I wonder if there isn’t an analogous boy version of the “President or stripper?” test for girls. That test, if you’ve never heard of it, has you taking your preferred Girl Name and inserting it into the following formulae:
“...the president of the United States, _____ _____!”
“...and now on the center pole, _____ ______!”
Thus naming your girl Champagne Brandy Lexxxus fails miserably, unless you have really warped ideals.
We haven’t, as a society, had a habit of giving some boys “stripper names” (whatever those would be for a boy), but if there’s something similarly frivolous in the air for boys—and this article suggests a possibility or two—I wonder what a good specific test would be.
Also, I also consider many baby names overthought. It’s an important decision, to be sure, but I wonder just how much Communication of Your Values occurs thereby.
In any case, if he uses his own birth first name from here on out, poor gentle-chief Calum (from the linked article) will have to endure “can you spell that again?” for the rest of his life. If I were Calum, my main lesson would probably be that Mommy didn’t really think ahead to that part.
What a lunatic.
It’s not too late, America! Give your kids a respectable cowboy or cowgirl name!
http://www.cowboycrew.com/cowboy_club_072.htm
My first boy will be named Rush. Ronald will probably be next.
I named my son Curtiss after the famous P-40 manufacturer.It didnt take long for the teachers to spell him name correctly either.
I have few concerns for my Joseph, Michael, Charles, and Andrew.
I’m surprised nobody has mentioned Beaver or Gilligan yet let alone Opie.
Her name, said an irate mom, "is LA DASH A"!!!
“My name is ‘Sue!’ How do you do! Now your gonna die!!”
God Bless Johnny Cash!
My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn’t leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don’t blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me “Sue.”
Well, he must o’ thought that is quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a’ lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I’d get red
And some guy’d laugh and I’d bust his head,
I tell ya, life ain’t easy for a boy named “Sue.”
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I’d roam from town to town to hide my shame.
But I made a vow to the moon and stars
That I’d search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful name.
Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry,
I thought I’d stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon on a street of mud,
There at a table, dealing stud,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me “Sue.”
Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother’d had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: “My name is ‘Sue!’ How do you do!
Now your gonna die!!”
Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a’ gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.
I tell ya, I’ve fought tougher men
But I really can’t remember when,
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin’ at me and I saw him smile.
And he said: “Son, this world is rough
And if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn’t be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you’d have to get tough or die
And it’s the name that helped to make you strong.”
He said: “Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I’m the son-of-a-bitch that named you “Sue.’”
I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I’m gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!
My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn’t leave much to Ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don’t blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me ‘Sue.’
Well, he must o’ thought that is was quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a’ lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I’d get red
And some guy’d laugh and I’d bust his head,
I tell ya, life ain’t easy for a boy named ‘Sue.’
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I’d roam from town to town to hide my shame.
But I made me a vow to the moon and stars
That I’d search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man that give me that awful name.
Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry,
I thought I’d stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon on a street of mud,
There at a table, dealing stud,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me ‘Sue.’
Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother’d had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: “My name is ‘Sue!’ how do you do! Now you gonna die!”
Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down but, to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a’ gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.
I tell ya, I’ve fought tougher men
But I really can’t remember when,
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin’ at me and I saw him smile.
And he said: “’Son, this world is rough
And if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough
And I know I wouldn’t be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said good-bye
I knew you’d have to get tough or die
And it’s that name that helped to make you strong.“
He said: ‘Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I’m the son-of-a-bitch that named you ‘Sue’.’
I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I come away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I’m gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but sue! I still hate that name
My son was born in early ‘60’s. Named him Michael. He played 3-2 baseball in high school on a team that had 8 Michaels out of 12 players. In our part of the world during our generation the first name of the first son was often the mother’s maiden name. Proved to be pretty interesting sometimes.
“Naming your kid Hunter or Breaker is like saying *expletive* you to the world that invented feminism,” said Richmond. “It’s a desperate cry to hold onto an archaic and useless form of masculinity..."
First sentence conflicts with second.
I see parents that name their son "Hunter" to be desparate, alright. What a faggotty name... you mark my words, 85% of all "Hunters" will be voting Democrat when they turn 18... and of that 85%, 85% will be queer/bisexual by the time they are 14...
Then again if you name your kid Hunter, you probably want him to turn out queer in the first place.</rant>
Tonto Goldberg
I think 'Malcolm Wrathmoore' has a nice ring to it.
I pity any baby boys born to sick scumbags like these parents.
The whole discussion sounds like the “boy named sue”...
well, it could be worse.
When I adopted my oldest boy, his “original” name was Ovideo (a common name in Colombia). But I didn’t think he would survive seventh grade, so we changed his first name at adoption to my father’s name, and kept it as his middle name.
And yes, his new name is a biblical name.
During my residency, on the ob rotation, there was a baby born on the night shift and promptly named Daquan-Demetrius (two-part first name). What prompts people to do this?
I’ve taught two Hunters, both all boy.