Colossal Clump

I was listening to 101.9 THE END in the car today. In between songs, Mr. Radio Voice comes on and says we're in the middle of a set of songs. I mean, usually thay call it a set on the radio, right? Mr. Voice seemed to be in doubt, actually. He said, "Call it a medley, call it a bunch, call it whatever you like. We call it a colossal clump of songs."

When I think of a "clump" of songs, a sunday school lesson comes to mind. The teacher presented a beautiful chocolate cake, and asked if anyone wanted some. An eager volunteer raised his hand, and the teacher plunged his hand into the cake and presented a lovely "clump" of cake to his student. (The teacher then wiped his brow with his cake hand and taught the rest of the class with smaller clumps of chocolate cake on his forehead.) The point of the lesson was that, instead of presenting gospel doctrines to others in appealing ways, sometimes we just blurt out a clump of random facts and expect them to like it. So maybe that's the way Mr. Voice chooses songs at the END.

Interestingly, the relationship between colossal clumps and food doesn't stop there. When I lived in Brazil I ate lunch at friends' houses several times a week. Lunch is the biggest meal of the day in Brazil. The wives, who with such love had prepared the food, sometimes prefered to serve me themselves. That means they placed a colossal clump of food on my plate. In the case of the first serving, that was fine, because I worked 12-hour days. Frequently I wanted seconds, however, and the same colossal clump of food was served up again. I still don't know where I put it all sometimes.

Actually, yes I do know. But I don't want to write about it because it has something to do with weekly bouts of diarrhea. And nothing to do with clumps.