Audio By Carbonatix
Frankly, I’m touched by the huge number of entries we’ve received for the “Name-the-Baby Sweepstakes.”
Of course, I could look at it another way and be appalled by the unmitigated greed of people who’d go to all the trouble of filling in and cutting out the entry form, addressing an envelope, licking a stamp and racing to the mailbox . . . all for a shot at the sorriest collection of “prizes” ever assembled, along with a so-called Fantastic Mystery Grand Prize Surprise we haven’t even announced yet.
But I prefer to be touched. Or “tetched,” as some folks pronounce it.
Still, we need to add a few more rules. I realize this news would not be greeted with joy by anyone except lawyers if I were Ed McMahon, lying through my Polygripped dentures about how you may have already won a million dollars. But this is my rinky-dink contest, it’s my kid we’re trying to name and I grossly underestimated the number of wiseacres who read this newspaper.
Wiseacres like Dan D. Drennen of Phoenix, whose boy’s-name submission is “Charles Cole.” In parentheses, Drennen points out that the nickname would be “char-coal.” As in Charcoal Burkett. Get it? Well, I got it. In fact, I’ve been getting it ever since I was in grade school. And, sad to say, no matter what we name our kid, he or she is gonna get it, too. So I’m going to avenge my unborn in advance by adding this amendment to the official contest rules:
1a. Anyone who enters the names “Charles Cole,” “Charcoal” or any variation thereof will be promptly assigned a dumb nickname of his/her own (example: “Drennen Speed-Stick”), which will be published herein, along with the entrant’s telephone number and instructions for the entire readership of this newspaper to remind him/her of said nickname repeatedly, at all hours of the day and night.
Another new rule, also inspired by Drennen Speed-Stick, is two-pronged:
2a. Rhyming names (such as “Susette Pluchett Burkett”) and names that sound like a sneeze (“Pluchett”) or any other bodily function will be immediately disqualified to discourage the entrant from having and naming children of his/her own.
While the sweepstakes winner will not be announced until Baby Week, I see no reason we can’t start weeding out some of the Big Losers.
Reader Gordon Hornbaker dove–or rather belly-flopped–into the competition with “Bo Zo” and “Bo Zette Burkett.” (I just hate the name Bo.) The same goes for Dorothy Wirtz, nominator of “Zonie Boy” and “Zonie Girl.” (The only Z names I’m partial to are Zasu and Zorro.)
If my new offspring is male, Marlo A. Kovack would like to set him up for a lifetime of harassment as “Kermit Sanders”–which would look great only in neon, atop a Kentucky fried frog-legs franchise.
As much as my wife and I love the Valley, we’re not nearly as fond of the place as Wanda Buckert, who suggests “Phoenix Michael” and “Phoenix Michelle.” (However, “Gila Bend Burkett” does have a unique, Indiana-Jones kind of ring to it.) And as much as I like my old pal Jack Lombard, I hardly like him enough to use “Jack Lombard” or “Jacqueline Lombard.” Besides, knowing this guy, he’d probably show up at my house years from now demanding royalties.
Some of the entries aren’t awful; just silly. “Sophia Lil,” from S. McGowan, is a fine moniker . . . for anyone who owns an Italian restaurant in the Klondike. Loretta Bryant’s “Serren Lee” would be perfect if my wife gave birth to a snack cake. Kelly L. Lipton offered “Patrick Bertram,” recalling Pat Buttram, Gene Autry’s fat, idiotic sidekick. And it took both Elisabeth and Michael Grossman to come up with “Pennington Tralfaz,” a name only Kurt Vonnegut could admire–while on medication.
Finally, a note to Emilio Ortiz: I’d name my daughter “Jewel Savvanis” only if I were absolutely certain she’d one day star in a bad daytime-TV soap opera set in Mississippi during the Civil War.
But don’t give up, Big Losers! You still have until March 23 to become a Big Winner . . . or the recipient of vigilante justice.
