Claptrap

Claptrap: (n) absurd or nonsensical talk or ideas.

“Come, let us reason together.”

If we’re going to accept the idea that politicians lie, how will we know when they’re telling the truth?

If women want to be equal but still think it’s “kind of cool” when guys open doors for them, how will they ever gain equal footing?

Our generation is filled with the claptrap of contradictions. We want to insist that we’re not bigoted as we awkwardly use a phrase like “African American.”

We want to appear intelligent as we negate the value of studying history to learn what to avoid in our past.

We think if we say something stupid enough times, it becomes smart. Silliness is silliness, whether it’s promoted or not.

There is a lot of claptrap–a lot of concession that things are rotten but perhaps they’re meant to be that way.

There is angst in our souls because we are weary of hypocrisy, yet unwilling to cease being hypocritical.

Claptrap is when we speak things that seem to be popular in the moment even though in our hearts they ring untrue.

It fills the air with fake helium, causing all of us to talk funny.

We are a country which has accepted claptrap as being inevitable instead of squinting at it and offering a quizzical, “Pardon me??”

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Clap

Clap: (v) to applaud

I have spent much of my human journey with two little toes in heaven and the rest of my footage on Earth.

Those two little toes did not go to market. They went to church.

It’s where I sang my first song.

It’s where I met my first girlfriend.

And it’s still one of my favorite spots for spontaneous dozing.

One of the things I discovered about the experience of “church attendance ” is that there is a wide range of opinions on many subjects.

Clapping would be one.

Some churches believe it’s sacrilegious to express appreciation, worship or excitement by striking palms. They find it Biblically and spiritually unsound.

Other churches clap so much that you can’t hear anything else going on. They clap for everything. It’s kind of a “clapping without ceasing.”

As a person who shares his talent in a church, I have to admit to myself that I am also a performer and an artist. (Although I think the word “artist” is overused–even by me.)

As a performer, I do have an ego. Ego is not a bad thing–it’s that little “Nancy-cheerleader” who keeps us from jumping off a cliff just because we had a bad day. (“It might get better tomorrow. Yea, team!”)

When you perform a song, come to the end, and receive silence, it is not golden.

It’s rather moldy.

Ashen.

Empty.

I’m told I’m supposed to sing to the glory of God. But it was God who said, “Clap your hands, all ye people.”

If you’re afraid I’ll get the big-head if you applaud my efforts, then you should pray for me. Don’t snub me.

Until we understand that the Universe pushes energy one direction and there is supposed to be a push coming back from the other way, or else something is afoul, we may just continue to believe that God is so insecure that He is frustrated with anyone else receiving adequate appreciation for his efforts.

Since I wouldn’t even have lunch with someone who’s cantankerous, I choose to believe that when I perform, God applauds, the angels screech…and the congregation should follow suit.

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Clandestine

Clandestine: (adj) done secretively

Although clandestine can refer to any practice or situation we may attempt to hide, normally it harkens to romance or sexuality.

It is difficult to admit that on the issue of faithfulness each one of us is as slippery as a greased hog.

We don’t like to talk about it.

Especially we don’t like to talk about it in front of people to whom we’re committed. After all, we don’t want to hurt their feelings or stir up trouble.

So there’s a certain amount of awareness that has to constantly prod our minds in order for us to make quality choices.

That’s why the Good Book tells us that no one else can tempt us–not people, devil or God. We are drawn away by our own lusts, and even if we try to curtail that aching iniquity by using pornography, we are still dealing with the same problem.

Clandestine ideas just seem more fun.

Strange flesh appears to be better flesh.

And new encounters glisten and gleam instead of just sitting there waiting for us at home.

What can we do about this? Develop an inner candor filled with a nasty bit of personal honesty.

It will keep us on the” strait and narrow” of relationship instead of crashing our ship on the rocky choices of temporary gratification.

 

 

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Clan

Clan: (n) a close-knit family

If you love them who only love you, you’re no better than a common jackass.

This was a sentiment from a man who lived 2,000 years ago, discerning that loyalty to a single clan, or a family unit, can be despicable if the
 same mercy and tenderness is not extended to the world at large.

There are sinister attempts to make our personal families more important than others, glorifying that decision by making it sound noble.

The institution of clans is the beginning of clan warfare.

Clan warfare is the welcoming of national struggles.

And national struggles lead to world wars.

Here’s the truth of the matter:

I love my children but they’re not better than other people’s children.

And even if I get misty in my eyes when sharing affection for my sprouts, this does not make me spiritual or a better daddy. It makes me short-sighted, selfish and possibly bigoted.

