Nicknames have a rich tradition in Vermont politics, thanks mainly to the efforts of Peter Freyne, the legendary columnist for Seven Days. Peter livened up the political arena by coining such memorable nicknames as Ho-Ho (Howard Dean), Scooby-Doo (Brian Dubie), The Ponytail Prog (David Zuckerman), and the unforgettable Governor Scissorhands (Jim Douglas). When Peter passed away, so did the tradition of creative political nicknames.

Enter “Step.” I’ll explain. When I was a nubber, my older sister was learning to spell. To simplify the spelling of her younger brother’s name, my mother broke it into two shorter words, “step” and “hen.” For reasons unexplainable, I became Step, and the name stuck. Better than Hen. I only became “Stephen” when I entered the job market and wanted to sound older, more serious and mature.

Big mistake. These days it makes me smile to find someone who has known me long enough to call me “Step.”

Nicknames can be generic, like “buddy” or “pal.” I once had a job with a company where we used a slick, Manhattan ad agency. There was this one totally useless guy called our account executive whose job was to make us feel good. He accomplished this by ordering really expensive wines — two bottles at a time — at lunch and by calling everyone “Big Guy.” It worked! Try it. Find a male, preferably a little wimpy one, call him “Big Guy” and see if he doesn’t puff up a little bit. Guys are genetically susceptible to anything that appeals to their vanity.

But vanity can bite you in the butt, especially with nicknames. Step’s Nickname Rule #1: Beware of self-anointed nicknames. When my youngest son was in Little League, he was a sure-handed shortstop. Once, after a nice play, his coach said, “Nice job. You’re like a vacuum cleaner out there.” My son decided that his new moniker would be “VC.” The other kids on his team picked up on it and for a few days everything was VC-this and VC-that.

Then came a real game. As VC patrolled his turf between second and third, an opposing player on second base asked “What does ‘VC’ stand for?”

“Vacuum cleaner,” answered my son with modest swagger.

“Why? Is that because you suck?” Thus ended the VC era.

This can happen in the political arena, too. A few years ago Ed Flanagan, then running for the U.S. Senate, deemed himself “The Bulldog.” A few years after he went down to defeat, I ran into him in an elevator. “Hey,” I said, addressing him in the third-person, as he had in his ads, “It’s the Bulldog!” He looked through me, as if I had just made a rude noise. There was not even a little woof of recognition.

This year’s Democratic primary is so crowded that you need more than a scorecard to tell the players apart … you need nicknames—creative, funny, sophomoric nicknames. Step’s Rule #2: when creating a nickname, think of something that will make an eighth-grader snicker.

Ironically, the only Democrat not running for the Golden Dome is the only Democrat with a good nickname already, “Shap” Smith. The long shot in the race to face Scooby-Doo (No offense, Peter, but I would have chosen Brian “Dubious”) is Susan Bartlett. Not too many people are familiar with her position on issues which is confusin’, not that we’re excusin’, but this Susan will be Losin.’

Doug Racine has been around Vermont politics since forever. He’s nice looking, articulate, and polite … all in all, a decent guy. His first name, however, rhymes with many words that sound good, but just don’t fit … Doug the Slug, Doug the Thug, Doug the Lug. Since he’s already had a shot at prime time, some might think of him as Doug the Shrug, as in yesterday’s news. In keeping with true Freynesian spirit of juvenile humor and in recognition of his good service, let’s go with Dougie Doo-Right.

Matt Dunne has committed the unforgivable political sin of not being from Chittenden County. He’s what we savvy political analysts call an “up-and-comer,” meaning that his potential for losing races at a higher level is unlimited. We could be talking White House in a few years. But not now. His time has not come, so call him Matt “Stick-a-fork-in-me-I’m-all” Dunne. (But if you run into him in an elevator, make him puff up a bit by addressing him as “Big Guy.”)

There’s a class of stand-alone nicknames that begin with “The.” Would you want to face a closer in baseball named “The Terminator” or be tackled by a linebacker called “The Hammer.” Deb Markowitz, the current secretary of state, is considered this year’s front-runner. She is energetic, enthusiastic, perky, with a political pedigree that includes years of loyal service to Prince Patrick Leahy. This gubernatorial race is her “coming out” party so it is natural to deem her “The Deb-utante.” As the primary approaches, the other candidates will take off the gloves and go negative. Then she will become “The Deb You Taunt.” Of course if she loses big-time “The Deb You Taunt” will become “The Deb-acle.”

Windsor County’s entrant in the stakes is Peter Shumlin, whose profile features his prominent proboscis. We’re eschewing obvious names like Pete the Beak in deference to the fact that when the candidates disclosed their personal finances, Shumlin reported his 2009 income as being almost a million dollars! Why does he want a job where he’ll take an 80 percent pay cut? Sheesh! The guy is already a … (drum roll) Shum-dog Millionaire.

Step Morris pretends to be a grown-up named “Stephen” in Randolph, Vt. He is the editor/publisher of Green Living: A Practical Journal for Friends of the Environment. Reach him at Stephen@GreenLivingJournal.com.