What’s in a brand name? Especially when its bullshit?
Let’s begin with a grenade, gently lobbed by the immortal George Bernard Shaw: “The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.”
Please hold that thought. In fact, I encourage you to let it simmer. Because nowhere is this illusion more artfully constructed, more blatantly weaponized, or more tragically hilarious than in the hallowed, often hollow, act of naming a brand.
We are storytelling animals. We see a name, and our brains, desperate for pattern, for meaning, instantly begin weaving a narrative. A brand name is not a label; it’s a promise, a personality, a prejudice—all packaged into a few syllables. It is the first contract, signed not in ink, but in perception.
But what happens when that contract is written in invisible ink? When the promise is puff, the personality a puppet, and the prejudice entirely unearned? Welcome to the glorious, gory world of Bullshit Brand Names.
The Shaw Bombshell: Names as Loaded Guns
George Bernard Shaw nailed it in 1912: “If you can’t get the right word for a thing, leave it unnamed.” Boom. Shaw wasn’t just a playwright; he was a branding prophet. Get the name wrong, and you’re not just unnamed—you’re unremembered. A killer name doesn’t describe; it evokes. It hijacks your lizard brain, plants a flag, and dares you to forget. But bullshit names? They promise the moon, deliver a mud pie, and leave you feeling played. Let’s dissect the carnage.
From Poetry to Puffery
A great name is a poem. It condenses a universe into a word. Think of Apple. Simple, universal, suggestive of knowledge (Newton), of simplicity, of a bite of something desirable. It wasn’t descriptive; it was evocative. It created a curiosity loop: “A computer named Apple? Interesting. Tell me more.
”A bullshit name, however, is a failed magic trick. You see the smoke, but the rabbit never appears. It tries to shortcut the story, to under-cut reality, to mislead with linguistic sleight of hand. It doesn’t open a loop; it slams a door labeled “Trust Here,” behind which is a broom closet.
Hall of Shame: Bullshit Names That Shortchanged the World
These flops didn’t just miss; they lied. They teased transcendence but peddled pedestrian. From the Swinging Sixties to your Insta feed, here’s the rap sheet—brands that undercut dreams with dictionary drivel or deceptive dazzle.
- McRib (McDonald’s, 1981): Sounds like a rib-rattling BBQ orgy, right? Nope—mystery meat molded into “rib” shape, reeking of processed regret. It flopped, revived as a cult zombie, but the name? Pure bait-and-switch, luring BBQ lovers into a soy-protein trap.
- KFC’s FCK Business (2018 global rebrand tease): Okay, not the full name, but their “FCK” bucket stunt post-chicken shortage? Genius troll or epic fail? It screamed rebellion but masked supply-chain fuckups. Shortchanged trust for shock value—classic misfire.
- Vitaminwater (Glacéau, 1996; Coke buyout 2007): “Vitamins + water = health elixir!” Bullshit. It’s sugar water with trace vitamins, outselling soda until lawsuits exposed the scam. Named like a miracle cure, it undercut real wellness while fattening Coke’s wallet.
- New Coke (1985): Coca-Cola’s “revolutionary” rename for a sweeter formula. Disaster—sales tanked 20%. It wasn’t new; it was a desperate pivot from Pepsi fear. Misled loyalists into thinking evolution, delivered betrayal.
- Indian Hall of Infamy: HDFC Bank’s ‘PayZapp’ (2014): “Pay” + “Zapp” = instant magic? Nah, clunky app riddled with glitches, buried under forgettable zing. Meanwhile, global peers like Paytm nailed simplicity.
- Back to the ’60s: Fabergé’s Brut (1964): “Brutal” aftershave for macho men? It sold pheromones in a bottle to dudes, but the name undercut sophistication—pure caveman bait in a disco era.
These aren’t accidents. Bullshit names mislead by overpromising (QuantumLeap = disruption? Try mediocrity), shortchange by underselling soul (PayZapp = utility? Yawn), and undercut by aping trends without earning them. Result? Billions flushed, trust torched.
The SOHHBM (State Of The Heart & Head Branding Mantra)
A bullshit name is a brand on borrowed time. In the age of radical transparency—where a consumer is three clicks away from your ingredient list, your factory conditions, or your founder’s questionable tweet—the gap between name and reality is a chasm that will swallow you whole.
Your brand name is not a mask. It is a mirror. It should reflect the true state of your brand’s heart—its core, its intent, its substance.If the name has to do the heavy lifting your product cannot, you are building on quicksand. If your story is all hook and no book, the audience will walk out.
The Anatomy of a Brand Name Lie
Can we start with a simple premise? Your brand name should not be a felony.
It shouldn’t mislead. It shouldn’t deceive. It shouldn’t make promises your product can’t keep, or invent virtues that exist only in the fever dreams of your marketing department.
