I’m thinking I should finally grow up and start calling myself Martin and insisting that others do the same. I’ve recently come to the conclusion that “Marty” is a slacker name, and if I ever want to make something of myself, “Marty” has got to go.
“Marty” is too casual. You can’t take a Marty seriously. There’s no dignity in “Marty.”
In the movies, the only interesting Marty I can think of is Marty McFly. Typically, “Marty” is a name you choose for the loser, lackey guy. “Hey Marty, go get me a ham sandwich.” It has the same ring as a “Joey” or a “Mookie.” If they ever want to go anywhere in life, they grow up and become Joseph, and I don’t know, Mookeph, I guess.
I just looked it up. Four Nobel Prize winners have been named “Martin.” Zero Martys. But I’ll bet if I could get my hand on the official Howard Stern Fan Club mailing list, I’d find dozens of Martys. (And a few zealous diehards named “Bukkake.”)
Among the Nobel Prize winners is, of course, Martin Luther King Jr. He was always Martin, never Marty. I believe that had he been a Marty, he never would have had a dream of consequence. It would have been, “I have a dream…that one day, I will learn to play the ukulele.” I just don’t think a Marty Luther King Jr. would have been thinking that big.
People named Marty can be a needy, dismal lot. I hate to call them out, but I’ve now received three MySpace “friend requests” from guys named Marty. Apparently, there’s a sad little Marty club. And they’re actually planning a sad little get together in San Antonio in 2008, a Marty Day. The organizer envisions a few hundred Martys walking from bar to bar with “Hello, my name is Marty” nametags. What a hoot, huh?
I, on the other hand, envision a few dozen bartenders along the Riverwalk coming to the conclusion that Martys are total losers.
I don’t want to be discouraging, but geez, why would I fly all the way to Texas to spend a weekend with people who have nothing in common except perhaps that we all endured that horrible rhyme as a child? “Marty Farty had a party. All the farts were there. Tutti-Frutti let a beauty, and they all went out for air.”
Maybe that’s why we’re so wretched. We were traumatized by that infernal song, and we’re still clawing for a kernel of self-worth.
Hey Marty, you let me know when Scorcese signs up, and then I’ll book my flight. Oh, wait! There is something I have in common with Scorcese and Sheen: all three of us think you Marty club guys are bunch of douchbags.
To dissociate myself, I may start going by Martin, but I’ll still let my inner circle call me Marty, like Scorcese and Sheen do. And that’s still an “if.” I’ve got to think some more about this. If I’m going to continue my comedy pursuits, I’m not sure I want to be “taken seriously” anyway.
4 comments:
Martin,
for starters you need to change the name of this blog and also the information in the "About Me" section.
A better looking nametag can be found at http://big.first.name/nametags
Jason.
Wow, Jason! What a find, that website you so generously referred to me. A service that makes nametags with really big fonts. Gosh, I could never, ever create such a thing on my own.
Jason, hold on to your seat, because I just have a hunch that you are going to be a wealthy man.
Hey, I have some other wise and interesting friends I'd like you to meet. I really think you'd hit it off. Their name is Marty and they're throwing a party in San Antonio...
A bigger name tag? thats what we all want. if you change your name to Martin, no more kids looking at you on Myspace.
Marty is the left-handed shortstop with a rocket for an arm. Marty is the guy who knows a guy who knows some people who can get you what you need, no questions asked. Marty is the only one who can get the photocopier working again. Marty is the uncle who takes you fishing and understands you better than your dad. C'mon, Marty, "Marty" is just a generally more versatile version of the name.
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