“I train my weak hand. You got a problem with that?”
Last Saturday I went out to Zimmerman Butte for a little Frontier Partisan Biathlon action — shooting and kettlebell complexes. I do it as much for the inner man as for the physical benefits. Very calming.
For the handgun portion of the program, I concentrated on shooting with the weak hand — in my case the left. Most of us (by which I mean myself) don’t do anywhere near enough weak hand shooting, cuz, well, we tend to suck with the weak hand and the non-dominant eye, and it’s not fun to suck at something. But there’s obvious reasons why it’s a good idea to be at least reasonably proficient shooting a handgun if your strong hand is out of action. No, I don’t plan on getting into a gunfight any time soon, but then I don’t plan on getting stranded in the woods on my next hike, either. Just being a good Boy Scout and being prepared.
This sparked a memory of reading a letter to the editor of one of the gun rags, where a law enforcement training officer took exception to an article’s use of the term “weak hand” in arguing that we should all practice with our, um… weak hand. The letter writer felt that it would psyche police officers out if they thought of their non-dominant hand as weak.
I stood there gawping at the page, gobsmacked that the trend toward PC euphemism had penetrated law enforcement culture, too. I’ve since learned from people who know that law enforcement leadership culture may leave something to be desired, but at the time I found this letter a stunning development.
You see, I’m allergic to euphemism. It’s partly a writer thing, an aesthetic preference for direct language. But it runs far deeper than that. I’ve mentioned before that my sister was born with very severe cerebral palsy. When we were young, in the 1970s, people who had conditions like Cathie’s were referred to as “handicapped.” People with mental disabilities were referred to as “retarded.” That’s accurate, in the sense of being slowed down or held back by a disability.
The term “retarded” fell out of favor because it devolved into a slang term for a stupid or socially awkward person. Calling someone a “retard” is not nice. Fair enough. I’m not in favor of name-calling. But, as is so often the case in post-modern America, the effort to make everyone feel good about themselves regardless of circumstances ran amok. “Handicapped” came to be regarded as a negative, “limiting” term that implied that a person was somehow less than an able-bodied person. A raft of euphemisms were tried out, quickly tripping over into the realm of the absurd.
“Differently abled” was the source of much sardonic humor in our household. Are you kidding me?
Trying to make everybody feel more comfortable with something that couldn’t be made “comfortable” and could never be fixed by anything — least of all by softening language — was, frankly, a cloying annoyance to my family. All of us, especially my parents, confronted a losing battle with downright heroic grace under pressure. And we did not flinch from calling a spade a spade. Cathie was handicapped, broken, badly damaged by an accident at birth. We made a good life for her until her compromised respiratory system and her valiant heart could no longer hold up, and she died.
There’s another word that people flinch from using. Frontier Partisan correspondent Jeff Thom Eley pointed out on Facebook that media and police reports bend into pretzels to avoid using the terms “dead” or “died.” A subject was found “deceased.” No, he was found dead, and was thereby “the deceased.” He didn’t “pass,” he died.
Trying to soften or pretty it up doesn’t make him less dead.
Referring to someone as “dead” — and running even the most discreet image of a dead body under a shroud — tends to freak people out. I once had a reader tell me that “we don’t need that kind of realism in our local paper.” Truth.
And that’s what really bothers me about the rampant use of euphemism. It is a flight from reality, part of a creeping decadence that pretends that life should be comfortable, that our feelings, much less our bodies and souls, should never be hurt. Hell with that. I smite such foolishness with my weak hand. Which needs more training.
Black Tyrone says
JimC you seem like an interesting reflective Frontier Partisan. Be well
JimC says
Well I try.
Black Tyrone says
keeping it light.. In my youth 21-23, I did a stint as a police officer on the NJ Shore. {its always “The Shore” to us not the beach} I had to qualify at the range at various distances at targets in human form. We were issued revolvers in the early 70s. I carried a 38 6″ colt police revolver. At one point my sergeant who was tired of my less than stellar aim’, stood to the side and behind me and “sunk” a few rounds into the kill zone so I could qualify. I practiced and got better but eventually became a HS history/social studies teacher. Don’t worry about the left hand.
JimC says
Oh, that’s wonderful…
Black Tyrone says
I miss the nuance
Traven Torsvan says
huh, even without looking at the file-name I immediately recognized that picture as John Wesley Hardin from Call of Juarez Gunslinger.
