In this country, you have to get a license to drive a car and a separate license to ride a motor cycle. For those of you not born here, you get to take a painstakingly difficult test just to be called a citizen and have the grand privilege of paying taxes. Heck, a person has to go through years of rigorous training and schooling just for the honor of calling themselves an astronaut so they can get launched into space in a sardine can while wearing a 1940s scuba suit and pissing in a vacuum hose. And with all this, there is still no training, schooling or accountability measure whatsoever required for parents tasked with naming their children. As a result, there are hordes of millennials walking the streets with legal names like Sabre, Cocoa and Colon.
COLON! Dear God. Why stop there, I wonder, when PoopTube is such a viable option?
I know I will probably offend someone, but I can’t hold my tongue any longer. The truth of it is that my opinion on what you name your child matters about as much as what I think about the holes left in the front of men’s boxers (Is that supposed to be for sticking things in or letting things out?). But dammit, this is America, where civility comes second to shock-value media, Trans-fats-in-a-box-with-a-toy, and blasting on social media as many untenable opinions as possible on topics nobody should be caring about anyway.
With that said, I do feel at least a prick of empathy to the offended. I am, after all, convinced that God gave us the ability to bear children for the very purpose of screwing them up in our own unique and special way. My own plan is to instill upon mine an unhealthy (and mildly creepy) love for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, as well as a set of carefully selected irrational fears to include: boy bands, hyperactive ghost children who live in the crawlspace of our house, and Tupperware museums that can be found in the heart of some Podunk town that’s sole claim to fame is a dairy cow named Berta who has a spot on her back that resembles the silhouette of Jesus Christ. If naming your child after your World of Warcraft character is your thing, who am I to argue? I know I should simply shake your hand and wish you well…
…but I can’t. I just can’t. I think what tipped me over the edge was the name that read on the badge of a girl who recently wrapped up a pound of deli meat for me.
For the love of…
What this poor child doesn’t know is that, where I come from, the synonym for princess is not so flattering.
I absolutely believe that this kind of reckless naming of babies should be considered as a severe form of child abuse by the courts. Some of the cruelest names I’ve come across or have been told about in recent years include: Lemonjello and Orangejello (pronounced LEM-AHN-JELO and OR-AHN-JELO, respectively), Sunday, Saint, Whisper, Danger and Baby. It compels me to want to research the possible side effects that epidural might have on the name-picking part of a mother’s brain.
Abcde (pronounced AB-SID-EE) is another name that makes me think we should all just receive a number in lieu of a name. It’s a girl’s name, and this article claims that 328 people in the US are named this.
I will pause for you to rinse out the bit of throw up that has undoubtedly found its way into your mouth.
Now brace yourself, because this next one is far worse.
Pop quiz. How would you pronounce the following name?
A-Ha (a variation in spelling I’ve seen is A-A).
Give up? Hint: it’s not Aha! or even Ah-Ah!
Nope. It’s A-DASH-UH.
Feel that prickly feeling under your scalp? That’s stupidity seeping in like battery acid leaking into a gas line…and that stupidity seems to be spreading.
All this speaks nothing about odd spellings of more common names. I can only guess that this phenomenon derives from lost bets or self-medicating with mushrooms found in the backyard. I should be clear to note that my feelings on this exclude foreign variations of spelling for a particular name, especially when the family is of that descent or there is some significance behind it. I’m speaking more to the let’s-name-our-child-Mykkyl-just-to-be-different kinds of scenarios.
I mean, can you really imagine a President Mykkyl? Doctor Elizabreth (that’s not a misspelling)? CEO Aliviyah?
I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. Let’s bring these names to light. Please share in the comments the strange names you’ve seen or heard. We may not be able to stop the outbreak, but hopefully, with dedication and unification, we can contain it.