The Style Invitational
Week 752 The Might-Mates Rite
Saturday, February 9,
2008; C02
"You
just might be a . . . if . . .": It's a joke form so well worn that you
can see right through to the polka dots on its boxer shorts. But then again, so
is the three-panel comic strip -- and it can still yield plenty of original
humor in the hand of the right creator. That would be you, yes? This week: Fill
out any of these five "you just might" joke-templates:
You just
might be an embarrassment to your child if . . .
You just
might be from
You just
might not be an animal rights enthusiast if . . .
You just
might have a substance abuse problem if . . .
You just
might need a new car soon if . . .
Winner
gets the Inker, the official Style Invitational trophy. Second place gets this smolderin' cool J.S. Bach action figure, donated by Randy
Lee of Burke. Okay, he may not be all that dynamic to look at, but he comes
with a seriously sweet prop: a stool to sit on! Do that harpsichord thing,
Sebastian!
Other
runners-up win their choice of a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt or
yearned-for Loser Mug. 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 by fax to 202-334-4312.
Deadline is Monday, Feb. 18. Put "Week 752" 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. Contests 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. Results will be published March 8.
No purchase required for entry. Employees of The Washington Post, and their
immediate relatives, are not eligible for prizes. Pseudonymous entries will be
disqualified. This week's contest and Honorable Mentions name were both
suggested by Kevin Dopart. The
revised title for next week's contest is by Chris Doyle.
Report From Week 748, our annual contest in which we seek poems
about those who died in the previous year: As usual, we had far too many
outstanding verses than we could fit in the paper; you can find more of the
Honorable Mentions at washingtonpost.com/styleinvitational.
4.
Jerry Falwell:
Not
for being greatly good --
Not
because he knew he would --
Jerry
Falwell's gone above,
Unto
his Creator's love,
Spending
every night and day
With angels black and angels gay.
God
our Father knows us all well;
Knows
what's Hell for Jerry Falwell.
( David Smith,
3.
Lady Bird Johnson:
Jackie's
successor, a rather plain dresser,
Was viewed by the press as much duller.
For
Lady Bird's way to enliven our day
Was for highways to sparkle with color.
A
political wife, she spent most of her life
With
a blind eye to what Hubby sinned in.
But
on her ranch, though it slanted,
She
successfully planted
Seven oak trees, four elms and one Lyndon. (Christopher Lamora,
2.
winner of the Steve Irwin beanbag doll:
Carlo
Ponti, movie producer and husband of Sophia Loren:
The
Roman figure Ponti made great:
XXXVIII-XXIV-XXXVIII
(Ira Allen,
And the Winner of the
Inker
Nonagenarian
Skinny McNabb,
Who,
as you'd expect, wasn't fat,
Whose
stats with the Tigers were scanty and drab
(He
whiffed in his only at-bat),
Has
laid down his burden of tears and fatigue,
But
now something sweeter he savors:
He
plays every day in the Afterlife League,
Picked up by the Angels on waivers. (Brendan Beary, Great Mills)
Stiff Competition:
Honorable Mentions
John
Backus, developer of the Fortran programming language
in early computers:
I
had compiled my last regards
But
then I dropped my batch of cards. (Kevin Dopart,
Washington)
Barbaro, in Heaven, was asked by "the Shoe":
What's
a crummy joint doing in a nice horse like you? (Peter Metrinko,
Benazir
Bhutto:
She
made herself a target
Too
big to be ignored,
So
Received Urdu reward.
--
P. Musharraf,
Benazir's
protectors
Would
have to be dismayed;
It's simpler killing leaders
Than covers of Parade. (Kevin Dopart)
Ernest
Gallo:
How
often have I said, I wonder now:
"A
loaf of bread, a box of wine and thou"? (Jeff Brechlin,
Johnny
Hart:
Higgledy
piggledy
"B.C.'s"
creator was
Sure
his hereafter was
Shiny
and bright:
Ultra-conservative,
Rigidly
Christian, and
Smugly
in Heaven now
(if he was right). (Anne Paris,
Leona
Helmsley:
Leona's
checked out, and the throng of her former
Employees
all hope she's now lodged somewhere warmer:
A
place where Beelzebub gets the last laugh
By
treating his guests the way she treated staff. (Brendan Beary)
Molly
Ivins:
Enjoy
a calm retirement, Dubya;
Molly's
not around to "Shrub" ya. (David Smith)
Marcel
Marceau:
For
you Marcel, O mime sublime,
Imaginary
bells now chime.
