For One Minority, a Bias That's Just So Not Right

This is not my musing.

Breaking my custom, I present Bill O'Brian's editorial from the Washington Post, Aug 13, 2006:

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Thirty years ago today, a movement was born: Aug. 13 was declared International Left-Handers Day.

As a rights campaign for lefties -- surely America's only remaining uncoddled interest group -- it has been an anemic crusade at best. The date was selected because it was not yet a holiday and happened to be Friday the 13th in 1976. The organization that started the movement is defunct. For whatever reason, the 10 percent of us who are left-handed have not taken up the mantle. The 90 percent of you who are right-handed have remained cruelly oblivious to the plight of your oppressed brothers and sisters.

Rampant cultural biases have imbued us with the notion that left equals bad. The English word "sinister," for example, is derived from the Latin for "left-hand side." In French, gauche means left and, of course, awkward, clumsy and socially unrefined. Being out in left field is not good, and neither is having two left feet. Left-handedness has long been associated with Satanic influences and witchcraft. In the Bible, the blessed are always sitting at the right hand of God, never the left.

Then there are the practical biases, a regular source of inconvenience, frustration and, sometimes, peril to left-handers. Try opening a can of tuna with a manual can opener using your left hand -- your arms will be crossed, and you're likely to cut yourself on the lid. Try using a grapefruit knife with your left hand -- the blade's contour and serration will be backward until you adjust. Hold a measuring cup with your left hand -- the non-metric fractional amounts will be facing unhelpfully away from you.

Think: circular saws, drill presses, chain saws, surgical instruments, firearms and holsters. All designed primarily for righties.

Toilet paper dispensers are virtually always on the right, as are the handles on most water fountains. The important controls, including the stick shift, in most cars outside the British Isles, India and Japan can be reached easily only with the right hand. Computer keyboards are made for righties -- even though Bill Gates is  left-handed. Crossword puzzles are designed so that the clues are easily accessible to righties. Lefties have to lift their writing hand and reorient themselves each time they fill in an answer. Go to today's Magazine and try it for yourself. And they say The Washington Post is "left-leaning." I don't think so.

Classrooms can be truly exasperating for lefties, what with those arm-contorting, wrist-wrenching desks, three-ring binders and spiral notebooks built for right-handed writers. Sports equipment for a lefty -- especially a baseball catcher's mitt -- is often hard to find.

So, to left-handers across this great nation, I say: Don't be left out. Your fate is in your (left) hands. Assert your rights. Stop adapting to the hardships foisted upon you!

To the right-handed majority, I say: Feel our pain. Recognize that your handism can be ugly. We lefties are not asking for a handout, just for some respect and a helping hand.

In the meantime, let us take a moment to celebrate a select few men and women, who -- according to news accounts, published biographies and lists compiled by researchers -- are generally believed to be left-handed.

· Musicians Eminem, 50 Cent, Kurt Cobain, Paul McCartney, Wynton Marsalis, Paul Simon (yes, he plays guitar right-handed) and Jimi Hendrix (who, from age 12, played re-strung right-handed guitars upside down).

· Actors and entertainers Oprah Winfrey, Jay Leno, Jon Stewart, Whoopi Goldberg, Ben Stiller, Jerry Seinfeld, Matt Groening (and Bart Simpson), Diane Keaton, Julia Roberts, Robert De Niro, Keanu Reeves, Sarah Jessica Parker, Lisa Kudrow, Angelina Jolie, Robert Redford, Goldie Hawn, Morgan Freeman, Nicole Kidman, Tom Cruise, and, especially, W.C. Fields, who said, "If the left side of your brain controls the right side of your body, and the right side of your brain controls the left side of your body, then left-handed people must be the only ones in their right minds."

· Artists and innovators Henry Ford, Ben Franklin, Isaac Newton, M.C. Escher, Michelangelo, Raphael and Leonardo da Vinci.

· Queen Victoria, Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth II, Prince Charles, Prince William and the United Kingdom as a whole for being so automotively correct.

· Presidents James Garfield, Herbert Hoover, Harry Truman, Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton. With a particular nod to Bush, Clinton and Ross Perot, who made the 1992 election campaign all lefty, all the time.

Of course we lefties must acknowledge that some of our own have been seriously bad actors, including the lefty of all leftists, Fidel Castro, who, like me, was born on Aug. 13, International Left-Handers Day.

We may detest the iron-fisted manner in which Castro has maintained dictatorial control over the Cuban people since 1959. But, as a fellow left-hander, I'm willing to say: Happy 80th birthday, comrade. Long live the (anatomical) left.

What If...

Joe Biden took office at the age of 78. He did the math. He’d be 82 at the end of his first term, 86 at the end of his second. He decided that winning a 2^nd term at 82 would be a long shot, and he set his sights on being the best president he could be – for one term. But he knew that a public recognition of his being a one-term president came with risks, so he kept that to himself. He acted as though he would run for another term, and planned an exit from the race late in the game. Joe continued to be a confident world leader, but he faltered spectacularly in the election campaign.

