BY Charles Alexander
Originally printed 4/24/2014 (Issue 2217 - Between The Lines News)
Dear Daily Journal: I've been using my right hand only during Lent. 40 days of penance, as it were. (See the block lettering. My p's look like q's. My i's blend into u's. Does anyone do cursive writing these days? Reminder: Get a laptop!)
I'm left-handed. Supposedly. Or, so I've foolishly been led to believe all my life. Whether or not I can switch and go 'natural,' as now mandated by state law, at age 30, Daily Journal, remains to be seen.
I'll give it the old college try. My best - right! right! right! - foot forward. My eternal salvation's at stake. Tired of being out in left field catching right-handed flies - ha, ha! - so to speak.
I've been keeping my left hand pocket tucked. Or, I sit on it keeping it outta sight. Usually I keep it buttoned up inside my shirt. I get funny looks when I bowl but that's the price I'm willing to pay for my social and spiritual redemption in getting to be the true person I'm meant to be. (Unfortunately, my bowling scores are lousy.)
When I do go afterward to Right Side O'Tracks Bistro - the entrance sign states in bold face: Right Handed Peeps Only - I fumble and dribble a bit with the spoon and fork, but I've finally - practice makes perfect! - mastered the butter knife. And! Get this! I remember to butter the right side first.
There's some difficulty with my zipper, but what are right-handed friends for anyway? Levi buttons. Well, what can I say? A former lefty is more than willing to help, even if it sometimes takes 20 minutes to get the job done.
At night I keep my offending hand tied to the bedpost. My landlord, an understanding guy, ties me up. He says he's ambi - doesn't want that to get around - and understands.Hey! Daily Journal, don't worry. My 'bondage' doesn't prevent my daily diddling into dreamland. Actually - wow! surprisingly - my right hand is great!
Occasionally, I get twisted up in the sheets. But what the heck. Wanking still works. (Aside: my sleep apnea seems worse. My snoring louder. One or two nightmares about left-handed chain gangs. It'll pass, my pastor says.)
I'm taking "my biblical right to curb and cure my misguided choice." And, in a nutshell: "Using your left hand isn't natural. The truth, with a capital T - of the matter at hand is that you choose to use it. You can unchoose your choice it you choose to unchoose it. It's your choice even thought you think it's not a choice.
Choose for yourself and see. The right choice is yours to choose. Choose or be damned!"
As my mighty-right, do-righters point out again and again at Church of Your Sunny Side Up, the straight-forward fact is that I've been leading the abominated Southpaw Lifestyle Seeking out buddies, bowling partners, bimbos who are lefties. Using left-handed scissors. Blowing my nose left-anded. Hanging out in leftist fast lanes. Getting left behind.
It could be worse. Five percent of left-handers are homos. (It's bad enough they choose to be left-handed.) Thank God I'm not gay. Hopefully my bowling will improve. If only those god-damned chain gang dreams would leave me alone.
I wake up screaming. Unfortunately, on my left side.
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