I was working with this one black fella back in Louisiana. He was a likable enough man and we became friendly. I drove him into work with me and we’d get to talking.
He did not have a right hand. You wonder what has happened to a person when you see a missing hand or foot. But it’s not the kind of thing a person asks as an introduction or at any point before a rapport has been achieved. Eventually, after I had been friendly with him for some time, I asked him about the hand.
He told me he had been driving with a friend who was drunk and speeding and he was holding on the frame of the window—the window being down, as was usually the case in those days when racing around on southern roads—holding on with his hand like this.
[Demonstrates elbow and tricep on top of door, with hand grasping in a cupped fashion the top of the window frame and roof of the car.]
Well, the car rolled and his hand just got pinched off.
He was rather stoic about it.
Then his face cleared and he let loose, began regaling me with stories of how he was the best laid man in New Orleans, about the magical discovery that although he was a man without a right hand he had simultaneously become the most well-endowed Negro in town, that the ladies couldn’t get enough of his particularly slick hand.
[laughter]
Oh, he went on and on about his prowess and the magic of it all. Apparently the Negro ladies were quite enamored of him.
-Sea Daddy
The GQ Mugging Inquest: A Study in Masculine Culture
He should have commercialized his good fortune. Hiked out to San Fernando Valley, got an agent and gone pay-to-view. The Stump's Stump. There's gold in them thar hills!