Your first job as an actual parent is choosing a name for your child. Which may explain why so many people seem to fumble this important task. After all, they’re new at the job, maybe they’re still a little doped up on the labor room pain killers, or the combination of euphoria and terror just has their senses all muddled. None of which seems to truly explain why a rational grandparent, or even an attending nurse, doesn’t grab one or both parents by the ears and loudly and passionately inquire as to whether or not they’ve lost their freakin’ mind or not.

One might think that childhood presents ample opportunities for other children to pick on your kid without saddling them with an oddball moniker. Then there’s always the “Boy Named Sue” theory that such a name will force the kid to get tough or die. I have personally known a guy named Bennett Bennett and a girl named Mary Christmas. But these kids got off easy compared to the winners in the Worst Bad Name Contest. Despite competition from people like Chastity Beltz, Wrigley Fields, Justin Credible, Tiny Bimbo, Brook Traut, Ima Hogg, and Shanda Lear, the winner was an unfortunate woman with a great sense of humor named Iona Knipl. Although I suspect with that name, a sense of humor would be sort of mandatory.