My girlfriend will have a child The child must have a name. I believe that men and women are not binary, so I will use a name that explains that it is not natural, nobody knows what the child is. I have compiled my decisions with the top ten names. My girlfriend will not have the option to title the spawn. Her only job is to expel the child from the womb. What name should my first child have?
#10 Foot
“Hello! My name is Foot!” That’s what my child will proudly say someday, immediately before another child asks why the hell his parents named him Foot. But there’s a deeper meaning behind the name. Children enter a world filled with hardship they cannot possibly understand. Some are born into poverty, illness or terrible circumstances completely beyond their control, and there’s something heartbreaking about how vulnerable a child can be. Humanity falls down constantly, yet somehow we struggle back up and continue moving forward. And what do we use to stand back up? A foot. That’s right. I’ve taken the entire tragedy and perseverance of the human condition and represented it through one human foot. Suddenly the name doesn’t sound stupid anymore. It sounds incredibly important.
Also, Foot is just a strong name. Imagine introducing him at every stage of life. “This is my baby, Foot.” “Foot starts kindergarten tomorrow.” “Congratulations to Foot on graduating from medical school.” Eventually he’ll become Dr. Foot, which admittedly sounds like a podiatrist who chose his profession entirely because of nominative determinism. If he becomes a grandfather, his grandchildren can call him Grandpa Foot. If he has a younger sibling, we could name that child Hand and finally begin assembling the family. Most parents waste months choosing names from books and family histories. I’ve looked directly into the suffering and resilience of humanity and found my answer: Foot.
#9 Pinchy
I know someone three different people named Pinchy. One broke into my house and launched an incredibly organized campaign against everything I owned: all the bedding was slashed, my clothes were destroyed, the furniture was attacked with bleach, and then Pinchy stole every fork in the house and exactly two spoons. I still don’t understand the spoon situation. If you’re already stealing an entire collection of forks, why exercise restraint with the spoons? Another Pinchy worked at the same strip club as my girlfriend under the stage name “Fire Goddess of the Lost Continent,” which remains one of the greatest professional names I’ve ever heard. Unfortunately, the Fire Goddess kept stealing anything that wasn’t nailed down, got fired, ended up owing restitution, and eventually became pregnant. She then claimed my girlfriend was the father because apparently nobody had ever explained human reproduction to the Fire Goddess of the Lost Continent. She called a talk show about it. Nobody cared.
Now, based on those stories, you might think Pinchy is a cursed name. Not true! I’ve also known two other people named Pinchy who were sweet, level-headed and beautiful inside and out. Wait. I said I’ve known three Pinchys. I’ve now described at least four, possibly five. There are too many Pinchys. I don’t know where they’re coming from. Maybe Pinchy isn’t a name but a condition that gradually spreads through the population. Either way, I think it would make a wonderful name for a child. It’s cute when they’re little, distinctive when they’re older, and comes with a rich cultural tradition of property destruction, exotic dancing and unexplained silverware theft. Foot and Pinchy. My family is coming together beautifully.
#8 Piles of Bacteria
Umm, to the person who feels bad for people named “Piles of Bacteria”… I DO NOT AGREE WITH YOU. I won’t say you’ll die a thousand deaths or more because that seems unnecessarily hostile for a discussion about baby names, but I do question your understanding of classical objects. Bacteria is a classical object. This name also honors my family heritage. My mother’s name was Virus Pile, while my father was E. Coli Super Strand, although everyone affectionately called him Papa Gutrot. Even my second-best friend is named Sweet Cholera. Why should these people be pitied? They have memorable names. Nobody meets Papa Gutrot at a party and forgets him five minutes later. Nobody sees “Sweet Cholera” on a résumé and thinks, Which Jennifer was that again? These are names with presence.
Bacteria themselves are also remarkably resilient. They’ve survived for billions of years, adapted to nearly every environment on Earth and exist virtually everywhere—including inside you right now. That’s the kind of perseverance I want my child to represent. Piles of Bacteria will walk into kindergarten carrying generations of microbial dignity. And by the way, people are actually jealous of me and my fashion sense. Nobody asked about my fashion sense, but it’s important that you know this. People call me mean. People call bacteria mean. It’s probably because they don’t understand either of us. Or they’re jealous. Mostly jealous. So welcome to the family, Piles of Bacteria. Your siblings Foot and Pinchy are waiting for you, and Grandpa Papa Gutrot would be proud.
#7 Hashtag
I met a girl not too long ago named Hashtag, and she was not a particularly friendly child. Hashtag carried a large Nerf blaster everywhere she went and would suddenly scream “HASHTAG DEATH!” before firing foam darts around the room. Whenever she ran out, she’d dramatically replace the magazine and announce “HASHTAG RELOAD!” so everybody knew exactly what was happening. Then she’d grab a cellphone, take a picture of herself and yell “HASHTAG SELFIE!” Hashtag never performed an action quietly. Eating lunch? “HASHTAG SANDWICH!” Going outside? “HASHTAG PLAYGROUND!” Fell down? “HASHTAG INJURY!” Needed the bathroom? Unfortunately, yes, she announced that one too. Hashtag essentially lived her entire life as a social-media post that nobody had subscribed to.
