I have a proposal.

It is motivated by the bewildering number of drugs introduced over the past few dozen years, and the stupid – OK, I won’t mince words – idiotic, unintelligible, and counter intuitive names they have been given. Not only are they impossible to remember, but trying to spell them is like giving cardio pulmonary resuscitation to a language that was born dead.

Worse, they have absolutely no mnemonic value. Mnemonic, according to my faithful Webster’s Dictionary, means, “assisting or intended to assist memory.”

Examples of good mnemonic names are: Hamburger Helper. Jiffy Lube. Mr. Clean. Raid. Head and Shoulders. Fruit of the Loom. Lean Cuisine. Weight Watchers. And Roto Rooter. This last, in fact, is so good at conveying what it does that it has been appropriated by medicine to describe the process of cleaning plaque out of coronary arteries.

Products named after their founders can be equally as impressive: Levis. Tiffany’s. Nestles. Campbell’s. Hershey’s. McDonald’s. Not only are they memorable, they often find permanent resting places in our hearts. Levis? Everybody has a favorite pair of Levi jeans. Tiffany’s? We’ve all wanted to meet or be Audrey Hepburn having breakfast there. Campbell’s? Impossible not to think about Saltine crackers floating in a big bowl of tomato soup. Similarly, Hershey has our undivided loyalty for its kisses, and McDonald’s for its hamburgers (although my favorite has always been fish sandwiches with extra tartar sauce.)

Which brings us to the problem.

If it is possible for ordinary products to have snappy, catchy, unforgettable names, why are the drugs on which our lives depend given names impossible to decipher, pronounce, and understand?

Let’s take a look at some heart medications (just typing the letters gives me a headache): Verapamil, Nicardipine, Cardizem, Diltiazem, Coreg, Nadolol, Imdur, Isordil, Lanoxin, Lasix.

Not one has a recognizable reference point in reality. Not one contains a noun – “Thyroid,” “Rapid Heart Beat,” “Cough” – with a recognizable meaning. Not one describes the conditions that these medications alleviate, which ailments they cure, what they are, and what they do.

Verapamil sounds like a tail-less rodent who burrows into boxes of Cream of Wheat. Cardizem? A pickpocket who deflates the tires on minivans. Coreg? A mutation of one of Queen Elizabeth’s dogs. Let’s take a name-recognition test. Some of these medications are for psychiatric problems and some are for heart disease. We’ll see if you can figure out which is which: Abilify. Plavix. Amoxapine. Amlodipine. Nifedipine. Nortrilen. Zestril. Nalorex.

Wasn’t that fun?