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The Mother Lode of Stupid Baby Names

December 8, 2015

Bad Baby Names

As we wait with bated breath to learn the name Kim Kardashian and Kanye West choose for North West’s little brother (because nothing else is going on in the world), let Magick Sandwich entertain you with its nearly comprehensive yet thoroughly incomprehensible list of stupid baby names and the sadists who came up with them.

Repeat Offenders

Jessica Simpson and Eric Johnson named their daughter Maxwell Drew in honor of his dad’s middle name and Jessica’s mom’s middle name, respectively. Son Ace Knute was born 20 months later in 2013. He was named Knute after Eric’s grandfather and Ace after, what? A bandage? Frehley? The Red Baron?

Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale named their youngest son Apollo Bowie Flynn after their mothers’ maiden names. Since their other sons, Zuma Nesta Rock and Kingston James McGregor, were named for Stefani and Rossdale’s favorite places, can we assume they took a secret trip to the moon between tours? (Maybe that’s what split them up–it sucked all the oxygen out of their relationship.)

Soleil Moon Frye and Jason Goldberg have a son, Lyric Sonny Roads, and two daughters, Poet Sienna Rose and Jagger Joseph Blue, names that remind us of ice cream, crayons and paint chips, not necessarily in that order.

Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin named their son Moses for a song he wrote for Coldplay and daughter Apple because it sounded “lovely and clean,” not because they were on a fruit cleanse or illegally downloading better music onto their iPods. If only their kids could consciously uncouple from their names.

Girls

Jay-Z and Beyoncé liked Blue Ivy, the name they chose for their daughter, so much that they tried to have it trademarked. It had already been taken by a Boston wedding planner. Isn’t there a site they could have checked first? Yes–Trademark Electronic Search System (TESS), in case you ever need it.

Alicia Keys and Swiss Beatz named their daughter Egypt in honor of a life-changing trip. Thank goodness it wasn’t to Bayonne.

Holly Madison, previously one of “The Girls Next Door” known for letting Hugh Hefner play with her lady parts, named her daughter (with Pasquale Rotella, not Hef) Rainbow Aurora. Warm up the stripper pole. Was Inflamed Herpes Sore already taken?

According to Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher, they decided to name their daughter Wyatt after coming up with it at a Lakers game. Anything would be preferable to actually watching a Lakers game.

Kristen Bell and Dax Shepard named their daughter Lincoln Bell and claimed it had nothing to do with our sixteenth president. Instead, she was named after Shepard’s first car. If so, it’s a good thing it wasn’t a Gremlin. Then they’d have to explain their kid had nothing to do with a certain beloved movie franchise from the 1980s.

Why did Zooey Deschanel and Jacob Pechenik name their daughter Elsie Otter? Zoey explained on the Today Show, “We just really liked the name Elsie and then we both love otters. They’re very sweet, and they’re also smart.”

Otters are vicious carnivores. Narwhals are cute. Everybody knows that.

At least Elsie is a recognizable name. Blake Anderson named his daughter Mars Ilah. Mars. Ilah. Lorenzo Lamas named his daughter Press. That isn’t even a proper name, is it? Garlic, cider, permanent: those are presses.

Rob Morrow named his daughter Tu. Tu Morrow. What a dick.

Other questionable girl’s names include Arlo Lemoyne Yoko (Johnny Knoxville); Romy Hero (Sam Taylor-Wood); Royal Reign (L’il Kim); Pilot Inspektor (Jason Lee); Moxie Crimefighter (Penn Jillette); Maxwell Lue (Lindsay Sloane); Autumn James (Jennifer Love Hewitt); Harper (Tiffani Amber-Thiessen); Harper Seven (Victoria Beckham); and James (Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds).

Boys

Musicians Ciara and Future named their son Future. It’s too bad his dad’s given name is Nayvadius Wilburn. Otherwise, he could be called Future II and that would put us in mind of another beloved movie franchise of the 1980s.

It should come as no shock that Jenelle Evans of “16 and Pregnant” gave birth to son Jace Vahn when she was sixteen. Last year, she had another son and named him Kaiser Orion.

