I have a "thing" about names. The names of towns and cities affects how I feel about them. Take Elyria, Ohio for example. I'm sure it's a perfectly lovely place but it sounds like a disease to me. Malaria, Diphtheria, Elyria.
"Tell me, Doctor, what is it?"
"Mrs. Jones, I have bad news. You have a severe case of bacterial elyria. There is no known cure."
(Followed by much wailing and gnashing of teeth.)
Medication names affect me in a similar way. Why must drug makers use names for pharmaceuticals that sound like they have been plucked from the roster of this year's incoming kindergarten class? Celexa, Cymbalta, Allegra.
Maybe we should turn the tables on Merck and Pfizer and name our kids for the drugs we need, thanks to the little darlings.
"Meet my five year old twin boys, Xanax and Prozac and my 3 year old daughter, Valium."
"Oh, no reason, we just liked the names."
I am all for naming the drug for what it sets out to accomplish, but honestly, "Levitra"? I feel dirty just saying it. They may as well have named it "Longschlong." I think it was for Cialis that they created the very subtle television advertisement that showed a studly, yet sensitive looking man passing his football through the center of a tire swing. Nothing subliminal about that one. Next up: darts hitting the bulls eye, followed by oyster shucking with a stiff blade.
It's trendy now to use geographical names for children: Dakota, Cheyenne, Savannah. But where, I ask you, are Newark and Zanesville, not to mention Poughkeepsie? On the other hand, it might create problems if you have, say, a Paris, a London and a Calcutta:
"Of course we love you all equally! What would make you say such a thing?"
I feel sorry for teachers. The latest in baby-naming seem to be the insertion of various punctuation marks, such as apostrophes, into names.
Personally, I blame it all on Prince. I mean, "the artist formerly known as Prince".