|And you're Bob, and you're a spatula, and you're a purple|
As often happens when a random thought occurs to me, I couldn't stop thinking about this. So I sold everything I had and moved to San Diego (the only paradise I could hitchhike to) and opened up a Naming Store (clothing optional). My premise was this. If you had something that you weren't sure what it was called or if it had a name, just bring it in to me and I would name it... for a small fee.
|... and I call this a beach. And it shall be good. Very good.|
The business failed. It turns out, pretty much everything already has a name. The creators of things attach names to the things they create, when they create them. It's just weird. For instance, the little hard piece of shoelace is called an aglet. That thing inside of your car that makes it go, is called an engine. That magical substance that warms you and cooks your food is called fire. And practically nothing is called a thingy. Or a whatchamcallit. Or a thingumajig.
|These canvas shoes, I shall dub Overpriced. And the hipsters will buy them.|
In retrospect, perhaps San Diego was not the best place for a naming store in the first place. San Diego is not overly concerned with names, as pretty much everybody is called "dude", including the women. The only place that you can truly name things these days is if you go to the jungle and discover new species of flora and fauna or if you are an inventor. I'm going to invent a new kind of cat and call it a d-o-g.