Do You Know Why They Call Me Spot?

My owner, Governor George W. Bush, had a good talk with some students one day. I read about it in the papers: He told them, "I have a dog. Can anyone guess what his name is?" No one could! He continued, "It's Spot. Do you know why I call him Spot?" One young man gave an answer that nobody but my owner could hear! My owner said, "That's right. It's because he has a spot." So now you know why they call me Spot!

When I was at obedience school, I had to write a paper on a subject of personal interest. At that time, as now, I was very interested in why I was called "Spot." So that was the topic I chose. I hope you like my paper.

"ON WHY I AM NAMED SPOT" By Spot F. Bush Call me Spot. Because that's my name. I come to the name Spot when it's called out. But why? That is the question I will look at in my paper. In this examination, we will share more than just incidental facts in connection with one's personal name; we necessarily will explore the labeling process itself, making a cursory survey of the whole complex of signs and symbols in general (in particular, how words point to objectified others in an inescapable social context). In addition, we will touch on the distinctions in the labeling process, how the distinctions are applied to things or individuals to be named, and again how this necessitates and is necessitated by social agreement. Finally, we will examine the whole range of feelings and states of mind suggested or engendered by particular names, and what affective states or conditions result, not only within that so-called "inescapable social context," but for (or to) the thing or individual so named. In this section, I will share briefly whether I like having the name "Spot," and, since I do, what it means to me to be called "Spot." Allow me to begin by quoting a previous paper that I wrote (now posted on the Governor's Kid's Page on the Texas government website): "My name is Spot Fetcher Bush. I was born on March 17, 1989, at the White House. My mother, Millie, belonged to President and Mrs. Bush, the parents of Governor George W. Bush. My owners are Governor Bush, his wife, Laura Bush, and their twin teen-age daughters, Barbara and Jenna." In these statements, I am introduced to the reader by means of labeling. First, "my name" is given, Spot Fetcher Bush. However, with that statement alone, the subject is not adequately covered. Each one of us is then part of an inescapable social context, labeled and defined by our relations within a larger whole. The larger whole then has its own "inescapable social context," ever widening out.* ______________________ *Cf. Ken Wilber's treatments of the interrelatedness of wholes and parts, after Arthur Koestler. Sex, Ecology, Spirituality — The Spirit of Evolution. Boston and London: Shambhala, 1995.   The immediate inescapable social context in this situation is socially impressive: I give my birthdate, itself labeling a certain day in a certain year, and the place of birth: "The White House." The White House refers to a specific white house, not just any white house in general.* The rest of my statement then tells who I belong to, i.e., their names are given, delineating them from other folk within the so-called inescapable social context.* ______________________ *Which brings up an interesting phenomenon in naming/labeling, that sometimes the more socially-exalted or the more socially-shared an object or a place is, the more common is its name. Consider not only "The White House." What about the origins of all things in the "Big Bang"? One might guess that this would have a name that was a little more distinguished, such as "The Genesis Second." We could wonder at our assumptions, what makes a name "common" or "distinguished," as these things are important. The spectrum of naming has some interesting quirks: a dog can be called "Mutt," but a man will be named something that implies a deeper quality, such as "George," and then the ultimate things, where deeper qualities are a given have a name like "Big Bang" or "the Whole Enchilada" or "the Big Magilla."   Shakespeare puts it thusly: "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." The social context of his play, wholly inescapable to the various characters, draws a distinction in persons based on their name, i.e., family background. The play is Romeo and Juliet. One is a Montague and one is a Capulet.