And yet.
The corporate world is littered with names that do exactly that—brand names that function less like communication and more like elaborate cons, dressed up in focus groups and million-dollar logos.
Consider the McRib.
Here’s a product that contains no ribs. Zero. Not even the skeletal memory of a rib. It’s restructured pork shoulder—meat slurry, if we’re being honest—pressed into the vague shape of something that once lived near ribs. The name is a lie so audacious it loops back around to being almost admirable. Almost. McDonald’s built an entire mythology around this non-rib: limited-time scarcity, cult followings, farewell tours that rival Cher’s. But strip away the theatre, and you’re left with a question: if it’s not a rib, why call it one?
Because calling it the McPressedMeatPattyVaguelyShapedLikeRibs doesn’t have quite the same ring.
Then there’s Vitamin Water.
Ah, Vitamin Water. The poster child for nutritional gaslighting. A bottle that whispers “health” while shouting “sugar.” Created by Glacéau and later acquired by Coca-Cola for a staggering $4.1 billion, this beverage positioned itself as the thinking person’s hydration—water, but elevated. Vitamins! Electrolytes! Wellness in a bottle!
Except it contained as much sugar as a can of Coke. When sued for deceptive marketing, Coca-Cola’s lawyers argued—and I’m not making this up—that “no consumer could reasonably be misled into thinking Vitamin Water was a healthy beverage.”
Read that again. Their defense was essentially: “Only an idiot would believe our marketing.”
The judge disagreed. The case settled. The name remained. And millions of people continued buying sugar water, convinced they were making a healthy choice.
The Hall of Shame: A Global Tour of Nominal Nonsense
Let’s expand our taxonomy of lies, shall we?
KFC (1991-Present): The Great Fried Lie
Once upon a time, KFC stood for Kentucky Fried Chicken. Then, in 1991, they rebranded to just “KFC.” The official story? Modernization. Shorter, punchier, more contemporary.
The whispered truth? Growing health concerns about fried food. By abbreviating, they could distance themselves from the word “fried” while still serving the exact same product. It’s the corporate equivalent of changing your name on Tinder after a string of bad dates. Same person. Same baggage. New initials.
Häagen-Dazs (1961): The Scandinavian Scam
Nothing says “premium European ice cream” quite like… a completely made-up, gibberish Scandinavian-ish name created by two Jewish immigrants in the Bronx, New York.
Reuben and Rose Mattus invented the name Häagen-Dazs in 1961 to evoke Danish sophistication and Old World craftsmanship. There is no such word in Danish. Or Swedish. Or Norwegian. Or any human language. The umlaut? Pure decoration. It doesn’t even appear in Danish.
But it worked. Because sometimes, perception isn’t just reality—it’s more profitable than reality.
Lean Cuisine (1981): The Accidental Truth-Teller
Here’s a rare example of a name that’s technically honest while being spiritually dishonest. Yes, these frozen meals are “lean” in the sense that they’re low in calories. But they’re also lean in flavor, satisfaction, portion size, and any resemblance to actual cuisine.
The name promises French culinary elegance. The product delivers sadness in a plastic tray.
Pret A Manger (1983): Fake French, Real Profit
Founded in London by two college friends, “Pret A Manger” (Ready to Eat) sounds charmingly Parisian. The founder, Julian Metcalfe, later admitted they chose a French name simply because it sounded better than “Ready to Eat Sandwiches, Mate.”
Fair enough. But when your entire brand identity is built on an affectation—when you’re cosplaying as a French café while being as British as queuing and complaining about the weather—you’re trading authenticity for aesthetics.
Kingfisher (India, 2005-2012): The Airline That Flew Too Close to the Sun
Vijay Mallya’s Kingfisher Airlines promised luxury, glamour, and “fly the good times.” The name evoked elegance, the beer brand’s success, aspirational living.
The reality? Unpaid staff, grounded planes, and one of the most spectacular corporate collapses in Indian aviation history. The brand name became a punchline, a cautionary tale, a synonym for hubris.
Here’s the thing: you can’t name your way out of operational incompetence. You can’t brand your way past bankruptcy. Eventually, the product has to deliver on the promise—or the name becomes a monument to your failure.
The Ones Who Got It Right: When Names Deliver
Not all brand names are lies. Some are truth-tellers, promise-keepers, bridges between intention and reality.
Google (1998): Friendly, Curious, Infinite
Originally a misspelling of “googol” (10^100), the name perfectly captured the company’s mission: organizing infinite information. It’s playful, memorable, verb-able (“just Google it”), and doesn’t oversell or underwhelm. It promises nothing except scale and availability—and delivers both.
