If I should happen to meet you, perhaps at a party where we share a mutual friend, I’m likely to shake your hand, smile, and tell you that my name is “Ben Simon”. But that would be a lie. The reality is that there’s an “E” in that last name, and that my German descendants from long ago decided (with little regard to what pain it would cause future generations) that the last name “Siemon” would correctly be pronounced “Semen”. And so the lie. A lie told in the hopes that your first impression of me will be my charming smile, and not that I just essentially introduced myself as “Mr. Jizz”. In an ideal world, this last name should be a sign of virility and strength. Perhaps just as the last names “Smith” and “Baker” are said to come from generations of blacksmiths and pastry chefs, the same “Siemon” should be passed down from a lineage of people really good at getting people pregnant. A name to be respected, not to cause schoolyard snickers. But we don't live in an ideal world. I’m not sure what my parents were thinking when they named me Benjamin Joseph Siemon. “Benjamin” already invites such nickname classics as “Ben-Dover” (as in wanting to get butt sex). However, Benjamin when combined with Joseph and Siemon, results in the initials “B.S” or “B.J.” or strung all together: “B.J. Siemon” (which is a fine porn name indeed).
Over time, my peers helped me become aware of many different combinations and puns. “Thanks for cumming, Siemon”. “Ben is made of Siemon”. “Ben likes Siemon in his mouth” (now that one’s just lazy). I’m also not sure what my parents were thinking when they signed my “Growth & Development” permission slip, and sent me off to 6th grade to be taught about puberty, without ever informing me what my last name meant. Perhaps it was my own fault, that as a sheltered child of eleven I wasn’t yet aware of what semen was. So instead of learning from my parents, I learned what my last name meant from Andrea McArdle, Broadway’s original “Annie”. In a rousing educational film, Andrea told our class that after her stint as “Annie”, her body had experienced changes, and ours would too. So at some point during the discussion of the male sex organs, “semen” was mentioned. My 6th grade peers each processed this new word and it’s association with my last name at their own pace, but the result was the same for all: laughter. Pitied by my teacher, I spent the remainder of the day watching the “Grown and Development” films alone.
My favorite was a film with a flimsy analogy of how the AIDS virus was like a bunch of people wanting to throw a party inside your house (AIDS is like a big party?). When I returned home that day, my mother consoled me by telling me that it “could be worse, just look at my best friend’s name, Greg Cox”. A strong argument, which probably would have helped if I had been aware of that particular slang for the penis. So if I should happen to meet you at a party, I’ll probably lie when I first introduce myself. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll be brave enough to tell you the truth. “Hello! My name’s Ben Siemon, but please…all my friends call me Mr. Jizz."
MADATOMS is an alt-comedy network focused on videos, articles and comics. We post daily videos, ranging from breakout virals to auteur driven shorts.