* But they are lovers, together, entangled in the raw reality of one another despite their names. A reading or performance of the play reveals the details that one would miss if one were completely ignorant of it: Juliet (itself a name) speaks: "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, [little snip] And I'll no longer be a Capulet." Her social context, which she struggles to escape, says the two cannot mix, like oil and water, because of who they are: he the Montague, she the Capulet. She continues: "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; [inescapable social context] Thou art thyself [raw reality, undefined] though, not a Montague [denial of what we will argue is inescapable]." Note the conscious breakthrough, albeit definitely not an escape on her part: the thing or the individual is not objectively the label socially given it. But a labeling process has come in (to say it has "come in" speaks volumes, volumes that the parameters of this paper and my intelligence will not allow us to explore.)‡ Juliet explores a little deeper: "What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor any other part belonging to a man. O! be some other name...So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title." Finally, in a chilling cry of desperation, akin to the screech of the original Lilith (Isaiah 34:14), in a blood-curdling voice that shakes the heavens, akin to the howling and baying of Nebuchadnezzar in his madness (Daniel 4), in a tortured wail that accompanies only some cosmic turmoil ("I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven" (Luke 10:18, KJV)), Juliet says, "Romeo, doff thy name." Doff thy name. Why? She has already given voice to the assertion that the thing, the object, the individual is not in fact the name but stands apart. But in comes the "elephant in the room," i.e., the inescapable social context. Mother and Father would nor contemplate, nor understand, and nor would the community (multiply that, layer upon layer, part into wholes, ad infinitum.) Finally, ultimately they are up against the cherubim with its sword flaming and turning to guard the way to the tree of life (Genesis 3:24), and really finally, ultimately they are up against the Whole Enchilada, the Big Magilla who put the cherubim there in the first place: God (even here there is a label, necessarily, to discuss the matter, but we do not forget Lao-Tzu and what the "blabbermouth" (after Po Chü-i) said concerning the Tao: "It is older than God."†) "Doffing thy name" is not an option; thy name is inescapable as long as the social context is inescapable, and that is forever true; the social context requires the name, so if the kids called you "Cheetah" or "Wart" in grade school, then "Cheetah" or "Wart" you shall be, at least until you escape that social context. _______________________ *Heard on Jeopardy. Alex Trebek. Hollywood: Merv Griffin Enterprises, date unknown. ‡We would necessarily have to explore the opening of consciousness within humanity. As consciousness arises, labeling is a structural thing with several obvious functions: principally it apparently allows consciousness to be firmly established and to expand; consciousness could hardly have a secure foothold if an individual had to reaquaint himself daily with every object in his surroundings. Even speaking of objects in an objectified universe itself requires labeling and hence consciousness there, hand-in-glove. Cf. Genesis 2:20 (NRSV): "The man gave names to all cattle, and to the birds of the air, and to every animal of the field; but for the man there was not found a helper as his partner." Many posit a springing-into-being of consciousness, symbolized in the man and woman partaking of the forbidden fruit. But a closer reading brings in a growing objectification, hence a separation, between things and individuals. Consciousness itself, it would seem, would not cause a separation from God, as the presence of the Tree of Life promised immortality and God-likeness; rather, it is consciousness in tandem with labeling and particular naming that opened the insight to objectification, and the split of separation between individuals, and individuals with God. The Tao Te Ching speaks a word perhaps equally as profound: "The tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the eternal Name. The unnamable is the eternally real. Naming is the origin of all particular things." (Number One, Stephen Mitchell's version, Harper Perennial, 1991). Adam and Eve's inescapable social context became Romeo and Juliet's inescapable social context, and that of all of us, even my owners', George and Laura.) †Tao Te Ching. Stephen Mitchell, translator. New York: Harper Perennial, 1991: Number 4. Po Chü-i's blabbermouth quote is found here on page 85.   These names (and others of their kind) will be examined a little later on. But first, we wanted to touch on signs and symbols. Signs and symbols are good things to have.* ______________________ *Ego and Archetype — Individuation and the Religious Function of the Psyche. Edward F. Edinger. Baltimore: Pelican Books, 1973: 107-110.   