#142 - Sorry Alexa

Amazon screwed the pooch. If your name is Alexa, that is. Because thanks to them, there’s now a glitch in the process of assigning an identity to a newborn child, forcing us to rethink how we move forward with the official book of baby names. Now for the next couple generations or five, new mothers will shudder at the annoying thought of confusedly summoning the updated version of Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey in their living room. 

I mean, they could have given any name under the spectrum for their Artificial Bitch, but they chose one that thousands of females already have, really fucking things up for any unfortunate woman with that lovely name. It’s kinda like having the last name Franklin, but your parents still named you Ben for the fuck of it, effectively forcing you to endure an unending punch line. Which is just unjust. 

Think of the household in a family that has the Amazon Echo and a child named Alexa. Every time that name leaves someone’s mouth, the surveillance spy is primed for your next cue to immediately spin the wheel of search engines at your command. So, having a child by the same name is only welcoming more scrutiny into your already privacy-deprived life.

So, sorry Alexa. You are no longer unique. What was once a flowing word of Greek origination is now a moniker of mediocrity. You’ve been replaced by automation—now the impetus for undeserved snickers galore and relegated to being associated with a virtual butler. 

Here’s the good news. You can always change your name in court. And you can reinvent your identity by moving to a new country. And the chances are pretty good that some grower will name a weed strain after you. Like Bubba Kush, or Jack Herer, except you will simply be Alexa. I can envision the bling of your glowing trichomes!

And hey, at least you weren’t named Siri.