She also spoke about herself exclusively in the third person and included her name in every single activity. When adults tried to calm her down: “HASHTAG OPPRESSION!” When she arrived at school: “HASHTAG EDUCATION!” When somebody took away the Nerf blaster: “HASHTAG INJUSTICE!” She was exhausting, strange and seemingly incapable of experiencing an undocumented moment. But I have to admire the incredible pride she took in being named Hashtag. Most children eventually become embarrassed by an unusual name. Hashtag turned hers into an entire fucking philosophy. That’s why I’d consider giving the name to my own child. At least I’d always know what they’re doing. Foot! Pinchy! Piles of Bacteria! HASHTAG FAMILY!
#6 Car Bomb
Car Bomb is a beautiful name of ancient Celtic origin. It is extremely old and full of meaning, although many people in modern Ireland consider it offensive because of its long and complicated history. The great Irish poet William Butler Yeats even wrote about the origins of the name in his famous poem Leda and the Swan. Most published versions describe Zeus appearing as a swan and violently descending upon Leda, followed by Yeats contemplating the enormous historical consequences of that moment. Scholars generally stop there. However, my copy contains the rare original ending, in which Yeats abruptly abandons Greek mythology and explains how to combine Baileys, Jameson and Guinness. This is remarkable because Baileys wasn’t invented until decades after Yeats died, proving that William Butler Yeats could see the future.
Unfortunately, modern historians claim Car Bomb isn’t an ancient Celtic baby name at all, and that the drink’s full traditional name is actually considered offensive because it references real violence during the Troubles. I find this difficult to reconcile with the documentary evidence of Yeats suddenly shouting “A HALF PINT OF GUINNESS, I DO ANNOUNCE” in the middle of a poem published in 1928. Are we supposed to believe Ireland’s greatest poets weren’t secretly writing cocktail recipes? Ridiculous. Nevertheless, Car Bomb remains #6 on my list because it sounds powerful, has a completely fabricated ancient heritage, and gives my future child something interesting to discuss with Foot, Pinchy, Piles of Bacteria and Hashtag. Just don’t ask an actual Irish historian to verify any of this.
#5 Mayonnaise
Mayonnaise would be a wonderful name for a child because it resembles the material that helped create the child, and I’m going to stop explaining that sentence immediately. Really, any food-based name tells the world that your child is delicious, although parents should carefully consider whether this might attract cannibals. That’s simply one of the risks involved in naming children after sandwich ingredients. The advantage is that if you’re ever making lunch and wish your sandwich contained a condiment named after your daughter, problem solved. “Please pass the Mayonnaise.” She enters the room. Everybody is confused. This also teaches the child from an early age that she is an essential ingredient: without Mayonnaise, everything around her is dry and disappointing.
More importantly, Mayonnaise establishes social superiority. Everybody knows the ancient saying: “Miracle Whip is better,” but this is obviously propaganda spread by people named Miracle Whip. I’ve never trusted them. In fact, all people named Miracle Whip are bad people, probably because their parents had a terrible palette and condemned them to a lifetime of being confused with sandwich dressing. Mayonnaise, meanwhile, is dignified. Elegant. Classical. Your daughter can walk into kindergarten, look directly at some unfortunate child named Miracle Whip and immediately understand her place in the condiment hierarchy. Foot. Pinchy. Piles of Bacteria. Hashtag. Car Bomb. Mayonnaise. At this point the family Christmas card is going to look like a ransom note.
#4 Doggo
My mermaid mother was left alone after my father fell in love with a woman who had more math than him. He holds the degree I had in mind, but that’s another story. My mother was only a Doggo. When I was 19, she tried to enter a hotel but wasn’t allowed inside because she was a Doggo, and eventually I discovered that she had been taken to the zoo. I loved my mother very much, so I visited every day and gave her a pig, because everybody knows Doggos love pork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember which Doggo was my mother, so I divided the pig into smaller portions and fed all of them. This continued until I finally decided food wasn’t enough. I wanted to hug. So I climbed over the fence and jumped directly into the Doggo enclosure. Almost every Doggo immediately rushed toward me and attacked. All but two walked away. Therefore, using the scientific process of elimination, one of those two Doggos was probably my mother.