Now to the names "Cheetah" and "Wart" (and others of their kind.) The topic now is the various aspects of names, vis-à-vis social distinctions between items. We have already highlighted the root fact of "between-ness", taking it to its ultimate root, a discussion, a palaver that we need not delay ourselves with by unnecessary repetition. Instead, a paper or presentation such as this needs to advance along, putting forth the facts and conclusions in a logical form with an eye out also for efficiency. It is inefficient to dwell on a matter beyond its due, which actually might have been what Po Chü-i was trying to get at when he called Lao-Tzu a "blabbermouth."* _________________________ *Incidentally, this is another good example of something or someone exalted, in Lao-Tzu's case because of his wisdom, being called by a name or label that is commonly seen as less distinguished. The same kind of shock is engendered within the unenlightened when they hear certain schools of Zen call the Buddha "old shitstick," the same ones who would say "if you meet the Buddha, kill him." Perhaps they know something about the inescapable social context that has not occurred to the rest of us, that perhaps there is a backdoor, a way of escape after all. For the moment we will need to deny the existence of such a means of escape, as this would call into question the conclusions of our paper thus far, would demand a complete rewrite, and might mean that we would have to scrap the Bible and close down all performances of Romeo and Juliet. We are not prepared to go that far at this juncture for the sake of a few nutty Buddhists and Mr. Po (or is it Mr. Chü-i?), with whom we are totally unfamiliar except for his statement about Lao-Tzu being a "blabbermouth." No, a paper needs to state its case and then to go on, inexorably toward the conclusion, which in the inescapable social context of a society like ours (thinking and living in a linear way as opposed to more cyclically,) is demanded. This is not to say that our specific way of thinking (linear) determines our thinking vis-à-vis names, as we have already advanced a more all-encompassing argument involving consciousnessness, separateness, cherubim, the Big Magilla, etc., which we will not repeat at this point.   All this to say that sometimes school children can be cruel, to give their peers names that in the inescapable social context are considered undignified, however apt they may be. The examples we gave are examples from real-life: Cheetah was the name of the monkey in some of the old Tarzan movies. Here we have a primitive situation, almost something only Rousseau could love. The characters or individuals have names. Tarzan, recalling Romeo and Juliet, recalling Adam and Eve, puts it succinctly if not entirely pleasing to the grammarian's trained ear: "Me Tarzan, You Jane." His clipped words, straining to speak in a semi-coherent way, carries multiple contradictions, and the same thing could be said for the Native American as portrayed in Hollywood movies and television shows, such as Tonto in the Lone Ranger: "Me Tonto, You Paleface." Tarzan represents the primitive man (or natural man) with burgeoning consciousness. One very important contradiction (we'll soon explain this), albeit very subtle, stands out in the series of films: his participation in labeling and naming has brought consciousness forth and to a certain level. However it does not expand and progress, and there's no good reason for it; this is the fault of the writers, who didn't give two figs for accuracy in representing consciousness. (We call it a contradiction because they did in fact give him a consciousness of sorts and an inescapable social context. Remember, we hold that both not only go together, but each shapes, builds, and adds to the other.) He not only knows the language of man, but the language of animals.* What can we say concerning Tarzan, in short? He is expanding multi-directionally, multi-speciationally, but is not going deep in the ways and mores of any particular species, not even excluding his own! In Jungian language, with the extended outreach he is manifesting serious inflation, but when one looks at the shallowness of the archetypes being manifest, suddenly Tabula Rasa seems like a pretty good theory! ______________________ *An amusing reflection might suggest that his language is also clipped and simple even to the animals! Whereas the roar of a tiger shouts out in a majestic way to other tigers: "There's A Sheaf of Catnip on the Savannah!," when Tarzan says the same thing, it comes out like a ridiculous bit of baby-talk: "Catnip, Sheaf, There! Savannah!" The tigers might not mind such a feeble effort, or, on the other hand, it might actually infuriate them, as he has not kept his place. To them, it could be that to call ultimate God "the Big Magilla" might be the greatest of sins, as they have their own context, and tend to be short-tempered.   