Stephen King would laugh his ass off. (He got so addicted to the song, Tabitha about left him. Stuck with him through the booze and cocaine, drove her batshit with Mambo #5.)
Memorizing names couldn’t be easier. Use mnemonics, the more absurd, the better.
For example; You meet a guy named Mike. Picture Mike, right then and there, jamming a huge microphone down his throat. Guy named Scott? Imagine him with a talking Scotty dog head. Take several seconds and concentrate on the image. It’ll sink in permanently, I promise.
New acquaintance: “Why the Hell are you staring at me like that…? What’s wrong with you?”
Okay, but what if I meet someone named Shit-eating-Greg-who-fucked-all-the-chickens?
Nah, Greg is just short for Gregory - it’s not a common name any more, but it’s definitely a real name.
Picture a disciple of Jesus washing your feet with his hair and grinning up at you. Done!
Crazier, better.
If it were me, would’ve ended with me happily singing along with my brain, oblivious to the information I failed to retain.
I have to live with Sisqo’s Thong Song sometimes.
Lou Bega does that weird roar
I can definitely relate with ThE TrUmPeTs
