Don’t you think it’s time for change? I believe it is. Pronouncing the name “Dylan” spawns a thwarting sequence of irksome sounds—repulsive to Americans and foreigners alike. I propose a solution to this crisis that threatens the very pillars of our democracy: ratify an Amendment to the Constitution to deem the name illegal. I mean, who likes Bob Dylan’s folk-rock anyways? Folk-rock is not even genuine rock—or a genre in my opinion. His lyrics are remarkable, and I own every single one of his CDs.
The strident “y” as well as the unorthodox amalgamation of bizarre letters makes this one of the most repugnant inventions of mankind to date…besides quite possibly the Chrysler TT Cruiser. I will be as unbiased as any mundane reporter on Fox News or CNN during presidential elections—i.e. no partiality whatsoever. I have recently discovered a salient result (through arduous and unrelenting scientific research): the name, along with woolen undergarments, carnivorous cockroaches and scented paper, causes a massive inner-fabrication of malignant blood cells. The victims are people who have never associated themselves with a “Dylan” in their entire, miserable lives. Consequently, there is ample proof that “Dylan’s” are the culprits in this world. The evidence, however, is of utmost confidentiality and will not be disclosed. I will tell everyone later today.
Common knowledge and intuition proves “Dylan’s” to be homely and visceral, sometimes too witty. This name—which shall go unmentioned throughout the rest of this proposition for those reading aloud—generates too much ambiguity in the individual’s gender. They are always boys. This has created a myriad of ill-fated circumstances intertwined with unparalleled bewilderment in the online blind-dating world. Some have had traumatizing experiences, never to love again. It’s happened to me. Too long has this name been terrorizing our women and children, reaping our fields, and taking on the appearance of both a first name and a last name! Don’t quote me on the women and children part.
After meticulous planning, I believe those wretched souls should modify their names to something more…well something within the typical norms, such as “Duphlaconi”. Yeah, that’s a pretty cool name I think; sounds like a nice pet. They should also serve ten years of severe servitude (no, not slavery) to their humble siblings. I have no ulterior motive here for which to release a fiery wrath. This is how things ought to be. This is what I believe. My brother, after all, possesses this embarrassing name. Being his only sibling, it is only righteous that I liberate him from the quicksand of his sin. He also happens to have stolen my skim-board today. Bummer…for him. So you guys share my beliefs, right?