As we were saying, Cheetah was the name of the monkey in the old Tarzan movies. And school children can be very cruel. What is cruel about renaming a child named "Eddie" "Cheetah?" This has to do with distinctions and social labeling, and what brings about social agreement, and all the rest. "Eddie" itself does not mean anything, which is true about words entirely. It is in the burgeoning consciousness – aforementioned – that words that perhaps were at one time simple sounds like chirps, calls, and warnings – took on a stabilized labeling function. The whole process here would obviously require a lengthy treatment, giving us the same sense to forbear that the author of the book of Hebrews had: "And what shall I more say? for the time would fail me to tell of Gedeon, and of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthae; of David also, and Samuel, and of the prophets" (Heb. 11:32 KJV). Let us just state the obvious and assume social agreement, as common sense carries as much weight as the rigorous conclusions of scholars with their rigorous methodology and research: Certain names no one wants, allowing for various translations and explanations.* ________________________ *We recall one amusing anecdote that "time would NOT fail me to tell": Kentucky Fried Chicken's famous slogan "It's Finger-Lickin' Good!" when translated into the Chinese market meant something like "You will consume your own fingers while eating it." This led the powers that be to put forth a slogan that in the Chinese meant, "You'll love the taste!" Their Chinese slogan was not publicized to the American public, however, because its English translation suggested something somewhat more carnal: "There is tasty stickiness in love."   As we were saying, Cheetah was the monkey, and school children can be most cruel. A fine name like Eddie – admittedly short for something like Edward, Eduardo, or long for something like Ed – goes by the boards, and a cruel moniker like Cheetah is given instead. Why? Because of speed, sleekness, agility, competence at sport, and other insulting reasons. (By the way, there's another name that Eddie can be short for, which is Edmund, which carries with it in-and-of-itself a little Shakespearian weight, being the name of that one bastard in King Lear.) A name like "Wart" would be more universally judged as being undignified, only to be exceeded in its heinousness by names referring to scatological matters (e.g., "Turd"), the residue or substances or output pertaining to diseases or blemishes (e.g., "Pus" or "Zit"), or to pieces and parts best left covered by underwear (e.g., "Dick Tracy," whose best line has to be the one where he said, "It's just 'Tracy.'") So much for that. Finally, our examination turns to the affective states of mind that a name can engender, and how the whole complex of the inescapable social context is touched, changed for good or ill because of the names we have and the names we give. School children can be cruel, their cruelty is noteworthy because it is so explicit and uncontained. In society in general, however, we find that there is a larger social good at stake, so we tend to contain cruelty. Socially we are responsible to watch our tongue with the names we give. There are consequences if we tag someone a "crook" and suggest that the others not do business with that person. We can be sued, and our own "good name" can be tarnished. It is not for nothing that among the Ten Commandments is the commandment not to bear false witness against one's neighbor. False witness carries with it social ills that over time are detrimental to society as a whole, and this is even true beyond the range of things that are usually considered "false witness." False witness also extends to false labeling, false advertising. This shoots at the very heart of our inescapable social context. "Words can hurt me." "Mom, he's calling me names!" "He called me Cheetah!" "She called me Wart!" Now if we see this on the larger scale, and rightly view it in terms of social good or social ill, we can conclude that there is a vast difference between being called a "Crook" and being called "Honest." Society demands feedback, but feedback that 1) is in line with truth; and, 2) is in line with a spirit of moderation, i.e., not "truth" meant to hurt. An example of this would be someone with serious acne being called "Pizza Face." This might be the truth, and it might seem entirely apt to say it, but it is "false witness" and against the good of society, if for no other reason than the fact that it makes pizza less appetizing and will hurt sales and the overall economy. There are feelings to consider as well, not to mention the victim's own economic output and the possibility of destroying this through psychological traumas of one form or another. The great Indian yogi, Paramahansa Yogananda, notes what we might call the double dimension of truth. First, he says, "[T]ruth is a consciousness that is guided by spiritual wisdom, which propels us to do certain things, not because anybody says to, but because they are right."