On purpose. He allowed his party to push him, kicking and screaming, aside. He ushered in a younger, harder-to-beat candidate.

 

Too far-fetched? Maybe. But maybe not. We have to acknowledge Joe Biden’s long history of political strategy. If that was Joe’s plan from the get-go in 2021, it was executed brilliantly.

Extremism

Our subdivision has one way in, one way out. Out is Des Peres Road, and you can go left or right, but left is most common. Construction has started on a new roundabout to the left, so I was prepared to use caution going that way. Caution meaning extra diligence, going a bit slower, looking around more, things like that.

 

USE EXTRA CAUTION blared the sign. I could see right away that caution was not good enough – EXTRA CAUTION was going to be required.

 

I was mentally and physically prepared to use caution, but EXTRA CAUTION caught me inadequately prepared.

 

Make a U-turn and get geared up for EXTRA CAUTION, I thought.

 

I’ve arrived back home safely, and locked all the doors and windows. Shades pulled, lights off, cell phone on Silent. Looking. Listening. So far, no threats have presented themselves. 

 

If this cocoon I’m in lasts another few hours, it will be dark outside and I’ll go back out using EXTRA CAUTION. At least that’s the current plan. I’ll become an extremist.

Fiber-Optic OhMyGodism

 

I have no clue who/what "The Verge" is, but they have written an online exposé about the many cables crisscrossing the oceans -- cables that literally keep the world running. My god, there are so many of them, and my god, there is a ton of maintenance required to keep them working!

My interest in the subject has been sharpened by a lifetime of electrical maintenance and a shorter experience aboard ships at sea. But if I had neither of those, I think I'd still be intrigued by the Verge's article.

People in general eat online information in small bites only. This particular article is a big bellyful, but it won't put you to sleep.

https://www.theverge.com/c/24070570/internet-cables-undersea-deep-repair-ships

1964

I spent my 21^st birthday year 1964 mostly in the US Navy. I say mostly because I was a civilian for 48 days in the middle. I left active duty in July at Cape Canaveral, Florida. After my reenlistment (regrets? I've had a few), I reported to the USS Hector in Long Beach, California. At no time during 1964 was I aware of Andy Warhol.

 Warhol was most famous for his paintings (Campbell’s soup cans, anyone?), but produced and directed about 150 films along the way. No less than 30 of them in 1964 alone. They weren’t big Hollywood productions. One would have had to see them in small independent theatres.

 

Nick Offerman is probably most famous for his role in the TV sitcom Parks and Recreation. He starred in a series of Lagavulin Scotch Whiskey commercials starting in (maybe) 2019, and I found them to be very worth seeing even though I can’t stand the taste of the product. Some of the commercials were shown on TV, but there was one that ran about 45 minutes, much too long for TV. I found it on YouTube and watched it all the way through. The camera never moves. The fireplace never moves. Offerman is seated beside the crackling fire and never moves except that occasionally he sips an amber-colored substance from a tumbler. And that’s it. For 45 minutes. I thought it was brilliant.

 

Tom Robbins is an American novelist, one who captured my heart with his first novel Another Roadside Attraction back in the 1970s. His autobiography Tibetan Peach Pie came out when he was in his early 80s (he’s 91 now). In it, Robbins reveals that there was a time in the 1960s when he was addicted to “non-commercial” movies that were shown at midnight on the first Thursday of the month at New York’s Cinematheque. One such movie he saw was Henry Geldzahler, which ran an hour and a half, silent, black-and-white, and produced/directed by Andy Warhol in 1964. Geldzahler, a friend of Warhol’s, was the only person on screen, sitting for the full 97 minutes smoking a cigar. Robbins was the only one of Cinematheque’s patrons to watch the whole thing, mesmerized by the length of the cigar ash and wondering when it would fall off.

 

The Lagavulin commercial was a stroke of original genius. Or so I thought. But now I know they were just following Warhol's script from half a century before.

 

Maybe nothing in this world happens for the first time. Maybe Warhol faked his own death and inhabited Offerman's body. Maybe one person will read this little blog entry all the way through. Maybe it will win the Pulitzer Prize.

STUPID

STUPID.

STUPID.

STUPID.

 

It’s April, and I just completed the onerous task of filing my state and federal income tax forms. Every year, it is the same kind of STUPID grinder I am put through. Only every year it gets worse. More crap being demanded of me. More obscure deductions that someone, somewhere, is apparently entitled to. 

 

STUPID.

 

Hate it, hate it, hate it.

 

Gets my panties in a wad every year, gets me to wondering when smarter people will change it, make it make sense. And then I go back to living my life. Until next year.

 

Reminds me of the Electoral College. Yeah, okay, the person getting the most votes doesn’t win. 

 

Gets my panties in a wad every 4 years, gets me to wondering when smarter people will change it, make it make sense. And then I go back to living my life. Until next time.

