"Oh, I don't know. William Dana Scully? I've heard worse." It has a cheekiness beneath the staid, William F. Buckley feeling to it, all in the knowledge that he'd be named after his mother. Who could ask for a greater namesake than Scully? Stronger and brighter than anyone else he's met, small and terrifying and infuriating even as she's perfect. The movie credits are running on the screen, but he's too lazy to grab the remote. "If we don't find anything in a name book, we can get an encyclopedia of animals. William Rhinoceros will throw them off, if William Fox won't."