JimC says
Good on ya. Thing is, I’m not sure JWH HAD a weak hand.
lane batot says
Well, it IS good to exercise one’s “non-dominant” appendages, so as not to git too lop-sided. Same goes for both sides of yer brain. As for the “politically correct” set, you-un’s done know my thoughts on them hypocritical buggers! But gawd, I LOVE catching them in some holier-than-thou contradictions regarding “hillbillies” or “rednecks”(of which I am mostly genetically descended), and, with exaggerated offense, remind them we now PREFER the terms “Southern Highland American”, or “Cervically Solar Enhanced”! Of course, you COULD just pummel them, utilizing yer non-dominant fist! But only if’n thar’s no witnesses……..
Paul McNamee says
“Where you from?”
“South America.”
“You don’t look like no South American to me!”
“I’m still from South America.”
“What part?”
“South Texas.”
– Bo Diddley
JimC says
Hah!
Black Tyrone says
Funny! Scotch Irish? Taught the Indians how to scalp. Very tough people. Me? I descend from the other tribe. Best
Black Tyrone says
Lane you’re a kick!
JimC says
Ain’t he though.
Black Tyrone says
Lane, What is your state?
JimC says
That’s a loaded question! 😉
Black Tyrone says
Just an ole Jersey Boy
lane batot says
Raised in midstate(Piedmont) North Carolina(old Cheraw/Catawba/Keyauwee territory), but eventually driven westward by “progress” into the Cherokee mountains(Appalachians in Western N. C. and Tennessee–lived for many years on both sides of the border, so I wuz one a them “border ruffians”…)–HOWEVER–LOTS of other Southern influences in mah raisin’–my Maw being from North Georgia(also Cherokee territory, and that side of the family most likely IS partially Cherokee mixed with the inevitable Scotch-Irish), and I spent most of my summers with the clan down there–so I got a good chunk of Georgian in me. My Paw was Texan–the whole side of that family(French-German-Swedish) was and still is Texan(and boy howdy, the sun rises and sets over Texas!)–also RUMORED to have a bit of Injun–and VEHEMENTLY denied(which makes it sound all the more likely, therefore! Ever see the movie–the one with Audrey Hepburn and Burt Lancaster–“The Unforgiven”–yeah, THAT vehement!)–which I like to imagine was Comanche(which that side of the family had interactions with)or maybe Kiowa. My Paternal Granpa MADE SURE I was well versed on Texas family history! So definitely a Southerner with a hodge-podge of influences. I actually was born in Los Angeles, California, where my parents had moved after the Great War, but they moved me to (formerly) rural N. C. when I was just two, before I could be ruint(no offense, Jim….) Yeah, I guess that WAS loaded!
JimC says
I escaped ruination only thanks to a cabin in Wrightwood, CA.
If I can just get off of this L.A. Freeway without getting killed or caught.
Black Tyrone says
Loaded I guess so. I had to read it twice and still not sure! Ha! too much.
Paul McNamee says
Language is a beautiful thing, written or spoken.
It is also organic. Always has been. Sure, there are ‘rules’ but look how many words are ‘officially’ added to the lexicon every year (many pop-cultural which I might not always agree with because they will be obsolete long before they see heavy usage.)
You cannot legislate or brow-beat language anymore than you can morality.
I won’t say I haven’t considered and even dropped a few terms from my own speaking, but those were personal choices. I’m not going to drop every single un-PC word because of some committee.
Language is like water, it will flow and seek its own level. Dams be damned.
JimC says
Amen.
lane batot says
Well, ceptin’ beaver dams……
JimC says
Exception duly noted. Dammit.
John C. says
I remember how funny our handicapped sister, Cathie, thought it was when others in the family tripped, or dropped something and it broke or made a mess, especially if it was accompanied by cursing. She was probably thinking very un-PC thoughts. At least I hope so. She also laughed when we called her (or others) a spaz, which she was. Totally un-PC, but who would deny her a little levity in a tough life, just to be PC?
There are way too many euphemisms for dying and being dead. It would actually be a fun exercise to try to collect all of them.
I am reminded of the young nun, new to her Order, who complained to Mother Superior about the horrible language of the construction workers who were working outside the convent. Mother Superior explained to her that they were good men, salt of the earth, and the types who call a spade, a spade. “Oh, no Mother! They call it a fucking shovel!” was the nun’s response. Nuf said.
As far as training the weak side goes – 10 reps for the strong side, 12 for the weak side. Shave for a couple of days with your off hand. Same with your toothbrush. Very enlightening.
Bro John