Now Slapping I Can Get Behind.

Sometimes something funny happens on TV—say, 30 Rock, or Rock of Love—and I'll clap. Just a solitary clap, kind of putting an exclamation on the comedy I just watched, and then I laugh. Clap, laugh, no problem.

And if you were running for President and said something inspiring, sure, I'd clap some, and probably nod my head, as in "Yes, these are the changes we need. I applaud these promised policy shifts. Yes."

If you were in a band, and you rocked out? Clapping, from me. For you.

I saw Kids in the Hall Live a couple months ago. My palms still sting a little.

I'm leaving for Lollapalooza tomorrow. Get ready, hands!

I'll make you a burger, and do a little clap-clap to each side of the patty before I put it on the grill.

I'll clap Bandit on his side, where it makes kind of an echoey hollow dog noise.
I clapped a few times during The Dark Knight, cause that's just how I roll sometimes.

Once in a while? I just walk around, clapping a beat. Clapping, just because.

So it's not that I'm opposed to clapping in general. I'm obviously down with clapping in a variety of ways.

Just not a work, okay? Please stop trying to get me to clap at work. Honestly. Stop it. Because I'm not going to do it. When you're clapping, and looking at me and my silent hands? You're killing me. For real.

So stop, mmkay?