Sticks and stones won’t break your bones, but names are going to hurt you — unless you agree to change one in particular right this second, or at least within five years, whichever comes first. So bullies a none-too-bright Washington Poster named Mike Wise. Get used to the name. He’s got “Jay Carney’s replacement” written all over him.
So he’s a sportswriter. So much the better. He knows one thing: trashtalking. Perhaps he’s taken too many typewriters to the head. Or maybe he’s simply sucker-punched himself a little too often. Whatever the case, he is one concussed fellow. And so he argues like a vintage Obamaite, albeit without the soft nuance of King Obama himself when he purred about the Dan Snyder team’s radioactive name, “I’d think about changing it.” Hint, hint, nudge, nudge — hello, IRS! There is no truth beyond what we insist on, in other words.
So there will be no further defending the ’Skins’ name, Wise guy wrote. No negotiating ever again. “It is not a matter of ‘if” anymore, but ‘when.’” “Just when is the tipping point? The answer… is now.” “The debate… is over.” “It’s over.” And who are lowly we to disagree, especially now that the (proverbial) fat lady has sung?
We learned long ago there’s no arguing with Ms. Maureen. But just to get her ilk off our back, strictly as a liberating mental exercise, let’s see what can be done about all these nonnegotiable demands for name change. This being the sporting life, perhaps a few minor trades can be arranged. From what our polling tells us, for instance, an overwhelming majority of Americans are offended by the name Barack. Couldn’t he maybe change it back to Barry? If only to make up for the Daisy ad of 1964, to unite the country in the continuity such a name flip would represent.
Mike Unwise for Mike Wise would certainly restore a modicum of honesty, even if it lacked the bluntness of Mike Dumb. In the case of Ms. Maureen, we’d only request a very slight adjustment, from Dowd to Loud. Our campaign could serve a wider purpose. One unresolved problem is the Federal Reserve’s distinct unpopularity with children. Wouldn’t the elderly new Fed chairwoman Dr. Yellen win instant approval of the younger generation she aims to consign to permanent penury if she were henceforth known as Old Yeller?
We’re willing to take this further. Debt ceiling — who needs it? Nothing inspirational there. Dull, nerdy, confining. We need something monumental, majestic, ever expanding like the economic activity it should be setting off. We’ve got it: we’ll call it Mount Cruz. Do you like where this is headed? We sure do.
No doubt, not everyone on the National Name Changing Commission will be on board. Perhaps we can convince dissenters to address Obamacare instead. Obama Doesn’t Care (duh!) has been tried and found wanting. Not everyone is willing to call things by their name. Obama Cares Too Much would definitely appeal to Mr. O himself. Which would lead us to We Don’t Deserve Obama’s Care. Or for short, We Don’t Deserve Obama. At which point he agrees and leaves the public arena forever, never to contend for EOW again. Life could be a dream, sh-boom.
But it doesn’t mean it will be. There’s still the small matter of the Asian summit our fair leader hung out to dry all because he needed to send a message to Mr. Snyder. So now the great leaders of China are threatening to take it out on the rest of us. They contend we owe them some money, in fact lots more than the Fed was scheduled to print despite its plans to keep the presses running 24/7 for the next millennium. Which leaves us where: having to rename not only the debt ceiling but also the U.S. dollar. Now that apartheid is history, that frees up another name near and dear to us. We’ll call it the Rand. Cruz and Rand. The pillars of a new American century.
And by popular demand, the Washington Redskins, like many a bride in the New York Times marriage announcements, will keep their name.