You Guys Have Funny Taste

Little-known sad facts about odd potatoes who lack names: They'll snuggle up to anything in an effort to fit in.

They bow before stone idols, begging for somewhere to belong.

They tend to be runaways.

They will hock your china if you aren't careful.

They try to pair up with unsuitable eggs.

They identify with anything called hens and chickens.

They look for love in all the wrong places

consoled only by cats like Kate here who practice active listening techniques

and put up with the odd nuzzle.

BUT

Floggers have blown to the rescue!
In the spirit of camaraderie and ridiculousness, worthy souls have gathered here today in the sight of God and everybody to join together a nameless crazy potato, rescued from the compost heap just in the nick of time right before it became mashed, YES! I said we are gathered here together to join this oddest of potatoes, veritably shaped by the adversity it has endured in the slings and arrows of the compost heap, truly a garbage dump if you want to know the truth, YES! Can I have an AMEN? I said we floggers have done the spiritual equivalent of circling the wagons around this poor little spud, proving once again that COMMUNITY can accomplish what mortal Self cannot, and what is that? you ask, I will tell you: we can touch the stars! YES! The stars, I tell you! The dark matter of this universe is ours to bridle and steer into tomorrow, and at our helm, ladies and gentlemen, rides the Unknown Tater! And he shall be known among us! Amen! We are gathered here together to join this most hapless, yet surely most fortuitous, spud of unknown origin, whose ways are not our ways, YES! who is indeed as far removed from our ways as it is possible to be removed and yet still be within the circle of holy wagons, we shall join this very potato to the name we bestow upon it with pride. It is with great pleasure, thereby and heretofore, that we baptize, this very day, this most unusual and splendiferous of spuds, whose gender and genealogy we cannot know, indeed perhaps should never know, and shall consider henceforth without prejudice to be a neutral party, YES! we baptize thee, oh weirdest spud, in the name of all that is holy to potatoes everywhere, with an equally, indubitably weird NAME:

YUKON CORNELIUS, THE VENTURING POTATO!

(P.S. I voted for Spud.)