Now it is 2015 and I see titles identical to the one over this essay trying to standardize the practice. They appear on news sites and doubtless offer good counsel, but it is not enough. By the principle of nomenclature, we must consider the future into which children carry these burdens...and then what of their children? Oh, it's too much. I must retire to the Pumphouse and meditate. Excuse me.
Pumphouse offered numerous suggestions for future trendy names. So far I favor this one:
It has some dignity to it and echoes a great love story --even though I believe the picture is not of Queen Victoria's beloved Albert. But Albert is a fine name and should be considered by all future parents. Some were less romantic...
WD could be a ready-made name for a corporate head. Questions? Run them past good old WD, the only administrator who gives you a straight answer, takes responsibility and sticks to sound principles! And yet, and yet...one wonders what happened to the other 39 WDs. There's rumors running 'round the company you know. About what?
Why, about WD's cohorts and toadies like...
WD sends Gunk after blockages in the system and, next day, they're gone. Production doesn't always increase but management smiles and winks a lot. It's scary. Don't name your kid WD or Gunk!
Pumphouse then suggested...
Rid-X is Pumphouse's second-to-last suggestion, one I consider a stretch of speculative futurity. Say, someday we are invaded and overrun by some unknown interplanetary mischief called X --by scientists, astronomers and algebra teachers. A dual enzyme action hero arises, Rid-X! --scourge of chunks plugging the substrates of our world's systems. It could happen...and if some forward-thinking parents name their kid Rid-X, the future is at least half saved already. But I'm most impressed by Pumphouse's closing recommendation:
This is a device I've only replaced three times in the past 35 years. It attaches to the holding tank and to the 220volt line that dives far into the planet to actuate our submersible pump. When the tank achieves a pressure of 45 psi, it shuts everything off. When pressure falls to 20 psi, it turns everything on again. It is one of the most reliable devices on earth. I rank it right up with my Saint Jude Cardiac Pacemaker, which also must be replaced every ten years. So, pursuant to my Pumphouse meditations, I would encourage young parents to name their kids Square D --or Saint Jude.
Ok, maybe Albert.
*******************************************************************
Note: All the fine products in this scholarly essay were trotted out and photoed by my webcam. No disparagement is intended. They are kept on reserve in our pumphouse because they actually work and often exceed the promises of their advertisements.