Week 628: You Gotta Have Connections


How are Groucho Marx's eyebrows like two male rabbits? They both get a
rise when they catch sight of a hot bunny.

(1) Groucho Marx's eyebrows (2) The 400-meter dash (3) Sea urchin sushi
(4) Two male rabbits (5) $52.20 (6) The gestation period of a
hippopotamus (7) The Flying Spaghetti Monster (8) A $400 pair of jeans
(9) Deep Throat's throat (10) The Pandacam at the zoo (11) 2 degrees
Celsius (12) John Roberts's breakfast

This week's contest, a perennial Style Invitational feature: Choose any
two or more items from the truly random list above and describe how they
are alike or different, as in the example above. Winner gets the Inker,
the official Style Invitational trophy. First runner-up receives a pair
of lovely pink and white argyle socks sent to Style magazine critic Peter
Carlson to promote something. He says they are unused.

Other runners-up win a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt.
Honorable mentions get one of the lusted-after Style Invitational
Magnets. One prize per entrant per week. Send your entries by e-mail to
losers@washpost.com or, if you really have to, by fax to 202-334-4312.
Deadline is Monday, Sept. 26. Results will be published Oct. 16. Put
"Week 628" in the subject line of your e-mail, or it risks being ignored
as spam. Include your name, postal address and phone number with your
entry. Entries are judged on the basis of humor and originality. All
entries become the property of The Washington Post. Entries may be edited
for taste or content. No purchase required for entry. Employees of The
Washington Post, and their immediate relatives, are not eligible for
prizes. Pseudonymous entries will be disqualified. The revised title for
next week's contest is by Scott Campisi of Wake Village, Tex.

Report from Week 624, in which we asked for limericks featuring words
beginning with bd- through bl-:

Third runner-up:

If you don't want a swimsuit that's teeny,
You'll be wise not to try a bikini.
Even worse is the thong,
Which, unless I am wrong,
Would more aptly be called the betweeni. (Brendan Beary, Great Mills)

Second runner-up:

Alden knew what his friend Miles Standish meant;
What his blushing request so outlandish meant.
He'd woo fair Priscilla
For that gruff old gorilla
Who couldn't provide his own blandishment.
(David Smith, Santa Cruz, Calif.)

First runner-up, winner of the inept horror movie "Manos: The Hands of
Fate":

There once was a little French chamois
Who frolicked on rocks near his mamois.
His blameless young fun
Was soon wrecked by a gun,
And he's now washing cars in Miamois. (David Alan Brooks,
Llanfair-yn-Neubwll, Wales)

And the winner of the Inker:

Near my hospital room in a line
Are my bingo pals, hoping I'm fine.
Now the doc's at the door
(I'm in N-24),
And he's calling my tumor . . . B-9! (Chris Doyle, Forsyth, Mo.)
Honorable Mentions

In the mind is it nobler to die?
Or to fight without questioning why?
Should I face my life's lot?
Should I be, should I not?
That's the question; check all that apply.
-- Hamlet, State of Denmark (Scott Campisi, Wake Village, Tex.)

Roast beast by the Grinch was allotted
To Whos, who responded, besotted,
With shouts and applause,
While the heart of this Claus
Grew three sizes -- and burst his carotid. (Tim Alborn, Port Jefferson,
N.Y.)

The doctor says now I'm forbidden
To get up and walk -- I'm bedridden.
I drank lots of iced tea
And I have to go pee
But I'm desperately wishing I didn'. (Andrew Hoenig, Rockville)

At the newsstand one frequently sees
An assortment of bared double-D's.
Don't begrudge the fair sex
A few well-toned pecs:
We girls want some beefcake, not cheese-. (Pam Sweeney, Germantown)

He was poised, and had calmness within,
And the Peace Prize (Nobel) he would win.
But Prime Minister Begin
Would curse like a pagan
When people would call him "Begin." (Sheila Blume, Sayville, N.Y.)

A belch is a short burst of air
That in public may cause you despair
But it's not quite so crass
As the air you might pass
Impolitely from your derriere. (Greg McGrew, Leesburg)

Most election reformers believe
Contributions are bad. (How naive!)
But my Bible instructs
What to do with my bucks:
Says it's better to give, then receive. (Chris Doyle)

A husband inclined to berate
Might admonish a spouse who is late.
But this little showdown
Will just make her slow down:
Cool your heels, zip your lip, and just wait. (Ron Stanley, Reston)

There's an interesting notion aroun'
That this limerick can only be foun'
When a person can see it
Or say it. So be it;
That's Berkeleianism, the noun. (Bill Spencer, Exeter, N.H.)

Berries are better by far
Than all other kinds of fruit are:
They come black and blue,
And rasp and mul, too,
and huckle and boysen and strawr. (Douglas Frank, Crosby, Tex.)

