Mojoceratops
Some questions have only one correct answer. Question: what would you do with a time machine? Go back in time and kill Hitler. Question: what's the best superpower? Obviously mind control- Superman's super-strength becomes your tool if you can just mind-control him (vast sums of money are a close second, which is why Batman beats Superman in the comics). Another question that has only one correct answer: what do you do if you have a chance to name a dinosaur Mojoceratops?
I ran across the first skull in the basement of the American Museum of Natural History. At the time, I was looking for evidence of T. rex feeding, traces, as part of the T. rex cannibalism paper. I saw this beautiful ceratopsian frill, and recognized it as the type of thing that was pretty common in Dinosaur Park. And just out of curiosity I was wondering what species it was- and I realized, I didn't know.
At the time, I hadn't done much work on ceratopsians, but I'd been trying to put together some faunal lists for the Park as part of the Bigassomimus paper, so I'd spent some time going over the literature and knew all the species that were supposed to be there. This one, however, didn't fit anything. It looked a lot like Pentaceratops, with the big notch in the back of the frill, but the hornlets didn't hook forward. It was kind of like Chasmosaurus, but the notch was way too deep, and again the hornlets should hook forward. It didn't fit anything described before: there was something new in the Park.
I ended up going through collections and identified a number of specimens that didn't fit into Chasmosaurus. The AMNH skull had a very graceful shape to it- I thought that perhaps Lyraceratops would be a pretty name for a pretty animal. The skull, however, is not really that lyre-shaped, so it was sort of a contrived name.
Some of the other material looked less elegant- the Saskatchewan frill had an odd knobbly appearance to it and strongly kinked parietal rami. It had a look that was, well, funky. What's a funky-sounding name for a relative of Triceratops?
At the time, I didn't have any good ideas. But one day in field camp, coming back from a long day at the quarry, hot, dehydrated and with a beer in hand, we were discussing what would be good names for dinosaurs. And I just sort of said it. Without even really thinking about it, it was one of those things that was on my tongue:
Mojoceratops.
I was joking, of course. You cannot seriously call a dinosaur Mojoceratops, it was just a funny thing to say. But then everybody just sort of paused and went: oooh. That actually sounds pretty good.
I thought about it. You can't be serious, nick, I thought. Yes, but it's such a cool sounding name! I thought. They'll laugh at you, I thought. They probably do already, so what's the loss?
I imagined myself losing the respect of my colleagues for pulling a stunt like that. Then I imagined myself 90 years old, looking back at my life- a successful person in so many ways. Perhaps I've written some books, made a lot of money, started a charity that rid the developing world of athlete's foot, and made a bid for President as a fringe candidate in the Republican presidential primaries. As I look out the window, watching the flying cars go past, I think: yes, you had a good life. But you had a chance to name a dinosaur Mojoceratops, and you didn't do it! You only live once, I thought. Who cares what other people think. If you've got a chance to name a dinosaur Mojoceratops... how could you possibly not?
I went over and over it. It's not appropriate to use a word like mojo, is it? Well, why not? Sure, Linnean taxonomy traditionally has its roots in Greek and Roman. But it's a tradition, not a rule. People have used other languages- Mongolian, Spanish, Mandarin Chinese. Technically doesn't even have to be a real language at all: Leigh van Valen used Elvish, for crying out loud (Mimatuta morgoth, e.g.). Which got me wondering: where does the word even come from?
I did a little digging. A mojo, it turns out, is a charm in the African-American hoodoo folk magic tradition- a charm to gain success, fame, money, but especially the favor of the opposite sex (or the same sex, if you are so inclined). Hence, Muddy Water's famous song, Got My Mojo Working ("I got my mojo working / but it just don't work on you") which was in turn cryptically referenced by the Beatles in Come Together ("He got muddy water, he one one mojo filter").
Well, what the hell. Why isn't African-American English as valid as ancient Greek or Roman (or Elvish?). What's more, the name made sense.
The frills of dinosaurs were almost certainly display structures- used to intimidate rivals, and to court members of the opposite sex. They gave dinosaurs success in courtship, which was the purpose of a mojo. It was their magic charm to get the ladies- the frill was the dinosaurs' mojo.
In the end I could only see one answer: Mojoceratops.
Paper here: http://www.bioone.org/doi/abs/10.1666/09-114.1