Preparing to shoot a few segments of Big Jon in 5 for BEER2WHISKEY in our upstairs studio at Barley's Taproom in downtown Greenville. That's owner Josh Beebe preparing for his closeup.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

A Rose by Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet? What if It Were Called a Turd?

I have been living with the last name "Heaps" all my life.

As if Heaps isn't bad enough, my family insisted on nicknaming me "Rusty."

In retrospect, that I wound up writing about cars and the automotive industry seems almost predestined.

I thought about changing my name from time to time, but that seemed like just too much effort. I had more important things to do, such as go to happy hour, watch TV and go to happy hour.

I suspect during the many job-hunting episodes of my life, my resume was passed over more than once because of my name. It's not as bad as Hitler or Focker, but a bit of a hindrance nonetheless.

One reason I never went into politics was because I am unelectable, or at least my name is. "Russ Heaps," It doesn't really resonate.

Consider how few U.S. presidents had a name without a hard consonant in it.

Let's see, there was William Henry Harrison (He lasted all of one month.) and one termer Millard Fillmore (Who? Exactly!).

I couldn't invent anything because whatever I might concoct, would wind up with my name.

Can you imagine Marie Antoinette getting her head lopped off by a Heaps?

A hunk of bologna between two slices of bread could be a Heaps

How about going for a relaxing soak in your Heaps with a few wine-sipping friends?

During hockey games they could smooth the ice with a Heaps.

You could be canning pickles in a Heaps jar.

Or after chowing down on some chili, you could take a Heap in your Heaps.

Heck, Russ Heaps just sounds like someone who is short and bald.

In the movie Clueless, the good-looking guys were referred to as "Baldwins," and the good-looking girls as "Bettys." I guess short, bald guys could have been called "Heaps."

My name is probably the reason I remain single today. The first time any chick I was dating doodled "Mrs. Russ Heaps" on a piece of scratch paper, she checked out of the relationship and ran screaming into the night.

She didn't just say, no; she said, hell no!

So there you have it: I would be taller and more successful if not for my name.

Well, maybe not.

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