What's in a ridiculous name, if not a chance to move zig for justice? | MARK HUGHES COBB

Some days, you must ask: What Would Bobson Dugnutt Do?

The answer comes back: Hit away. All your base are belong to Bobson.

If you snagged those, congrats, you've been on the internet before yesterday.

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Bobson's the semi-euphonious notion by someone of passing familiarity with the English language. There's a term for this kind of misunderstanding, but I suspect it borders on, if not stomps right across, nastiness. Don't let that stop you from enjoying, as these are often not human but machine issues, when programmed Al Gore Rhythms flop out of sync.

Once again: Suck it, AI.

"All Your Base are Belong to Us" dates practically antediluvian, from 1991 video game "Zero Wing," which also gave us bangers such as "Somebody set us up the bomb" and "Move zig for great justice."

For 1994 Super Nintendo game "Fighting Baseball," licensing issues didn't allow now-defunct Coconuts Japan to use actual names, so a program mixed and mingled MLB players' names with those of pro hockey ... ists? ... which no doubt sprinkled that distinct soupçon of Euro-tang.

No, I do not speak fluent (or any) Japanese, so let's view through the translucent lens of mono-lingual sympathy. Also note whatever cooked up this steaming pile created deep rosters, including bench-riders, so something like 700 names. As Elevator Operator Mark ("Saturday Night Live"'s 21st century Superglue and Secret Weapon, Kenan Thompson) informed us on over-indulgence in David S. Pumpkins:

"Hey look! It's 100 Floors of Frights. They're not all gonna be winners."

Sleve McDichael! Onson Sweemey! Mi Bre Chipley! Orel Nullholland! Gaetan Bamphous!

Dimitri Ysedaert, Ick Pleury, Wi Ray Loberts, Orestes Narkin, Sleve Ledrosian, Pele Lodriguez, Rick Rtanton, Jes Bakaluk, Dwigt Rortugal, Raul Chamgerlain, Archi Nartin, Salomon Rrmier, Carlos Drown and Damn Marker.

Frankly, some are just-missed, like Dave Glark, Orlando Dwynn, Todd Merry, Andy Pmith, Pedro Packson, Kevin Liver, Wally Balk, Ray McSriff, Willie Dustice, and John Armstarong.

And others, such as Otiz Ranchez, Sandy Grown, and Ted Balloon, SHOULD be names.

Parents and pet owners, step up.

They're like John Coctostan (Chevy Chase was funny once, in "Fletch"), Art Vandelay (George/Jason Alexander's architect alter-ego on "Seinfeld") and Harvey Manfriendgensenden (Hard of thinking Otto/Kevin Kline in "A Fish Called Wanda"), all of which became Welcome to Moe's! items, though you may know them by quesdilla and such.

Why are funny names so, you know ... funny?

Could be because they're titles, ones we hear both forever and only once. Our parentals slave over books (or app name-generators), fighting to appease all while labeling us a thing we'll sign forever and ever, Roll Tide. At their best, they mark, um, out futures, speak us before we arrive. At worst, we change them to Cary Grant from Archibald Leach, which not coincidentally at all was John Cleese's character name in "A Fish Called Wanda," one of the top 100,000 movies about things with names.

I struggle to recall names, because typically the only time you hear one is on intro.

At first meets, senses overflow, the unconscious racing ahead of Broca's brain. Thin-slicing's begun, filtering the essential from waves of inconsequential input. Thin-slicing is less noticing what a person's wearing, but more how she's wearing it; not just the body, but the language it's singing.

How can one identifier sum up this multitudinous mystery, this heapin' helpin' of self-animated, bilaterally symmetrical DNA combo platters?

Which reminds me of the costumer ― whose name I'll have to look up — on a modest film shot here 20 years ago. "Roper and Goodie" (2003) was built around an amusing script by Jenny Wingfield, who'd broken through with 1991's "The Man in the Moon," a coming-of-age story, launching pad for Reese Witherspoon.

On Druid City sets ― a defunct motor court downtown, a hilly farm in golden hour, a lovely corner house in The Highlands — I mingled unobtrusively as possible, trying to pick all the brains.

Moving around in the world as a writer is sort of like being a finicky zombie.

Jenny was wonderful and warm. Phil J. Minsky's catering was out-freaking-standing, from a fleet working indies to majors. Some of the best eatin' ever, and the easy-going chef would cook to order. Not that I made that big a jerk of myself, but clearly they were used to placating via palate.

I might have spent a minute with costumer Tammie Marie Hicks ― thanks Imdb.com ― because she was actor attractive, but also because she was swift, a Sherlock of the chifferobe.

Quoth she: "You can read a character by what they wear."

Yes, I've heard such from folks trying to fix my "style," which does not deserve quotation marks. But this was a contemporary shoot, not much in the way of flare: western wear for the idiot cowboy, yup-scale fashion for Goodie, who wore, honest to Elvis, size zero jeans. It's a wonder she shows up on film, sideways.

So I called bullshirt, which set me up the bomb.

TMH proceeded to dress me down. She pointed out my belt wasn't new, but neither did I wear it daily. My khakis creased at the knee: I'd left them hanging. My shoes were dressier than usual, as was the shirt — a plain collared one, no tie. Shear-lock laid out just what I'd thought as I dressed that a.m.: Didn't want the movie folks to think I was a slob, but neither did I want them believing I'd dressed fancy because, gaw-aw-lee, Hollywood!

Having been thin-sliced, I withered and blew away. For real, I avoided her rest of the shoot.

Who wants to be that seen? Or rather: Who relishes the thought that, to an adept thin-slicer, we're absolutely transparent?

She seems to have left movies, perhaps to become a therapist.

Though I'll have to look up her name again next time I retell this anecdote, yet cannot un-burn Bobson Dugnutt from the noggin, here's nothing but well wishes from Damn Marker. Move zig for Willie Dustice!

Mark Hughes Cobb is the editor of Tusk. Reach him at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: Names and games: Things that play somewhat the same | MARK HUGHES COBB