By staff writer Dan Opp
If you haven’t done so already, check out my last name. Take a nice long look at it. Chances are you’ve seen this particular arrangement of letters long before you ever fell in love with my whimsical stylings. I’m not talking about words like “opponent” or “opportunity,” although the inclusion of my last name in these words does give me some empty joy. For those of you who were tapped into pop culture in the early ‘90s, it should be quite apparent that I’m referring to Naughty By Nature’s hit single “O.P.P.” For those of you too young to remember the early ‘90s, the FCC says you shouldn’t listen to Naughty By Nature, because the American government will be damned if today’s youths learn to make responsible choices on their own.
When this promiscuity-promoting, hip-hop masterpiece first hit the airwaves, I had just entered 3rd grade. My mind’s corruption was still in its formative stages and I, being your average ridiculously good-looking 8 year-old, had no clue as to the meaning of O.P.P. All I knew was that the current song of the moment involved my last name and that the 6th graders would continually ask me the question that has since come to define my life.
6th Grader: So, are you down with O.P.P.?
8-Year-Old Me: Yeah, I guess so.
6th Graders: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
My 8-Year-Old Inner Monologue: Wow, I made them laugh AND my underwear remained intact. This is so awesome.
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I’ve since come to learn what O.P.P. stands for and, believe me, being down with O.P.P. is a good thing, whether it be banging someone else’s girlfriend or becoming acquainted with a man of top-notch character such as myself. And letting me bang your girlfriend. Unfortunately, I’ve also grown rather tired of the phrase because, almost without fail, people will ask me said question upon first finding out my last name and, almost without fail, I grow incrementally more bitter. The conversations of yesteryear have evolved into something like this:
Person I’ve Never Met Before: So your last name is spelled “O-P-P”?
Me: Yeah.
Person I’m Soon Going to Hate: Like the song?
Me: Yeah.
Person I Now Officially Despise: Are you down with O.P.P.?
My Inner Monologue: I hope you get a violent case of herpes and when you go to get it checked out, I hope the nurse administers the STD test with a barbed Q-tip.
My outward response is generally a reluctant “Yeah you know me,” but if I’m feeling uppity, I’ll occasionally delve into an “Ask your girlfriend.” Or, if the person doesn’t have a girlfriend, an “Ask your sister.” And if the person doesn’t have a sister, well, everybody has a mom.
I suppose I could oblige and laugh along when confronted with these situations. After all, when it comes to being clever, some people don’t know their ass from their elbow. These people were born with serious birth defects and it’s hard to have a sense of humor when you’re permanently disfigured. A lot of regular people aren’t funny either. Played out one-liners are the best that the average person can do, so it’s the social norm to at least give a light-hearted chuckle when the fortieth guy in a row walks into your place of employment on a balmy summer day and exclaims, “It’s a hot one out there!” like he’s expecting you to break out in raucous applause. Few people can light up a room, so most are perfectly content with the aforementioned courtesy laugh, which segues beautifully to my next point.
I HATE the courtesy laugh. All it does is encourage people who aren’t funny to continue making bad jokes in the future. Face it. Everyone can’t be funny, just like everyone can’t be good-looking, athletic, or intelligent. Feigning good looks, athleticism, or intelligence is often a shameful endeavor. Why should pretending to be funny be any different? No one wants to see a fat chick with a bare midriff, just like nobody wants Tony Womack hitting at the top of the order for their baseball team. Similarly, if you’re not funny, no one wants to hear your lame ass attempt at a joke. God bless stupid people though. If it weren’t them, I wouldn’t be considered smart.
Jumping back on my original train of thought like I was the Boxcar Children (remember those books?), I realize fully that I’m not alone in the catch-phrase-for-a-name niche. I’ve got a buddy named Forrest who assures me that Forrest Gump, albeit a great movie, is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to him. The film came out eleven years ago and to this day, the kid can’t even work up a light jog without some ass bag yelling out “Run, Forrest! Run!”
We of the catch phrase ilk could have it much worse, however. Those of you who share your names with celebrities are constantly playing second fiddle to people you’ve never met. Never will you everyday riffraff have your names prefaced with an italicized “the” and on the off-chance you too should become famous, you’ll have to throw in a middle initial to avoid confusion. Worse yet, you could be one of Frank Zappa’s kids and end up with an acid-induced crapfest of a name like Dweezil or Moonunit.
There remains one last category of name which wallows below them all, the category of juvenile humor. People in this realm live horribly tortured childhoods and must endure repressed smirks and muffled snickers well into their adult years. Everybody knows at least one person with a hopelessly embarrassing birth name. But in my eyes, despite its considerable population, this domain has an unquestioned king, for he resides there somewhat voluntarily. The man of whom I speak is former New Hampshire Congressman Dick Swett. He could just as easily go by Richard or Rick, but noooo, this guy would much rather associate himself with genital perspiration.
It is on this note that I leave you with a request. If you ever land a job in marketing, I implore you to lobby feverishly to make Dick Swett the official spokesman for Gold Bond Medicated Powder. You, the marketing expert, will have to tinker with things like properly portraying the black-and-white, pained face, ugly guy and the colorful, smiling, handsome guy, but my vision for the commercial goes as follows:
“I’m Dick Swett and I use Gold Bond Medicated Powder to keep my nether regions cool and dry when the weather is anything but. Gold Bond. It’s a hot one out there!”