What Not To Name Your Baby: Hooker Edition

This Civil War hottie not only boasts a whopping big sword but he may also be the founding father of the popped collar phenomenon.
Do you know who he is? Why, it's none other than General Joseph Dalton Hooker, commander of the Army of the Potomac. Although I prefer to call him by his street name: JO-HO
Does his last name sound vaguely familiar to you? It should.
Apparently Hooker's military headquarters acquired the unsavory reputation of being more of a bar and brothel than a war strategy think tank.
General Hooker wanted to keep up troop morale......the operative words being 'keep up.' Hooker allegedly requisitioned a passel of prostitutes to entertain his men, hence, the modern day association with his surname.

My oldest mini-Infidels broke out laughing when I relayed this lively little historical tidbit to them.

And then, as I'm wont to do, I started brainstorming a list of baby names that would be forboten if your last name was Hooker.

If you're reading this blog right now, and you happen to be a Hooker, then this is a valuable service I'm providing FREE of charge just for you. No hourly rates or a clandestine rendezvous at the No Tell Motel necessary.

MINNIE HOOKER- Works the red light district in Munchkinland.

HARRY HOOKER- Clientele includes Big Foot fetishists.

PENNY HOOKER- Lives below poverty level with Lionel Richie's Penny Lover.

CANDY HOOKER- Will satisfy any sweet tooth.

CASH HOOKER- Doesn't accept credit cards.

MERRY HOOKER- Is never filled with sadness.

KAREN HOOKER- Has a heart of gold.

SUMMER HOOKER- Gets three seasons off a year.

CRYSTAL HOOKER- Has an attached 'Handle With Care' label.

JUANA HOOKER- Are you an undercover cop?

LONDON HOOKER- Carries a lot of pounds.

CHARITY HOOKER- Accepts food stamps as payment.

RICH HOOKER- Has a golden parachute along with a golden mattress.

MARINA HOOKER- Got tired of the Lot Lizard competition at truck stops.

CHEYENNE HOOKER- The pride of Wyoming!

AMAYA HOOKER- Well am I??!?

RANDY HOOKER- Enjoys the job immensely.

PATTY HOOKER- Has no limbs.

RUSTY HOOKER- Hope you got your tetanus shot first!

CHRISTIAN HOOKER- Must be okay because it's in the Scriptures.

IMA HOOKER- You're a Hooker, wouldn't you like to be a Hooker too?

JEAN HOOKER- Only works on Casual Fridays.

MIA HOOKER- Is a proud graduate of the Hooked On Phonics:Tarzan Edition Program.

SEYMOUR HOOKER- Take our scenic Hooker Tour today!

VIOLET HOOKER- Needs the Heimlich Maneuver, STAT!

BERTHA HOOKER- Well they gotta come from somewhere.

BUCK HOOKER- Can be found soliciting outside the Dollar Store.

(My standards prohibit me from listing GAYE HOOKER and BUTCH HOOKER without parentheses. Ta-Da! Parentheses makes judgment lapses more acceptable.)

Studying History has an infinite boring factor built into it. I prefer the National Enquirer version of historical events as opposed to painfully dry textbooks penned by the class of intellgentsia solely responsible for keeping the professorial elbow patch factories in business. See how a little spark of ingenuity combined with an angle that's been marinating in salacious sauce all day really brings a Civil War history lesson to life??!?

Dang, I should be a History teacher.

I Got Friends In Low Places.....

But my 9 year-old daughter Caterpillar has friends in high places!
Very high superstar-level places, that is!
And isn't that what parenting is all about? We raise our kids with the expectation that they'll become more successful in life than their parents.

I was stunned when Caterpillar received an invitation to a pizza party on Saturday to celebrate the birthday of none other than Matt LeBlanc!
I don't have a ton of money. I hope Matt really likes the Incredible Hulk action figures I got on clearance at the Dollar General store!

I grew up with a Michael Jackson who epitomized the whole "White&Nerdy" thing. He used to sign our class yearbooks like this: "Beat It! Cuz I'm The ONLY Thriller In This School! Michael Jackson 4Ever!" And then he'd draw a little white glove next to it. Yeah. I'll never forget when Michael Jackson's mom bought him a pair of black parachute pants in an effort to try and help her son fit in with his more urban savvy peers. They were 2 sizes too big and he wore them with a navy blue T-shirt that featured the Alka-Seltzer boy on it. You didn't get much street cred in the 80's wearing T-shirts that screamed out "Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz, Oh, What A Relief It Is" in big white letters across your back.

