Report: ’Osama’ Least Popular Name for American Babies

study conducted last week found that among the most popular names for baby boys right now are "John" and "Jason." Least popular: "Osama."

Scientists say not only has the name "Osama" the least popular name for American parents naming baby boys, it has fallen drastically this year from last year’s ranking.

"Last year’s study showed that Osama was number 435th. Not very popular at all as a name choice for American boys," said study author and researcher Dr. David Banner. "But this year… oh, jeez. Jesus pleasus. Lookit that. Waaay down there. I’m not even joking."

Other unpopular names on the list included, "Shitdick," "The Buttinator," "Regis," "Flaccid," "Ball-lick," and perennial least-favorite, "Hitler."

"This is no good," said expectant mother Sheila Caldwell. "I had ’Osama’ all picked out and now, well, I’m not using that. It’s a shame though. I had all these outfits with ’Osama’ embroidered in the left shoulder, like ’Laverne and Shirley.’""Not anymore," said Sheila’s husband Matt Caldwell. "What’s that other one you said? Hitler?"

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A common question crosses many people's minds when they're scowling at credit card slips in dimly lit restaurants or digging deep into their trouser pockets for a few bills, some spare change and a condom wrapper to toss onto the table at the completion of their meal. Why, for God's sake, did I just tip the guy who brought me the wrong drink twice and left a chunk of his dreadlock skirting around in the bottom of my bowl of soup? And come to think of it, why do I tip waiters at all? I certainly didn't tip the guy who unclogged my toilet with his bare hands or the guy who fucks my horrifically obese wife for me, so why get all philanthropic on somebody for carrying your Diet Slice fifteen feet? A perplexing question, indeed.

The custom of tipping dates back to the Roman Empire, a time that truly represented the Dark Ages of food service. Waiters were surly, sub-literate and prone to having volatile tempers. Diners frequently ate entire meals they did not order out of fear of raising the waiter's ire. The situation came to a head when the Roman Emperor Claudius requested a saltshaker when dining one night and the waiter responded by vomiting down the Emperor's shirt. Claudius had all of the waiters in Rome beheaded that night, and that incident inspired the Roman populace to spontaneously begin tipping their servers out of fear over what kind of scoundrels had been dug up to replace the executed national wait staff. At the time, a small bribe to one's server was seen as a favorable alternative to possibly losing an eye.

The practice of tipping died off with the decline of the Roman Empire, but was born anew in England during the Middle Ages. Feudal lords would throw bits of gold to the meanest-looking peasants as they traveled through the streets, as a way to decrease the chances of the unwashed masses rising up and overtaking their carriages, tearing them limb from feudal limb, and stretching their hides to make ceremonial drums. The feudal lords would tell stories of the cannibalistic masses to their children, who grew up to be generous tippers themselves.

By the 16th century, men of social status were so paranoid about offending potentially murderous members of the working class that they began the tradition of tipping servers in restaurants. The gratuity was meant as an invitation for the server to have a drink on them, and to alleviate their guilt over not having to work a day in their lives while everybody else toiled seven days a week, slaving over sow's ears trying to make silk purses and whatnot. But before long the servers became spoiled and every pub in the land featured a tip jar, inscribed with the words "To Insure Promptitude," which basically meant that if you don't cough up some cash for the jar, you're going to grow donkey antlers before you get a drink, bub. No one is sure where they got the word "promptitude" from, but the most popular theory is that, like today, many of the servers were college grad students who found their degrees useless in the harsh Medieval economy.

The custom of tipping most likely would have faded out on it's own during the Renaissance, were it not for the famed Italian wise-ass, Pico della Petrarka. Petrarka coined the joke "Q. What did the leper say to the prostitute? A. Keep the tip." which has had remarkable staying power over the ages. Many times when the practice of tipping might have faded into the annals of history naturally, it was brought back when someone had to explain the punch line of that joke, which made everyone feel guilty about not tipping and brought back the practice yet again.

Tipping spread to America in the early 1900's, when tourists picked up the custom in Europe and started practicing it back home just to show off how swanky their shit really was. However, like every other time the practice was introduced, servers soon came to expect the tips and actual food service quality remained as lousy and impersonal as ever.

With no fears of proletarian cannibalism to fuel the custom today, modern parents have turned to telling their children fairy tales about how tips guarantee quality service in the future and help out the unfortunates stuck in low-paying food service jobs. Especially bright children who question why we subsidize one unskilled, low-paying profession and not the hundreds of others are sent to bed without a tootsie pop.

