Some Of The Ones Who Don't Really Speak To Me

 

Leaves in ballast - Point of Rocks, MD (photo by [Maris])

It shouldn't have been a surprise. With a group 700 strong (800, if you have the paperback edition of "The Areas Of My Expertise"), it should be no wonder that at least a few of them would have nothing much to say to me. And yet, there I was, skimming for the two hundredth time John Hodgman's list, puzzling at my inability to connect with certain names and ascertain their respective stories. How could it be? Most of these men and women go out of their way to tell me who they are. That there could be so many of them staring wordlessly up from the page (which here means screen) caught me rather off-guard.

To wit:

#31 James Fenimore Cooper. Hodgman includes some real historical figures in his list of 700 hobo names, and they always bother me. You know who James Fenimore Cooper was, and if you don't know, I can attest to the fact that Google knows. In what world could this man, this prolific powdered-wigged writer from our nation's infancy possibly have been a hobo (he would have been 140 years old at the beginning of the Great Depression)? I guess he was a really old hobo? Who loved writing about our nation's infancy, and referring to indigenous American's as "injins?" Yeah. That. [Maris says maybe he was the first hobo, which no one knew because they hadn't been invented yet]

#57 Orphaned Reynaldo, the Child with Haunting Eyes (while there were children hoboes, Reynaldo took this name when he was 45; prior to this, he was known as...[See #58])

and

#58 Reynaldo Reynaldoson, Who Will One Day Kill His Father.  Now, what am I supposed to do with this? Yeah, it's pretty clever, in a cutesy play-on-words kind of way - but the story is all there, already laid out with admirable succinctness in the name(s). Nothing should be added. It's all done. Finished. Complete. I should stop. 

#76 Vice President Garrett Hobart.  I had to look him up, of course. I assumed that he was the inventor of that enormous electric mixer that made pizza dough and ripped teenagers' arms off, in the kitchen of the Rockville Maryland Chuck E. Cheese Pizza Time Theatre (their choice of spelling on "Theatre" will never not crack me up). I was wrong. Apparently he was a real, live American Vice President - and he died in office. I wonder if he was hanged for adhering to the Constitution... Probably not. And again - he'd have been one OLD hobo. Pass.

#120 Cincinnati O'Gurk.  Technically, there's nothing wrong with this name. Just invent a hobo from Cincinnati - or humorously not from Cincy - and tell his (or her) story, right? Yes, I suppose, but the old [place/name] trope is a bit too wide-open for me. His name might as well be John Doe (who you'll recall, if you've been keeping up with Mostly Harmless Drivel, attended Woodlawn High School, outside of Baltimore). Just no spark, I guess. [[Maris]' note: Also known as Cincinnati Yogurt, by someone who was hard of hearing, but whom O'Gurk was too kind to correct]

#166 Dora The Explorer.  [For whom the series was named, by one of her descendants, who had always idolized her] I should just let [Maris] write this.

#189 Skywise The Sexual Elf.  Come on, now. We try to keep it clean, here at Club Hobo-- I mean, Mostly Harmless Drivel. Am I tempted to work this into some weird treatment of Soft Cell's immortal classic "Sex Dwarf?" Obviously - I mean, who wouldn't be? But no. This 'bo belongs on a different list. [The song is not "Sex Hobo," [Maris] is quick to point out] . . . While we're at it...

#642 The Fucky From Kentucky.  No. Just no. Come on, Hodgman - you're better than that. Although... maybe, being from Kentucky and all, this hobo just couldn't manage to spell "flunky."

#668 Andre The Indianapolist. It's right there in the name. It says indianapolis. No! You go to hell! You go to hell and you die! Remember how Susan Sarandon's character in "Thelma & Louise" could NOT go through Texas (from Arkansas, I think) to get to Mexico - and they never really tell us why, but we know something unspeakably horrible must have happened in Texas? Yeah. That's indianapolis. And even were it not, this is just another one of those name/place hobo names. Yawn.

#209 Nick Nolte.  WHAT??  [He paid to have his name on the list (twice - in the paperback edition)] Thanks, [Maris].

#242 The Nine Doctor Whos.  [Maris] says he was prescient, knowing that there would be nine Doctor Whos. Sadly, he died before anyone could tell him that there would actually be THIRTEEN of them - and counting...]  Also, really? Doctor Who? Was Lost In Space not available? Were you too afraid of Gene Roddenberry's estate to use Star Trek? Boo.

#232 Manuel Pants-Too-High.  meh. Once upon a time, there was a hobo, and his pants were, like, too high, or something. Oh - and his name was Manuel. The End. [Man, well his pants were too high, says [M]]. Do you see what I have to put up with, here?

#305 Roundhouse Farter.  Really? [Ooh - that's even worse than Indianapolis!]

#320 Modem-Sniffer Gunderson.  What hobo even knew what a modem was, when they were decades from having been invented? [Modems occur naturally, like truffles. It was a gift.] Never write on the couch next to [Maris] when she's reading fantasy.

#371 Shapeshifting Demon.  Yeah - with infinite shapes from which to choose, this idiot demon chose a homeless, jobless, hopeless flea-infested 1930s drifter? Dumb.

#399 Applebee O'Bennigan McFridays.  [Oh dear]  We're gonna get sued!

#413 "Taxachusetts" Glenn.  Coming from Maryland, I find this one kind of amusing.

#624 Bill Jaundice.  Who you callin' yella, mister?

There are actually still quite a few others that have me stumped. I mean, Spotted Dick? Really? Anyway, thanks for putting up with me and [Maris] for a few minutes. We'll do better next time - promise (we won't, we won't...).