ME: (Tries to work)
MY BRAIN: Did you know the Hungry Hippos have names?
MY BRAIN: Lizzie, Henry, Homer, and Harry.
ME: That’s nice.
MY BRAIN: The Hippos. Lizzie T. Hippo.
MY BRAIN: Does the name “Henry” seem kind of pedestrian for a hippo?
ME: I never thought about it.
MY BRAIN: Just imagine, you’re a hungry hippo who somehow manages to evolve neurologically into a sentient being. You are a rare phenomenon in the world. And some knucklehead names you Henry.
ME: What about people named Henry?
MY BRAIN: I am not arguing against Henry as a people name. I am arguing against Henry as a sentient hippo name.
MY BRAIN: And Homer? What kind of jokes do you think that poor palooka has to deal with, people saying “Oh, Homer, like Homer Simpson?”
ME: I know. It’s terrible.
MY BRAIN: And he goes, “No, and by the way did you notice I’M A DAMN HUGE HIPPO” and he bites their head off and EATS it.
MY BRAIN: Because despite his intellectual capacity he respects his essential hungry-ness.