Social Commentary: The Name Game

It's the time of the year when mamas and soon-to-be baby-mamas calculate the come up! The NFL Draft. I think the late great Notorious B.I.G. put it best when he rapped, "either you're slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot..." or in this case, a wicked run game. For many, their ticket out of the hood rests on "One Night Only", like the song. I'm not hating at all. What I do hate on is the jacked up names some of these mamas are giving their future Curtis Martins :)

Like this runnin' bama, Knowshon Moreno from Georgia. WTF? Knowshon? Moreno? Ghetto first name, Mexican sounding last name? Epic, fail! Didn't his mother "know" he might make it to the big leagues one day? I'm not just picking on Knowshon's phonetically-spelling mama.

What about Plaxico Burress? Plaxico? It sounds like a new and improved plastic product or a brand of Tampons or a medicated Douche which is probably why he dresses and acts like one. See how he ended up right? Moving on...Santonio? Santana? Keyshawn? The list goes on and on. I know we like to be creative as a people but this naming ritual separates the blacks from the coloreds okay? So please think about this before you bless your offspring with a name that will have TV commentators stuttering and the guy in charge of graphics ready to cut himself to the white meat. It's not a good look. A bad name can inflict a life time of stereotypes and self-fulfilling behavior. One last lesson in etiquette: when your guy does make it to the NFL, NBA, etc., please don't get caught on cameras in the stands rockin' some ghetto-fabulous fur coat, while your hitting high-fives with your ignant relatives! No ma'am!