Kaiser joins Banjo (Rachel Griffiths); Kal-El (Nicolas Cage); Bodhi Ransom (Megan Fox and Brian Austin Green); Kase Townes (Jewel and Ty Murray); Meredith Daniel (Jay Mohr), Sundance (Kerri Walsh); Bear Blaze (Kate Winslet); Bear Blu (Alicia Silverstone); Axl Jack (Fergie); Kroy (Kim Zolciak); Zolten (Jillette again); Brooklyn, Romeo and Cruz (Beckham again).

Double Winners

Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon occupy a category unto themselves: first-timers guilty of multiple offenses after the birth of their twins. They named their girl Monroe after Mariah’s idol, Marilyn Monroe. What inspired them to name their son Moroccan? He’s named after the décor in one of Mariah’s favorite rooms of her $9 million penthouse in New York.

It gets weirder. Cannon bragged that Mariah insisted her Madison Square Garden performance of Fantasy be played during labor, so the twins emerged to the sound of applause.

The Stupid Baby Name Award goes to…

Jeremy Sisto and Addie Layne, who named their daughter Charlie-Ballerina in 2009. They wanted to call her Charlie Kyd, but David Duchovny had already used Kyd for his son. So when their son was born in 2012, they named him Bastian Kick. They reasoned that Kick was close to Kyd and, according to Sisto, “He felt like a ‘B’ somehow … and we went for the B’s,” What, he didn’t deserve a hyphen?

Congratulations, Moms and Dads! You suck. Luckily, you can afford the therapy your children will require for the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder they will experience after suffering through their childhoods saddled with names so stupid, fruit flies would kill themselves to avoid a lifetime of embarrassment…and they only live a few weeks.

Kids, you can change your name! If you want to mess with your parents’ heads, switch to something even crazier. May we suggest Glyph, Magma, Subvert, Irony, Periodic Table or ellemenopee?

More crazy names:
Stupid Baby Names Generator, or Zuma Nesta Rock Paper Scissors: Home Edition
Stupid Baby Names, Part Duh
Still More Stupid Baby Names

Dump ‘n’ Trump

August 11, 2015

Dump ‘n’ Trump

One ends up a worthless piece of sh*t.

The other was born that way.

Vagina Repo: Gwyneth Edition

February 8, 2015

The real golden ticket here is the Mugworth V-Steam; You sit on what is essentially a mini-throne, and a combination of infrared and mugwort steam cleanses your uterus, et al. It is an energetic release—not just a steam douche—that balances female hormone levels. If you’re in LA, you have to do it.

Gwyneth Paltrow, GOOP.com

Gwyneth dear, clearly you never got the owner’s manual. How else to explain your ignorance of something that is only a couple feet from your face at all times? Though I’m sure you are so flexible from your spiritual yoga practice that you’re one plow pose away from direct nose-to-labia confrontation, I feel that you need a visual aid. To wit:

Have one of your servants fetch a hand mirror and position it so that you can see your pudendum in all its undoubtedly depilated glory. Note the geography. (Remember, it’s that class you took while perfecting your Blue Steel facial pose.) If you can see your uterus from here, then you won’t need a doula to massage your perineum with sacred oils during childbirth. You can just shoot them out like they’re on a waterslide at Six Flags.

In fact, short of borrowing a pressure washer from your local car wash, steam will most assuredly not reach your uterus. (Note: Steam Douche: excellent band name.) The mini-throne is essentially a chair with a hole in it through which the spa taps your Iron Man residuals. As for the “energetic release,” it’s possible…if your vagina is pulling a very tiny train.

I do have to thank you for the information on how steam affects hormone levels. It explains that weird day at the gym when I spent too much time in the sauna and turned into a man.

More like this:
Pimp Your Vajajay for Valentine’s Day!
4 New Products to Try on Valentine’s Day
Crazy Beauty Treatments for Valentine’s Day

Gifts for Idiots

December 19, 2014

In the crush of holiday shopping, it’s easy to forget to take time to thank the season’s real innovators, those who work at the frontiers of imagination to add ever more useless crap to the world. This season, let’s honor them with the ridicule they so richly deserve before consigning their wares to the landfill of memory.

