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Yesterday the art director I'm working with told me the story about a couple who just had a new baby boy. They named him Pilot. This got us talking about the current generation of new parents and their pretentious indulgences.

"I want my child to stand out."

"I want my progeny to be different."

"I want the fruit of my loins to be memorable."

Blah, blah, blah.

I just want my kid to clean up her room.

I was going going to pen an entire column about all the moronic baby names I heard recently. And there have been plenty of them. Girls named Gruper, Kobain and Boisenberry. And boys named EZ, Bear, or Boisenberry.

But then I decided to do an about-face. Not only to avoid any uncomfortable situations with new parents I might run into at a party or industry event. But also because some of these newbie parents may be in a position to hire me.

And there's something else.

You see, last week our youngest daughter had her Bat Mitzvah, so we now have two freshly minted teenagers, Abby and Rachel. Which puts my wife and I on the threshold of a whole new life stage. So before I start busting chops on the newest generation of parents, I know there are a bunch of you old-timers out there who are fully aware of the world of pain I am about to step into.

So, in the interest of fair play and to avoid any potential bad karma, I'm not going to touch on the topic of stupid names.

Maybe some time in the near future we can all laugh about it.

Perhaps at a wedding.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome the newlyweds to the dance floor. Give it up for Doorknob and Carpet Stain Wilson."