So I will talk to you of the glory of my brood, and listen as you extol the beauty of yours. But at the end of our conversation, may we chuckle and admit to one another that it’s all meaningless…if we don’t adore the whole human clan.

 

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Clampdown

Clampdown: (n) a severe or concerted attempt to suppress something.

I was a parent to six sons.

Three of them were my biological offspring, and for the other three, I was more or less a godfather (minus kissing the ring and slaughtering
my enemies).

Different experiences bring different quality. As a parent, you would love to pass on that sage wisdom to your children. It’s not really an issue of morality–it’s just that certain activities suck up more time, energy, heart and soul.

In other words, in the long run, they’re just not worth the payoff. For that reason, they’re rather obvious–but not to a fifteen year old kid.

  • Smoking looks cool until you start coughing.
  • Drinking may seem sophisticated until you vomit on your favorite pants.
  • Multiple sex partners almost seem ordained until your crotch starts to itch and you need a shot of penicillin.

So how is it possible to pass on to the growing organisms in your household how to avoid the stupidity of certain activities which not only fail to deliver in ultimate satisfaction, but certainly can be dangerous?

After conversations, pleadings and reasoning comes the possibility of clamping down.

Since your children will not remove themselves from temptation, you make a vain effort to take temptation far away from them. Of course, historically this only increases the fervent interest of the hapless adolescent.

I never drank, I never smoked, I never looked at a snapshot of porn–but all of my children, to some degree, have investigated these vices as if communing with a vicar.

I wish I could tell you that clamping down is an effective means of eliminating foolishness. But since being a fool is in the storehouse of every human being, whether we like it or not, he or she will probably pull it out at one time or another–and give it a spin.

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Clamor

Clamor: (n) a loud and confused noise, especially that of people shouting vehemently.

Is it possible to object without being objectionable?

Can we raise issues without raising our blood pressure?

Can we stimulate the conversation without stimulating the anger that inhibits reasoning?

Why do we clamor?

Do we secretly think we may be wrong, and the more we shout the less likely the exposure?

Are we obsessed with the notion that our much speaking actually affects the thinking of others?

When will we comprehend that the louder we get, the less power there is in what we say?

Why is cleverness dying?

Why is diplomacy viewed as weakness?

Why would people mock the notion that “a soft answer turns away wrath?”

When did sheer brute force convince our nation to pursue its prowess?

Is it possible to make such a convincing argument that it can be delivered in a whisper?

Does the proclamation, “change the world” have to be blared, or can it be delivered with an ironic smile?

The louder we get, the less is done.

The more intense we become, the less effective.

The reason the meek inherit the Earth is because the dominant, forceful and tribal leaders kill one another off–leaving behind the inheritance of an Earth that still needs to be reformed, but would prefer it be done with some gentleness.

I’m going to stop clamoring.

I shall no longer clamor.

To clamor is to annoy.

Do I really believe that? Do you really believe that?

Maybe we could start believing it together.

 

 

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Clamber

Clamber: (v) to climb, move, or get in or out of something in an awkward and laborious way, typically using both hands and feet

It’s difficult to know whether we are judged by what we’re able to achieve, or how well we overcame the obstacles that attempt to forbid
 achievement.

Yes, you could discuss that one for hours.

It reminds me of the time I took my children to an amusement park. I was still a very young man, but very fat. This created an immediate perplexity. Because I was young, I envisioned things I could do, often not taking into consideration the extra baggage I was bringing along.

Another example:

We went out on a boat trip. They had a little, thin gangplank to get on the boat, which I was grateful to have negotiated. So I assumed that when we returned there would be some sort of similar passageway from the front of the boat onto the dock again.

There wasn’t.

They eased the boat toward the landing, leaving a gap of about three feet between the boat and the safety of the dock. Well, other folks gave it a little bit of a running start, leaped into the air and came down safely onto the pier.

I kept inching my way behind people, letting them go first. I guess I was hoping that I would have a few minutes at the end, to figure out what to do, but failed to realize that all the people stayed on the dock and were going to watch my grand leap.

I tried to make that running start, to clamber with my entire obese body, legs and arms in the air, and land safely.

Just when I got to the end of the boat, my brain said, “Are you crazy?”

An immediate order was given at Mind Central: STOP!!

I nearly tumbled into the water but was able to step back. Then I tried to reach one leg across, and was able to get my foot onto the surface, but I was spread too far to get any pressure on the leg to push me over.

By this time I had secured an audience.

People began to make suggestions. My children were trying to hide and my wife was already being comforted by strangers.

