Rainbeer Kang

Yesterday, about to board a plane from Salt Lake City Reagan National Airport, I heard an announcement for what sounded like either “Raindeer Kang” or “Rainbeer Kang.”  I think it was the latter.  It may even have been this specific fellow.

That announcement put me in mind of two of the greatest personal names I’ve ever heard — both of them brought to my attention by one of my sons, who is an overflowing fountain of such wonderful things.

First, there is the unfortunately named Dr. Gay Hitler, who practiced dentistry in Ohio until 1946 and who was the son of George Washington Hitler.

And then there’s the Dutch pharmacoepidemiologist Taco B. M. Monster.  (Don’t believe me?  Here’s a scientific paper for which he is the principal author: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1874550/)

I don’t know that anybody will ever top that one.

But I have to admit to a fondness for the now-retired BYU English professor — what other career option did he ever really have? — named William Shakespeare.  I used to see his car in the faculty parking lot; it featured a Utah license plate that read The Bard.  He was even well-known in England:  Several years ago, my wife and I were touring the home of the other Shakespeare, in Stratford-upon-Avon.  Upon finding out that we were from Utah, and that I taught at BYU, he immediately asked whether I knew “Bill Shakespeare.”

Imagine yourself checking in at a motel.  The clerk asks your name, and you respond “William Shakespeare.”  Would any clerk actually believe that?  Wouldn’t she glance from you to your purported “wife” and think “Sure it is, you philandering low life.”

(My apologies to Bill Shakespeare, in case he reads this.  But surely he’s acutely aware of the, umm, unexpectedness of his name.)

And what do you imagine the reaction would be if you identified yourself as “Dr. Gay Hitler,” or “Dr. Taco B. M. Monster”?

Maybe I should try it.

Posted from Richmond, Virginia