos a day. Smaller honorariums went to budding authors, ones just getting started. The big bucks went to better-known, highly regarded authors, at the top of their games. But the fee never seemed to be an accurate predictor of their effectiveness with kids. An author who writes great books doesn’t necessarily inspire and connect well in person.
Which leads me to me. Humbly stated, I am the whole package, a worthy player in the lineup of author presenters for oh so many reasons:
I am cheap and oh so easy to work with.I have a file full of testimonials about my effectiveness with kids (not ones I wrote).I am a funny guy, according to well paid sources.I work my buns off preparing inspirational presentations that keep kids riveted and make an impact for years to come—a crystal ball I paid big bucks for tells me so.As a storyteller, school librarian, world traveler, author, truck driver, etc. have I got some tales to tell and inspired talks to share.I am still at the shallow end of the honorarium pool, delivering, on the cheap, what the big bucks guys do for a whole lot more. In other words, I am a great deal and I LOVE WHAT I DO!So what are all my friends in education waiting for (and people who know people
who know people who know people)? Bags packed. Ready to go. All contact information is in the double-sided poster below.
Teaching Shanghai Police Trainees a Diplomatic Coup
This was an article I wrote for the Oregonian, my home town newspaper, the first year we were in China.
Voices My Turn
Summary: Beaverton school librarian in China treads softly when exchanging views with students on Kosovo, NATO bombing
On May 7, 1999, the United States during a joint military action with NATO forces, bombed the Chinese embassy in Belgrade, Yugoslavia – they said it was an accident. State sponsored demonstrations were held all over China as the government wished the world to believe that the Chinese people were genuinely outraged. After a few days, the impact of screaming people on CNN subsided, the government pulled the plug, and all the demonstration stopped. As a fist year expat teaching at an international school, I was in a unique position to experience and observe the reaction to the bombing so I wrote an article about it for my home town newspaper in Portland, Oregon. This is an excerpt from that article.
I was approached many months ago to teach conversational English once a week at the Shanghai Public Security Bureau College. Ten years ago it would have been unheard of to find an American teacher at this college. I had no ESL experience but I was told my primary mission was to engage the cadets in conversation. I was told these young men had a high level of English proficiency — not exactly true. I was nervous, excited, and without a clue.
The Shanghai Public Security Bureau College is where young police cadets study for five years to carry out Chinese law in a city of more than 14 million. They carry no guns and do not fear being shot. They are trained to make arrests and they have the power to immediately incarcerate those who they think break the law. They are fascinated with American law and police work, and have closely studied western policing methods such as zero tolerance and community policing.
Dr. Lu, my sponsor at the college, told me the academy was looking for a native English speaker who could hold his students’ interest and engage them in conversation. My first-night jitters were calmed as soon as I walked into the college auditorium. Written on the blackboard in four foot high letters were the words “Welcome Mr. Joans.” I was presented with two bottles of water and the rapt attention of about seventy five cadets. Also in attendance was a photographer for a local Sunday supplement and the college newspaper. I had no idea what a momentous event this was.
I decided to get to know these students, find out their expectations, and test their level of English. I expected students sitting quietly, pencils sharpened, straight backs, eyes forward. I could not have been more wrong. These young me were rowdy and social and did not sit still very long. I had not expected the barrage of questions that began instantly. “What do you think about the situation in Tibet? What do you think about Taiwan? How do you feel about the tenth anniversary of Tiananmen Square and the democracy movement?” I could already hear the knock on the door in the middle of the night. Even Dr. Lu was taken aback. I told my students that I did not want to get thrown out of China my first year so I sidestepped the inflammatory questions and used them as an opportunity to get these students to talk. They told me, with great sincerity, that I had nothing to worry about in speaking my mind. It was a good thing I hesitated. They have very limited access to news outside the government-controlled media, and the government is always looking and listening.
I was almost relieved when the barrage turned to personal questions. Among my favorites was how did I romance my wife — a question from one of the five women in the room. And then to culture — my favorite movie star, rock ‘n’ roll group, what did I think about Mike Tyson? I was surprised with their focus on American culture and their insatiable appetite for information. At the end of the evening I was presented with a beautiful plaque that had the name of the college engraved under a mounted badge of the Public Security Bureau. My appreciation was obvious and when I held it up with a big smile, their applause thundered throughout the room. Had I, in one evening, helped smooth the road to Sino American detente? As I followed Mr. Liu to the parking lot, we were followed by what looked like the entire class. The parking lot on this night, and other nights that followed, became the unofficial forum for questions they thought I could not answer in a more formal setting. Mr. Liu seemed as surprised as I, and let my rock star status carry the moment — but only for a while, until his driver bulldozed a path to our car. In the weeks to come, some of the students were so serious about picking my brain, that they emailed me to set up weekend meetings at a local bar. I was thrilled to get to know more about them outside the school/government sanctioned venue.
