Puff Daddy.
P. Diddy.
Sean Combs.
Diddy again.

And now...

I mean, I appreciate the deep, guttural, belly laugh this provided but nah. No. NOPE. I refuse. For this post, I will refer to this man as Sean Combs, his given name, because I do not have the patience on this Monday morning for this foolery. I'm running on two hours of sleep because I'm a selfless human and wonderful Auntie who stayed up with her month-old nephew all night last night. My brain is at about 20 per cent and "Brother Love" does not get to take up the space I need to form sentences and pour caffeine into my face.

If you spared yourself the secondhand embarrassment of watching Sean Combs try to explain his new name, this is what he says:

“I know it’s risky because it could come off as corny to some people... So my new name is Love, aka Brother Love. I will not be answering to Puffy, Diddy, Puff Daddy, or any of my other monikers... I’m just not who I am before. I’m something different.”

Sure, Jan. I'm going to channel my inner Duana and point out that "Brother Love" is a bad name because of its proximity to the phrase "brotherly love." It's confusing. In fact, a few outlets already made the mistake of reporting that Combs's new name was Brotherly Love. Why must he do this to us?

Here's Sean Combs at the Hollywood Film Awards accepting an award for Can't Stop Won't Stop, the documentary he made about himself. He won the Hollywood Documentary Award in case you were wondering if these awards were a joke. Lainey's exact wording about the awards over email was "meaningless." That word pretty much sums up how I feel about Brother Love. It's hard to take this name change seriously when there have been SO MANY.