Dear Dr. Klaww,

We at the Institute for the Differently Handed would be honored if you would be our keynote speaker at our upcoming annual convention. Like you, we are marginalized by an unfeeling society simply because our hands are otherly shaped. I myself appear to be permanently making the Vulcan "live long and prosper" sign, which has made me the target of countless jokes at the few jobs I have been able to obtain.

Our demands are simple: representation of people who look like us in print and TV ads and portrayal IN A POSITIVE LIGHT on "Friends" and "ER." (A few of us, myself included, have appeared on "Star Trek," but only because their budget for alien makeup is so low that our freakish looks saved them money; it was NOT an act of diversity.)

I look forward to hearing from you, honored sir.

Yours sincerely,

Tina Veehand
President
Institute for the Differently Handed

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Dr. Klaww replies—

Dear Ms. Veehand,

"Differently Handed!" Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! We are Freaks, Madam! Freaks! And the sooner we accept that, the sooner we can get on with the hideous machinations of our twisted, monster lives. Politically Correct euphemisms are for the Weak! The Weak, and those who have Not Yet Been Exposed to the Hideousness of the KLAWWWW!

(waving cited extremity)

Perhaps if this mangled knot of flesh did not hang so pitifully from the end of my arm, you would accept that!

Nevertheless, I find your offer intriguing. A large group of similarly misshapen mutants, all clambering for a leader—a saviour—someone to unite their monstrousness into a single, terrible force. Yes, I can see it.....

Through the Power of the Eloquence of the Clawwww, I shall whip up their frustrations and fraternal esprit d' corpus into a rousing fury of Clawness! I will create an entire Army--a BATTALION even—of hideous Claw-Monsters!

We shall entice the PlainHands to, say, drive carelessly, or, for instance, eat too much saturated fat! With the Combined Power of our Collective Monstrosity we shall Conquer the Wo--

"Dr. Klaww?"

Yes—Yes, what is it, you boob!

"It's time for your medication."

AAAAiiiieeeeee!!! Curse This Wretched Flesh-Talon!!!!!

(piteously waving obviously normal left hand, semi-clenched into vague claw shape)

I am KLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!

Sincerely,

Hiram J. Claw, PhD.

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Dear Dr. Klaww,

Can it be true? Is it the truth that they write in The National Enquirer and Hello! magazine?

Is your terrible, heart-rending affliction really the result of some very clever and hideously expensive plastic surgery, paid for by an indulgent father; undertaken merely as a desperate attention-grabbing exercise in late adolescence?

Yours in breathless anticipation,

J A

___________________________

Dr. Klaww replies—

Dear J A,

Those impudent magazines NEVER get it right!!!! First, they claim the Claw is a Plastic Prosthesis. Then, they accuse me of Not Being Stalked By Anyone in Particular!

Why, if I weren't saddled with this monstrous anomaly, I'm SURE I would have gotten top billing over that story about Frank Sinatra's gall bladder!!

Pitiful FATE, Thy Name is KLAWWWW!!!!!