Opinions – Page 242 – Oh Fair New Mexico

It’s all downhill from here

Happy Summer Solstice! Today, the longest day of the year.

Oh fine. The days start getting shorter. It gets colder. Winter is nigh.

Bah!

Oh, and Happy Father’s Day.

I’m not really cranky, honest!

This morning, I was listening to the radio, and there was random blather about how the son of David Bowie has a new movie coming out. They discussed how the young fellow has changed his birth name, Zoey Bowie, to the more normal Duncan Jones. (for obvious reasons, they say).

Which led to a conversation about David Bowie’s real name, David Jones, for those who don’t know. He changed it because, at the time, Davy Jones of The Monkees was popular, and so to avoid confusion… (now, in hindsight, could anyone *ever* confuse Davy Jones with David Bowie? I think not.)

Plus, Bowie is a more “sticky” word (as they say in advertising). I mean…you could say, “wow, the music of Jones…” and one might wonder “Quincy? Tom? Norah? Davy?” right? But say Bowie, and you know…ol’ Ziggy Stardust himself. (Total aside…for some reason, Ziggy Stardust is one of the top keyword searches in Google that gets people to my blog…because of one random post where I named checked his glam self. So this oughta really bring ’em around!)

So, as I took this all in, I had a thought…you know, those rock star names work!

John Mellencamp? John Cougar!

Curtis Jackson? 50 Cent!

William Bailey? Axl Rose!

Declan McManus? Elvis Costello!

Patricia Andrejewski? Pat Benatar!

The list goes on. More here.

So then all the cogs and gears of my own mind started working overtime (ignore the smoke).

I need a rock star name.

Sure, those two years of (now defunct) guitar lessons might pay off! My rendition of Red River Valley is *flawless* and I can swing an acoustic axe with the best of the third graders.

Truly. My plain jane name needs a makeover.

So what’s a normal named soul to do? Why take to the internets, of course!

And find and use a Rock Star Name Generator.

I’ll admit, the first suggestion amused me not. Ellyn Carnes? No.

It doesn’t have that “I trash hotel rooms” sound I’m looking for.

So I went again, and there it was.

My rock star name.

Perfect.

Stumped.

Well this kind of sucks.

I went to my random word generator, seeking blog ideas.

And it gives me a word that not only I don’t know, but the Dictionary application on OS X doesn’t know either.

The word is: eyne

Apparently, an archaic word meaning the plural of eye, oft used in poetry.

Or…a spot in France. But I think the word generator means the first definition.

The “complexity” chooser is set to “common”. I wouldn’t call eyne common.

Oh well.

Here we go:

But what do mine eyne see, but the fog of June gloom falling over me.

I can’t seem to buy a sunny day here in the Bay Area. And it’s depressing me. Today is windy and *cold* and, being of the desert, am not amused.

Then I keep reading NewMexiKen’s top lists of books, and find I’ve only read a few.

And then this whole eyne issue.

Not one of my better days….

When they let me rule the world

You know, I’m sure those people in power are doin’ the best they can, but I think…there could be improvements.

My “to do” list when they hand me the scepter and carte blanche to run the universe.

Butter, heavy cream, sugar, simple carbs of all stripe and marbled red meat will become health foods. Vegetables, fruits, and fiber will be “forbidden” and will make you pale, wan, and cranky.
On this plan, I will be supermodel skinny.
Supermodels will be made illegal.
Legal disputes will be handled using parenting styles from the 1950’s. “Shame on you for punching your brother and shame on YOU for telling.” Both parties get a swat on the ‘tocks and are sentenced to digging postholes (or digging trench, judge’s discretion).
Teachers will make the salaries that current professional athletes make. Professional athletes will make the salaries that current teachers make.
Joe Buck will get a sense of humor. Also Joe Buck and Tim McCarver don’t get to call any more games. Ever. Any game. Regardless of sport or level. Ever. And I get to be the one to fire them. On the air. In the most humiliating fashion possible. And then they both have to go dig postholes and string a mile of barbwire fence.
The knobsack at work who uses the Sharpies in the supply room, thus dulling the tip, then slips them back into the stack with the new pens will be *severely* chastised, up to and including termination. This is unacceptable behavior.
The media will be held responsible for what they report. Fear mongering, blowing things out of proportion, and more than one mention of Brangelina (or similar) in a single day will result in severe disciplinary action.
Work weeks will be two days long and weekends will be five days long. And we all get all the holidays off work. Cinco de Mayo? Yup. Yom Kippur? Indeed. Secretary’s Day. Of course.
If people need to take a sick day, they can take a sick day. No harm no foul, only support and backup. People are expected to take the time to take care of themselves.
Wars and world disputes will be fought and decided by lining up plastic green army men behind dirt and sand “bunkers” on a playground located in neutral territory. Battle will continue until 1) all army men are lost in the sand, 2) the players are tired and hungry, after which a designated “mom” will make spaghetti for everyone and there will be a sleepover, and/or 3) both sides erupt in giggles and decide instead to play flag football.
“I agree to respect your beliefs if you agree to respect my beliefs” will be the world religion. This will be mandatory.
Anyone who is hungry will be able to eat. Anyone who is broke will be able to find a job. Anyone who is a knobsack will be ostracized until they can figure out how to treat people with respect.
Cancer will be cured. HIV won’t exist. Parkinson’s will be dunzo. MS, over! Lou Gehrig’s gone. COPD and Pulmonary Fibrosis, fughtettaboutit. And all other debilitating, unfair and unkind illnesses will be at thing of the past.
Everyone gets a slice of cake, every day. With real buttercream frosting. And anyone who wants a corner piece can have it.
This list will be subject to revision and change, by me, at any time, with no prior notice by the party of the first part, this agreement supercedes all previous agreements, Force Majeure is in effect, caveat emptor, ad hominem, e pluribus unum, carpe diem, and let’s all have some fun, ai’ight?