Farewell
to life and all its violence:
It's
RIP for Bip -- the rest is ___ .
(Jeff Brechlin)
He
listened to his mom's advice:
"If
you can't say something nice . . ." (Kevin Dopart)
Luciano Pavarotti:
At
last Pavarotti is resting in peace.
He'd
let himself go, and it showed.
Let's
face it, the guy had become so obese,
He
had his own aria code. (Brendan Beary)
Higgledy
piggledy
Charles
Nelson Reilly a-
Mused
us for decades, but
Died in '07.
Brett
Somers also died
Coincidentally,
Henceforth
ensuring
A Match Game in Heaven. (Sue Fialkoff,
Phil Rizzuto:
For Scooter, the years have exacted their toll.
Now this Hall of Fame shortstop plays deep in the hole. (Chris
Doyle, Ponder,
Mstislav Rostropovich:
Saint
Peter asked, "Can we admit this Rostropovich fellow?"
God
said, smiling, in reply: "There's always room for cello." (Peter Metrinko)
Wally
Schirra:
Bravely
flew through space to probe it;
Circled
Earth, is now in obit.
Broke
the bonds of life unhampered
And,
you can be sure, un-Pampered. (Beverley Sharp, Washington)
Anna
Nicole Smith:
Her
life was weird and sad, and her death was even more so.
But
when the tabloids leave, she'll still be famous for her torso. (Anne Paris)
Now
Ike Turner's off the street;
They
say he never missed a beat. (Beverley Sharp)
Archbishop
Vercoe has at last been laid low,
And
I hate to speak ill of a Kiwi,
But
still, I just snicker to muse how a vicar
Gets by with the name "Whakahuihui." (Brendan Beary)
When Helen Walton, 87,
Knocks upon the gates of Heaven,
Sam, her husband, not Saint Peter,
Stands inside to meet and greet her. (Chris Doyle)
Boris
Yeltsin:
On
top of a vehicle, fist in the air,
His
nose all beet red, there stood Boris.
He
called for democracy, said, "Let's be fair!"
And appealed to that mass Russian chorus.
He
then ruled for eight years until he resigned;
'Twas his time, then, to head for
the door.
So
he picked up his vodka, left the Kremlin behind,
Saying,
"I simply can't Putin no more." (Christopher Lamora)
And Last:
A
tragic loss! Farewell to you:
Sunday
Comics, Section 2. (Jeffrey Contompasis, Ashburn)
Next Week: Opus 266, No.
3, or Flexicology
More Honorable Mentions
from Week 748 of The Style Invitational, poems about those who died in 2007:
For
Robert Adler, the bell now tolls
(Inventor of remote controls).
But
don't get up, for that won't do;
If
you would, just lift your brew.
And
while a bugle taps does toot,
A
moment of silence (please press Mute). (Paul VerNooy,
Ivo Cappo, Papua New Guinean
magistrate, death by stoning:
I
don't doubt there'd been provocations;
The
full truth may never be known,
But
who can resist the Temptations
With "Papua's Rolling Stone"? (Brendan
Beary, Great Mills,
Jerry
Falwell:
Smickety smackety,
Smug
Jerry Falwell knew
Just
what the rest of us
Ought to believe.
He
ran the gamut of
Insensibility.
Millions
may miss him, but
Many
don't grieve. (Mae Scanlan, Washington)
From
A true Virginia ham.
But
none of his theology
Was worth a Tinky's dam. (Jay Shuck,
Leona
Helmsley:
The
Queen of Mean bought fine hotels,
Got taxing time in jailhouse cells.
Bought stuff to give the Palace charm.
Bought Trouble. Now she's bought the farm. (Ellen Raphaeli,
How
hard they hunted Howard Hunt
For that office break-in stunt.
'Twas Nixon, though, to be quite blunt,
Who
was to blame -- oh, what a disagreeable person. (Jacob Aldridge,
Lady
Bird Johnson:
Take
a sec, and say a word
Of
gratitude to Lady Bird
Who
took advantage of her station
Planting our entire nation.