The Selfie Brush “makes your cellphone easy to hold for the best selfies ever”

because what girl doesn’t want to turn her iPhone into a cheap plastic hairbrush?

The Theradome LH80 Pro laser helmet costs $895 and promises to slow hair loss. Though it admits new hair growth may take up to a year to appear, this is worth every penny to the giver who gets another person to spend 365 days looking like an extra from TRON.

Even the most die-hard atheist might feel a bit blasphemous about taking a bite out of the baby Jesus, even if he is in reality a chocolate-covered cherry limned in frosting. But don’t worry: this edible Nativity scene is one of Oprah’s Favorite Things. The thought of her chowing down on the wise men might be disturbing but she’s the closest thing we have to a deity, so if She says it’s okay, it’s okay. Bon appetit.

Finally, for only $12,500, Celestis Pets will launch a “symbolic portion of [your pet’s] cremated remains” into deep space and “provides your beloved pet with an incredible journey through the stars, allowing them to explore places they could have only dreamed of in life.” I’m not sure what my cat Rocky dreamed of but I’m pretty sure he would have spent that money on hookers and blow.

Here’s to a happy holiday season filled with fun, good cheer and the sneaking suspicion that if Fido finds out you’re seriously considering sending his ashes into zero gravity, he will chew on your soft parts while you sleep.

A selection of great gifts:
Great Gifts for Depressed Friends!
Great Holiday Gifts: Bacon Edition
Great Gifts for Alcoholics!
3 Great Gifts for Lonely Friends
Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

Pink Ribbon Products from Car Horns to Handguns

October 26, 2014

Breast Cancer Pink Ribbon Products bagel

This is a bagel. (What did you think it was?)

What would Breast Cancer Month (aka October) be without a smorgasbord of pink-tastic breast cancer awareness-themed treats from cookies, mints, hard lemonade, jelly beans, popcorn and PEZ to ribbon-shaped cakes, chocolates, cupcake sprinkles, lollipops, pasta and bagels? Rarely has life-threatening illness tasted so delicious.

Of course, we shouldn’t forget the memorial pink ribbon products not meant to pass through the alimentary canal: perfume, knee socks, beer koozies, curling irons, chewing gum, flip flops, beach balls, tote bags, vegetable peelers, bathrobes, fishing rods, chip clips, aprons, emery boards, tiaras (tiari?), golf tees, teddy bears, car fresheners, tablecloths, tambourines, mailbox covers, guns, gnomes, cowbells and vibrators.

Puns are a perennial favorite and seem to grow more tortured with each passing year. Suit up in a pink ribbon Speedo from Breaststroke 4 Hope, “designed to inspire the aquatic community to dive in and make a difference. Let’s fight breast cancer together, one lap at a time.” (That last bit would make a good strip club promotion, too.) While I’m sure this is an earnest, worthwhile endeavor, with its website listed as Coming Soon and 12 likes to date on Facebook, someone needs to get out of the pool and get to work.

The Keep A Breast Foundation appeals to youth culture with “i❤boobies!” wristbands and makes early detection cool with its #checkyourselfie Twitter campaign. I’m happy that, aside from a few confused bird lovers, its site reaches hip youngsters who won’t pay attention to important things with boring or yucky names. Though its moniker is catchy, I wish KAB had found a different play on words to suggest we keep both breasts. Perhaps the bracelet should say “i❤booby!”, though it seems wrong to play favorites with one’s breasts…or fun bags, for any young people reading this.

Baker Hughes, an oilfield service company, painted 1,000 of its drill bits pink, apparently to raise awareness miles underground where they will hydraulically fracture rock to free patches of oil. It then donated $100,000 to the Susan G. Komen Foundation and adopted the slogan “Doing Our Bit for the Cure.” The company reported $5,700,000,000 in revenue with a net profit of $336,000,000 in the first quarter of 2014. Projected annually, Baker Hughes has given .007% of its profits to the charity. In this instance, it would seem that the “bit” has a third meaning, as in “Giving a Little Bit for the Cure.”

