If I had a son, I”d name him Eric

Movies are great. One of the greatest, in my humble opinion, is Father of the Bride: Part 2. Truly, it is the Citizen Kane of our generation, evidenced by the fact that it gets to be italicized, because it is important.
In this masterpiece of media, Steve Martin and his wife manage to conceive a child around the same time as his Daughter and her husband. Now, I won’t spoil the movie for you, but it involves a surprise proctology exam, a hilarious statement of 1950’s gender roles (a female resident? Delivering my child?), and the rest of the movie, but most important to me is what is missed. There is no big scene in which Steve Martin thinks about what to name his kid.
Naming a child is, I imagine, a pretty big deal. As much as my own Dad jokes about it, I feel like names are not something you scribble down on a birth certificate and off you and the child march into life. Its something that a parent hopefully attaches to a big slew of memories and emotions that culminate in the full essence of a living human being.
This is why I am always a little bit sad whenever I hear “Chad” jokes. Someone decided they wanted to attach the memories of birthday parties, bar mitzvahs, proms, marriage, divorce, and eventual estrangement to the name “Chad”.
(I’m just kidding. I know a few Chads, they’re all decent people. Well, except for you, mister Chad-who-knows-perfectly-well-whom-I-speak-of.)
Back to the point: I can’t help but wonder about what I would name a kid if I had to make that choice. Now to be fair, I’m not in danger of needing a child name at the ready any time soon; that would involve being the father of a child, which would involve sex, which would mean a woman would want to marry me, which would mean a woman would like me enough to say yes, which would mean I had been dating, which would mean I had talked to a woman, which would mean I had talked to a real person in REAL LIFE…
But you never know. Maybe I’ll be in the right maternity ward at the right time, and help a brain-blocked parent.
Anyway, after some thought on the matter, I’ve found there is really only one choice. If you have a son, name him Eric.
It is simply the best name. It works with most ethnicities, provided the parents speak English or a Germanic language. Eric is a 4-letter, 2-syllable word; it rolls off the tongue and has an excellent letter-to-syllable ratio. The letters aren’t rare and are sensible enough to stay on their own lines, unlike (cough-cough) the letters “q” or “g”.
From a more personality-oriented viewpoint, people named Eric tend to have their heads on straight. the one major strike would be Eric Trump, but no name has a perfect track record. There are great musicians like Eric Clapton, several professional athletes, a former Attorney General, a Swedish DJ, and a former Norse explorer who may have been the first European to visit the New World after the Bering straight closed following the last ice age.
As a computer science nerd, I must also give lip service to The Eric Conspiracy. This “conspiracy”, cataloged on the website of—surprise, surprise—Eric S. Raymond, details how there are a lot of computer whizzes out there named Eric. If you named your kid Eric, he (or she) could then go on to join that little club.
That’s my reasoning. If you disagree, you may kindly go pound sand, because my ideas are the best.

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