The Fading Whisper of the Lefty Realm


Here’s the story of Mad Men, Martians, and world domination.

My fellow Earthicans, today is the day we declare war on Mars. They’ve said there’s life there and I’ve seen enough Hollywood movies to know that’s it’s probably gonna kill us one day. Of course, it’s entirely possible that the original Martians fled a natural disaster to a neighbouring planet. And those people had children, who had children and so forth until they arrived at the point whereby they forgot their Martian ancestry. A planet we call… Earth. It may be an effective tool against the Martians. A Jerry Springer type program where we reveal we’re actually related to the Martians and they’re like, totally cool with it and leave us alone. Even though we started it. I’m just spitballing, here. I’ve never actually seriously considered my policies if I became President of Earth but ‘declare war on Mars’ seems like a safe bet to win over the voters…

My horoscopes clearly told me than in June, I could achieve anything. It explicitly stated this thusly: ‘Have you ever thought about becoming President? Of where? I suspect there is not a land in the world that wouldn’t bend its rules for a chance to elect you as its leader.’ If that were true, then logically speaking, they’d all welcome me as their leader. President of the World. Oh, yeah, imagine the attention I’d get off the ladies. I’ve yet to see a look on a woman’s face other than ‘repulsion’, but if I become Earth’s new leader, I must say, I’m looking forward to seeing other expressions on the face of women.

The one downside to all this aspiration is that I’m not the only Cancerian on the planet. We can’t all become President of Earth and to be honest, I’m fairly sure I’m hardly qualified. I’m not a leader and I’m rather stupid on the best of days. Of course, my horoscope did account for this eventuality: ‘Assuming, that is, you didn’t get head-hunted on your way to that high office by a multinational looking for a new CEO.’ But I don’t want to work in an office. I’m assuming, of course, that it’s all like Mad Men.

And the horoscope didn’t end there: ‘You aren’t entertaining such ambitions this month? You may be by the time that June is over. You will be taking charge of something – or someone.’ Ooh, cryptic! But I don’t want to take charge. I like following rules and order. The second you put me in charge the whole operation falls apart. You want proof? I just declared war on Mars!

‘Someone’ is a strange message, isn’t it? How do you take charge of someone? Could it be romantic? But I don’t want a girlfriend. I have no ambitions or dreams. Get up, strut my stuff, watch some telly, go to bed. I’d very happy if that’s all I ever achieve. I don’t want to see the world. I don’t care about romance. I don’t need friends. I don’t care about promotions. I’d turn one down. I don’t care how much money I’m offered or what sunny clime it’s in. I don’t want marriage or kids. I don’t care about leaving a legacy behind. I don’t want to go out and meet new people. People suck. I just want to live my life and make it to the end in one piece. And if, by then, it is possible to fly my corpse into the Sun, then that would be swell. Because every time anyone looks at the Sun, they’d think of me. And be horribly blinded, but that’s just a small flaw in my plan…

But now I have my horoscope telling me I’m going to achieve great things! Whatever I wish for, it will be mine. Can I wish for my horoscope not to come true, or is that a paradox? Of course, I read my horoscopes purely from a scientific viewpoint. I enjoy seeing how much of what is written comes true. Quite a lot, usually, but I have a theory that it’s subliminal. ‘You will have a great day.’ ‘Ooh, that’s nice.’ And you go out into the world with a smile on your face. You’re predisposed to have a good day. If it says the opposite, you’ll probably be grumpy and in a bad mood. That said, ‘achieving great things’ is an interesting prediction. Because if true, I could be President of Earth by the end of June. Gee, I had better start packing…

You know what I’d do as Earth’s President? Apart from the Mars thing. I’d turn the tide of the world in the favour of lefties to make righties suffer. Yes, it’s cruel, but you know the old saying. With great power comes great dickishness.

You see, the world was made for right-handed people. We lefties were an afterthought. I had an appointment this week at a government building and I had to sign something. And it’s one of these electronic gizmos. It has a screen and a pen that’s not a pen but looks like a pen. Lefties cannot write on electronic screens. The effect is the same as writing on a whiteboard. It just rubs out. So you have to hover your hand above the screen and it makes your signature look like the mad ramblings of a three-year-old. I asked the woman if they even bothered testing the device. “Yes,” she said. “On any left-handed people?” “Erm, not that I can recall.” That’s anti-leftist! What did she mean they didn’t test it on left-handed people! That’s like a company developing a baby walker and putting it up for sale after only being tested on chimps!

