The Style Invitational Week 926 Outrageous fortunes
By Pat Myers, Thursday, June 30, 2:49 PM
We did this contest a million
years ago (well, 824 weeks ago), but we were prompted to do it again at the
suggestion of Loser Andrew Hoenig, who showed us some of the “Worst Fortune
Cookies You Can Get” posted on Smosh.com by Francesco Marciuliano — the guy
who’s turned the “Sally Forth” comic strip family into borderline nutcases. Can
we top Francesco’s best effort (pictured in our cartoon this week)?
To release the toxic gas, just break
open this cookie.
This week: Come up with a
fortune cookie line that you’d like to see.
Winner gets the Inker, the
official Style Invitational trophy. Second place wins a little bottle of
Loo-pourri, a “preemptive bathroom scent” spray aimed to keep people from
knowing what you’re capable of producing behind the bathroom door. At least
they didn’t name it Poo-pourri. Donated by Beverley Sharp.
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,
July 11; results published July 31 (July 29 online). Include “Week 926” in your
e-mail subject line, or it may be ignored as spam. Include your real name,
postal address and phone number with your entry. See contest rules and
guidelines at washingtonpost.com/styleinvitational. The revised title for next
week’s results is by Kevin Dopart; this week’s honorable-mentions subhead was
submitted by both Jeff Contompasis and Kevin Dopart.
Visit the online discussion
group The Style Conversational, where the Empress discusses today’s new contest
and results along with news about the Loser Community. If you’d like an e-mail
notification each week when the Invitational and Conversational are posted
online, write to the Empress at losers @ washpost.com (note that in the subject
line) and she’ll add you to the mailing list. And on Facebook, join the
increasingly lively group Style Invitational Devotees and chime in.
Report from Week 922, in which we asked you to write a song — on any subject — set to the
tune of “The Star-Spangled Banner”: The writers of the Inker-winner and the
third-place entry sent their own video clips, each of them sung impressively by
the entrant’s voice-major daughter; the videos for Nos. 2 and 4 were put
together and sung by the Empress’s personal daughter, the Dauphine. (The songs
were judged on the quality of the lyrics, not on the videos.)
The winner of the Inker (See the video at the top of
this page):
Send your tired, your poor,
Huddled masses also,
And your refuse that’s
wretched From shores that are teeming.
If to breathe free they
yearn, Here’s the place they should go,
Send them here, to the land Of
which they have been dreaming.
And we’ll send them away, We’ll
deport them today
(Unless they’re from Cuba, In
which case okay).
We’ve all gone xenophobic,
All foreigners we now eschew.
We’re afraid they’ll take our
jobs -- Jobs we don’t want to do. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)
2. Winner of the fake brake
pedal for a back-seat driver:
(Video with slide show)
Arkansas, Tennessee, Texas and Alabam’
Let you buy some cool things
that up here are illegal.
Some of them go kaboom and
some others go blam,
As American as Uncle Sam or
the eagle.
Bottle rockets so gay, cherry
bombs they purvey
That can cremate your thumbs
or ignite your toupee;
They’ll fly up your pants leg
or put out your eye
To proclaim our liberty on
the Fourth of July. (Valerie Matthews, Ashton, Md.)
3. (Video with slide show)
Oh, Dan, can’t you see why the fans are irate?
Our once-dominant team is now
just barely breathing.
We’re the joke of the league,
being last is our fate,
And the choices you’ve made
have us silently seething.
And the parking lot sucks!
And a beer costs 10 bucks!
Each team that comes here
thinks we’re all sitting ducks.
So hey, is our Redskins team
past the point of ever savin’?
Should I finally drive up
north to the home of the Raven? (Craig Dykstra, Centreville, Va.)
4. Anthem of the USA
. . . Network
(Video with slide show) Oh
say, can you see: All our programs will work
With a formula used that is
never defective.
Take an average guy, then you
give him a quirk;
If he needs a good job, he
should be a detective.
This one’s got OCD, this guy
fakes ESP;
A felon-turned-cop — all are
found on TV.
Oh say, won’t you honor this
Independence Day;
Sit back upon the couch and
turn on USA! (Matt Monitto, Myrtle Beach, S.C.)
