Style Conversational Week 1211: Don’t be SAD The Style Invitational Empress ruminates all over this week’s contest and results Part of his MLK weekend tweetstorm at Rep. John Lewis, whose action at the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Ala., no doubt helped result in landmark civil rights legislation. By Pat Myers Pat Myers Editor and judge of The Style Invitational since December 2003 Email // Bio // Follow // January 19, 2017 As in: Your trash-tweets against historical and literary heroes in Week 1211 of The Style Invitational can’t all end with “SAD.” I hope that this contest, suggested by longtime Loser (and non-tweeter) Howard Walderman, produces lots of variety; we don’t want to end up with essentially the same joke being told 35 times with different names. And they don’t have to be from Time-Warped Donald; you could attribute it to someone else, or to use a different trash-talking style. To those of you who have a Twitter account: I’ve found the easiest way to see if a tweet fits is simply to start to write one; click “Tweet” at the top and start filling it out. Just don’t post it when you’re done — let’s wait till the results go up, and then you can also tweet about how you won/ were robbed by Overrated Nasty Stupid Lady. If you don’t have a Twitter account and don’t want to sign up (it’s an easy, free process that doesn’t require your real name), you can easily count the characters in your entry atlettercount.com — just type or copy your entry into the box and click on the blue “Count characters” button below it. Your absolute limit is 140 characters (including spaces). You’d be surprised, though, how much that lets you write; my tweet that’s this week’s contest example (which Bob Staake decided to write straight into his illustration) comes in comfortably at 121 characters. It’s probably going to be more impressive if your tweet is complete and self-explanatory, but I’ll also look at entries that explain the person’s name, title, etc., outside the body of the tweet. Except for the absolute 140-character tweet limit, I plan to be flexible to allow for the maximum funny. G*RID EXPECTORATIONS: THE RESULTS OF WEEK 1207* As always, there were thousands of entries for our annual-or-so Clue Us In contest to provide clues for a filled-in crossword grid, this one from Washington Post Sunday crossword constructor Evan Birnholz, but from his pre-Post days on his own website, devilcross.com. And yes, using a crossword at all for this contest is unnecessary; I could have just put up a list of words. But it’s an eye-catching format that tends to attract crossword enthusiasts. And — although this week’s results may have strayed father than ever from the form of actual crossword clues — at least a few entries are much in the mold of modern wordplay-laden crossword clues. For example, Chris Doyle’s “TEE: Devo follower” would be a great clue in a late-in-the-week NYT puzzle; First Offender Loyd Dillon’s “APE: What some people go when mimicked” would work if it’s not too long; and maybe even “HEARSES: Box cars,” sent by both Jeff Hazle and Rob Huffman. Most of the entries, though, are basically jokes of various kinds. Lots of them break the letters of the word or words in a novel way: THETA as “the TA” (Ward Kay) and “the ta” (Mark Raffman); IDOTOO as “I dot OO,” by actual crossword whiz Steve Langer, in a joke that I fear will cause some mild browfurrow among readers who make it down to the 19th clue on today’s 59 (!)-entry list. (Note to self: Buy more postage stamps. Also more time.) Some were sound jokes, like Jesse Frankovich’s EWOK and of course this week’s winner, Hildy Zampella’s PLETHORA. And, sort of, Mark Raffman’s TORSOS as a Greek island. Others were Devil’s Dictionary-type definitions, like Peter Boice’s of CITE and Hildy’s NECKLINE (the best among several similar entries). And some were longer-form observations, like Michael Rosen’s SPITS as perhaps a future baseball stat. I didn’t get a huge number of individual /entrants/ to this contest — there were fewer than 200 — but a large proportion of them sent the maximum 25 entries. I got at least some entries for each of the 72 words in the grid, and as many as 50 entries for a single word. So inevitably, there was a lot of duplication; at least a dozen people saw IDOTOO as what’s said in a polygamous wedding ceremony, but there were also several I DOT OO entries. As always, I chose the single entry or two that I found superior, or, if none really distinguished itself above the others, I just chose something else for ink. It’s already the fourth Inkin’ Memorial for Hildy Zampella, who didn’t start Inviting till Week 1140. As Kevin Dopart did back in 2005, Hildy read the Invitational regularly but took a long time to decide to enter — and immediately started inking up the joint. Burning even more wildly — just please don’t flame out — is Jesse Frankovich, who got ink with a limerick in 2004, then pretty much went away for years and years, and then, in the past year or two, started scarfing up the ink almost every week; Jesse’s runner-up and four honorable mentions /and/ headline this week bring him up to 130 blots. Suppose he’d just kept entering since Week 552! Our other two “above the fold” spots this week go to saner Losers David Matuskey and Jeff Hazle? Dave’s a rookie who gets his 12th ink