Thursday, 19 May 2016

Self indulgent bastard

There is a strain/stain in society which delights in coming up with convoluted and contrived names for their offspring. Kids are named after their parent’s favourite character from their much loved day-time soap: 'The fat and the feckless'. Names such as ‘Chardonnay’ and ‘Vegas’ come readily to mind.
I have a thing about children’s names and work in an environment which panders to my quirks and foibles. During the working period I’m exposed to numerous kiddy names and can attest to the rise of unconventional monikers. I ponder on the imponderable and consider the unimaginable. Given my target population: children with developmental issues- could it be possible or even probable that children with intellectual problems are prone to being lumbered with strange names? This of course begs the question of what constitutes a strange name. Formal definitions do not exist, but amongst the enlightened and comfortably smug, formality is not required; let us snigger amongst ourselves. I’ve dealt elsewhere with the anecdotal and jocular correlation of bizarre names with cognitive deficit. As an aside, cognitive deficit is the PC term for the blithely uttered, ‘mongers’. We are not supposed to use the word, ‘monger,’ these days as it is too descriptive of the problem. Of course, ‘bad names’ ultimately indict the parents. And if parents exhibit poor decisions concerning baby names how does this reflect on their wider life choices? Poor choices which impact on their already sorrowful, maladjusted lives. How much incomprehension and unpleasantness can be endured?
Am I starting to sound elitist? If I come across like that it is because I am. Elitist in a way that only someone separated from ‘poor white trash’ by a generation can be. It concentrates the contrast and contradiction wonderfully and imparts a degree of relief that the multi-generation middle-class can never fully comprehend. I am only an education away from being the proud owner of a mullet or bloater, depending on how you look at it. And if you think I’m labouring under a misguided sense of inferiority/insecurity, be assured, this is not the case. Arse.

C'mon, you gotta admit- I'd look sexy


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