Rock and Roll, Porn, and Names

My week has been filled with drama I don’t feel like talking about, so I thought I’d tell you about something that gets me going, more often than not in a bad direction…

Names.

I got my first dog at the age of four. I named the little runt Cuppy. Why? Hell if I know. It’s just what rolled off the tongue when I saw this little booger of a pup. For some reason, nobody argued with me about the name, and Cuppy (a firey thing that ran like Pepe le Pue) was with us for many years, until she was shot by hunters. That’s not the sad part, though.

What’s sad is that Cuppy is still the coolest pet name I’ve ever heard.

As I’ve grown up, the names of my pets and other people’s pets have become more mundane. They’re still good, just lacking that certain nonsensical something. My cat Simon, Randy’s dog Corrigan (which is pretty cool, I admit), my brother’s cat Rusty, Shawna’s dog Greta. All servicable, but without much pinache. These are good names, though, because they weren’t named after something.

It irks me when people name their pets (or worse… their kids) after something.

Shawna’s family is fond of naming pets after Beatles songs. There’s Maxwell (Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine), Ellie (as in Rigby), and Sadie (Sexy Sadie). It’s kinda creepy. Maybe they think the Beatles would be honored with this naming scheme. I, on the other hand, think the Beatles would inspect the house for alters made of Lucy in the Sky and Penny Lane’s bleached skeletons.

When Shawna brought home the new lab, I protested by naming it Boris. I wanted to see how long it would take for anybody to realize he was named after a Who song.

Nobody ever did.

For shame.

You think the Beatles thing is scary? I can’t even count how many of Shawna’s mother’s pets have been names after Lord of the Rings characters. It’s staggering. Her current fishtank is on something like its third Gilladriel (and I don’t care if I spelled it wrong).

There are season names, as witnessed by my mother’s Christmas dog Noel. Noel, I believe was a replacement for the first Christmas dog, who might have been Holly.

It continues, of course. In my circle of family and friends, there’s a Bogie and a Lebowski. There’s a Mosely (who was named after a series of phone pranks). We have friends who named their kid Cosmo (as in Kramer)! I feel bad for the kid. He’ll probably be beaten into retardation on the playground by the time he’s ten.

So I’m protesting again…

…with porn.

Next female pet is Asia (good cat name). Next male is T.T. Bone (perfect for a dog). I’ll have an August, Chloe, Loni, and a Ron Jeremy.

If I ever have a daughter (I won’t)?

“Hi. This is my daughter, Faith Adams Southard. No, you may not give her a facial.”

I’m getting in so much trouble for this one. Have a good one, kids!