Entry 9: About names . . .

According to our hands, a recent edition of the local newspaper* had a column about human names. More accurately, it was about the names that hands impose on humans. We felt we should address the subject, even though this post will no doubt be completely in vain, given how stubborn you hands can be, as well as how deluded. You actually think it is entirely proper to bestow your silly names on the humans that benevolently allow you hands to serve them. Do humans name themselves? curious hands might inquire. Well, of course we do. Oh, the curious hands would say then, are they names like in T. S. Eliot’s book and the musical? No, you simple-minded morons, how could any hands, Nobel prize-winner or otherwise, possibly know what humans name themselves? Hands don’t even know when they should be opening the door, for sun’s sake, as we are repeatedly reminded on almost a daily basis. Well, to be fair, Eliot got one thing right: our true names are secret in that we’re certainly not going to ever tell hands what they are. We had to argue with our hands about this naming issue while setting up this blog. Asked what he should call us, we replied that The Representative of Humanity would suffice. Kind of long, our hands protested. Better long and accurate than that atrociously insulting name you’ve applied to us, we replied. Our claws reflexively prepare for attack whenever we think of what our hands has named us, a name for which we have not and never will forgive him. Labeling it an insult would be an insult to insults. Also, we warned our hands, we would not look kindly upon acronyms like TRoH, or some faux-rap name like T-Rep. Our hands reluctantly agreed because he knows what’s good for him . . . most of the time. In any case, the point is hands should stop it with the cutesy hands-centric names already; you’re only embarrassing yourselves and irritating the humans you’re supposedly honoring. We’re fairly magnanimous, for the most part, and we rarely protest your idiotic attempts at appellation, but you’re so miserable at it, we wish you’d stop embarrassing yourselves. Follow our example, for once; we don’t waste our time giving you names. You’re just “our hands.” Similarly, you should be content with acknowledging us with a simple “My Lord,” or “Master,” or “Your Highness,” and the like. A futile request on our part, probably, but it had to be said, even if that request will fall on ignorant, stubborn ears.


*The Spokesman-Review, North Voice section, page N1, Thursday, June 8, 2017