An’ them: Honorable mentions
Hey, I think I could see,
when I squinched my eyes tight,
The Siberian shore with its
snow-covered ice floes.
I could watch like a hawk,
every morning and night
For the Soviet threat (they
were not very nice foes).
Since there’s no more red
scare, I don’t have to watch there:
I’ll head farther south to
the sun and warm air.
So say, if you watch from my
Scottsdale balcony,
What Juanita, Marisol or Jose
can you see? (David Schildkret, Chandler, Ariz., a First Offender)
Howard Camping’s Sorry Summer
Oh, how can it be that the
world is still here?
I was so sure that we
wouldn’t live to see Sunday.
Now the world’s all abuzz
that I’m quite a poor seer,
And the day after naught was
a rather un-fun day.
So the sandwich-board guys
are all rolling their eyes
That I was mistaken
predicting our demise.
I pray please forgive me, I
made a bad call.
But I know this time I’m
right — we’ll be raptured this fall. (Christopher Lamora, Guatemala City)
Oh, hey, can you
see by the congressman’s tweet
How he proudly
displays his insanely buff body?
Sculpted pecs and
tight abs seem a tad indiscreet,
But his package?
Oy, vey! That goes way beyond naughty.
It’s a sexting
affair in the media’s glare.
This goof’s a big
joke on the news everywhere.
Oh say, has that
Anthony Weiner no shame?
Here’s a man who
found a way to live up to his name. (Chris Doyle, Ponder, Tex.)
The Star-Spangled Flag Lapel
Pin
Politicians agree — when
they’re on the TV
Their flag lapel pins get a
rousing reception.
With a flag near their heart,
no one cares if they’re smart.
They’re pandering to
patriotic perception.
It’s about what pols wear.
What they say, we won’t care.
When speaking of facts,
politicians might err.
Oh, see the GOP and the Dems
both love cloisonne.
Their made-in-China pins mean
“I HEART USA.” (Kathy Hardis Fraeman, Olney, Md.)
(Video) Oh, say, can it be
that a lockout or strike
Will deprive football fans of
the upcoming season?
Billionaires who own teams do
whatever they like,
But to kill Super Bowl surely
constitutes treason!
Watching athletic feats
though we can’t afford seats,
Vicariously, we’re among the
elites.
To validate our manhood we
need a team that underscores
That our billionaire can hire
. . . better players than yours. (Gary Crockett)
The SEALs’ Anthem:
At 10 after 3, in the dead of
the night,
He was mighty surprised when
we blew out the ceiling.
He’d been watching “El Cid”
and got really uptight;
We were “infidel dogs!” (He
expressed this with feeling!)
He was right to be mad.
Though the dad of jihad,
He’d not felt this bad since
skedaddling Riyadh.
No way did we give him a fond
parting wave,
Just a head full of lead, and
a watery grave. (Stephen Gold, Glasgow, Scotland)
Oh, say, can you see you must
shop loyally,
For so proudly to spend is
your citizen’s duty.
Buy a new SUV or an Xbox or
Wii,
Buy a mattress, an app, or
some products for beauty.
See the SALE banners wave
o’er the bargains you crave;
With the prices so low, think
how much you will save!
Oh, jobs you’ll create when
you go out and buy
In the nearest shopping mall
on the Fourth of July! (Valerie Matthews)
“Oh say, can you see my ideas
are great!
My opponent is dumb, spouting
verbal pollution.”
“Au contraire, stupid twit —
you call this a debate?
You’re just blabbering tripe,
you’ve got no elocution.”
“Nowhere else will you find
any fool of your kind —
“You’re dumber than Bush,
Quayle and Palin combined!”
Through all this name-calling
the tables have turned —
Yes, they literally have! —
so this meeting’s adjourned! (Matt Monitto)
Oh my God, did you see, on
the beach in midday,
That guy jogging along
wearing only a Speedo?
Whose broad gut and tight
stripes filled the crowd with dismay?
O’er his manparts we watched as
he tanked our libido.
And the young mother’s glare
at his flossed derriere
Gave way to plain shock at
his thatch of back hair.
Please give that guy a towel
before that “budgie smuggler” splits —
He is not a Michael Phelps or
a younger Mark Spitz! (Amanda Yanovitch, Midlothian, Va.)