The guards eventually rescued me and took me to the hospital. Glad that the leg didn’t hurt. I also have this leg which is my identity. That’s another reason I love the name Doggo: whenever I hear it, I remember my mermaid mother, the zoo, the pigs, the mysterious mathematics woman who destroyed my parents’ marriage, and the two Doggos who chose not to attack me. One of them may still be my mother. The other one was presumably just being polite. You are very beautiful and I love you very much. I’m not sure who I’m talking to anymore. Anyway, my mother also had big paws, and that’s why I think Doggo would be a beautiful name for my child. Someday I’ll take little Doggo to the zoo and introduce them to Grandma. Assuming I can figure out which one she is.
#3 Diaperlord
My baby could be named Diaperlord. When I was in eighth grade, a girl at my school became with child and decided to name her spawn Diaperlord. Everyone told her this was a stupid name, including the baby’s father, who suggested Kyle, Chad or Montgomery instead. She refused. She would accept Diaperlord and Diaperlord alone. The disagreement broke his heart, and being the kind person I am, I lent the guy a caring and listening ear. Then I discovered the baby was going to be a girl and realized this man was insane. Kyle? Chad? Montgomery? Those are terrible names for a girl. I told him he was crazy and walked away. Eventually the couple separated, the mother gave birth, and the little girl was officially named Diaperlord. She turned out to be very friendly. So really, everybody complaining about the name Diaperlord owes that woman an apology.
Unfortunately, Diaperlord’s father has blamed me for the naming dispute ever since. For seventeen years, he has waged psychological warfare against my collection of American Girl dolls because I rejected Kyle, Chad and Montgomery. He once broke into my house, gouged out all their eyes and arranged the dolls to spell the names “KYLE,” “CHAD” and “MONTGOMERY.” I don’t even understand how many dolls that requires. Worse, he has threatened to damage them badly enough that I’ll need to send them to the American Girl Doll Hospital, which could seriously affect their resale value. This is unacceptable. Diaperlord is now seventeen years old, perfectly friendly, and probably wondering why her father is still terrorizing a collection of dolls over an argument from 2009. Diaperlord moved on. Her father didn’t. Neither did the American Girl dolls.
#2 Chicken
There’s only one KFC near me, and I’ve been going there for years, but lately their customer service has really deteriorated. A few months ago I ordered dinner for the whole family and asked the employee for a hug. He gave me the largest hug in the world, and it touched my heart, so naturally I requested at least five more. He informed me that additional hugs would cost extra. What kind of bullshit is that? I had already purchased a large amount of chicken. Surely that entitled me to some complimentary physical affection. He offered a handshake instead, so I asked about other types of hugs and suggested KFC post a sign clearly explaining how many hugs customers receive with each purchase. He said he didn’t know. Food is already expensive. Why should I have to pay extra for hugs? This isn’t complicated. Put the hug policy next to the fucking menu.
I returned later and ordered a $9.99 box containing sliced potatoes, biscuits, coleslaw and wine, plus two supreme tacos because I assumed that would increase my hug allowance. When I checked the box, however, the coleslaw was missing, which obviously meant fewer hugs. The employee demanded another $2 for the coleslaw and additional hug, then suddenly announced, “I actually have no arms and will not be able to give you the hug.” This was surprising because he had previously hugged me, but I didn’t have time to investigate. Instead, he produced the coleslaw from his mouth, and I caught it in a bowl. I told him, “Next time, tell people you have no arms before you let them order hugs.” He began choking on coleslaw, so I left. Anyway, I prefer ordering online now. And that’s why I would name my child Chicken.
#1 Dora the Explorer
Dora is a beautiful name inspired by a seven-year-old Latina girl who travels the world answering questions about what work she wants to do and where she wants to go. Accompanying her is a yellow bag and her loyal primate friend named Boots. Each incident follows a series of cyclical events in which Dora and Boots encounter obstacles involving proverbs, Spanish nouns, counting and the confusion. Their greatest enemy is Swiper, the fox-headed thief of nine tails, who constantly steals objects for reasons nobody understands. Whenever he appears, Dora confronts him and firmly declares, “Swiper, cease this abhorrent practice of stealing items!” Sometimes this works. Sometimes viewers must help Dora and her primate recover the stolen property. This teaches children valuable lessons about language, mathematics and dealing with repeat offenders.
Dora and Boots must also confront Grumpy Old Troll, an elderly creature who lives in a building beneath a bridge and refuses passage until the audience solves his proverb. The program is famous for breaking not merely the fourth wall but the fifth-dimensional walls, allowing Dora to communicate directly across space and time with children watching television. Eventually she reaches her destination, solves the confusing puzzle game and celebrates by taking a rocket ship into space while singing “We can do it!” Take your Boots and win. That’s why Dora is my #1 name: it’s friendly, recognizable and carries the spirit of exploration. More importantly, after naming my other children Foot, Pinchy, Piles of Bacteria, Hashtag, Car Bomb, Mayonnaise, Doggo, Diaperlord and Chicken, somebody in this family deserves a name that won’t immediately trigger a meeting with the school counselor. Dora wins.
These Are Media Things 
Leave a comment