Journey into the Mind of a Clamking

 

Many of you may or may not ask, "What sort of mind set does it take to become a ruler of clams?" Well, in a clamshell, strange. But it's a very technical kind of strange. From the time one wakes up in the morning to the wee hours of the night, one must not only create and expect oddness, but also embrace it. There's something odd in everything, and it is therein that the humor lies.

One morning Clambo was preparing to go mow a lawn for a retired 80-year-old veteran. He was dressed in his worst clothes and had just poured the milk into his cornflakes in preparation for the most important meal of the day. Just then the doorbell rang. Clambo went to the door and saw two men in suits. In the background he was quick to notice their compatriots canvassing the neighborhood. Even before they spoke the Clamlord knew they were Jehovah's witnesses.

The Caucasian spoke first. "Hello, we're walking around to our neighbors today to ask them about the future. What does the future look like to you?"

Now, Clambo has nothing against organized religion (in fact, he runs one), or against the Witnesses, but he was in a rush. Clambo has, in fact, spent long hours standing in his doorway on a number of occasions chatting with the self-appointed messengers of the Apocalypse. He's also purchased several copies of the "Watchtower" and read them cover to cover. So what he said next was not out of disdain, but instead it came out of deep thought and concern about what his most immediate future foretold if he didn't get rid of the goons at his door.

Clambo said, "Pretty bleak, my cornflakes are going to get soggy."

They chuckled, looked Clambo in the eye to see how serious he was, and the tall black man in a well-cut suit said, "Well, we won't keep you long. I hate soggy cereal, too."

What followed then was an intense but curt discussion about which cereals get soggy faster, until it was decided that the cereal the Clamlord consumed was one of the more moisture-absorbant types. And with that, they bid him a good day.

Now, the point here (if there is one) is that even though the Lord of the Bivalves and leader of geraniums and mums was in a hurry, had just arisen from a deep slumber, and was fed up with Jehovah's witnesses, he wasn't rude, but instead looked for the humor in the situation.

While this is a case in which Clambo showed quick thinking, many times his thought processes work much slower. For example, it was years before Clambo realized that INXS and "In Excess" were the same band. As a further illustration, let me relate the following tale.

When the Clamlord was about 10 (prior to his discovery by the clams) he was again having breakfast, and his father was seated at the table with him. (Remember the guy who gave the teen-boy beer one day on the GSB? Same guy.) Clambo poured, or rather, attempted to pour, a bowl of Raisin Bran. It ran out in all directions due to a rip in the side of the bag which contains the cereal. More cereal was on the table than in the bowl.

Clambo's father just sat there and looked at him straight-faced as he gathered up the flakes and raisins. He then spoke up. "You know, when I was your age, it took me a while to figure out which side of the bag had a rip in it, too."

Clambo examined the bag and observed that the other side was in more reasonable shape, and proceeded to pour the cereal from that side. This time things went more smoothly. In his mind's eye, Clambo could see his father as a small child sitting in a modest house in Iowa amongst his many brothers with his large father seated across the table, and a similar event occurring. It was gratifying to know that similar foibles as a child had befallen his father.

Several years later (three, in fact, which just qualifies as several), while lost in deep thought, Clambo looked back on the incident with a more critical eye. It was then that it occurred to him that his father was being sarcastic. Like I said, sometimes concepts come slow to the Clamlord.

As a conclusion to this discussion on mental processes necessary to become the Messiah and King to all the Bivalves on this planet (a weighty job, I might add), I would like to include a few entries from a diary I discovered among Clambo's personal items. Clambo seems to come up with at least one odd thought a day (and I mean, odd), but the problem is that it often doesn't stay in his brain for more than a few minutes. Perhaps it has something to do with the entropy of strangeness, or perhaps it occurs in the same way you forget dreams after you wake up. The solution, as with dreams, is to write them down. So here are a few examples.

August 15: It should be a federal offense to use bacon bits in cooking. I can see the G-men descending on Mel, the cook on "Alice".

August 16: I was going to decorate my room like Stonehenge, then I realized that it wouldn't fit.

August 17: Do sailboats have the right of way over cars?

August 18: The best thing about soap is that it's self cleaning.

August 21: Commercials tend to display food (especially food in the 'fridge) as talking. This makes me nervous.