This is an opinion column.
Who knew it was an option to simply change the names of things that don’t belong to us?
The possibilities are endless. You don’t have to actually change anything. You just have to call it something else.
For personal reasons, I’d like to rename Tennessee “Dorkland.” No offense to actual dorks. For personal reasons, Tennesseans have called me worse.
I’ve never understood why Alabama, which presumably dares defend its rights of way, allows the Dorkland River to flow freely in and out of its borders. Maybe we should just call it the River Sticks. Because you cross it to get to hillbilly hell.
It’s freeing to rename things that annoy you. There’s a president, I mean precedent, for it. And bodies of water are a good start.
Lake Superior is in the state of Canada, for Pete’s sake. It should rightly be called Lake Inferior. And the Pacific Ocean sounds like some hippy dippy draft dodger with “bad feet.” Let’s call it the Ocean of American Might. That’ll make waves.
Most rivers in Alabama are named for Native American culture, and I like that, except in the case of the one mentioned above. Lakes, on the other hand, are generally named for Alabama Power execs or their mothers, lawyers, engineers or friends. I’d change them in a Reddy Kilowatt, to Atlantic, Ventnor and Marvin Gardens. Park Place and Boardwalk. You know. Monopoly properties.
I guess New Mexico has to change. But I’m sure smart people are already thinking that.
I’m curious, too, why we never bothered to name the moon. It’s there every night and it’s just … moon. It’s like calling your dog “Dog” or your kid “Kid.” We planted a flag in that thing, so give it a fitting name: Yankee Doodle Flashlight. Or is it a gaslight?
But before you can change the heavens you have to change the wrongs closer to home.
There’s an Alabama town called Cuba 11 miles west of Intercourse. Of course we can’t have that. Cuba, I mean. We’ll call it Foreplay instead.
An hour northeast of Needmore, a little less than an hour northwest of Smuteye, is the community of Little Texas. There are only about 1,200 people there, but they need to own it. Forget the Little, and just call them Texas. The state of Texas? We’ll call it West Smuteye.
Marshall County has an Egypt and an Arab (rhymes with Ahab). It’s probably why the county has the third-highest immigrant population rate in the state. Alabama has a Berlin, a Havana and a Rome — where all roads do not lead.
There’s the Abel community in Cleburne County, just across the Talladega National Forest from Waldo, if you know where to find Waldo. As the Bible tells us Abel was a loser, so that has to change. Just call it Cain.
For that matter, why don’t we change the names of names.
Alabama offensive coordinator Nick Sheridan has not earned the right to be Tuscaloosa’s Nick S. (or a paycheck 22 times the median household income in the state, but that’s another story). Let’s just call him Temp.
That singer from Alabama, India Ramey, is tearing up Nashville these days. She’s great. But I’m afraid we’re going to have to call her Indiana. For America’s sake.
Cuba Gooding Jr. must be Cuba Not-so-Gooding. And while I hate it for Tennessee Williams, he will now have to be Dorkland Williams. It’s not even fair.
But hey, I’m just calling ‘em what I see ‘em.
In a world where greed is godly, thought control is liberty and theocracy is religious freedom, a rose is whatever you want to call it.
John Archibald is a two-time Pulitzer winner who, in actuality, has nothing at all against the great state of Tennessee. Or Dorkland.