I have zero doubt you know precisely what you're factually outlining there, Meteorite. I just like jokey names, that's all.
I mean, even though during the late '80s I improbably was a white bassist in a reggae band, it's not like I'm necessarily a particular fan of reggae stalwart Carl Douglas--last I checked, he's still alive and, I hope, performing in Jamaica--though his sole AM hit sure DOES have some catchy if non-PC lyrics:
Everybody was Kung Fu fighting!
Those kicks came fast as lightning.
(In fact, it was a little bit frightening.)
There were funky Chinamen in funky Chinatown
They were chopping; them up, and
They were chopping them down.
Oh, and speaking of misnomers, Sir or Madam Meteorite, I figure (given your pseudonym) you may find this interesting:
I toured Barringer Crater in northern Arizona southeast of Flagstaff in conjunction with my run early this century in conjunction as an Albuquerque commercial radio news talker. I used the visit as an opportunity to persuade a couple front-office folk there that (as a proudly astronomy- and physics-literate media yakker), it is an insult to the English language that the world-famed site is colloquially--and all-but-, ahem, UNIVERSALLY--known as Meteor Crater.
As you sure know but too many folks are simply ignorant of, the moment any incoming meteor strikes the ground its identify becomes, forever, a meteorite! (And in the Barringer case, a rather sizable one, especially for the era some 50,000 years back when it seems to have arrived*).
The on-duty manager I was earnestly making this case to was, I should report, a perfectly nice lady. And she cheerfully acknowledged the perfect correctness of my argument. And then firmly informed me they would perfectly maintain the mistak--er, misnomer.
* Presumably rather thunderously to boot, for sure, but this raises a philosophical question: If a meteorite strikes the planet but there is no one to hear it, does its impact make a sound?