Simcha’s post this morning at the Register cracked me up. I firmly believe that when people do something idiotic intentionally, like name their child Apple or La-a (pronounced La DASH a) the rest of the world has a moral obligation to make fun of them.
How have I come to this conclusion? Let me explain. When I was a child, I had an obsession with the name Jocasta Starr. I know. Words cannot express the hideousness of that name. But I was a wanna-be hippie child with no conception of what hippies actually were, and only knew that I vaguely wanted to emulate Jenny from Forest Gump (the death from AIDS thing was lost on me).
When I finally told my family about “the name I have chosen for my first daughter” they began laughing hysterically and have continued to do so until this very day. They never lose an opportunity to remind me of what a terrible idea that was, nor to bring up the equally atrocious names I chose for my mythical twin boys, Pacifique and Atlantique.
And their utter candor made me re-think that name when I eventually did become pregnant with a girl. Instead of Jocasta Starr Alexander, we have Sienna Marie Nicole Alexander.
And I guarantee you that until the day she dies, my daughter will be grateful for my family for making fun of me for an entire decade.
I only wish someone had been around who wasn’t too afraid to make fun of Frank Zappa, Gwyneth Paltrow, Penn Jilette, and pretty much every other person in Hollywood.
Oh. ESPECIALLY Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.
What kind of a name is Suri? Seriously? It’s like two syllables that have nothing to do with each other and somehow sound worse when smashed together. Why? Why? Why?
So, Needless To Say
I was not one of the ones in the combox wagging my finger at naughty Simcha.
I was one of the ones cheering her on.
What can I say? Celebrities are fair game in my book. Fame and fortune should come with a thicker skin. Also, I’m bitter that I’m not ludicrously rich and half venerated/half hated the world over.
Keepin’ it real, guys. And before you say it, of course I would rather be good than rich and famous.
But what I’d really like is to be all three.
|This is something poor people like me say to console ourselves|
I do realize that having fame and fortune would make it incredibly difficult to pursue a life of virtue, but what can I say?
That’s a cross I’d be willing to bear.
that whole interlude wasn’t very virtuous of me.
So now I’ll talk about what I was originally going to talk about before I was blindsided by the absurdity of a world in which Penn Jilette is famous and wealthy and I am not. (Can we agree that every single person reading this post deserves fame and fortune WAY more than Penn Jilette, the man who brought us the Jill-Jet? Oh no, don’t go google that. It’s disgusting. Just trust me, this man deserves neither fame nor fortune.)
Originally I was going to talk about names I like for my future little roads to virtue, who will serve the dual purpose of making certain I learn some more virtue and making certain I never have to bear the cross of excessive money.
|This right here will teach you patience, good humor, and how to juggle a budget to cover unplanned expenses.|
So in no particular order, here are some of my favorite names for future Alexander minions.
Adele (Sienna was within inches of being named Adele Gwendolyn, which my family also made fun of me for.)
Raissa (After Raissa Maritain…this will be our next girl’s name, and if you steal it I will punch you via the interwebs. I only even put it up here because I trust you. And because it’s not exactly a beautiful name, being all…Russian.)
Killian (Liam was almost called Killian, but then the Ogre said he would name this one Killian if we called the next one Cyrus, and the deal was off)
Jacques (after Jacques Maritain. This one we probably can’t get away with, seeing as how no one will know how to pronounce it and it’s very French and we’re…not.)
What are yours? I won’t steal them, I promise. (Plus if I do you’ll probably never know. Just like I won’t know if you name your child Raissa. So go ahead. But don’t tell me.)
I put Liam down an hour and a half ago. He spent an hour talking in an extremely high-pitched voice and then started crying.
Have you ever read the book The Giver? Sometimes I really wish I had Jonas’ memory-transmitting power, so I could just think of how sleepy I am, press my hands to Liam’s back, and make him fall asleep instantly.
Actually, I think of that every single night. That would be such an awesome power.
I’m going to go get Liam now.
Happy Friday! Go see Jen for more quick takes. Ciao!