Today, tipping has become so ingrained and expected that waiters consider tips below 15% not to be tips at all, but rather personal insults deserving of true contempt, and anyone anywhere who even has to smell the public expects to be tipped, including paperboys and librarians. Some economists argue that tipping provides cost-effective incentives for superior service, but in actual practice, most Americans are reminded of another joke:

	A man walks into a restaurant, sits down, and orders a three-course meal. After a time, the waiter comes back with his soup, but the man notices that the waiter has his thumb stuck inside the bowl. Thinking it an odd but honest mistake, the man says nothing. But when his pasta dish comes and the waiter's thumb is stuck into that, too, the man is truly baffled. Not wanting to cause a stir, he says nothing. He merely finishes his meal and waits for desert. Finally, his hot fudge brownie comes, and the waiter's thumb is stuck in that as well! The man has had more than enough, and he demands to know why the waiter is sticking his thumb in all of the food. The waiter explains that he has a nasty fungal infection under his thumbnail, and that doctor's orders require him to keep his thumb in a warm and moist place at all times. Exasperated, the man blurts out: "Well, why don't you just stick it up your ass, then?!?" The waiter pauses briefly, then calmly replies: "Where do you think I had it while I was in the kitchen?" º Last Column: The Trojan Horse º more columns
March 17, 2003 Hello Secret Valentine Okay, time to fess it up. Who is Boris secret Valentine? Is Louis? Not thinking so. Louis only give Valentine to hooker and Louis mother. Is Bagel Red? Still not thinking so. Bagel Red only love money and Sesame Streets. So who is Valentine? Ah, is secret. From picture Boris think Valentine is small person, like Webster. This is Boris hunch. Secret Valentine is fun game, no? Yes! Silly question. Boris is smiling when secret Valentine send "peek-my-boo" cards. How nice to think of Boris! Cards says "Have you seen me?" with picture. Not yet, secret Valentine! But soon? Speaking when honest, Boris think secret Valentine not so smart. Underneath picture is name, age, and how tall. Woops! Not so good secret when Boris know how tall is Valentine. But still, who is complaining? Not Boris isn't. No, not that waste of time for Boris. Instead, Boris walking around town to find Valentine very much. Asking all persons who has four feet and six inch if they are Valentine. Is hard work! Not so many persons wanting to hold still for measuring stick. Boris understand, some persons in hurry or already has Valentine. "But Boris!" is what you are thinking. "Do not you have fiancĂ©e person to be Valentine?" No, no, sorry friends. FiancĂ©e person with leopard pants leave Boris goodbye. She go to meet friend John and do magic trick and never come back to Boris. Sad, yes. But as... º Last Column: Boguslaw Sadowski º more columns Okay, time to fess it up. Who is Boris secret Valentine? Is Louis? Not thinking so. Louis only give Valentine to hooker and Louis mother. Is Bagel Red? Still not thinking so. Bagel Red only love money and Sesame Streets. So who is Valentine? Ah, is secret. From picture Boris think Valentine is small person, like Webster. This is Boris hunch. Secret Valentine is fun game, no? Yes! Silly question. Boris is smiling when secret Valentine send "peek-my-boo" cards. How nice to think of Boris! Cards says "Have you seen me?" with picture. Not yet, secret Valentine! But soon? Speaking when honest, Boris think secret Valentine not so smart. Underneath picture is name, age, and how tall. Woops! Not so good secret when Boris know how tall is Valentine. But still, who is complaining? Not Boris isn't. No, not that waste of time for Boris. Instead, Boris walking around town to find Valentine very much. Asking all persons who has four feet and six inch if they are Valentine. Is hard work! Not so many persons wanting to hold still for measuring stick. Boris understand, some persons in hurry or already has Valentine. "But Boris!" is what you are thinking. "Do not you have fiancĂ©e person to be Valentine?" No, no, sorry friends. FiancĂ©e person with leopard pants leave Boris goodbye. She go to meet friend John and do magic trick and never come back to Boris. Sad, yes. But as Louis say there is lots of bitches to go fishing. And now Boris steps on sunshine because there is secret Valentine! Such happy thing, yes. Valentine in America is much better from Valentine in Homeland. In Homeland, man come to door with gun and yelling "I kill Boris who knock up sister of me!" What shit is that Valentine, no? No, in Homeland is not romance like America. There is all about marry teenage girl just because she has little Boris in belly. Boring says Boris! In America is all about find love at end of magic movie with beautiful girl who is not talking too much. Yay for America! So Boris is looking all over for Valentine, at hardware store and down by river. Louis say to look in dressing room at bikini store, lots of womens there. Louis also say look in yellow book for escort service, but Boris think secret Valentine is too small for driving. Maybe with blocks tied on shoes, or small size car which runs on battery. But blocks make it hard for Valentine to go dancing, so Boris think maybe she is not in yellow book. Maybe Boris will check at store for stilts! Yes, yes. Boris will go to stilt store to buy stilts. Then when secret Valentine sees Boris on stilts, and secret Valentine is on stilts, it will be romance like magic circus movie. Yay for Boris idea! º Last Column: Boguslaw Sadowski º more columns