Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column wondering why names that sound so good on dogs are usually not-so-cool names for people.
For instance, we met a labrador the other day named “Stanley.” Pretty good name for a dog, we thought. Then it occurred to us: Not such a good name for a person – it just doesn’t have that normal ring of, say “Brian,” and isn’t quite as cool as “Don.”
Ralph, Herman, Gordo, Baxter … we’re sure you know cool dogs with these names. But you don’t meet a lot of people with them.
Just a thought. Sorry, it’s Sunday and we’re drifting.
We received this letter via e-mail:
“Dear Summit Up Dude, I’d like to Scum Alert! a couple of drivers from last night on my way home. I just got a car a week ago. As I’m still figuring out its little quirks, the car wouldn’t go more than 15-20 mph up Boreas Pass, which was frustrating enough. I waved a driver of a new 4Runner around me – they gave me the finger and the passenger called me a bitch. A few minutes later, a black truck came up behind me, laid on the horn and also gave me the finger. I’m just so stoked that I have a vehicle again – it’s been more than a year and a half since I sold my car to move back to Breck – then these two drivers had to be @$$holes about the fact that they couldn’t go any faster or have any patience. Could you please give them some kind of bad karma? Thanks, Roxanne.”
We feel for you, Roxanne. Patience just isn’t one of the high points of the American driving experience these days. But, while we might wish a cracked windshield or mixed-up fast food drive-thru order on these people, we’re afraid to spare too much karmic juju on them at the moment. First, there’s too many rock-knockers like this out there. Second, we’re focusing all our chakras on summoning Cupid to shoot an arrow into the heart of George W. Bush so he falls madly in love with Saddam Hussein, leaves Laura, and the two former enemies run off and live out the finale of one of Saddam’s best-selling romance novels.
In the meantime, we encourage you to drive even slower. We find the best revenge on those with no patience is to exasperate them even further. Nothing relaxes us more. We hope that’s enough assistance.
Congrats! to Kirstin Mihotz, or should we say, Pvt. Mihotz., since she just graduated from basic combat training at Fort Jackson in South Carolina. Kirstin is the daughter of JoAnn Mihotz in Breck. Rock on, soldier.
We know all of our readers are too busy out exercising in the woods to spend any time cruising the Internet, but you’ll want to check this one out anyway. Log on to http://www.beerchurch.com. Not only do they sell beer, but they’ll ordain you as a minister, remind you of beer commercial jingles you’d long forgotten and make you laugh like crazy at their haiku tributes to our favorite hairstyle of all-time – the mullet.
And besides, if you’re a minister, it’s not over-consumption, it’s testing the holy water.
Sunday is like a pair of pantyhose danced in too long and made to sling hardboiled eggs at the deaf old man next door. You figure out what that one means and get back to us at email@example.com, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just call us crazy on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998 ext. 237.
We’re out drinking that heavy-metal water over in Leadville …
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