Don't let those nasal Moms push you around, Jerry

I was in bed not long ago, musing to some Swedish electronica (which is renowned for inducing revery) and true to form I eventually cast my mind quite vividly to something long forgotten: the first time I read Harry Potter. I'm no apotheosizing fan by any means, but the avid and perceptive reader of the series will remember well that the name Tom Marvolo Riddle = I Am Lord Voldemort. What a sweet anagram. <--- (a link for the uninformed.) Feeling inspired I leapt up, shirked my headphones, and endeavored for the ensuing eight minutes to produce a rippin' cool anagram for my name:

James Royal Rasmussen

I quickly discovered that I only had 7 unique consonants and 3 unique vowels in my name. Gay. Way to go, Mom and Dad. Obviously you didn't have obscure grammatical oddities in mind when you named me. I read the list of anagrams I had conjured from my name:

As nasal moms use Jerry.
O messy SARS; un-ajar meal.
A lass nears; Summer joy.

A sense of defeat slowly wrapped around me. My original plan was to create a name or a sentence that would strike fear into the hearts of men and women. Well I failed. The most foreboding and misanthropic of the three was about SARS and an un...ajar...meal? What the stupid. My anagram had the hoped intention of terror and a poignant sense of bête noir. Like the name Voldemort. What a cacophonous and scary name! The only name I was able to pull out was Jerry. Who is a fat kid that used to work with me at my phone support job. He had a perspiration problem.

I'll try at a later date to produce a better, more bloodcurdling anagram. In the meantime, I need to enhance my word-concocting prowess. Hello online scrabble. My name's James. I'm bad at anagrams. Let me shake your lexiconic, word-wielding hand. Pleasure to meet you, really.