A Personal Note...

Conspiracies, mortal combat, logical fallacies, it's all in a days work for this hard-hitting blogger. But I think it's about time I talk about an issue a little more personal to me than anything I've touched on so far. Just by looking at the title of this page one can see that there is more to me than meets the eye. Well, technically there's about an inch less to me than meets the eye. This is a personal issue that I hold near and dear to my heart. This is the story of little foot...

(Note: The following may be a slight dramatization)

It was a cold day in November, when Douglas Joseph Alfred Dame was born. Despite apparent perfection, a creeping evil was afoot. Actually, a creeping evil was both of his feet. For poor Douglas was born with a destructive condition known as club foot. Much like Tommy Pickles, of "Rugrats" fame, Douglas' feet were not pointed out like a normal child's, but rather tilted inward at an angle that could someday cause problems. What careers could possibly be available for a club foot? Bell ringer? Hermit? Voice-over acting? How could a successful life be led while haunted by a forty-five degree ankle?

And so, in a brilliant act of selflessness, Douglas' parents decided to act quickly to solve this terrible affliction. After extensive medical consult, they decided that the first course of action would be two minuscule casts, one on each foot. The hope was that the evil dreams that plagued the feet would not be able to pass through the thick magical wrappings, much like the Native American dreamcatcher. After months of trying and trying, the wraps were removed to no avail, as the feet continued to point dastardly inward.

Thinking quickly, the physicians next contraption was what is known in some countries as a "leg brace." This enchanted piece of metal was attached to two magical boots which Douglas wore while he slept. The aim was that the beam would exert its powerful energies on the feet, bending them to its will and forcing them into the light.

Weeks went by and the braces proved no more effective than the casts. It was clear that drastic action had to be taken. The doctor's only remaining option was to enter the twisted world that was Douglas' ankles and use a combination of physical manipulation and fervent prayer to stretch the Achilles tendon and allow the feet to land in their rightful place set proudly forward. The procedure was carried out and the world sat in waiting, hoping that the boy might somehow be rid of his podiatric predicament.

As he emerged from surgery, the boy's parents patiently awaited the news. When the doctor finally came into the room, it was as if a great weight had finally been released. The surgery was a success! Douglas would be able to live like a normal boy for the rest of his life!

It seemed as if all was finally right with the world, but old habits die hard. Hiding deep within his left ankle, Douglas still faced that same lurking evil. At a routine check up, it was sadly discovered that the left foot had not fully rid itself of the devil that had once corrupted both feet. Luckily, this time the doctors knew just what to do. Charging valiantly into battle against the armies of the darkness, the surgeon once again slew the evil fortress of the left Achilles tendon, finally defeating the club foot once and for all.

As the dust settled, it was clear that the battle had been won, but for every victory, something must be sacrificed. The only casualty in the Battle of Douglas' Heel was the very thing it sought to liberate. For as long as he would live Douglas would remember that fateful fight, being permanently marked with the point of this whole tale... Little Foot.

Whew. That was pretty emotionally draining. I guess the moral of the story is that for the rest of my life, my left foot will be one inch too small. But what can you do right?

Well I can always tie the left shoe a little tighter I guess.