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Dress Left For Success

By Rob Terrell

Recently I made a startling discovery, the impact of which will be felt the world over. The way in which you "dress" --as in, to "dress left" -- can have an impact on your brain.

"Dressing left" is a term that probably only men know. It's a term used by tailors -- to "dress left" means that one keeps one's penis in the left trouser leg. Likewise for the right. Personally, I've never really tried either, as from my youth I've always kept my penis straight in the middle, taped up against my navel, in the manner of all men in my family for generations.

And guess what -- the brain and the penis are connected by nerves! Several of them! And it stands to reason that if you "dress left" one morning, then that day you will experience a burst in creativity. My hypothesis is that placing one's penis in the left pant leg works to activate the left hemisphere of the brain, and thus the areas of the brain that stimulate creativity! And if you "dress right," you will likewise experience a surge in your logical and analytical thinking.

I decided to test this empirically with a simple experiment. I would alternate dressing left and right for a week, and keep a diary of my experiences!

Day 1 - Dressed Left

First day of my study. Upon waking today, against my usual custom I put on clothes, careful to place my penis in the left leg of my pants. Instantly I was filled with creative energy! I wanted to write! I HAD to write! Right then! Immediately, I sat down with a pencil and began to write. And it was good! I later placed a sheet of paper under the pencil to capture all that good stuff. It began to take shape and slowly evolved into what has become my first major work: War And Peace II - Warrier and Peacier!

Now, I've never read the original, but based on a quick examination of its length at the local bookstore, I'm guessing there's about 300 pages of 'war' and 300 pages of 'peace'. I've more than doubled the peace (650 pages!) and more than tripled the war (1,350 pages)! I had to fill the 'war' section out by copying Tom Clancy's "Red Strom Rising" in there twice.

Some might say it's presumptuous to write a sequel to Tolstoy, but they're just jealous of how damn far to the left I was able to dress!

Off to find a publisher.

Day 2- Dressed Right

I've made an amazing discovery! I found several flaws -- major flaws -- in Einstein's work! MAJOR flaws! Major FLAWS! In Einstein! Ha! This represents what must be the highest achievement of the Right Dresser, that is, to out-analyze the biggest brain of all time! Sadly, the errors I found were just in his filings at the patent office where he was a clerk. But these were MAJOR errors! Several applications whose last names began with an "O" where filed under "Q"! Patent applications for perpetual motion machines...ignored! When I dress left tomorrow, I must write a paper for Nature or Science or Boy's Life that uncovers these dreadful blunders! Perhaps Boy's Life will immortalize my work and findings in a series of clever cartoons that can serve as inspiration for boys everywhere. Perhaps my agent can arrange? Remember to get an agent.

Day 3 - Dressed Left

Some say that the highest form of creative expression is art. And what is art, if not painting? Flushed with my recent success, I decided to try my hand at painting today.

After a quick jaunt to the store for supplies, I was ready. With my penis firmly placed left, I begin to paint in broad, vigorous strokes. Detached, I watched myself go, as in an out-of-body experience, my hands flying as if possessed, the paint being directed by the muse herself.

An hour later, it was done. I put down my paint roller and looked at the wall. It was good. It was blue. A nice, solid blue. I painted the hell out of that wall, and sure my landlord would bitch and moan, but it's (a) a very professional, complete, floor-to-ceiling, three-coat covering and (b) I'm a fucking artist, asshole!

It was only lunchtime, and I had the rest of the day to be creative, so I called fellow Van Gogh-Gogh and self-proclaimed art smartyguy Jason Torchinsky for advice. He reminded me of three important facts: that I am a big fat idiot who should leave art for the guys with talent; that housepainting has yet to be on display at the Met; and did he already mention that I'm a big fat idiot?

I never felt this -- the sting of artistic jealousy -- before. Dressing left has opened my eyes, dear reader, and I've learned a value lesson about the small, petty tortures fellow artists can inflict. I don't need this bullshit. I'm going back to writing.

Day 4 - Dressed Right

Today I spent the day in a creative funk, staring at a blank screen in the word processing, completely unable to write, until I remembered -- it was dress right day! And I'd dressed left! No wonder I got nothing creative done. I feel much better about my writer's block. I was probably over-analyzing it all day! Hooray for dressing right!

Day 5 - Dressed Left

Today I accomplished nothing. For today I discovered what those boys in the schoolyard meant by "pocket pool." In which one puts ones' hands in ones' pants and vigorously, ah, fishes for change. Fishing for change that one never finds, but one never gives up!

Always having strapped my penis up, I never knew what a simply joy could be had. I was playing pocket pool. And I was winning!

Nothing else was accomplished today.

Day 6 - Dressed Right

I'm even better at pocket pool with my right hand! Wow!

Day 7 - Experiement ended

Dehydrated and exhausted and in desperate need of fluids, I called my friend and fellow researcher Charles Rempel, who to his credit came over immediately when I called and set me up with an IV of what I think were equal parts saline drip and Schlitz malt liquor.

Full of thankful good bonhomie, or perhaps just bloated with saline, I offered Charles a chance to read this diary. After a brisk skimming, he pointed out that I got my brain hemispheres wrong -- it's the right hemisphere that does creative. Apparently, my hypothesis was based on faulty reasoning. Then he gently reminded me that I was a big fat idiot, and that perhaps I should leave the smart stuff to the guys who went to private colleges. Then he smacked my head and took my lunch money and left.

Crushed, I came to a decision: it's time to end the experiment, and to continue to tape my penis up to avoid any further temptation.


© copyright 2000 The Van Gogh-Goghs