 

STUPID.

How Bad Is It?

Judy’s car was sideswiped by another car. The physical evidence was inconclusive, there were no witnesses other than the 2 drivers, and the drivers' stories differed. The old “she said, she said.”

Surprisingly, our USAA insurance agent believed the first she, and waived the $500 deductible on our body shop repair bill. But that’s not why I’m writing this.

 

I delivered the car to said body shop this morning. Ashley, the clerk behind the desk, handed me, 1 by 1, 6 pieces of legalese to sign. Lawyers keep thinking of more stuff that protects the body shop from any and all liability arising out of any and all acts, foreign or domestic, regardless of malice or inattention. But that’s not why I’m writing this.

 

Six signatures – 3 with dates – and 3 initialed blanks later, Ashley offered me a seat in the waiting room while she called Enterprise Rent-A-Car so they could come pick me up. I asked Ashley if she would provide me copies of everything I had signed. She sighed and said, “Oh, yes, if you really want.” Ashley is not the most customer-centric employee, but that’s not why I’m writing this.

 

I sat. I watched Ashley get busy on something else. After about 10 minutes, I walked over to Ashley’s counter to remind her that I was to get copies. She looked up and seemed a bit startled, then asked, “Are you all right?”

 

The reason I’m writing this is to pose the question: Do I look like I’m not all right? I asked Ashley pretty much the same question. She looked away and didn't say anything. I thought maybe I should call 911, but then I wouldn't be at the body shop when Enterprise showed up.

Just how bad do I look?

Caliber Collision promised to "restore the rhythm of your life." They should. It was their Ashley that disturbed my rhythm in the first place.

What Will You Remember?

I like to watch Pardon The Interruption on ESPN, where 2 sports journalists discuss current events in just about all sports. One of their segments is called “Big Deal, Little Deal, or No Deal?” They introduce some recent event and give their opinions: big, little, or insignificant (no deal). The day after the Super Bowl, I expected to watch them talk about Travis Kelce assaulting his coach on the sideline. That didn’t happen. It wasn’t mentioned.

 

About 3 minutes into the 2^nd quarter, a Chiefs player fumbled the football in the red zone. Change of possession, time out, go to commercials. TV comes back to game, and a couple minutes later, CBS replays what happened on the sideline after the fumble a few minutes ago. Travis Kelce charged Andy Reed (who has a 4 Super Bowl rings) all red-faced and shouting. Kelce actually runs into Reed, who had some difficulty staying on his feet. One of his teammates pulled Kelce away, and Reed did not respond to Kelce at all.

 

When the Chiefs got the ball back, Kelce was out there on offense. He wasn’t benched. Which surprised me. I thought Reed would tell Kelce to take a seat for a good while. That would have been the minimum punishment, or so I thought.

 

If I were playing Big Deal, Little Deal, or No Deal, I would say Big Deal. Big no-no for Kelce to assault his coach, publicly showing his disrespect for his coach’s personnel decisions. Big no-no for Reed, allowing his petulant adolescent tight end to undermine the head coach’s authority in such a public and violent way. With no consequences. Big no-no for sports journalism, for not publicly calling out both Kelce and Reed.

 

It’s been said that Kelce was upset that he hadn’t been on the field when his teammate fumbled, and that Kelce thought he could have helped the running back hold onto the ball. Wah, wah, wah, you hothead crybaby asshole.

 

That’s what I will remember about this Super Bowl.

 

Thoughts Better Not Expressed

There is a bursa sac located quite close to my right hip joint. It was inflamed, so they called it hip bursitis. After a long bout of physical therapy, I got a cortisone shot in the sac 6 days ago. The pain is greatly reduced.

Which allows me to do my full workouts again. And I need to get my strength/endurance back in order to join the annual Fight For Air climb in March. That’s 42 floors, about 900 stairs. More on that later.

This morning I felt pretty good on the elliptical machine at the gym. A lot of songs playing in my ears are set to around 120 beats per minute, which is a good pace for me to work up a bit of a sweat. My eyes are free to wander, and wander they did. A middle-aged woman, in front of me and slightly off to the right, was riding what looked like a bike. Most of the time she wasn’t sitting on the bicycle seat, but standing on the pedals.

All right, it isn’t a bicycle seat. It’s labeled SPINNING, so it’s a SPINNING seat.

When her right foot went down, the pointy end of the seat would hit her right butt cheek less than 2” from her crack. Left foot down, seat hit the left butt cheek. Back and forth, with a rhythm that would rival an atomic clock.

When I got done with my 20 minutes, I stepped closer to her and said “You are missing an opportunity. A slight adjustment in your stride would make the pointy end of the seat hit your clit, and you could get more out of your workout.”

I didn’t actually say that, but I thought it.

An old (1958) song, Standing On the Corner, has a line “You can’t go to jail for what you’re thinking.” Good thing.