The Exciting Story of My Name

Hello. I am The Man. I am not “the man” in that I am the best at something. Nor am I “the man” in that I am in some kind of position in which I would be able to oppress you, your co-workers, or your loved ones. No. Furthermore, just because the word “The” appears in front of my name (capitalized, no less), that doesn’t mean I am the only man in existence. If that were the case, my name would be “The Only Man”. If I were the only man in existence, I would be very unhappy indeed, and I would likely not have the spiritual fortitude to go on blogging as I do. Even if there were many, many women, and I were given free reign to sow my wild oats where’er I may pine (and sow I would, in accordance with the strictest of dutiful feelings), I would still feel ill at ease without the warm feelings of brotherhood that I derive specifically from my not being the only man in existence. That not being the case, my name is The Man.

Still, some of you may wonder why I would choose such a boastful-sounding name if I do not in fact think that I am the best or most god-like man there is. The answer to that question (if I may be so bold as to interpret your wondering as a question) is actually a pretty exciting story. The story goes like this: I was trying to think of a good name for a blog. Suddenly, Man of Many Words occurred to me as a thought-provoking possibility. I looked it up, and lo and also behold, the URL was, in fact, available. This was a sign from Zeus, probably. I had to get right down to the job. I started the blog, began writing and posting, and soon enough, I had a fully functional blog. I was elated. I submitted it to a random god for approval, and great Ra the sun god answered with his great rays of light, even though it was really cloudy out at the time, and I couldn’t really see the rays, per se, but I could imagine them, above the clouds like that, me standing there in the rain catching pneumonia and thinking, “Wow”, and realizing I was definitely right about what the gods think. It was a true epiphany, a sort of spiritual awakening, and I was filled with a great sense of being right about most things, like when I argue with people and they tell me I don’t have a firm grip on reality. You can imagine my delight. This called for a celebration.

Alas, my work is never finished. I needed to come up with some kind of recurring theme, a motif if you will, for tying it all together. I don’t know much about graphic design or HTML, so I couldn’t use a logo or something like that. My spirits slouched. I paced nervously. My brow furrowed. A bead of sweat formed in my armpit. Then it hit me: I would use the same word in different contexts as the element titles in both sidebars. O Muse, I thank thee for thy bounty. But wait. What word would I use? I looked to Pooh for inspiration: Think, think. Think, think. Ah-ha! Man of Many Words…”Man”…“The Man”! As in, “The Man” who writes this blog! What elegance! What simplicity! But I was not keen to let hubris get the better of me and so again rolled up my sleeves and went to work, typing “The Man” in all my sidebar titles, preceding the words with verbs like “Meet” and “Quote” and “Brand” and “Raid”. I had my motif. I was finished, at least for now, and a respite was deserved. I lay myself down for a long nap. I woke up a little later, had some macaroni, and called my boss to explain why I haven’t been showing up for work. The happiest happiness of them all was the realization that, now, after all this time, “The Man” is not only my pen name, but it is also a short form of “Man of Many Words”. Thus, I am both a man and an abstract object known as a blog.

That is the story of my name, and that is the miracle of Christmas. God bless us, everyone.

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