Tag Archives: Right Arm

Sunday Serenade: Funky September

All you dudes have gotta do, really, is just take a look at this little beauty.

One quick glance and you’ll realize: Dude, the 1970’s were strange. Very, very strange.

Okay, yes, Earth, Wind & Fire are a performance funk band and you’d expect them to be dressed a bit flamboyantly, but still. . .

This is some farm-out stuff, man. Right arm!

Anyway, here’s a major acid flashback from the bygone days of yore, something so powerful it’ll even affect people who’ve never actually taken acid.

It’s Earth, Wind & Fire, performing September.

Enjoy.


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In The Land Of The Armless, The One-Armed Man Is King

by Richard

To quote Mel Brooks, “It’s good to be the king.” Or at least it would be if I really were in the land of the armless. Unfortunately, I’m in the normal land here where most everybody has two arms, two hands and can actually get stuff done.

Yep, you guessed right. It’s time for a whine-fest.

It’s been almost two weeks since I had my shoulder operated on and I’m already getting very, very, very tired of walking around with one arm in a sling, strapped to my body. My right arm is basically useless. I’ve been told I can’t even hold things with my right hand because I don’t want to strain the newly repaired muscles and tendons in my shoulder.

I never realized how much I actually do during the day until I couldn’t do any of those things.

I have to get help from my young dudes to tie my shoes. Zipping up is a monumental task. Putting on deodorant requires a few acts of contortions that would strain the credulity of India rubber men at the freak show. I can’t even wash dishes.

See, the thing is I know I have ADD. I can’t sit and do just one thing. If I’m watching TV, I’ll also need to read a book at the same time because I can’t just watch. During most evenings, I will be doing stuff in the kitchen while also keeping an eye on the TV or something similar. Now I can’t.

TV, by itself, is just so boring.

Sitting at the keyboard to write is a chore now. I have to type so very slowly. By the time my fingers have hunted-and-pecked their way to being even with my brain, my brain has moved on and forgotten what I was writing about in the. . .

Still, I can’t get too annoyed. I know I will get the use of my right arm back. Eventually. I’m a lot luckier than a lot of people who are learning to adjust to life with only one arm.

Still. . .

Still. . .

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I Live!

by Richard

Apparently, I’m not nearly as funny as I think I am when I’m under anesthesia.

When I woke up from shoulder surgery, I began confessing to murder.

“Okay,” I said, “I admit it. I killed the wife of Dr. Richard Kimble.”

Get it? The old tv show called “The Fugitive?” He was searching for his wife’s killer? The one-armed man? I just had shoulder surgery and my right arm is basically useless? I only have one arm?

Well, I thought it was funny. Apparently I was the only one with a sense of humor in the OR suite. And the recovery room. And in my discharge room. And in my car. And in my house. And who I talked to on the phone.

I also learned that telling the same joke over and over and over and over doesn’t make it any funnier. Oops.

Signing off for now since I’ve still got only one good arm and onr-handed typing isn’t nearly as much fun as one-handed reading. (I’m sure a few dudes got that joke.)


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