this week, and his second spot in the Losers’ Circle; Jeff, newly relocated to San Antonio from the D.C. area, gets three blots this week for 68 in all. And after giving ink to just one First Offender in the past two weeks, I’m happy to be sending Fir Stinks to Bruce Ryan, Loyd Dillon, Seth Christenfeld and Liz Thelander. Don’t go away now, people — you want one of our brand-new Bob Staake Magnum Dopus and No Childishness Left Behind magnets, right? Or, heck, the Fishin’ for Floaters game that will go to this week’s second best tweet. *WE CAME, WE PARTIED, WE LEFT A TURTLE MADE OUT OF MANURE* Prospects for last Saturday’s annual Loser Post-Holiday Party looked sketchy as late as Friday night: some forecasts were calling for the absolutely worst weather in D.C.: freezing rain. Even when temperatures stayed in the mid-30s and we had nothing but wet, I still worried that half the 73 people who responded Yes to the Evite wouldn’t risk driving or even taking Metro. But I counted 70 revelers who descended on the home of Steve Langer and Not-Even-a-Loser Allison Fultz with several metric tons of food and drink and singing voices. And even a homemade Van der Graaf generator, courtesy of Kyle Hendrickson. I was tickled to finally meet lots of Losers and members of the Style Invitational Devotees Facebook group in person for the first time; I only regret never getting a chance to chat with, among others, Dave Airozo, Perry Beider and Tim Kloth; fortunately, they’re all local and so I hope to see them at a monthly Loser brunch or other activity (the tentative 2017 schedule is on the Losers’ website at NRARS.org ; click on “Our Social Engorgements”) . The centerpiece of the four-hour schmoozefest, as always, was the Singing of the Parodies, accompanied by pianist and Loser Steve Honley, who was appropriately clad in his Loser-prize noodle-beanie. While some of the best Loser entries of the year consist of musical jabs at You-Know-Who, I didn’t think it was right, the week before the inauguration, to lead a singalong of anti-T screeds, no matter how witty. So except for Matt Monitto’s pass-the-mockery-around “Presidential Candidates” rap to “Alexander Hamilton,” the the parodies instead stuck to the subject of Loserdom itself. And the unquestioned highlight wasn’t even in the room: Nan Reiner, who couldn’t make her usual corporeal appearance, being stuck in Florida after extensive oral surgery, still wrote a terrific song for the occasion and recorded it — singing harmony with herself. So we turned on YouTube and sang along with Nan. Tim Kloth did make video of the scene, but he hasn’t had a chance to upload the various files; when he does, I’ll link to him here. But you /can/ click here to hear Nan singing this parody about someone who is emphatically not Nan, who has more than 200 blots of ink, including 15 outright wins: It’s about a Loser who never gets ink. *YET ANOTHER UNREQUITED LOSER’S LAMENT -- a/k/a “LOYAL”* /To the tune of “Royals” by Lorde/ By Nan Reiner I’ve never seen a FirStink in the flesh. I gnash my teeth when I bomb out every Sunday. And I cry out in my distress, “When is it my turn?” I’ve gotta make it one day. ‘Cause every thought’s like wisecracks, word games, pictures that are Staake-y, Bank heds, horse names – better if they’re tacky. I don’t care; I’m seeing magnets in my dreams. And everybody’s like, “Woo-hoo! Kudos! Look at me – I’m inkin’! Tote bag! Gag prize! Got another Lincoln!” They don’t care; this is a one-way love affair. But I’ll always be loyal! (Loyal!) Ink runs in my blood. Not like a normal person does, I crave an Invite kind of buzz. I wanna be a Loser! (Loser!) My name in parentheses. Oh, Empress, please choose (Please choose – please choose – please choose!) One of my next entries. So far, I haven’t cracked the code; I don’t know what goes through her head when she’s judging. But a suggestion I’ve been told: If I try a bribe, could be she’ll do some fudging. ’Cause every day’s like spoof song lyrics, mangled legislation, Dactyls, limericks, ScrabbleGram creation. I don’t care; I’m seeing inkblots everywhere. And every week I’m scanning, breathless; still I’m dis-Invited. How long can this lust go unrequited? They don’t care; it’s still a one-way love affair. I wanna be like Doyle! (Doyle!) Though I don’t really need An eighteen-hundred-blot debut; I’d be content with one or two. Just wanna be a Loser! (Loser!) Dreaming of my levity In print to peruse (Peruse – peruse – peruse!): Let me join your lunacy. Oh-oh- oh… Oh-oh- oh, Oh-oh… Just tell me what I have to do – to get a lousy ink or two. Oh-oh- oh… Oh-oh- oh, Oh-oh… To make the things that cross your desk Look more Bearyish or Dopartesque. Oh, it cuts like a mohel! (Mohel!) I would give a pound of flesh To score a teensy column-inch, Yet every week I get the Grinch. I wanna be a Loser! (Loser!) Somewhere back in Section E. Oh, let me amuse! (With poos! Taboos! Thumbscrews!) Let me live that fantasy. -- Among the various items left behind by revelers — a scarf, a towel (?) — was a large brown figurine of a turtle. It’s brown because it is made of dried manure. A prize donation from Loser Mike Creveling, it managed not to go home with me. But it’s currently waiting patiently inside the no doubt posh K Street law office of party host Allison Fultz, until I walk over there and pick it up.