Nicknames and Boxing

I think boxing is cool because all the boxers have hip, cool nicknames. "Iron" Mike Tyson. Evander "The Real Deal" Holyfield. "Hit-man Hearns." "The Italian Stallion."

I wish this tradition existed in other lines of work. Nicknames would make the workday easier to bear. And it would put some fun in new-employee orientation. Imagine starting a new job and instead of learning where the cafeteria and bathrooms are, you instead learned all the cool nicknames. You might even get one of your own. Hopefully, it wouldn't be "Errand Boy" or "Jizz Mopper." Names like that could disgrutle an otherwise star employee. I think I'd hate "Uni-ball," too. It would be because of my snazzy Uni-ball Bic Pen. But I'd have to live down the inevitable connotation by flashing everybody my junk at the water cooler -- just to set the record straight. Of course then I'd run the risk of earing the name "Flash," or "Pencil Pecker." I'd be going from bad to worse.

I'm serious about nicknames at work, though. Accountants, wouldn't it be fun to share a cubical with Cliff "The Embezzler" Feldman? I'll bet he'd be a blast to work with. Just don't let him set up your 401-k. How about a butcher who goes by the name "Jake 9-digits?" Or a proctologist named "Butterfingers?" A garbage man named "Stinky." He does his route with Trash-talkin' Stan the garbage man. One day we'll elect a president who goes by the name, Duke Nuke'em Something or Other. And I'll bet nobody fucks with us for at least 4 years. France will be tripping over itself to kiss our red, white and blue ballsack.

It's all in the name.

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