When I was a little boy I knew I was different than most of the other little boys. My parents started to notice when I was just a toddler. Sometimes it was the way I would reach out and grab things that didn’t belong to me. Sometimes it was as subtle as the way I would reach out to pet my dog Poncho. I didn’t know it at the time but I was becoming a left-handed boy in a world that is 90% right-handed.
I was born that way. It was not my choice. Who would willingly choose to face the oppression that attaches to left-handedness? In fact, I would go so far as to say that anyone who believes left-handedness is “chosen” should be subjected to government-run sensitivity training sessions. Either that or be expelled from our public universities. I’m sure Neal Boortz would agree. It would be a queer thing if he did not.
The oppression associated with my left-handedness did not hit me all at once. I began to notice it at age ten when I started playing baseball. I wanted to play third base but they would not let me. So I had to play first base – a position generally reserved for those born with my tendencies. I also pitched but they would rarely let me start. Instead, I only came in for short relief when the opposition was sending other left handers like me to the plate. For some reason, they only wanted me pitching to others born with my affliction.
Things got worse when my parents signed me up for guitar lessons at age twelve, which meant I had to buy my first guitar. Best Products sold left-handed guitars but they were priced at $150. I was not able to afford one. Instead, I bought a $35 right-handed guitar and learned to overcome my natural inclinations. It was inconvenient, to say the least.
I overcame my early disadvantages and eventually became a professional guitarist. I even managed to finance four years of graduate school playing in a little band. I think people make too much of the fact that I was able to overcome my genetic predisposition and succeed. They forget that I was subjected to inconvenience. To me, that’s all that really matters.
When I think back on all we’ve been through I am amazed that left-handers have been so successful. In our last presidential election we were destined to choose a left-handed president (both McCain and Obama are southpaws). In fact, three of our last four presidents – Obama, Clinton, and George H.W. Bush – have been southpaws.
But few people know our history – both what we’ve been through and how we’ve overcome adversity. That is why I found this segmenton MSNBC to be so inspiring. In it, I learned that the California Senate has passed a resolution to teach gay history in the public school system. And I think that’s just fabulous!
So I propose starting every year off by declaring January “Left Handed History Month.” From there, we can move into a February celebration of “African American History Month.” Then, those who have not been aborted by feminist progress can enjoy a March celebration of “Women’s History Month.” In April, we can celebrate “Jewish History Month” before finishing the spring semester in May with “Asian History Month.”
When students return in the fall they can get ready for “Hispanic History Month” in September. This will be followed by an October celebration of “Gay History Month.” November will be designated “Native American History Month” so it can coincide with Thanksgiving. Finally, “Muslim History Month” will be moved to December. Presently, Canada celebrates Muslim History Month in October but some Muslims might not be comfortable being grouped together with homosexuals for an entire month. That would require even more humility and sacrifice than Ramadan.
Of course, we will not want to confine our segregated study of history to the months when public schools are actually in session. As a gesture of kindness, we will want to assign each month to a different group claiming a unique contribution to history. But we won’t stop there. After we have filled our calendar with twelve fill-in-the-blank history months we can begin to develop special history weeks for 52 deserving yet under-appreciated groups.
Eventually, I envision an America in which every year is divided into 8766 different history hours. Not an hour should go by without reminding American children of our long history of victimhood and oppression. There are so many victims and so little time to study the things that make Americans grate.
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