They’re everywhere now. The electronic gizmos. Not chimps. I’d love that, but that’s not the point. I had seven attempts on this thing. SEVEN! That’s inhumane. I missed my bloody bus. Mind you, it’s not as bad as when I had to electronically sign for my driving licence. Oh, no. 14 attempts that time. IT’S IMPOSSIBLE! But oh no, these left-handed racists keep getting away with this time and time again…

You’d think I’d have gotten out of being made to stand up in front of the class in school to write on the whiteboard. Believe it or not, I was one of only three lefties in my entire year. They told me after I complained they didn’t have any left-handed scissors. “There are only three of you, you’re not a priority.” Oh, gee, thanks. I taught myself to use right-handed scissors. I now can’t even use them with my left. But I didn’t get out of writing on whiteboards. Because we had chalkboards. Chalk doesn’t rub out or even smudge. Don’t know why.

I’m not old, by the way. Our school had all its original equipment from when it opened in 1973 until about 2005. I started in 2001. Chalkboards and old-fashioned projectors. I liked it when they broke down because the teacher’s lesson plan went out the window and if it was the last class of the day, the teacher let us go home early. They broke down a lot. The projectors. The teachers didn’t. They had a lot of coffee…

Ring binders are a particular menace. You can’t write on a store bought one. You have to buy one without the rings on the left and they’re very hard to find. My school gave us ring binders. They wouldn’t let us bring in our own. So everything I wrote was quite narrow and down one side. “Alan.” “Yes, teacher?” “Why do you have a four inch margin on the left of the page?” “Because you’re all bastards…”

And what about the almighty smudge? The mark left on my hand after the amount of writing I had to do in the vocational science lesson. Sure, we got three weeks of trips and experiments per month, but for one miserable week, nothing but writing. It was as if my hand was dunked in a tub of jet black paint. When I got the bus home, I didn’t half get some funny looks. Oh, we had taps and sinks, but the water was so tainted if it touched your skin, your skin started to peel off.

And it wasn’t the only problem. I kept bumping elbows with the righty sitting next to me. And I tell you something else, for some reason, if you’re left-handed, the tip of the pen unscrews. UNSCREWS! How is that even scientifically possible! I spent a good 20 minutes of my many two hour exams screwing.

And talking of pens. Ballpoint pens only really work if you’re right-handed. They will stop working roughly every 10 to 20 seconds for us lefties.

And it gets worse. Card readers are designed so you have to swipe with your right hand. Electronic ticket machines are also designed this way. Crossword puzzle clues are often on the left side meaning you cover them up. And there are multitude of devices that are difficult to find if you’re a lefty. Ice cream scoops and tin openers are two examples. And you have pens at banks and other such places that have a chain so small it’s impossible to use if you’re left-handed!

And it’s worse if you drive on the incorrect side of the road, the left. Your coffee cup holder is on the right. And some places also have chairs that have a desk bit extension. For righties only. And you know what worst part of being a lefty is? Every time you pick up a pen, every bloody time, you get asked the same stupid question by the same stupid people:

“Ooh, are you left-handed?”


And if you think we’ve reached the bottom of the barrel, oh no. Scientists say that we live up to ten years less than right-handed people do. Oh, spiffing. Isn’t that marvellous! An entire world that doesn’t work for me, and my reward is premature death! Wonderful! Seriously, if you’re married to a lefty, leave them. They’ll die long before you will…

You’ll expect me to now start blathering on about lefty pride, but no. We shouldn’t exist. The world hates us. If someone hates you, don’t fight them or try to ‘correct’ them, give up. Just give up. Revolutions and rebellion work where there’s an appetite for them. But nobody cares what left-handed people think. We make up less than 10% of the world’s population, a number that is decreasing rapidly each year. We could be gone in a 100 years. And maybe that’s what should happen. Maybe we’re not longed for this world. And when the day comes, when we are wiped out, and lefties are gonna hate me for this, but I, for one, will celebrate. Because nobody else will have to go through the misery of being left-handed…

Unless, of course, my June horoscope prediction comes true.

In which case, right-handed people of the world, it’s your days that are numbered.

Mwa, ha, ha, ha…

American historical romance writer, Heidi Bond, wrote the following in her 2014 novel ‘The Suffragette Scandal’: ‘“Are you really left-handed?” Mr. Marshall asked. “No, I’ve just been pretending to use my left hand my entire life because I enjoy never being able to work scissors properly.”’

Peace Out :|:

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the title on the top of this post if you are on the archives page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.

Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
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Hark Around the Words
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