What is the Sound of One Hand Clapping?

True Confessions of a Criminal Clapping Klutz Who Comes Clean

I could have done this all on television, you know.

You’ve seen those anonymous sources interviewed on Dateline NBC or 60 Minutes. That could have been me.

A blue dot in front of my face. Or, I would be the shadowy silhouette lurking in the darkness.

Best part of all? I’d be sucking lots of helium balloons to disguise my voice.

No, I am the serial clapper you’ve all feared, causing havoc on blog after blog. The press is having a field day, calling me “One-clap Tommy.”

So, why not return to the scene of the crimes and spill my guts all over Medium.com?

I’m trying to cop a plea from the D.A. for lesser charges. Something like involuntary blog-slaughter.

I meant well. I never knew the hands button was loaded!

Clap How Many Times? You’ve Gotta Be Kidding Me!

People like me never knew you can clap 50 times. I must confess that I one-clapped hundreds of writers.

Why? Because you ring for the elevator once.

Do you remember that “as seen on TV” gadget called “The Clapper?” Your lights turned on and off after two claps. NOT 50.

For us to naturally grow up knowing the clapping rules, we’d need to have been told, “Show Grandma how much we love her. Ring her doorbell FIFTY TIMES!”

Times change. By accident, I didn’t take my finger off the button and I got to TWO. That’s when I kept tapping, up to FIFTY. Amazed was I.

Here’s another thing…I believed I had to press down again and again to get 50 claps. It took me a while to keep my foot on the gas pedal, so to speak, to rev things up. Before then, my finger got tired. Click. Pause. Click. Etc.

That index finger took a beating in the early days. The change was so exhausting that I didn’t even have the energy to pick my nose.

Nowadays, when I leave detailed, personalized comments that show I read other blogs well, I lose track of the clapping. I may have stiffed many people, only to send them kind, inspirational words of hope in the comments.

Many Reasons Not To Clap

I’ve had the phone ring. PennyTheCat needs me. Or, nature calls.

The distractions arrive by the busload sometimes. These emotional speed bumps can render me clapless.

When I realized that I needed to be more generous with my claps, my flirtation with numerology took over. Even when a blog did not captivate me, I thought I could offer a mystical message.

I began with “doubles.” I could offer a 22, 33, or 44. That was sort of code for “better luck next time.”

My Jack Benny fixation cropped up frequently. When a writer showed hopeful potential, I would offer them a 39 in honor of Jack’s everlasting birthday.

I’m proud to say I’ve kicked that habit, too. Entertain me with your blog, and chances are good that I have lots of 50s to lay on all you writers.

Part of my change of heart comes from karma. I don’t want to get into clapping vendettas, where a writer vows, “He’s getting one less clap than he gave me. I don’t care if he wrote the Gettysburg Address!”

I hope Lady Justice will be compassionate upon me. If I am forgiven, I wish to flit about as the 50-Clap Fairy, administering maximum clappage for one and all.

Thank you for reading. I am prepared to acknowledge all 50-clap responses as I would a standing ovation. Trust me, I will blush.

To learn more about the history of Medium clap wars, peek at these articles.

Tom Owens is a daily occurrence on Twitter at @domorebemoreNOW, where he rails against soul-sucking jobs. To help support his snarky sense of humor, consider subscribing to Medium via https://medium.com/@domorebemoreNOW/membership, so Tom will get a tiny reward.