I wore black and refrained from all merrying
As I pondered celestial ferrying.
I arrived; my host gazed
On my outfit, amazed,
As it seems I'd been asked to go berrying. (Sheila Blume)

A bestiality fan (what a creep!)
Had a torrid affair with a sheep.
The thing she most hated
Was that after they mated,
He would count her, then go right to sleep. (Melissa Ann Taylor, New York)

If a peddler in Athens declares
You'll receive, if you purchase his wares,
A free panda that dances,
Don't take any chances:
Beware of a Greek gifting bears. (Tim Alborn)

At a palace one sultry July
Near Paree, a jeune fille caught my eye.
She bewitched me that day
And I fell right away
En amour. It was love at Versailles. (Chris Doyle)

Swapping presents twice yearly, you'll find
You'll biannual get back in kind.
But if every two years
We exchange souvenirs,
Then biennial thing -- I won't mind! (Brendan Beary)

The gang who proved war is evadable
Now declare, "Any country is raidable,
And, for what it is worth,
We will not harm the Earth
Because people are biodegradable." (Harvey Smith, McLean)

There's another deserving of blame

For divulging a CIA name,
But I sit in this cell
For refusing to tell
Who told me about Valerie Plame.
-- Judith Miller, Alexandria (Chris Doyle)

Don't serve pork to an Orthodox Jew.
It's not kosher, so he'll say to you,
"That's a blasphemy, sir!"
The reply I prefer Is:
"Well, thanks, it's a blast for me too." (Seth Brown, North Adams, Mass.)

To censors, the bleep was a hit
(Though directors go into a snit).
It doesn't sound swell
But it does the job well,
So your virgin ear never hears [bleep]. (Seth Brown)

The blues came from origins rural.
The songs paint a sorrowful mural.
I'm down with the woe
But I'd still like to know:
Is "blues" singular or are they plural? (Tom Witte, Montgomery Village)

And Last:

Begrudge not the winner his spoil,
Though in vain goes another week's toil. '
Tis the fool who'd aspire,
Like a moth to the fire,
To match rhymes with one Christopher Doyle. (Steve Fahey, Kensington)

Next Week: Haven't Seen It, or Hollywouldn't

You can see more limericks from one Christopher Doyle and many other Loser at www.washingtonpost.com.

More Honorable Mentions from Week 624 of The Style Invitational: limericks featuring words beginning with bd- through bl-:

A trucker who's weary and stressed
Stops his rig at a trooper's behest.
When he's ordered to nap,
He refuses and ..... zap! 
He gets jailed for resisting a rest.
(Chris Doyle, Forsyth, Mo.)

To a sightless young lass, Jim opined,
"You would make a great date - would you mind?"
Jim got pickled one night,
So she dared, in his plight:
Walk him home: the blind leading the brined.
(Bob Dvorak, Saugerties, N.Y.)

The Beat movement's now coming back
With beatniks who read Kerouac.
They don't clap, they just snap.
They like Ginsberg, not rap,
Since they think rhyming metered poetry is "strictly dullsville." 
(Seth Brown, North Adams, Mass.)

The beefeaters form a small league in
Great Britain. Their dress is intriguin'.
They guard dear old Liz
And promote tourist biz.
I wonder if any are vegan. 
(Ron Stanley, Reston)

In a backwoods bordello near Bangor,
A floozy was famed for her languor: 
So lifeless in bed
She was taken for dead, 
And in time, only necrophiles rang her.
(Chris Doyle, Forsyth, Mo.)

It's not like I'm wanting to see, 
To crawl or to walk or to flee, 
To rise, float or sink. 
No, I just want to think, 
Since that way I know I must be. 
- R. Descartes, Paris 
(Ken Gallant, Little Rock)

In old Bangkok young Holbrook did find 
The location that he had in mind. 
With a masochist's glee 
He said, "This is for me." 
When he read on the door, "Thais That Bind." 
(Harvey Smith, McLean)

In Delhi a dealer said, "Dang!
We are making no cash in this gang!
Twenty rupees a shot
For this excellent pot!
I am needing more buck for my bhang."
(Jeff Brechlin, Eagan, Minn.)

Well, it's down in my shed, in the rear, 
With the rest of my well-drilling gear.
But why all the suspicion 
And this inquisition 
Of where I have bentonite, dear? 
(Brendan Beary, Great Mills, Md.)

With the orgy in progress, I reckoned 
I'd score by the way that she beckoned. 
She said that she toed 
A strict ethical code: 
"My husband comes first, but you're second." 
(Chris J. Strolin, Belleville, Ill.)

The plumber was happily humming,
Repairing a plug in the plumbing.
His service was swell
And he fixed the pipes well,
But the crack in the back? Not becoming.
(Jesse Frankovich, Lansing, Mich.)