And now my gorgeous daughter can share in the celebrity classmate tradition with her own short and freckled version of Matt LeBlanc. Caterpillar may even be able to parlay this into a fledgling tabloid reporter career as she reveals such shocking headline-worthy news like: "I Saw Matt LeBlanc Pick His Nose Like He Was A Pro On The Pick-N-Flick Competition Circuit" or "Matt LeBlanc Chews His Bologna Sandwiches Into The Shape Of The Virgin Mary Every Day At Lunch." One article she'll for sure be able to write after Saturday reads: "I Partied With Matt LeBlanc And Have The Pepperoni Indigestion To Prove It."

This Chicken Ranch Special Always Includes Legs, Breasts, And Thighs!

Well, 'The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas' is fine and dandy and all, but I live in The Best Little Infidel House In Texas! And who rated them as the best, anyway? Is there some kind of whorehouse survey and customer comment card that they distribute to the clientele before they put their pants on and leave?
A local Houston legend passed away on Sunday and I felt compelled to memorialize him on my blog. The much ballyhooed and plastic surgery-enhanced, Marvin Zindler, campaigned tirelessly for the little guy, and hosted a weekly 'Roach Report' dirty restaurant review. His trademarked catchphrase? A loud bellowing of "SLIIIIIMMMEE In THE ICE MACHINE!" There's even a song about him and his pursuit of busting eating establishments with the dreaded slimy ice. The man is a bonafide legend solidified with his very own WIKI page. Outside of the Houston market, though, he's most notable for his part in shutting down the La Grange Chicken Ranch whorehouse and battling with local authorities who didn't want to give up their painted ladies and the revenue it brought it in.

Dom Deluise played a Marvin Zindler-esque character named Melvin Thorpe in the movie, but everyone knew that the basis was rooted in the true life account of the events that unfolded in 1973.

And now for a retro "Oh no, she didn't!" moment from my awkward youth:

My mom let me watch 'The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas' with her, even though I was only 9. My dad comes from a very morally puritanical family. How puritanical? Well, I'm related to Bill Hybels, the Pastor of the largest congregation in all of North America. So, all the family gathered together at an elegant Indiana restaurant that summer of 1983 for my Aunt's rehearsal dinner. As glasses clinked with festive toasts and chatter sounded above the knives slicing up the sumptuous Chicken Kiev (I have a photographic memory when it comes to food) I innocently asked the lady next to me if she had ever seen 'The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas.' You know how in movies when somebody drops an outrageous tidbit into conversation and everyone stops to stare slack-jawed at them? That's what happened to me. That is, until my very proper Grandma abruptly whisked me away to the bathroom to sternly tell me that 9 year old girls should never discuss anything related to the word 'WHOREHOUSE' in polite company. I wonder if using brothel, house of the rising sun, bordello, or No Tell Motel would have been more acceptable?

R.I.P Marvin Zindler-Who Will Rid Our City Of The Insidious Slime In The Ice Machine Now?

Hook, Line, And Stinker.....

It was a dark and turbulently stormy night as a young couple huddled together in their car parked at the forested end of a desolate street. Well aware of the numerous cautionary tales of a murderous hook-handed man that preys on amorous intentioned people just like them, they shook with fright when they heard a soft scraping sound penetrate the night air.

One look out the car window revealed a hooded shadowy figure looming beside their vehicle making them shriek with blood curdling terror. A thundering burst of lightning illuminated the sky and it was then that they noticed the gigantic hook poised in mid air and ready to strike.

The wind blew the hood backwards and then it was known that this wasn't the treacherous hook-handed man, after all. But, instead, the friendly neighborhood hook-handed girl who did actually have two hands but fancied herself to be more Captain Hook in her imaginative play than froufrou Tinkerbell. The couple sighed with relief but when they told the hook-handed girl that they didn't have the Twinkies which she sought, things turned very, very ugly for them............

Moral Of The Story: When life hands you broken hangers, make your children into Twinkie-eating, Captain Hook clones.