One of the emails I received follows this article — a real wake up call for me.
The contrast and conflict between our perspectives — especially on politics — was never more unsettled than after the 1999 US bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade, Yugoslavia. I had been with these students since October when the bombs were dropped seven months later, on May 7. The Chinese government’s reaction was immediate. Images on CNN — the only western media source we had — of screaming, rampaging mobs, were so unsettling that some of the school staff packed their emergency bags. School closed and decided to let us wait it out at home. We knew the government sponsored and encouraged the riots, but with a lack of good information, we had no idea who we now were to the Chinese people. The Shanghai American School told us to keep a low profile — stay close to home, avoid public places and gatherings. School was to be closed as long as the safety of our kids was an issue. At first, the two days at home seemed like snow days in the states, but the excitement of having days off quickly turned to uncertainty and fear. In the end, the feelings were justified, but totally without merit. When we walked down our street to a neighborhood local store — and many of us ventured out much farther — we could not detect any difference in people’s reaction to us — or at any time after the incident blew over. While the government sponsored uprising, temporary as it was, might have worked its chilling effect on the rest of the world, those of us who were there quickly came to know the enormous gulf between the people’s perspective, and that of their governments.
This perspective was reinforced when David, one of the cadets who accompanied Mr. Liu, knocked on my door the night of our police class. I did not know how to contact them and I was uncertain, considering the week’s events, if I would be asked to continue. I told David I felt extremely uncomfortable in making my weekly appearance, and that I thought I best to wait a week to see how things went. David’s reaction was unexpected.
“Please Mr. Jonas, that is just the government. That is not how Chinese people feel.” I was taken aback. Still, I told him, I would prefer to wait a week. His reaction was that of a best friend, next-door neighbor kid who was told that his friend could not come out and play.
Fortunately, things blew over quickly and I returned to the security bureau college the following week. I was relieved to be met with information-starved students. We earlier had agreed to talk more about politics, and I wondered if the topic at hand — Kosovo — would be too sensitive. Dead silence! One student raised his hand and said they had been told not to talk about Kosovo. After prodding and questioning and waiting out some uncomfortable pauses, I saw some of them turn to Mr. Liu. The go ahead was given.
Yes, they did think the United States bombed the embassy on purpose. Yes, the reason we did that was to hold China down, to keep it from becoming a world power. And no, they did not get any information outside the government-sponsored newspapers and TV. And why should they not believe their sources if I believed my sources?
What was to prevent the United States from entering Tibet on the same pretext? When I asked them if they knew why the United States and NATO were in Kosovo, they spoke of our designs for world domination. One of the students spoke of our politicians’ need for a whipping boy, someone to hate and make political gain from since the Cold War was now history — finally, a point we could agree on. I did not say one negative thing about the Chinese government. Nor did they relate their beliefs with venom toward me. That a madman named Milosevic was directing the murder, rape and dislocation of thousands was news to them. I was astonished at their answer when I asked if there was any time when a country could stand up and say that something was so wrong that intervention might be warranted. Bluntly, they said no. The sovereignty of a country was always to be respected, and again they looked to the possible invasion of Tibet as their justification. I was stymied. I felt like a contestant in a debate, but every time I wanted to express my opinions I could imagine the cattle prod at my back. Incredibly, the final outcome of our discussion was positive, if not extremely frustrating. We agreed to continue our relationship of mutual respect and friendship, knowing our governments needed to continue to seek ways to interact in mutually beneficial ways.
Recently, Dr. Lu and two students came to visit me at the Shanghai American School. They were astounded at the way we are connected to the world and the friendly atmosphere in the school. They asked me to return to their school next year and looked forward to my attendance at their graduation. I was given a beautiful Chinese pen and ink set as a gesture of thanks and friendship. The following week I received my visa for next year, which probably means that I kept my mouth shut at the right time.
Subject: hello
Date: Sun, 23 may 1999 17:17:38 + 0800
Letter From One of My Students
Hello Mr. Jonas:
Thanks for your email. I read it in Saturday in the inbox when I return home from campus. I think we will become friends from the first day that you gave our oral English lesson.
You know that it is an uneasy thing for an American to get into the socialism country law enforcement agency college. 20 years ago, this is absolutely an unexpected thing. I feel so lucky to meet such a humor, kind, energetic teacher, you bring the fresh atmosphere and interest educational styles to our college that can’t satisfies us in some degrees.
