Last Saturday, my best friend came over for dinner, especially since the Czarina is having inordinate amounts of fun making homemade pizza. (The secret is a turkey pepperoni that she discovered a while back that contains almost no extra grease, and her handmade tomato sauce. Yes, I need a larger place with room for a larger garden, just so she can have all the cooking tomatoes she wants.) He naturally got an eyeful of our usual playful dinner banter, such as when I answered the question of why cockroaches aboard a ship are beneficial with "Well, how else are you supposed to keep the lice under control?", as the Elbows of Doom went up and down to the tune of "What the hell is wrong with you, HUH? What is WRONG with you?" Compared to my Saturday nights of a decade ago, life canapos;t get much better than this.
Of course, then we started discussing pepper plants, and things got interesting. Mears didnapos;t know about the naming conventions on plant cultivars: essentially, anyone who names a particular cultivar can name it whatever s/he wants, within reason. Rose and orchid cultivar naming is dependent upon approval by national or international committees, partly to make sure that the cultivar is actually new and partly to make sure that the new name isnapos;t potentially offensive. Other plants are dependent upon the good taste of the cultivar developer, and Iapos;ve noted before that Barry Rice of the International Carnivorous Plant Society has a thing for bladderwort cultivar names that invoke H.P. Lovecraft. Peppers, though, are going to require some serious research, because of Mearsapos;s observations about the warped senses of humor among hot pepper enthusiasts.
See, back in the old days when Saturday Night Live was still funny and John Belushi and Gilda Radner were still alive, the show featured a very disturbing skit featuring names for jam. It started out with "With a name like Fluckerapos;s, itapos;s got to be good," and promptly introduced us to strawberry jam with brand names such as "Nose Hair", "Mangled Baby Ducks", and "Painful Rectal Itch". It finally finished with "If you really love jam, try this one, the one with the name we canapos;t say on television. Ask for it by name" As he was leaving, Mears suggested the same thing with hot peppers, figuring that a lot of people would pay more for habaneros with cultivar names like "AssRipper 9000". My mistake was asking the Czarina "So...if I develop a new habanero cultivar, calling it apos;Anal Rampageapos; wouldnapos;t be too extreme, would it?"
The Elbows of Doom screamed in the night that evening, hungry for the crown of my skull, and the neighbors heard howls of "What is WRONG with you? HANH? Tell me why I donapos;t kill you in your sleep" for the next hour. Naturally, I was on the floor in a fetal ball, paralytic with laughter. Nearly six years of marriage so far and probably another ten before I go so far that she has to put me to sleep: this is what I call a successful relationship.
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