Conclusion

Conclusion: (n) a judgment or decision reached by reasoning.

I have come to the conclusion that the more conclusions you come to, the less likely it is that you will actually arrive at a conclusion.

The human race has an inordinate greed to be smart. It’s in all of us.

Each one of us has to press it down a little bit or we would be incapable of standing in line at a grocery store without strangling the person in funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
front of us, who has twelve items in the ten-item lane.

You see, the problem is, we know this person has twelve items because for some ridiculous reason, we counted them.

Yes, the conclusion we must come to is that there’s a certain amount of indifference–dare we say, apathy?–which is necessary to possess in order to live with other humans. Otherwise, we begin to desire to treat them like animals, brought to us for training.

So may I present to you, in all humility, the only three conclusions that matter from the moment they cut your umbilical cord until the day you sever the cord between yourself and the living:

  1. The happiest people in the world do not draw any conclusions.
  2. If they have conclusions, they use them to benefit their own journey and decorate their own space.
  3. A world without conclusions is often chaotic, but does allow for excellence to rise to the top.

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

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Comedy

Comedy: (n) entertainment intended to make an audience laugh

The least humorous thing that can be done is to have a discussion about comedy.

So since I find myself writing an essay on the subject, you can count on two things: it will be brief, and as non-discussive as possible.

Comedy is what sane people do to try to change things they know will probably not transform, but still need to be addressed. In that way, it can sometimes be
heavy-handed. (How appropriate to refer to it as a Comedy Club.)

To me, comedy that benefits the human soul, like a medicine for our emotions, always has three ingredients:

  1. Self-deprecation. (You have to make fun of yourself.)
  2. Commonality. (It is all part of what the tribe does.)
  3. Some hope (leaving the hearer aware of the difficulty, but ready to approach the situation.)

When comedy provides these three angels to our journey, it may be the closest thing to defining God.

 

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Coalesce

Coalesce: (v) come together and form one mass or whole.

“Can you get behind this?”

People are always asking me that. They think they have found a noble cause and they want to enlist my support so as to create the appearance of mass approval

I don’t want to get behind anything.

I don’t like to be pushy, and if you’re standing behind something, you’re always pushing it.

I also don’t like to pull things. If a cause has so much dead weight that it needs to be pulled forward, it probably needs to be taken out behind the barn and shot.

I like to find things that are historically, emotionally, humanly and creatively everlasting, and melt into them.

Yes–coalesce.

Although there is a great struggle to become famous and well-known, the chance of such an event occurring in one’s life is astronomically small. I think the best you can hope for as a voice crying in the wilderness–or as a penner of thoughts–is to be considered an I. R. S. writer. And the I. R. S. stands for “I Read Somewhere.”

Nobody will ever remember it came from me, or you, but they might reference the material in making a point.

In a day and age when we think that peace and good will come from spending money on bombs, it is unlikely that you will find a following of human beings who want to focus on your particular message of cooperation.

But simply deciding to coalesce oneself into great expectations and noble efforts is the best way to pass the time while we either wait for common sense to have its day, or for us to complete the journey… and be recycled into the stardust.

 

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Clock

Clock: (n) a mechanical or electrical device for measuring time

Tick-tock.

Actually, I’ve never heard a clock do a “tock.” But many times, one has ticked me off.

I hate time–even though I have to admit the word “hate” is a rather vicious and overwrought expression. But the extreme dislike I have for the confinement of minutes and hours does threaten to become hateful.

Time never fulfills. The clock never has just the right amount to offer. There’s either too much time, which lends itself to all sorts of buffoonery and mistakes, or there’s too little time, and worry and fussiness set in, creating an old man or woman out of the youngest soul.

Occasionally I abandon the clock. I pretend it doesn’t exist. I wait for the sunrise to alert me of the day and the sunset to inform me of the need for an evening meal.

Yet that simple approach is quickly overtaken by the brattiness of responsibility.

Still, all in all, the clock doesn’t tell the time–it shows it. What will prove the value of my journey, the depth of my soul and the worth of my efforts?

Well, in that case, time will tell.

 

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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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Chronological

Chronological: (adj) description of event in order

As long as you’re alive, you can keep the chronological events of your journey in order–even when people insist “you misremembered.” (One of the additional drawbacks to dying is that you’re suddenly at the mercy of someone else’s chronological breakdown of your life.)

Chronological is essential because it tells us if we’re actually making progress, or if we keep backsliding to our forward progress. Without this knowledge, we can either become discouraged because of a lack of direction, or elated over a false promotion of actual events.

Please keep in mind that one hundred and fifty-four years ago, the slaves were freed. Yet even this week in America, we’re still discussing racism as if we’ve just driven into town from the plantation. Studying the chronological order of civil rights in America would do a lot for our understanding of what yet needs to be done.

Perceiving the chronological order of advances in the medical field instead of worshipping the hype of “doctor promotion” would certain guide us on where to place our money for more research.

Knowing that B should follow A before C intrudes is how we keep good sense and wisdom in our lives.

So “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” is a valid question.

And knowing what you were doing last year at this time and comparing it to where you are now in your chronological clock is just downright saintly.

 

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Chock-full

Chock-full: (adj) filled to overflowing

I ended up being a father to many sons. This doesn’t qualify me as an expert, but eventually it rescued me from the dangerous status of novice.

You can always pick out a newbie in the realm of parenting. Mother and father are always overly concerned about how the little one is
thinking or feeling.

Realize this: they haven’t lived long enough to create stable emotions. They drift from one shoreline of expression to another without any sense of meaning, trying to convince you that they are permanently scarred by the most recent disciplinary action.

Often, it was my job to take these children on trips–long ones, at that.

After surviving one car tour from hell, I realized that the key to a pleasant experience with children in a car is to either drug them with cough syrup, so they sleep (which I unfortunately found out was illegal) or chock-full the trip with a whole series of activities which wear them out, causing them to beg for a nap.

Once asleep, children in a car are unlikely to awaken for many hours. Matter of fact, you probably will have arrived at your motel, unpacked your suitcase, turned on the television set before it becomes necessary to carry them in.

If you wait too long, children will tell you they’re bored. At that point, you are at the mercy of their mood.

But if you plan activities, games, music, a stop at a rest area to investigate the squirrel in the tree on the left, creating an agenda chock-full of exhausting possibilities, you will be able to enjoy at least half of your journey with them lying in the back seat–nearly comatose.

 

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