Another one from Alternet.

11 05 2007

Why No one Will Name Their Child “George” Again

When a ton of crap is dumped from way high above into the lake of our lives, we rarely worry about the tiny arcing droplets splashing on our face mainly because we’re too busy keeping our boats afloat and our breathing apparatuses above water, but I would like to spotlight a seemingly insignificant drop of moisture pooling at the end of our nose that is destined to affect us for the rest of our natural born days. Namely: the name George. Which is getting such a bad rap these days, it will soon qualify for 12 step status. “Hi, my name’s George and I’m a George.”

“Hi George.”

Even though this honorable moniker stands as a symbol of our country’s birthing struggle due to the father of our nation wrestling its honor from the crazed clutches of King George III, parents must be having second, third and no thoughts whatsoever about naming their kids George lest it be seen as a tacit approval of the ways and means of the current administration.

Hell, I bet the names Mothra, Dweezil and Philomena get better placement in the baby name books than George and/ or Georgette do over the next couple of decades. Wouldn’t be surprised to hear Prince George, British Colombia attempts to change its handle to Margaritaville.

Like the demise of free buffalo chicken wings during happy hour, all it takes is one or two little snortie pigs stuffing the plastic bag-lined pockets of their overcoats to ruin it for everybody. Well, in this case, everybody named George. No, scratch that, I was right the first time: ruin it for everybody. And for lowering the bar on this whole Jorge thing so deep you’d have to dig about six feet under ground just to get a sonar detection on it the responsibility lies with the usual suspects; Presidents number 41 & 43. But god knows, they are not alone.

Earlier this month, the alleged Boy George was busted for allegedly imprisoning an alleged male prostitute and triple extra credit for anybody who can hold that image in their head for more than fifteen seconds, and now… NOW… along comes Medal of Freedom winning (hack) former head of the CIA, George Tenet, who writes a book saying he was never that big of a fan of the Iraqi war, and was a reluctant player, simply going along to get along and now he’s not sure if it was a good idea or not and enh, enhhhh enhh, weh weh weh weh weh, all the way home, and hey!

What’s that noise? Oh, it’s the sound of the final nails being hammered into the George coffin. Dearly beloved, it is my sad duty to inform you, that George, as we know it, is over. Exists no more. Its history. In the archives. Elapsed. Expired. Its gone. Say bye.

This might even prove to be fatal blow. A death knell for the venerable name of George. Kind of like what happened to Attila and Adolf and Dick and Maynard. Of course, pets will still be called George, based on the modern children’s classics: George of the Jungle and Curious George.

While we grown ups can only fantasize about how truly marvelous this world would be, if only we were blessed with a president whose mind had a predilection towards the latter rather than the geography of the former.




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