In actuality, the Shanghai public security academy is not that you imagine. Remember one important thing; never tell the true thought of yourself to someone who serves for China authority, if you don’t want to get trouble.
Ok, let’s talk about the issues on the oral English class. Maybe you found that not every one put all his heart in the lesson. The reason is that education system runs in our campus, most of the students have little interest in foreign language, because they consider that scarcely we shall use English in the police job especially in the criminal detect. But they were obliged to attend the class by the order of the chief teacher. So always there are someone who came later, there are some chat in the class, there some absent minded one or sleepy men.
I have proposed for you, may it will help and establish in the class. You can ask our teacher to let us have the choice: if we dislike we can do what we like; if we like then we are due to come. I think this way has two possibility; first, our teacher will sure to accept your acquire with reverent and respect. Second, I am sure there are remains 30 students who have high listening and spoken abilities will have the communication with you more freely and happily. We will have more time in the free talk on the world news, Chinese art and culture, economics, science, literature, and so on. All is up to you, I wish you think it over. Thank you.
In your email you said you enjoyed the conversation last Wednesday night. So do I. And I think the discussion did not end. Originally, I would like to explain my opinion on the Sino-American relationship. But this theme is too large to illuminate in a short letter. My friend ding and I will be honored to shoot the bull with you and your friends in a cafe bar or some other interesting place. We will detaily introduce the all mistery Chinese thing or Shanghai affairs to you.
By the way, I am an after hours canvas painter, sometimes I visit the modern gallery, the art center, the art website online, I really like the pop art, the avant garde art which comes from USA and west Europe. In grade one I started to love the Chinese Rock Music, the youngers lives in China mostly like the 60’s American generation in the aspect for love, idea, failure, sad, dull, helplessness. Oh, the letter has been much too long, thank you for finished reading. Your friend. Fan
I just made contact with him on Facebook this last month. Not much information so far but i am hopeful
Death Brew Launches
After just a few of these events, it becomes extremely clear that if the writing of books is always followed by one of these parteeeeeees, I’m going to have to hurry up. Imagine, being surrounded by family and friends, former colleagues and book groupies, in a fine place of drink, in the school district where it all began for me. The flood of memories and well wishes was like a double batch of chocolate chip cookies, a mountain of goose down pillows, a massage, and a long soak in a hot tub.
To everyoe that was there, everyone who sent their best, everyone who thought kind thoughts of me no matter where they were, and all the folks who have uspported me for so long–three books in print and this is just the beginning. I cannot thank you enough.
Book Movie Trailers
Two ways to access movie trailers to my books:
My YouTube Channel:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCb8wQx5uqeCgOrKBhBjvNtA
Goodreads Author Page:
https://www.goodreads.com/videos/list_author/5333643.Bob_Jonas
Multiple Personality Author/Traveler/Librarian
Censored From the Start
Censored From the Start
On September 22, 2007, I sent a copy of the first draft of ChinAlive to a good friend in Beijing. Although I left Beijing in 2006 to work at a school in Hong Kong we stayed in touch. She had the kind of credentials to be able offer me great advise on many of the historical, political, and economic issues in the book. She had lived in China most of her life and was at Tienneman Square the night things exploded. She spoke the language fluently, and when she said she would love to give the book a read, I was thrilled.
I never heard from her again.
I hate to rush anyone who is kind enough to offer editing help, but after a month I was curious and somewhat concerned. I did not send a hard copy, thinking the sensitive matters in the book, if opened and read, would keep the book from being delivered. After two months, I became more concerned, now knowing the Chinese Internet censors could read more than what was in the body of an email — it was easy for them to read attachments as well.
From correspondence with friends, and information she has posted on social networking sites, it appears that she is okay. Her last communication said, “I am delighted and honored for your request! No problem at all.” After many unanswered emails over the past few years, I am certain the book triggered a government response — she was must have been warned.
ChinAlive hit a nerve and will no doubt be banned in China. With so many work arounds in cyberspace, hopefully it will see the light of day by those who wish to read it.
Death Brew Launches—Finally
On June 16, 2016 I was ecstatic to announce completion of the first draft of Death Brew, sequel to Imposter. It always takes me so much longer to get the revisions done and this book was no exception. Nine months later, with the help four editors, a couple of extraordinary middle school classes, and my own anal approach to getting everything perfect, Death Brew was finally published, two days ago, on March 26. It will be available on many distribution channels starting today, March 29: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound, and at least twenty five other online sellers. E-book versions–Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Smash word, etc. should be available next week–stay tuned.
A launch party is planned to benefit homeless kids in our area on May 13— For those of you close to this part of the world, be on the lookout for the invitation. A reading will soon take place at our local bookstore, and the European book tour kicks off on May 29—exciting stuff for sure.
