As I look down now at my hand, a hand which has pulled to me a beautiful woman who brightens my world, a hand which has held two miracles born of that angel and this poor mortal, a hand has felt my father’s firm handshake and been clasped by a loving mother, a hand which has offered friendship and aid as well as disregard and belligerence, as I look down now at this hand, I am struck by this observation: a pen is constructed so that the printing on the side is upside down if one holds it in his left hand to write. It does not matter the brand or the quality. It matters not if I am scribbling my name on a gas receipt or signing an insurance policy: the printing is upside down.
That doesn’t seem right. It seems unfair. It is as if those who possess the strength of the left hand and the sharpness of the right brain are somehow unworthy of this tiniest bit of information. I must twist my head awkwardly, almost comically, just so I can see who produced this fine instrument or which drug company chose cheap ballpoints to push the latest antidepressant or erectile dysfunction silver bullet. Honestly though, is there a more fitting tool for advertising ED meds than a pen?
Still I must ask: What have I done to deserve such treatment? What is the genesis of this bias? How am I, and those like me, to take this slight, this subtle “spit in the face”? Am I to feel inadequate, unappreciated, or belittled because I cannot effortlessly glance down to see that Bic is the culprit that produced the gloppy, smudgy, barely legible collection of scribblings now before me?
Probably not. Let’s face it: it’s just a pen.
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