Your Dobro Name
You've probably seen blues players with blues names before. Players with names like Blind Willie Jefferson. Crippled Carl Lincoln. Anemic Alphonso Brown. Sneezy Lemon Pledge. And so on.
The formula for creating a blues name has been widely circulated. I provide it here for your edification:
An affliction + a fruit + a President = Your Blues Name.
So, for example, one might chose to be Syphillitic Peach Clinton, or Gingivitis Peanut Carter (it's a legume, but you get the idea). Or one might go old school and appropriate Arthritic Apple Roosevelt. And so on.
I recently came into possession of a dobro, or, more properly identified, a resophonic guitar. It's a lot of fun. A dobro is most commonly seen and heard in a bluegrass context, though the instrument is pretty versatile in other settings and is an interesting choice for solo guitar. You play it with a bar, or metal slide dealie. It goes: hoodly-wheedly-weeda-weeee.
At any rate, I noticed, in looking at some of the great dobro players over the past 50 years, that a curious something or other is going on with dobro names. I don't know if it's a bluegrass thing or what, but lots of these guys have these funny names. Deacon Brumfield. Uncle Josh Graves. Bashful Brother Oswald.
So I've taken it upon myself to come up with a formula for determining your dobro name. It follows:
Social/psychological disorder + officious title in the clergy + Presidential assassin or delicatessen owner = Your Dobro Name.
Now I realize that the last variable in the formula has a limited pool (which is a good thing, Mr. Secret Service). You're free to use would-be assassin names as well. You'll just have to be really creative with the first two to set yourself apart, or use the alternate variable.
Here are a couple to get you started: Obsessive Bishop Booth. Psychotic Pastor Hinckley. Or, with the alternate variable, Agoraphobic Rabbi Katz.
And my dobro name?
Paranoid Pope Guiteau.
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