In case you haven’t noticed — you have, don’t worry; it’s just an intro technique — they’re building a new Union South on the frozen ground where its predecessor once sat half-empty for 30 years. But they’re not calling it the new Union South. In fact, they don’t know what they’re calling it, which is a shame, because as any expectant mother or Madden “Create-A-Team” fan will tell you, naming things is fun.

Then again, as the allegedly old saying so succinctly put it: What’s in a name, anyway? Well, in this case, the answer is nothing more than a lot of political posturing.

As of right now, the plan for naming the Union involves ASM, in coordination with the Union itself, brainstorming for a couple hours and then performing one of Google’s “I’m Feeling Lucky” searches, ultimately selecting a name that’s either A) totally badass or B) tight. After all, that’s how Eifel 65 did it.

But Union Council, a governance body with nothing better to do, will have none of it, and instead wants the naming process to go something like this: Some student subcommittee selects five to seven potential names. Then, Union Council — the group complaining — will narrow that list down to three, presumably using a slight variation of the ASM system which substitutes “bitchin'” for “tight.” Those final three are given to Chancellor Martin, and God knows what happens from there.

So, because formulating a naming plan is trendier than sexting Tiger Woods, here’s the Editorial Board’s idea: Let the student body decide. We are paying for the thing, and by giving 40,000 people the opportunity to suggest ideas, you limit the risk of some small group with an agenda giving us the Kevin Barrett Union (controlled demolition not included). Besides, if you put the issue on the spring ASM ballot, students might accidentally vote for their future representation.

The risk, of course, is that we could end up with a building named after Ron Dayne — or Ron Diaz — but if the people want Barabbas, then let him loose. Ultimately, we’ll only have ourselves to blame/praise — at least until they tear the new one down in a quarter century.