The art of name-calling and onomastication

It all started when I decided to look up the word thesaurus in the thesaurus. As a content marketer and writer, I consider myself to have a rather multifarious vocabulary, but there it was, onomasticon. What the heck is an onomasticon? More importantly, who cares? I wasn’t about to descend further into the depths of the thesaurus to find out, unless, of course, I could use it for purposes of name-calling.

Calling someone a name, other than their own, is an art form. Basically, there are those who are adept at it, particularly when the recipient is miles away. And there is, of course, no shortage of name-droppers in this world – did I mention that I studied with Kingsley Amis, John Wain, John Braine, and Arnold Wesker? But name-calling can go a long way in content marketing, and more specifically, in blogging.

I’ve been doing a little working out at a place called the Orange Shoe Gym; it’s in the basement of my office building, so I don’t expend any energy before the torment, except for the calories I burn pressing “lower level” on the elevator. I believe one of the founder’s names is Josh; I’ve actually never met him so I call him Orange Julius. I once had an Orange Julius in a mall somewhere and remember it tasting like a Creamsicle, which is a petty good indication that it rivals a Hostess Twinkie on the nutrition scale.

The fellow in charge of my weekly abuse is a terrific young man named Brian. He’s an Ironman triathlete with a warming smile. I call him Trilobite, not to his face. And then there’s my backup executioner, Erica. She’s a lovely young woman who was a competitive swimmer, but now chooses to inflict pain on old men. I call her Erica Cane, which is what I need when I leave there.

Bloggers consistently use names to add interest to their stories and tag the names to increase search and traffic for their blogs. They hide behind a computer screen in much the same way Francis Phillip Wuppermann, that’s Frank Morgan to you, hid behind his curtain in The Wizard of Oz. Then there’s Chris Berman of ESPN, who gave himself his other name, Boomer. He’s better known for his name-calling than his other calling. I always liked Jake “Daylight Come and You Gotta” Delhomme.

So, what’s the point of this? Nothing. Or, maybe something. There doesn’t need to be a lesson in everything written and said. There’s already too much preaching going on. And name-calling. So, I apologize to all of you who took offense to my onomasticon of names. Except you, David Floodstrand, who tossed me through a plate-glass door in sixth grade – or should I call you David “I Bled Like a” Floodstand?

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