What's in a Name?

As has been previously established, I watch a lot of TV. There are a lot of commercials on TV. Therefore, by the Law of Syllogism, I watch a lot of commercials. Or so you would think. But I have become rather adept at ignoring them. Every so often, however, one catches your attention.

The other day I was watching a rerun of Wheel of Fortune or MXC or something during which a commerical for Advil aired. It was one of those personal testimonial types where an individual introduces themself and tells of their specific problem that Advil solved. The gist of this one being the guy had trouble playing the guitar because of arthritis or something, but Advil made it better. But I was only vaguely aware of the bulk of the commercial, because the first line completely threw me.

"I'm Paul McWeeney."

McWeeney! That was the guy's last name! I'm 27 years old and I almost fell off my chair laughing at that. Now, the way I see it, there's two possibilities here.

Possibility #1: He was an actor. This seems likely, but if he's an actor, why wouldn't they use a different name? Why not Paul Smith? Smith is too generic, so they went with McWeeney? If they were hellbent on the Celtic thing, why not Paul McReynolds or Paul McGregor? Or Paul MacGuyver, if they wanted to go with the completely absurd? No no, Paul McWeeney. Are you taking someone named McWeeney seriously?

Possibility #2: He was a real person and his name really is Paul McWeeney. But even if it is his real name, why use it?! You could be anyone you want, you don't have to be McWeeney. I mean, if my last name is McWeeney, I'm doing two things. First, I'm doing everything in my power to keep as many people as possible from now knowing my name. Second, I go to bed every night praying that McDonald's finally introduces a Hot Dog.

Of course, the target audience for this commercial is probably quite a bit more mature than I am and doesn't have time to laugh at names like McWeeney. And when I think about that, it worries me that one day I might be that mature, too.

This is really a whole 'nother post, but doesn't it scare you to think what you might be like in 50 years? I mean, I can see myself, 75 years old, laughing at poop jokes and people named McWeeney. This generation is not going to age gracefully, methinks.

*****

Another overheard conversation, courtesy of the patrons of the Long Island Railroad:

Setting: three friends, two girls (one loud, one quiet), one guy, talking rather loudly all the way from Penn Station to Hicksville and assorted stupid shit that they all found funny (This could also be a whole 'nother post, but do you ever listen to people talk and make stupid jokes and laugh at each other like they're hilarious? I mean, I know people have different tastes, but these train people, for example, if I had to actually spend any amount of real time with them, I think I'd have snapped. Anyway...):

The train had just made a stop and the doors were closing, which is accompanied by a warning bell so people get out of the way:

Guy: Oh my God, stop ringing!
Loud Girl: What?
Guy: Sorry, that bell was really loud. [The irony here hit me immediately]
Loud Girl: I hope my period ends soon. [It's one hell of a non sequitur]

She then goes on to recount the tale of her previous period and she mentions other facts of this period. Now, I've come to grips with the fact that people air their private business all over the place, but is nothing sacred? Whatever happened to shame? Did they stop teaching that?