Apple (1976): Simple, Human, Revolutionary
In a world of International Business Machines and Digital Equipment Corporations, Steve Jobs named his company after a fruit. It was disarming, approachable, and utterly unforgettable. The name said: we’re not like them. We’re not intimidating. We’re for humans.
And they were.
Nirma (India, 1969): The People’s Detergent
Karsanbhai Patel named his low-cost detergent after his daughter, Nirupama. “Nirma” became synonymous with affordable cleanliness, democratizing hygiene for millions of Indian households. The name was personal, human, and carried the weight of genuine intention.
It wasn’t trying to be European. It wasn’t pretending to be premium. It was honest, accessible, and transformative.
Tata (India, 1868-Present): Legacy as Promise
Sometimes, a surname is the most powerful brand name of all. “Tata” carries 150+ years of trust, ethics, and nation-building. When you see that name on steel, software, or salt, you know what you’re getting: reliability, integrity, quality.
The name doesn’t make false promises because it doesn’t need to. It’s earned its reputation one product, one generation, one act of corporate responsibility at a time.
Amul (India, 1946): Cooperative Truth
“Amul” stands for Anand Milk Union Limited. It also means invaluable; in Sanskrit. But it means so much more: India’s white revolution, farmer empowerment, the taste of childhood. The brand never pretended to be anything other than what it was—a cooperative, by farmers, for farmers.
And that honesty made it iconic.
The Bullshit Spectrum: From White Lies to Corporate Fraud
Not all naming sins are created equal. Let’s map the territory:
Level 1: Harmless Exaggeration Example: Red Bull(“Gives you wings”).
We all know it’s hyperbole. Nobody’s suing because they can’t fly. It’s advertising, not aviation.
Level 2: Strategic Ambiguity Example: Subway (“Eat Fresh”) Fresh-ish. Fresh-adjacent. Fresh compared to what, exactly? The bread that’s been sitting there since last week?
Level 3: Deliberate Misdirection Example: Vitamin Water, Lean Cuisine Health-washing. Making junk food sound nutritious through clever nomenclature.
Level 4: Outright Deception Example: “Blueberry” cereals with no actual blueberries, “Maple” syrups with no maple This is where naming crosses from marketing into moral bankruptcy.
Level 5: Fraud Example: Theranos When the name promises revolutionary blood testing and the product is… not that. Not even close. Prison follows.
The Cost of Bullshit: What Happens When Brand Names Lie
Here’s what you lose when your brand name is a beautiful lie:
Trust (The Only Currency That Matters)
Once broken, trust is nearly impossible to rebuild. Ask Volkswagen about “Clean Diesel.” Ask Nestle about infant formula. Ask anyone who bought a “diamond” at Tiffany’s that turned out to be cubic zirconia.
When your name promises one thing and delivers another, customers don’t just leave—they become evangelists of your awfulness.
Talent
The best people don’t want to work for companies that lie. They want meaning, purpose, alignment between values and actions. A bullshit brand name is a red flag visible from orbit.
Long-Term Viability
You can fool some people for a while. You cannot fool all people forever. Eventually, reality catches up. The internet remembers. Whistleblowers speak. Journalists investigate.
And when they do, your clever name becomes an albatross.
The Way Forward: Principles for Honest Naming of Brands
So how do you name a brand with integrity? Here are some principles:
1. Promise Only What You Can Deliver
Your name is a contract. If you can’t keep the promise, don’t make it.
2. Embrace Your Truth
Sometimes the best names are the most honest ones. “Cheap Tickets” doesn’t pretend to be luxurious. “No Frills” grocery stores don’t oversell. Honesty can be a competitive advantage.
3. Let the Product Speak
A great product can carry a mediocre name. A terrible product will poison even the most beautiful name. Focus on substance over semantics.
4. Test for the “Grandma Rule”
If you’d be embarrassed to explain your brand name to your grandmother, it’s probably bullshit.
5. Remember: Brand Names Are Destiny
Whatever you call yourself, you’ll spend years living up to—or running from. Choose wisely.
The Takeaway: In Branding, As In Life, Truth Wins
George Bernard Shaw was right. Communication isn’t what you say—it’s what’s understood. And if what’s understood is that you’re full of shit, no amount of clever naming will save you.
The greatest brands in history— Apple, Google, Tata, Amul—succeeded not because they had perfect names, but because their names reflected genuine intentions, delivered on promises, and built trust over time.
The worst brands—the McRibs, the Vitamin Waters, the Kingfisher Airlines—failed not because their names were bad, but because their names were lies.
In the end, a rose by any other name would indeed smell as sweet.
But bullshit, my friends, smells like bullshit no matter what you call it.
And customers, eventually, always know the difference.
You can rename a product. You can refresh a logo. You can even reboot a category.
But the heart keeps score.
And the fastest way to lose it is to promise one thing and name another.
