In the comedy monologue I Hate My Name, Mugsy talks to his friends about how much he hates his birth name and wishes he was named something else completely.
MUGSY: It’s because they named me Mugsy. If I was named Bob or Joe or Mike or anything other than Mugsy, my life would have turned out much different. Mugsy. I wouldn’t even name my dog Mugsy. You know how many men were named Mugsy in this country the year I was born? One. Me. Mugsy. Some people may think that as special. It’s not. Mugsy. Sounds like shit on a shoe, “Hey look, you stepped in Mugsy”. I picture some sad looking guy who resembles a bull dog with a name like Mugsy. Mugsy.
Mugsy! With a name like that it’s no wonder I got tormented in kindergarten, grammar school, high school and no, not college. If my name was Jim, I probably would have gone to college but not when you’re named Mugsy. I’m Mugsy, remember?
When you’re a Mugsy, you go and become a plumber or an electrician or some kind of blue collar job. Not that there’s anything wrong with blue collar work, it’s just that you won’t see any Mugsy’s pushing pencils anytime soon.
My life sucked the day they named me. Why not Sid or Tony or Bill? So…I’ve decided to change my name once and for all. I’ve decided to change my name to, BUCK.
I’ve always felt like a Texan man, even though I was born and raised in the lower east side of Manhattan fifty somewhat years ago. But Buck, now, that’s a name. Makes me feel like John Wayne, big and strong, not short and ugly. BUCK! The power is in you, BUCK!
(makes a strong pose with his fists)
I’m legally changing my name and I’m moving to Texas to be a true Texan. I’m buying some land, gonna start me a farm and live off what I grow. Gonna get me a few horses, some pigs, a few roosters and I’m all set. Just me and nature and a new name…BUCK. In twenty years, I might even develop a slight Texas accent. How cool would that be??? Then I can die peacefully, without shame.
BUCK – the Texan from New York!