The Komen foundation, which licensed the use of its signature pink hue, has come under fire for partnering with a company that pumps toxic chemicals into the earth, potentially poisoning drinking water and off-gassing pollutants that accelerate climate change (if you believe in that sort of thing). Perhaps Komen could use a new motto for its tees, hats and gloves: Frack Cancer. It’s a tad naughty but still appropriate for a church picnic. That idea is free of charge but if you use it, can I claim it on my taxes?

*****

I began my journey into the heart of pinkness innocently enough, intending only to write about JC Penney’s ads, in which pennies (get it?) are held over women’s breasts. Critics complain they devalue women but I say kudos to them for sexualizing small change. Lincoln would be so proud. At least they tell us to save them, not pinch them. That would be disrespectful.

Breast Cancer Pink Ribbon Products JC Penney

Once I started looking into the subject, I couldn’t help but notice that there are an awful lot of products associated with Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I have catalogued some of the more memorable ones here. It is by no means an exhaustive list but I can tell you it has exhausted me.

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Gear for the sportswoman or man who’s comfortable in his masculinity.

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No matter how you choose to adorn your garden and car or wildly overestimate the resale value of commemorative coins, please do not ever do this to your dog.

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At least two of these items make bath time lots of fun. Getting drunk and needing more cowbell is up to you. Unfortunately, researching the be-ribboned vibrator has negatively impacted my Amazon recommendation list.

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Breast Cancer Pink Ribbon Products Pedi Egg

Perhaps my favorite product tie-in is this special, limited edition of the PediEgg, a cheese grater-like callus remover, which makes sense because, as we all know, feet are the boobs of the legs.

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Of the above products, gun, alcohol and vibrator sales benefit cancer research. The National Football League is the real hero here, donating 8% of profits from sales—this month only—of its half dollar coins. (Why not give them directly to charity? They are money, right?) Since October is also Domestic Violence Awareness Month, the NFL will do its part to raise awareness by continuing to beat women with impunity and children where indicated. You’re welcome.

4 New Products to Try on Valentine’s Day

February 14, 2014

We’ve told you how to pimp your vajajay, get gorgeous with crazy beauty treatments, decipher her Valentine riddles, and enjoy some quality alone time with an iTunes app. Now Magick Sandwich brings you this dispatch from our annual genital Olympics.

*****

Our tireless pursuit of hairless pudenda has claimed a hidden casualty. The pubic crab is all but extinct, Bloomberg.com reports, due to our destruction of its habitat. (Where is PETA? Off protesting the eugenics of dog breeding at the Westminster Kennel Show? Are saber-toothed crotch critters unworthy of affection? How species-ist!)

Great analogy, PETA

While it may be too late for the littlest victims, we can hide our guilty loins with the Kitty Carpet, a reusable downstairs toupee. A popular style is the Michael Jackson, presumably because it looks like a Jheri curl and is highly flammable. Kitty Carpet merkin

For the man who has suffered feelings of inadequacy since watching Mad Men (also known as Jon Hamm-feriority complex), there is the faux bulge of Trunk in My Junk, an underwear insert that offers the latest in stealth codpiece technology. Unless she tries to put her hands down your pants.

Trunk in My Junk Also for gents, the soothingly named ballsBalm is a depilatory lotion that comes with a decidedly rough-looking exfoliating glove. The company touts it as an enjoyable adjunct to pleasuring oneself. It sounds like a sadomasochistic way to cut the brush to make the tree look bigger. If sandpapering one’s own gonads was pleasant, Home Depot wouldn’t be able to keep the stuff in stock. ballsbalm magick sandwich

Finally, a product called repHresh uses this cute girl in Groucho glasses to represent other deodorants that mask vaginal odor. Can Mr. Marx’ estate sue? (Please?) While in this case “pH balance” is code for “smelly cooch,” the ad also mentions odor seven times, proceeding from the assumption that women already stink.

Ladies, if you go to all this trouble and your man still doesn’t like it down there, maybe he’s gay!

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Whatever’s trending for you, #bush or #bald, we at Magick Sandwich wish you a happy Valentine’s Day. No matter what you’ve got going on, have fun. Go crazy. Tain’t nobody’s business if you do!

