<s> That's a great catch. I believe, however, he was actually an illegitimate grandson of Samuel (Dr.) Johnson, who when confronted by a "lady" at the customary afternoon soiree and told "Sir, you smell!" said in response, "Madame, you smell. I stink!" Thus, you see that what was volatile emanated from pernicious body odors. The name was in fact served as a warning, assumed when the son of Dr. Johnson emigrated to France in order to escape his father's reputation, in part to give others a chance to avoid the harmful vapors. Because, alas, the stench continued to pass down the generations even when in France. Voltaire, the philosopher, is often seen posed with a serene smile on his face. That was because while posing for these pieces, he was able to breathe freely -- something which he was unable to do when huddled with his very bright, articulate amanuensis, Volataire, without whom none of the witticisms for which Voltaire was known would have existed -- the grandson having inherited, in addition to the odious vapors, his grandfather's way with words. In fact so did the grandson's father, who tutored the young Voltaire. When the young Voltaire complained bitterly about the stench, the father shot back gleefully, "in that case, you must call me Volataire." The name stuck, as indeed just about anything would stick to clothes impregnated with the foul, volatile air emanating from Volataire pere, and later from Volataire fils.

At least that's my understanding of it. <s>

Hank

>><s> To paraphrase Volataire, I will defend to the death your right to choose an improper, inadequate and inconsistent with the available information, understanding of the Book of Revelations.
>
>Is that the guy who keeps changing his opinions? < g >