Pete Rose by any other name...

I really have a lot of respect for people with complicated names. When you think about it, how much of their lives must be spent correcting people on the correct pronunciation of their names? Probably a lot. And people with complicated names seem to relish the correction process. “Actually my name is pronounced Ash-LUND, not Ash-LAND.” These are most likely the same people that enjoy correcting people’s grammatical errors as well, using the same ‘lean in-just between you and me” technique with the tone of “I just don’t want you to look stupid”. Oh yes, they’re very thoughtful people.

I sat in front of a kid who’s last name was Nassef (pronounced Nas-iF) from middle school through high school. On the first day of school every year, the teacher would butcher his name, and often for the rest of the year. It got to be where other people would correct the teacher before he could, just to get in on the fun. I really think the teachers eventually broke his spirit. I mean, at what point do you just stop caring and say, “You know, when she calls Nays-Sef, I’m just going to answer to it.” To his credit, he was not nearly as douchey about it as he could have been. I guess the thrill wears off eventually.

Still, I envy the instant superiority one receives from correcting someone at the beginning of a conversation, especially on the first introduction to them. I’ve never had that thrill. Nothing too complex about my first name, although I am called ‘Mike’ by more coworkers and casual acquaintances than I’d care to admit.

So with this in mind, I give you my nominees for complicated names I wish I had.

Marquess of Frankenberry-
This one has all sorts of landmines set for potential people who will meet me. One, there’s the Marquess of Queensberry, the guy who invented the rules for boxing in the 1800s. Two, there are those who would call me “Marcus of Frankenberry”, which is incorrect and I will relish telling them so, “It’s not Mar-Cus, it’s Marquess.” Then there are the people who will want to call me Marquess of Crunchberry or Smurfberry or some other cereal of their chosing. But you see, it isn’t their chosing, it is mine, and the cereal is Frankenberry…or maybe Booberry. I haven’t decided.

Magneto-
Some will call me Mag-net-oh, some Mag-Neat-o. Still, they will all be wrong. It will be Majnuto, all one word without clear syllables. Also, I imagine people having problems remembering which X-Men villain I’m named after, so that will allow for more corrections. Introductions like, “Have you met Mr. Juggernaut?” or “Sarah, this is that guy from work I told you about, Unus the Untouchable.” Then I will be forced to beat them up, using Marquess of Frankenberry rules, of course.

Whitey McAssBeater-
Ah, who am I kidding. EVERYBODY would remember that name. Heck, you’d find excuses to say my name if it was Whitey McAssBeater. And you wouldn’t just call me Whitey, either, you’d say the WHOLE name. I’ve met two guys with the name or nickname (I never asked which) Whitey and both worked on cars and were awesome. Of course I’d probably get sick of hearing it pretty quickly as people would be saying it all the time.

Uni, the last unicorn-
Again, this probably wouldn’t require a lot of correction (well, maybe Une-nee versus You-nee, but that’s about it), but I think it might let people reflect a moment on God’s little retarded horse, the unicorn, and how we killed them all off for their delicious meat and aphrodisiac qualities attributed to their horn.