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
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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.