Attribute to L. Neil Smith’s The Libertarian Enterprise

Ramble with me for a while.

Once upon a time, a great many decades ago—if not centuries—there was an extremely promising young English thespian who journeyed to old-time Hollywood to seek his fortune. When the handsome, leading man-type got there, he discovered, to his dismay and chagrin, that his name, the name he had been born with, the name his mother had bestowed upon him, had already been “taken” by one of the movies’ greatest and most memorable figures.

James Stewart, was the highly-appealing star of many enduring cinematic works like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, The Philadelphia Story, and It’s a Wonderful Life (my personal favorite is Harvey). Our young English leading man-type wisely took the name of his Scottish grandmother and became Stewart Granger (look him up—especially Scaramouche, Beau Brummel and King Solomon’s Mines (I’m kinda fond of North To Alaska.).

Famous individuals who happen to share the same name is hardly an unprecedented occurrence. I’ve discovered that there are entire websites dedicated to the phenomenon and even your humble Publisher and Senior Columnist (call me “micro-famous”) carries the same name as a mighty truck-driver friend of mine and a very large famous former football player: [Famous People Who Share a Name].

Similarly, there is a rather despicable former United States’ Congressman and basically unknown radio hack from Illinois currently besmirching an otherwise fine name that belonged first to a vastly more illustrious and admirable fellow, the Eagles’ great musician, co-performer of the unparalleled guitar duet, “Hotel California”, and (apparently with the late John Belushi) champion hotel room trasher, Joe Walsh. This skeazy (I’ve wanted to use that word ever since Buffy The Vampire-Slayer’s “Once More With Feeling”) nominally Republican latecomer, was born some fourteen years after the Eagles’ fabulous Joe.

The politician I’m writing of here has falsely claimed from time to time to be a libertarian and fribbles away his idle hours attempting to trash Donald Trump instead of hotel rooms (pretty much like the proverbial ant crawling up the elephant’s leg with rape on its mind) spewing the same old tired, worn-out Marxist lies and whimpery complaints about the President that the most Trump-deranged Democrats do. (Think of him as a RINO Maxine Waters.) The original waste-product (spew), as disgusting as it may be, is of higher quality.

The latter Walsh ran recently for the Republican Presidential nomination along with that other infamous pseudo-libertarian and waste of perfectly good oxygen, William Weld, in the Iowa caucuses against the Donald and basically got bupkis, as he richly deserved. I could be wrong, but I think he might have done a good deal better had he followed Stewart Granger’s example. The specimen in question needs a new name, one that won’t sully the reputation of the esteemed player of the greatest guitar composition ever recorded, a name more in keeping with his actual standing in American culture and the universe in general.

For that reason, and because Walsh doesn’t have a Scottish grandmother that I am aware of, I urge this cretin (assuming that he can read—or that he can persuade some flunky to read this for him) to adopt the name Sylvester P. Smythe, after the now-defunct Cracked magazine’s janitor logo-character, a shabby third-rate imitation of Mad magazine’s Alfred E. Newman. The political Walsh is a shabby third-rate imitation of a libertarian and political commentator.

He should use a name that suits him.