We wanted drums. Something as nasty and as rigid and as strict as possible.

 

Like all men, we are animals. Wild scavengers desperately seeking the hierarchy and discipline of the pack. We crave the jackboot steps of an absolute millisecond-perfect strike.

 

Thankfully, he is the lusty fascist we dreamed of. Dampening the panties of a thousand bad girls with a rigorous, unflinching beat.

 

And the name?

 

All drum machines have the prefix Doctor. This is common knowledge.

 

(It is an honorary title, bestowed upon the device, similar in manner to how a pianist in a saloon of dubious reputation may, at times, be called a Professor.)

 

Of course, this all had the danger of seeming massively, massively pretension.

 

So we put the word Cock in its name.

 

Problem solved.