Anthony Weiner Waves His Wiener Once More

July 26, 2013

Back in June of 2011, I thought we had put the issue of Anthony Weiner to bed, as it were. He had finally resigned from Congress after a “sexting” scandal. Whether you call it moral turpitude or just good clean fun, Mr. Weiner, with his tailor-made-for-a-joke name, had shown an astonishing lack of judgment and paid a steep price for it.

How could anyone trust a public official who thought randy Facebook messages and Twitter pics of his own congressional member were a good idea? The photographic proof that he shaved himself bald as a toddler might not be technically illegal but I believe it constitutes an ocular assault, creating a face/testicle association that can only be overcome by never seeing either again.

After a period of denial that his political life was over (as reported in our own Weiner Watch 2011), he resigned. His beleaguered wife gave birth and he disappeared into private life, taking the memory of his pristine taint with him. And all was well until it wasn’t. Mr. Weiner had taken time off, done a lot of soul-searching and decided he should run for New York City mayor.

Perhaps he was emboldened by Eliot Spitzer’s current run for city Comptroller. Spitzer was a tough attorney general with a reputation for chasing bad guys like an Old West marshal before being elected governor of New York State. He derailed his career by getting caught patronizing prostitutes and gradually rehabilitated his image by (1) acknowledging his hubris, (2) appearing as an expert on his own and other TV shows, and (3) taking a pummeling from comedians like Stephen Colbert, who asked him why we should elect a comptroller who has no self-“comp”trol. A good sense of humor goes a long way with New Yorkers. I just hope he’s learned his lesson.

Which brings me back to Mr. Weiner. Apparently, he has not kept his wiener under wraps and has consequently seared my brain further with the mercifully pixellated yet still obviously denuded object of his affection. (I’m sure the uncensored version is available for viewing but I’m not going to look for it. I have nothing against the penis per se. I just believe in our right to choose.)

In his 2011 press conference, he admitted sending naked pics but said he couldn’t be sure it was his penis in the photos that surfaced. I’ve heard of face blindness before, a brain disorder that renders the sufferer unable to identify any face, but this may be the first recorded case of dick blindness. Waking up each morning unable to recognize his own groin would explain his constant urge to get reacquainted and his compulsion to photograph it. In essence, he was sending a digitized flyer that might read something like this:

Anthony Weiner Penis poster Magick Sandwich

So many people have seen it, it’s surprising no one has claimed it yet. Perhaps he should try putting it on the side of a milk carton.

The shame of being forced to resign from Congress has not dimmed Weiner’s enthusiasm for engaging in smutty wordplay and sharing images of his proud phallus. Having been through this before, he still believes he can be taken seriously as a political candidate without fear of ridicule or more scandal. It’s difficult to see this as anything but an IQ test Weiner can’t seem to pass. But there are a couple of differences this time.

On Tuesday, his wife Huma Abedin was by his side at the press conference and gave a poignant speech. It’s a savvy move. If she can forgive him, can’t we all? Then a reporter asked Weiner when his wife found out that he had continued to send messages even after his resignation from Congress. His reply? “She knew all along, um, the process as I was more and more honest with her.” Funny, that sounds much like what happens when lies fail, one after another, until the truth is all that’s left.

It’s a shaky basis for a claim to the moral high ground but hardly enough to disqualify him for public office. I can even forgive him for thinking that switching from Facebook to Yahoo would protect him from discovery. For me, the final nail in the coffin of Weiner’s career is his choice of pseudonym: Carlos Danger.

This is my new favorite T-shirt.

The moniker has even inspired an unlikely ad campaign by Spirit Airlines, which offers a discount to celebrate the disgraced politician’s, ahem, rise:

image not to scale

This gives new meaning to the term nom de plume. Does Anthony Weiner secretly picture himself as nice Jewish boy by day, 70s porn star by night? One thing I can say for sure is that Weiner has no female friends. Otherwise, one of us would have told him that no one wants to see Danger’s dangler.

More Weiner:
Don’t Cry for Anthony Weiner
Weiner Watch 2018: Your Dad’s Not So Bad