I usually wouldn’t think of just reposting something that’s been in the blogosphere, but this guy is just such a douche bag, I cannot help myself.
Last week, Seattle’s very own Jason Michael Burrows legally changed his name to Jason Megatron Burrows, after his childhood hero from the Transformers.
‘This guy changed his name!’ I told a co-worker, pointing out the photo of Burrows. ‘So, his first name is Megatron?’ ‘No, his middle name.’ I sat for a second before realizing that whenever I have a hard time deciding if something’s cool or lame, that means it’s lame.
You know something cool when you see it. And this guy is not cool. King of the cop-outs? Yes. And if he was really such a big Transformers fan, why didn’t he change his name eons ago? Why wait until opening frigging weekend of the Transformers movie to change your name, Mr. Burrows? Are you getting a kick back? Or did you have to wait until the perfect moment at which your childhood love had been co-opted by a major motion picture franchise and you could claim some sort of hip, ironic detachment? (I.e., I liked Transformers when I was young. Whoop-dee-friggin’-do.) Or, worse yet: did you forget about Transformers until you saw a commercial? Are name changes the new tattoos? If so, then getting your middle name changed is like getting a tattoo on your ass. I'm sure he's awfully pleased with himself.
Does your ancestry mean nothing to you? Well, I suppose it does. But did the wishes of your parents mean nothing to you? I mean, really.