I’ve always contended a person’s name often subliminally determines their future success. I’ll read Native American obituaries in the Billings Gazette and just can’t imagine “Arnie Smells-on-Top” had as charmed a life as “Chad Running …
This is another of those columns where discombobulated thoughts — unable to carry an entire column on their own merits – must be expressed nonetheless. Possibly you’ve made these same silent observances but never had the courage to expose them. Well, I have the courage and am not afraid to expose myself.
• Driving to a roofing job in Meeteetse last week in my ancient pickup leaking every fluid imaginable and semi-bald front tires, I became obsessed with the thought of a head-on collision.
Fearing a blown tire jerking me into oncoming traffic, I even analyzed each potential victim. When a screaming semi approached, I thought, “No way I’ll survive this one longer than a few seconds.” With motorcycles, it was “He’ll take the brunt of this one, but I could never live with myself.”
So I left all my roofing equipment on the job and left my deathtrap truck with my mechanic while driving my Camaro with good tires to Meeteetse the following days. But now I’d become obsessed wondering which oncoming vehicle has bald tires and will be swerving into my lane, killing me just as dead as if it had been my fault. Yes, I’m severely head-on-collision phobic, yet another good reason to never leave my house unless absolutely necessary.
• I also have no seat belts in my truck, but have had several near accidents in my car after forgetting to buckle up and groping around trying to do so while driving.
• My mechanic, BTW, is Kenny Gunn. When I first got to know Kenny while sipping fruit juice at the bowling alley many years ago, I theorized that others seemed more drawn to him that day than me only because of his manly name, “Gunn.” I soon wrote a column encouraging readers to start calling me “Ruger.”
I’ve tried more than once to give myself a cool nickname, and occasionally someone will stop me on the street and ask, “How ya doing, Ruger?” Mike Fink though still insists on his own nickname for me, “Squid,” which I find very little humor in.
I’ve always contended a person’s name often subliminally determines their future success. I’ll read Native American obituaries in the Billings Gazette and just can’t imagine “Arnie Smells-on-Top” had as charmed a life as “Chad Running Elk.”
I’m prone to betting college football, and a quarterback’s name weighs heavily in many of my projections. I never had a doubt that Stanford’s QB Andrew Luck was gonna be a huge star, even before I ever saw him play. And voila: he’s a leading Heisman Trophy candidate again this year. I won a lot of bets on Stanford last year and luck had nothing to do with it. It was all Luck.
Some first names not synonymous with failure are “Colt,” “Chase” and “Cam.” A big ol’ stud friend of mine, Cam Overfield isn’t even 30 yet and was already a boxing champion, a big game guide in treacherous areas few dare to tread, a home-builder and now for a change of pace, he’s swiftly moving up the ranks on the oilfield circuit.
His dad, Bill, a rugged achiever in his own right, knew what he was doing when he named his youngest, Cam. Had Cam been born say …“Percy Underdorf,” he’d probably be a number-cruncher instead of a numbing-puncher.
• The Broncos could use a QB named Chase Gunn, because this Kyle Orton cat just ain’t cuttin’ it! Once again the Raiders thumped them. Tim Tebow or even backup Brady Quinn would suffice, but they need to be abortin’ Orton!
• I’ll never understand a Conservative like Bill O’Reilly opposed to capital punishment. I watch all the crime and punishment shows and see serial killers and torture murderers having a grand ol’ time in prison. The baddest of the bad gang-leaders control the cigarette, alcohol and drug trades in the big house, paying enforcers to brutalize those slow in paying. A life sentence is no crime deterrent to those who have spent their formative years there anyway. Heck, that’s where all their best friends live.
• Speaking of right-wingers, a TV interview with Dick and Lynne Cheney convinced me even more that most political beliefs are self-serving. Dick is all for war of course, but it may have surprised some that he and Lynne aren’t opposed to gay marriage. It didn’t surprise me because their daughter is gay and has “a wonderful partner,” as Lynne said. If that daughter was hetero, the Cheneys would most likely be rabidly against gay anything.
• As far as ruthless dictators go, I just can’t wrap my brain around Iran’s Ahmadinejad being one. You never saw a Hitler or Hussein grinning like that. During interviews, the twinkling-eyed Mahmoud always looks like he’s about to tell the one about the city guy and the farmer’s daughter. Come on … let the ornery prankster have a nuke. He grins too much to ever use it!