I
think that we can take for granted
A
rose will rise from where she's planted. (Mae Scanlan)
Evel Knievel:
(I)
He
tempted; he taunted.
Death's
byways he haunted.
His
daring he flaunted.
"Can't
catch me!" he said.
But
one night a chortle
Was heard at his portal.
Knievel, mere mortal,
Expired in his bed. (Jan Stoehr,
(II)
Higgledy
piggledy
Evel Knievel soared
Over
wide canyons to
Make
his big mark;
Over-testosteroned,
Or just a moron? Which-
Ever
the reason, he's
Jumped his last shark. (Anne Paris,
(III)
Higgledy
piggledy
Evel Knievel, a
Vaulter of canyons, a
Dude
with a past.
Switching
mechanics and
Flying
with Jesus, he
Jumped
to conclusions:
Grounded at last. (Coilin Owens,
Ira
Levin:
Wrote
of death, which traps us all; except, perhaps, just maybe
Hitler
clones and Stepford wives and one demonic baby.
(Randy Lee, Burke)
Carlo
Ponti, husband of Sophia Loren:
Carlo
Ponti Sr. wed but once during his life.
Understandable that was, considering the wife. (Peter Metrinko,
Al
Oerter, discus champion
Gold
medals in
And
It
seemed that for Al, the top platform was home;
He
always found ways to excel.
The
other competitors always looked sad
To
nearby observant reporters;
It's
not that their own throws were anything bad --
They
only were following Oerter's. (Brendan Beary)
Luciano Pavarotti:
Higgledy
piggledy,
L.
Pavarotti was
Famed
for his singing (and
Also his girth).
Sadly
he perished, most
Unprovidentially.
Boosters
still think he's the
Greatest in earth. (Mae Scanlan)
Charles
Nelson Reilly led
The cast of Match Game's crazies.
Brett
Somers fed him straight lines;
They
both now push up BLANK. (Brendan Beary)
Mstislav Rostropovich:
A
whiz of a conductor and a master on the cello,
A
caring friend who never put on airs, despite his fame.
There's
just one nasty trait we can attribute to the fellow:
Sadistically insisting that we call him by his name. (Brendan Beary)
Anna
Nicole Smith:
(I)
Your
frame and your impiety brought fame and notoriety;
The
tabloids fed us every bite of every impropriety.
The
pics by paparazzi always focused on your cleavage,
While steamy Playboy features showed us not a fig of
leafage.
The
mainstream press was just as bad, their coverage appalling:
They
robbed you of your dignity in ways we found just galling.
Despite
the sordid coverage, I've one question left to pose:
With
you face up, just how'd they get the casket lid to close? (Bob Dalton,
(II)
The
drugs, the dads, the tabloid press;
They
all left Anna cold;
But
she's still hot in Peter's Book
'Cause she's the centerfold. (Kevin Dopart, Washington)
Kurt
Vonnegut:
O
College Life! What's not to like? The trashing of the dorms,
The
bland repudiation of your stupid bourgeois norms,
The
booze, the weed, the girls demurely blowing lunch in chunks,
The
clanging Weltanschauung of bewhiskered Marxist punks!
Well,
I did none of that! I was a bookish, nerdy twerp,
I
greeted my professors with a self-effacing chirp.
But,
oh, I had my Vonnegut, with Mozart on the Bose!
And
now he's gone, so say it all together: "So it goes." (Elden Carnahan,
Marcel
Marceau and Washoe the chimp:
Two
who uttered not a word
Last
year got themselves interred.
Washoe
couldn't "speak," although
He
got on like Marcel Marceau.
Gestures
and gesticulations
Were, for both, communications.
There's
one distinction to impart:
Chimps
are science, frogs are art. (Brendan Beary)
Rex
Humbard, Tammy Faye Bakker and Jerry Falwell (and Ike Turner, Kurt Waldheim and Leona Helmsley)
In
Heaven just the other day,
The
dear departed Tammy Faye
Ran into her old acquaintance Rex.
Said
the former Mrs. Bakker,
"It's
so nice to meet our Maker,
Though I'm quite bewildered and perplexed.
There's
Ike Turner playing blues,
And
Kurt Waldheim helping Jews,
Even Mrs. Helmsley being merry.
But
I've inspected everywhere,
And
I've found neither hide nor hair
Of our former colleague Reverend Jerry." (Dave Zarrow, Herndon)