I'm in hospital, could it be worse? 
But listen! Loud moans, then a curse! 
Does bedevilment lurk 
With a demonic smirk? 
It does: It's the enema nurse. 
(Bob Hogg, Thirsk, England)

Today, my dear cat I interred, 
But her death should have never occurred.
Neighbors caused me this grief,
Giving her tainted beef, 
And "tongue got your cat's" what I heard.
(Jane Auerbach, Los Angeles)

A hater of nature named Sonia
Besprinkled her bulbs with ammonia.
She ravaged her flowers
With chemical showers,
And bellowed, "Be gone, ya begonia!"
(Tim Alborn, Port Jefferson, N.Y.)

Matt's parents pay fees to a finder 
For a nanny who's put through the grinder. 
She quits with a wave 
When the kid won't behave. 
It's a case here of Matt over minder. 
(Chris Doyle)

Beleaguered, a lion denied 
His own hunger and tried to provide 
For his litter of cubs, 
But they withered like scrubs, 
So he quit and just swallowed his pride.
(Chris Doyle)

Your calumnies show your committal 
To badmouth, disparage, and whittle 
Me down to your size. 
You're a runt in my eyes! 
(So is that how it feels to belittle?) 
(Chris Doyle)

A true human must have a belly
To hold all that stuff that goes smelly.
To insist it be flat? There's no logic to that,
'Cause a belly by nature is swelly. 
(Michelle Stupak, Ellicott City)

Just woke up from a horrible bender 
With my tongue bloody, swollen and tender. 
Crushed my daiquiri ice 
Without heeding advice
That says, "Wait till you've turned off the blender." 
(Brendan Beary)

A bibulous woman was she
Who wouldn't stop drinking Chablis.
When she started to spew,
It was then that she knew
That she should have been totaling tea.
(Katherine Hooper, Jacksonville, Fla.)

Some people can't handle their liquor - 
Two drinks and they're ready to bicker. 
"Your wife, I avow, 
Is a sour old cow!"
"That's it. No more wine for you, Vicar." 
(Chris J. Strolin)

I could see it from right where I stood,
Cute and furry, oft thought of as good.
It's the beaver by name,
Which is often to blame
For a massive stockpiling of wood. 
(Seth Brown)

You were born years ago on this day,
But have dirty parts you don't display.
So I bought a machine
That can help keep them clean,
And it's all for you - Happy Bidet!
(Seth Brown)

The weapons were never located, 
The terror link not demonstrated. 
Yet we do what he says
'Cause we're used to our prez
Always speaking with tongue bifurcated. 
(Dan Seidman, Watertown, Mass.)

A bigamist keeps on the run,
Plays it safe and calls both spouses "Hon."
So his double life thrives,
He makes love with two wives,
But he files joint returns with just one.
(Carole Lyons, Arlington)

A billet's a place soldiers stay 
While earning their soldierly pay. 
If a farmer's your host 
With a daughter to boast, 
Your payday will come in the hay.
(Robert Holland, Vancouver, B.C.)

All romance my sweet William eschews
When he woos me with pizza and booze.
Though he's wantin', I won't,
Cuz, you see, Billy don't
Ever send me those sweet billets-doux.
(Chris Doyle)

I'm a Capitol groupie! My heart is an
Easy mark for the masterful artisan
Of political might,
Boy or girl, left or right:
My tastes are completely bipartisan.
(David Smith, Santa Cruz, Calif.)

Woody Allen, that droll intellectual 
Who epitomized lust ineffectual, 
Said you'll upgrade your chances 
Of having romances 
If you're a committed bisexual. 
(Harvey Smith, McLean)

An artist of eminent rank
Told his students, by way of a prank,
As they tried to decide
Why no ink was applied:
"Pay attention! I'm drawing a blank!"
(Tim Alborn)

Just leave it to Reverend Pat.
That guy really knows where it's at:
If you don't like a leader,
You can make him a bleeder.
Just send in a guy with a gat.
(Marty McCullen, Gettysburg, Pa.)

The word bling-bling (for all of you newbies)
Speaks of sapphires and diamonds and rubies
In a style best expressed 
By the chains down her chest 
And the rings through her ears, nose and boobies. 
(Scott Campisi, Wake Village, Tex.)

There was a young lady of Tottenham
Whose blouses contained quite a lottenham,
So the men on her street
Prayed to God for more heat,
Since she stripped off those blouses when hottenham.
(David Alan Brooks, Llanfair-yn-Neubwll,Ögoogles fine-mar Wales)

With his blunderbuss held to my head, 
"You'll get wed," said her dad, to my dread. 
Who'd have thought that a kiss 
Could have brought me to this? 
'Twas a blunder - that buss - in her bed. 
(Chris Doyle)