The Style Invitational Week 917 Wryku

By Pat Myers, Friday, April 29, 11:44 AM

Hi there, you tourists!

Those pink things happen each year.

Please walk to the right.

In honor of last month’s Cherry Blossom Festival, The Washington Post invited readers to submit haiku musing on the annual bloomfest. There were lots of lovely thoughts published online, such as “Witness the blush of springtime” and “Winter loosens its cold grasp,” but precious few with humor or wryness (the one above, by the poet identified only as “theturtle,” was a rare exception). That’s okay; that’s what we’re here for. This week: Write a haiku — which we’ll too broadly define as a sentiment that can be broken into three lines with exactly five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, five in the third — on any subject that’s been in the news in the past couple of weeks. You may add a title in addition to the three lines.

Winner gets the Inker, the official Style Invitational trophy. Second place receives a set of Fighting Granddads, a pair of wind-up bearded codgers that swing canes at each other. (See video in the online Week 917 at washingtonpost.com/styleinvitational.) Donated by Rick Haynes.

Other runners-up win their choice of a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt or yearned-for Loser Mug. Honorable mentions get a lusted-after Loser magnet. First offenders get a smelly, tree-shaped air “freshener” (Fir Stink for their First Ink). E-mail entries to losers@washpost.com or fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is Monday, May 9; results to be published May 29 (May 27 online). Include “Week 917” in the subject line of your e-mail, or it may be ignored as spam. Include your real name, postal address and phone number with your entry. See more rules at washingtonpost.com/styleinvitational. The revised title for next week’s results was submitted separately by Tom Witte and Jeff Contompasis; his week’s honorable-mentions subhead is by Judy Blanchard.

Report from Week 913, in which we asked you to move the last letter of a word to the beginning of the word, then define the result. As usual with neologisms, the results tend to relate somehow to the original. So you have to puzzle them out a little. Most frequently submitted: Dozens of definitions for “Aliby.”

The winner of the Inker:

Snipple: Babies agree: the Best Stuff on Earth. (Kyle Bonney, Fairfax, Va.)

2. Winner of the View-Master with pictures of Graceland:

Norso Swelle: A former wunderkind who, in retrospect, maybe wasn’t so great after all. (Brendan Beary, Great Mills, Md.)

3. Lb.-age: What you’ll add from overeating breakfast carbs. (John McCooey, Rehoboth Beach, Del.)

4. O-ring: A band that holds a group together but is the weakest part of it. (Craig Dykstra, Centreville, Va.)

Back-ups: Honorable mentions

Lil-lega: Ringer on a kids’ baseball team. (Loris McVittie, Rockville, Md., a First Offender)

Okimon: What men say to women in Tokyo bars. (Mae Scanlan, Washington)

Tap-art-men: Your upstairs neighbors. (Erik Wennstrom, Bloomington, Ind.)

Achin’: How the United States feels about its trade deficit. (Xin Yu, Columbus, Ohio, a First Offender)

Scus: “Pardon my French.” (Judy Blanchard, Novi, Mich.)

Dbu: Former world leader also known as “the Light.” (Edmund Conti, Raleigh, N.C.)

Aide: Where the boss’s idea came from. (Roger Hammons, North Potomac, Md.)

Eros: That which by any other name would still be as sweet. (Craig Dykstra)

Skid: When a woman’s career slides to a stop, often to her delight. (Heather Hancock, Leesburg, Va., a First Offender)

Demeral: Besides the poppies, another opiate openly available in Oz. (Kevin Dopart, Washington)

Oh: “My son has told me so much about you.” (Judy Blanchard)

COPE: A consortium of oil princes who get by on just a few billion a year. (Barrie Collins, Long Sault, Ontario)

Amani: A passion for fashion. (Mike Turniansky, Pikesville, Md.)

Krappahannoc: Virginia’s dirtiest river. (Chris Doyle, Ponder, Tex.)

Sexodu: The Old Testament abridged to focus on all the “begat” bits. (Brendan Beary)

Sher: Consistent answer to the wife’s request for whatever you have. (Joe Braceland, Fairfax, Va., a First Offender)

Eautomobil: The long-awaited car that runs on water. (Doug Frank, Crosby, Tex.)

Soriole: A Baltimore fan after 13 straight losing seasons. (Elden Carnahan, Laurel, Md.)

Rishta: A measure of a movie’s lousiness. “Tom Cruise’s latest is a 7 on the Rishta scale.” (Craig Dykstra)

P-poo: The only naughty word left in the “family” version of “The King’s Speech.” (Mike Creveling, La Plata)

Splatypu: A disgusting mess found on Australian highways. (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)

I-jacuzz: Who peed in the hot tub? (Pam Sweeney, Burlington, Mass.)

Scatalog: Improvised toilet paper. (Jeff Contompasis, Ashburn, Va.)

Wafterglo: A post-flatulent feeling of satisfaction. (Christy Tosatto, Olney, Md., a First Offender)

Tenlistmen: Letterman’s army of writers. (Kevin Dopart)

Eon-C: The epoch in which all fairy tales take place. (Stan McLeroy, Herndon, Va., a First Offender)

Yessa: Giving the English teacher exactly what the English teacher asked for. (Tom Witte, Montgomery Village, Md.; Amanda Yanovitch, Midlothian, Va.)

Linguina: Bulbous pasta whose Italian name means “little hernias.” (Tony Phelps, Washington)

Otomat: A coin-operated vegetable stand. (Barbara Turner, Takoma Park, Md.)

And last: Sinker: Someone who’d lower himself to send stupid potty jokes to win some cheap prize. (Dave Prevar, Annapolis)

Next week: Foaling around, or Horsefathers