What is in a name? And what follows may be like this exercise, a bit longer than more four-letter words, but maybe just as “foul” …
I “went” on a “walk” through a lot of cars in park last year, when I saw the (pink as per an employee and her decked out car) sign on an auto bumper sticker, Cast Your Ballot For Vivek, now outed by vote.
I didn’t know who he was at the time, or Nikki Haley, a fire-brand as in the comet, to pick a more prominent one, but I immediately thought that hey, we’ve had other five-letter names as schmuck for our president. I’ll take some of the recent ones in reverse order, Biden, Trump, Obama and Bushs, (I made up that last one, to fit the theme, in part because there were two of them, so twice.) Double your digit folly. And Nixon beforehand. Vivek’s second name is too “wordy.”
– With this last blizzard, that didn’t really show, go figure — and more play with numbers follows — we were supposed to have 13 inches, I was told, and we got about half a foot, so six or seven inches if you’re counting, give or take a half-inch. More flurries could follow, we’ll have to see, to save meteorologicalician’s ass. Mom in Milwaukee said the same, first decreeing like Pontius Pilate as one season ends and another begins, that there would be much more, then really dwindling it off. Few people said five (inches), like the above.
It has been a winter of guys at times sporting flip-flops and arm-less T-shirts as temps hit fifties, yielding on a few days to parkas and we have needed windbreakers, partying women who got used to the warm climes and lack of glaze and forgot how to walk fast in heels, fewer cases of big boots with killer clunky ankle areas, parties of Minnesotans who still could not find their cars or clubs or party buses, and despite having lack of such to occupy their minds didn’t know which state they were in, but still coming up with quips on being in a quandary about lost locations and lack of snow … here it’s just the state of things. And before the supposed killer storm, by all accounts, I saw a mom in boots and a younger teen daughter (trying to extend her youth?) wearing bunny slippers.
Signs were still found above bathroom stalls and such about icy yard plowing and snow removal and spring muck cleaning before spring came — a bad winter for such business until, maybe in short form, now. Another basically bad, was after St. Patrick’s Day a bunch of vomit was on a doorstep and into the sidewalk downtown, looking the same pink color as the new and I guess cheaper way to combat ice with salt on streets, that got cleaned up in stages, like a snow plow crew going at it more then multiple days, like this snowstorm was to be. First was sand-piled on top a measure that covered the much of it, then shoveling came about and took most of the rest, leaving a space next to the rise of the first step, but then snow covered every last lingering bit that was there. The cleaners must have followed the forecast(s). –
Clinton was by most any name an exception, a red-letter day, although you might name him Billy, and have Trump go by Donny, or you could call him Barak, but then but for a one-digit departure, we have had Reagan and Carter, (Jimmy), and even two by the way of George. Ah more of the convenience of typos, and I could say Ronnie (Ronny?) before Reagan. I will milk more typos later. But God, we might need five different main parties, not just ass of “horse” and “phant.” And independent would make it six.
God, invoke his name again for the point of politics and you could use the term Jesus or Allah, or Christ or Yahweh, or even Buddah or getting close Ghandi, but as more of an exception to the theme — Kennedy is close — you have to go back as far as Eisenhower or Roosevelt. Red-letter Satan and/or the Devil though, is not on the ballot, losing out to The Lord in the squared-rings of the primaries. “Hades” is his one precinct. And what about, again going red, Lenin or Stalin. Even I as Joseph Winter could fit the letter of the bill, to be on the ballot as a write-in, as these days who wins the race for president is subjective, even when by vote and its chads, to get the number exact. The Buena Vista building — which found pols giving out leaflets, or just say hanging them on doorknobs on Saturday morning — could become my White House, four uses of five-letter words, as I write my campaign flyer.
And since this is the Badger State I write from, we also have to tab Gov. Evers too. But his first name as Tony cannot by misconstrued to fit with fives.
To bring in local elections, going north, we have Kerry again this non-national time around as a first name, last name Ries. And Kruze, noteworthy as not Cruz. And if we make Kate into Katie, as in Garza, more fits, exactly, the lettered bill. And for local “board” of more than one type, there is Maria Rudie, again double your fun if you are a politics/language junkie sort, Gavin and David and Bobby (not Bobbie) and Randy and Molly …
And for New Richmond mayor, Horne, with a first name of Fred or Freddy, and I suppose I could spell it Fredy.
A sign posted next to his said for sale or to-be-bred cows, as in “polled” Herefords, so get those sheep out to vote to the polls. Like David Mustaine sang, “go ask the sheep about their beliefs.” And don’t let a muzzle be put upon you. Although if you are of this belief, you could indeed “censor” me.
Going back to flips of fours and sixes — all five letters — a last sign said as its start Sora, to get out the Spanish-speaking vote, (hire more interpreters), which I think would resonate with my niece Hannah. She worked at a club or pub for a summer job, twice, and like in many cases, the cook was Hispanic, and had a crush or shine on her. Orders yet again needed to be called out in Spanish, I assume, and have witnessed in other bar and grill venues, and even Burger King. Since she spoke Spanish, she was The Queen, especially for the drama of complicated orders, like all those people who will die it they get any MSG or gluten, or peanuts, or XYZ.
Just don’t fill out the order ticket of a guest, in English.