Death Brew Buyers Guide
Connecting
On one of my many walks with a friend last year, I was taken aback when he stopped, took a deep breath, and said, “Bob, don’t take this the wrong way” – which usually means that’s exactly the way I’m going to take it – “but… you are on a mission.”
“You mean I’m whining?”
“No.”
“Boring”?
“Never.”
“Pissed off?”
“Sure. But I still like you.”
“I’m relieved.”
We continued to walk the mile circumference around our compound in beautiful Riyadh–dust in the air, blaring prayer calls from dueling minarets. Everything seemed the same, but in the next hours, days, weeks, and even now, things are not the same. Like the heavy watering of the lawns and shrubbery in our little oasis, my friend had splashed a cold dose of reality on me.
At least in the compound, guarded by six machine gun emplacements and a barb wired perimeter, I felt safely tucked in from danger. When my friend shared his observation of me being on a mission, I felt a different kind of danger–undefined and maybe something I didn’t want to face.
My friend is a sweet guy. He likes me. Sometimes he reminds me of Fred Rogers. Kids love him. He’s not too bad with adults. As a kindly, somewhat curmudgeonly, grey haired confidant, I had always found him an astute observer of human beings. After miles and miles of walks together, sharing all of life’s dings, he would not say something that was not well thought out or unkind.
“You are on a mission.”
“Awwww right already, what mission?”
He had noted on too many occasions, that I was upset about many aspects of my job, not to mention my profession. He stopped to further think things through, seeing that I was more than a bit baffled.
“You want everyone to see things your way.”
“No I don’t. Do I?”
“You do.”
“Okay, maybe sometimes.” He paused.
Both of us have moved from school to school to school on the international circuit for many years – he at nine schools, me at seven. No one better I figured to see how continuing job frustrations would compel a person to globe trot when the challenges became too daunting.
“But, is that a bad thing?” I asked. He explained. In his explanation he reminded me of the guy, me, who had reinvented, revitalized, or designed from the start, every library program he had touched – and then moved on. And to think, I thought he was half asleep during many of our walks.
“You are now an old dog.”
“And you are an old fart?”
“I’ll accept that,” he said, with a twinkle. “But at least I’m not on a mission.”
“Should I retire? Should I not be on a mission?”
“No, and no, yes, and maybe. But you should think about it.” We talked for hours. I went to
bed thinking about being on a mission. I told my wife about being on a mission.
Without hesitation, without a moment of contemplation, she said, “Honey, you are on a mission.”
“Not you too. What does that mean? What am I supposed to do? And don’t tell me to write
a blog.”
“Why not?”
“No, no, never, never. What would I say?”
“And that’s been a problem since…?”
“But I don’t have the discipline to do it every day. I need to keep writing books. And I still
love my job – the kids, the literature, the research. And don’t you dare tell me I’m an old dog.” She went into the bathroom and brought back a mirror.
“And don’t you dare remind me about the hairs growing out the top of my nose or inside my ears.”
She smiled. “No dear, at least you can trim those. But the things you have bottled up are not
so easy. You have less and less patience and years of strong feelings about a job you love.”
At last, things were beginning to make sense — old dog, experience, retirement… and now, every book I help a kid find, always seems to be on the bottom shelf.
“Can I get pissed off?”
“Get pissed off all you want. It’s your space. But remember, you want people to read it.”
Maybe people will read it. Maybe they won’t. But it costs a lot less than therapy, and maybe along the way, my voice will ring out with something of value in behalf of kids, especially boys. So here “my best beloved,” as Rudyard Kipling once said…
The Top 7 Reasons Why I Can and Should Write This Blog about Inspiring Kids to Read and Love the Library
I would have gone for 10, but like George Carlin observed in his shtick about Ten Commandments, that number was more of a marketing thing, and I don’t want this ever to seem like a canned, preplanned diatribe. So for now, unless I can think of more…
1. Seventeen years as a school librarian at seven schools on four continents2. Male librarian in a unique position to get guys hooked3. Unique library perspective — many awards including Library Media Specialist of the Year in the State of Oregon, 1996; numerous grants and articles related to library programs, travel and adventure; presenter at many reading, storytelling, and library conferences and workshops.4. Folders filled with letters from parents telling me I was the reason their kids picked up the reading passion5. Writer of action packed novels for intermediate and YA kids6. True believer that the sacrosanct mission of the school librarian is to inspire lifelong reading habits, love of books, and the library7. Former truck driver, puppeteer, freelance feature writer, and business owner — current traveler, elementary school librarian, blog writer, storyteller, and social media convert
