In The Big Inning...

My friends, I'm very sad to announce the end of an era. It was a nice era, very loose and enjoyable. This era brought entertainment, pleasure, and maybe even a little disgust to hundreds, nay, thousands of people. That era was the era of Dave's double-jointedness.

Now, as you recover from your shock and pick yourselves off the floor and place yourselves firmly back on your chair, let me reassure you that for now, I am perfectly capable of dislocating my shoulders. For those of you who did not know I could do this, well, I can...or, rather, I could. Once, in a more carefree time, I was able to clasp my fingers together in front of my body, and, without letting go, bring my arms all the way behind my body. Yes, it worked the other way too.

With this awesome power came great responsibility, as usual. I used it to entertain youngsters, and disgust squeamish females. Once, at the beach, my father and I were out for a stroll and encountered a tiny boy with a pair of toy handcuffs. My devious father told the boy to place the handcuffs on me and then close his eyes for a second. To his surprise, when he opened them, my hands were behind me. Oh, my father is quite the rascal. We had quite a few laughs about that one.

I also fondly recall the time that I was arrested, and handcuffed behind my back, but before the policeman could radio in his report, I had put my arms in front of me and strangled the policeman to death. We had ever more laughs about that one.

But, alas, those are tales of an era passed. For, about a year ago, I began to experience a little shoulder discomfort, and found that I was especially prone to having my shoulder dislocate itself at inopportune times - say, while fielding a softball, or staving off a charging throng of escaped mental patients. Unlike when I voluntarily dislocated my shoulder, involuntary dislocation caused me significant pain. (Although, likely not as much pain as someone without this grand gift might experience.) Usually it would heal after a couple days, but it happened with disturbing frequency.

I recently finally gave in and saw the doctor. (Part of my reluctance was fear that I'd make the appointment and then go in and everything would be fine, and the doctor would just kick me out of his office.) This time, I made sure that the pain would persist by repeatedly engaging in activities known to dislocate my shoulder right before my appointment. I visited the doctor, and in about five minutes, he diagnosed me with "multi-directional instability."

MI is very rare, and there is no known cure. I am no longer allowed to voluntarily dislocate my shoulders, ever. I cannot bring joy to young whippersnappers (at least, not through this method), or cause 12-year-old girls to run away in disgust (once again, at least not through this method). I cannot asphyxiate any more policemen with impunity. I am not allowed to perform a military press, nor can I stretch so that my arms are on the wrong side of my body.

But, with your help, MI can be defeated. Donate to my MI fund, and I will buy myself a pair of robotic shoulders, ones that will not only be able to rotate my arms in any conceivable direction, but also will be able to deflect bullets and fire laser beams. Only you can make the world safe once again for stretching, amusing pranks, and homicide.