* (Incidentally, the phrase "not because anybody says to" points to the aforementioned 'inescapable social context'). But then he calls us at times to silence: "Whoever has control of feeling follows truth, shares that truth wherever he can, and avoids annoying unnecessarily anyone who would not be receptive anyway."‡ We would add to that that it is wisdom to be moderate in the things we say, bearing most relevantly here on the labeling or naming that we do. Examples could be multiplied, but if we are not to divide we must subtract labeling and naming that affects negatively and add several things: socially-acceptable and socially-enhancing labeling, of course, and, as we suggested, sometimes a judicious silence in the face of the obvious.† ____________________________ *Where There Is Light. Paramahansa Yogananda. Los Angeles: Self-Realization Fellowship, Third Printing, 1994. 45. ‡Ibid, 120. †"Fatso" is perhaps the number one offensive name, given to people who are overweight. This brings up an interesting phenomenon in inappropriate labeling, that sometimes a person will receive the exact opposite of the name that is most inappropriately obvious: e.g., a larger person called "Tiny." However, even here the purposely given false witness is in all actuality nothing more than an accentuation of the problem or condition being spotlighted or spotlit (no pun on my own name intended). It has all the trappings, usually, of play and of "kidding around," but the hidden intention (borne in projection and one's own self-esteem) is to hurt, to injure, to wound, to destroy, to pierce the psychological body-armor, and the usual effect is to drive a person to greater and greater despair, in this case also affecting pizza sales.   We can recall a little man named "Stub," who chose as his profession that of the sewage worker; "Stub" was most in his element when he was "down, down, down" in the hole. Examine this, and give it thought: the man was already short, two foot below the average man, but extremely overweight. Then in the hole he was farther down yet, always looking up at everyone; Stub could recognize you by the shoes you wore. If they were tennis shoes and only about four inches long, he somehow knew you were but a child. But what more might he have become if 1) genetics had been a little more kind; 2) others would have labeled him something appropriate (such as his given name)? And this of course excludes the opposite of the name popularly applied to Stub: "Slats" would have been inappropriate not only because as a descriptive term it denies the obvious, but because it would recall (again, accentuate Stub's obvious height disadvantage, and his fitness only to dwell in the nether-regions with his co-workers, one of whom was actually Wart's dad, "lovingly" called "Toad" (his real name being Todd.) A name can affect, and does affect its bearer. This statement, being undeniable, must be allowed to stand on its own, with its own merit. In our society, amongst the inescapable social context that we all dwell in, what is undeniable is in-and-of-itself inescapable. Truth is truth and is absolute, except for obvious need for translations between societies, and the fact that everything is relative anyway. Juliet had the right idea, afterall, "doff thy name." But it was all for nought, as one cannot doff what is given. As Pilate said, "What I have written, I have written." Thy name is thy name, socially given, socially applied, with you for good or ill, personally and socially across the board, unless legally changed. And so it goes, and so it will go, from Adam to Armageddon. Our study must now come to an end, although clearly the topic of names and labeling is one that goes on and on. My own name of Spot is a name that I like. I have a spot, and so it is in the class of "obvious" names. But it is not inappropriate in the sense that I have any reason to be ashamed of my spot. It is descriptive as well as appropriate. It is easy to spell, which for a stupid mutt like myself is important. It is easy to say; it rolls off the tongue with the greatest of ease. There is no false witness to it, there is no false affectation that might accompany something that tried to be inappropriately cute or falsely dignified, a monstrosity like "Spotington," and it is not a name such as a horse might have, like "Spot in the Bushes" or "His Is A Super Spot." I come to Spot, and will continue to come to it, because I have a spot, and I am Spot. The LORD could say, "I am that I am." But that's not what I say.