At this point, I decided it was impossible. The ordeal went for ten minutes. The combination of fear, practicality and my limitations was turning me into a sea-lovin’ man.

Finally the captain took a rope and hooked it around some sort of turret and pulled the whole boat a bit closer–with just his sheer brute force. This received applause from those standing by. Even more humiliation.

I still was not able to find a “clambering” approach to leaving the boat. So three guys reached down, grabbed me under my arms and on the count of three, hoisted me up on the dock.

I attempted to land with some authority, stomping my feet a couple of times so the people around me would be aware that I had muscular ability, then quickly grabbed my family and disappeared into the crowd, heading for the refreshment stand.

After all, I was hungry from all the exertion.

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Clam

Clam: (n) a marine bivalve mollusk with shells of equal size.

I guess any decent mollusk would consider it a home invasion. After all, you have this perfectly wonderful shell, which should be impenetrable.

So someone comes along, boils your ass, insults you by throwing in spices because you have no flavor of your own, and then takes a knife to crack you open to
steal your life force.

Pretty much of a horror story if you live in the ocean.

I have eaten clams many times. Perhaps I should apologize. I’ve even taken one of those pointy objects they offer you to crack them open, making me feel like I’m some sort of “sea-farin’ man.”

I have two opinions on clams:

  1. They’re too small
  2. They have no flavor unless you dip them in a sauce.

So would I get the same sensation if I took a piece of bread and dipped it into an excellent cocktail sauce as if I dunked a clam in the same sauce?

I think so.

So let me review: for some reason we decide to invade the privacy of a reclusive creature who has clammed up, boil it to death, break open its shell and eat it, even though we know it’s not particularly satisfying.

Vindictive sons-of-a-bitches.

 

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Clairvoyant

Clairvoyant: (adj) having or exhibiting an ability to perceive events in the future or beyond normal sensory contact.

If I were to go to the barn and stand around the pig pen and postulate over what the hog behind the fence might do next, it certainly could be considered clairvoyant.

“The animal will oink, followed by wallowing in the mud and then grunting, begging for food,” I might say.

You might stand back in great wonder when the pig fulfilled my prophesy.

Sometimes we have to learn the difference between clairvoyant and discernment. You can feel free to debate whether certain individuals have a deeper insight into reality which could not possibly have been achieved by natural means–or you can come to the conclusion that the more each of us learns to discern how things work, how people function and the common sense of Mother Nature, the more we may appear to be divinely inspired.

For instance, noticing that one of your fellow-workers enters the building without speaking a word and the next thing you hear is a loud noise from his office as he throws his things on the desk…

Well, being able, at that point, to grab a cup of coffee, take it back to him and implore, “Is there anything I can do for you? Are you having a tough day?”

This is not clairvoyant. It’s observant.

It is contingent on each member of the human tribe to keep eyes, ears and even nostrils available, to sense the feeling in a room, alluding to the signs of coming trouble. Otherwise we will start complaining that God did not send us a prophet or prophetess to warn us of these horrible future events.

What God and Mother Nature send our way are inklings, tinglings and visuals of trouble that is beginning to unfold.

He that hath a brain

Let him notice what’s insane.

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Claim

Claim: (v) to state or assert that something is the case

I often find myself caught between the emphasis in our society on speaking up for oneself and the wisdom of the ages, which quietly screams, “Shut the hell up.”

I sometimes tremble when I hear people make claims. I especially find it curious when men or women insist they are great lovers. Oh my
God–that’s one that is proven out fairly easily, and can certainly leave you with your pants down.

Why do we need to claim? Maybe Yoda was right. “No try. Just do.”

But for some reason, the braggadocio that precedes our efforts makes us feel reassured. Maybe it’s because we know that when the game is over and the score is tallied, we’re going to lose, so we might as well have some pre-game appreciation.

I don’t know.

But most of the claims human beings make are altered by circumstance, lack of talent, nerves, superior fire-power or just dumb luck. For after all, time and chance happens to each of us.

Recently I was asked at a party, “What is it you do?”

I piped back, “Are you asking what I claim to do? Or what actually gets done?”

They looked at me with a hint of a smile, but perplexed. After all, I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to do–tout the bloated extent of my capabilities.

For what would happen if we claimed less, and then, on rare occasions, ended up doing more? Isn’t that the true definition of a genius? Someone who scores higher than expected. Someone who exceeds expectation. Or someone who fills a need that seemed unfillable.

I don’t claim much.

Maybe my best claim is that I don’t have really anything to claim.

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