The Star-Spangled Boehner
Up on Capitol Hill, in a room
filled with smoke,
The left and the right are
engaged in fast dealing.
And what once was dismissed
as a terrible joke
Now sadly is true — we have
reached our debt ceiling
“Obama’s a sap” might not be
a fair rap,
But they don’t seem to care
if our bonds are worth crap.
O! say has the Fed now been
brought to its knees,
And can we still get loans,
from our friends the Chinese? (William Lasser, Taylors, S.C., a First Offender)
Rebecca Black’s version:
The alarm clock goes off, it
is 7 a.m.
I’ll get fresh, grab my bowl,
eat some food, go outside now.
See my friends at the bus
stop, I’m waving to them,
They pull up in a car, I’m
accepting their ride now.
But I must pick a seat; it’s
a difficult feat.
The front or the back? Now
some words I’ll repeat.
It’s Friday, it’s Friday,
fun, fun, fun, fun, fun;
For the weekend I await once
this Thursday is done. (Matt Monitto)
Lyrics for Olympic gold
medalists to sing on the podium:
Hurray, U.S.A.! I have just
won the gold!
I’m getting the medal most
shiny and gleaming.
I just can’t hide my pride,
this will never grow old.
My parents, my coaches and
agents are beaming.
Now I hope there won’t be any
dope in my pee,
And I won’t be withdrawn if
I’m on TMZ.
Oh, hey, I say winning this
gold medal really rocks
’Cause soon I’ll be the face
of the new Wheaties box. (Kathy Hardis Fraeman)
(Video) Can you see any way
that we ever can pay
For the national debt with
the deficits mounting?
“Not a problem.” I say, “Take
a tip from Ken Lay.”
Fiscal woes can be cured by
creative accounting.
All our checks we’ll
postdate, let the dollar inflate,
And if push comes to shove,
claim that China’s a state.
Keep living on our credit,
don’t fret over how it looks,
Because when you’re Uncle
Sam, no one audits your books. (Gary Crockett)
O! say, can you see past your
girth to your shoes?
Is your dining commandment
“Thou shalt super-size it?”
O! ’Tis nary a sprout or a
carrot we choose,
If it’s sugared or fried, an
American buys it.
And scarf it we must, till
our buttons we bust,
In our gastro-psychosis,
disgust mixed with lust.
Then we drive two blocks home
in our extra-wide SUVs.
We may die at 45, but we’ll
eat as we please! (Nan Reiner, Alexandria)
Oh, say can you
see that Confederate sight
Which so proudly
we hail as our birthright’s past gleaming?
Thirteen stars and
three stripes cast in red and in white
O’er the
statehouse we watch for the Stars and Bars streaming.
In this Southern
affair, Georgians did not despair,
Held firm in the
fight that our flag should fly there.
Today in Atlanta a
Rebel banner still waves
O’er the land of
the peach and the home of the Braves. (Chris Doyle)
On the proposed law in San
Francisco to prohibit all circumcisions:
Oy vay, woe is me! Could I
really be stopped?
No more cutting the skin from
my baby boy’s wiener?
I am sure God proclaimed that
my kid must be cropped,
And my son will be able to
keep it much cleaner.
Is it really so bad just to
cut off a tad,
A small snip of skin from an
8-day-old lad?
Oh, pray we can still give
the mohel his knife —
May he bless my baby boy on
his eighth day of life. (Barbara Sarshik, McLean)
Good God, what’s that noise?
Is that “William Tell”
That so loudly we hear,
interrupting our dreaming,
That some idiot chose as the
ring on his cell,
With the volume turned up,
till we all feel like screaming?
And the midi’s shrill blare
permeates through the air,
Announcing to all that he
just doesn’t care.
Oh! Say does that jerk’s
jangling ring tone yet play?
Turn off your bloody phone,
and then please go away! (Barrie Collins, Long Sault, Ontario)
o say can U C our gr8 flag in
the sun
its from some kinda war, with
the British im thinkin
they were charging us taxes
and taking R gun
Paul Revier rang the church
bells to warn old Abe Lincoln
when he heard the bells peal,
Lincoln sent in a SEAL
who freed all the slaves! Way
2 go USA!
i know theres a lot more of
our flag history,
i 4got it OMG – can U txt it
2 me? (Carol Uri, Alexandria, a First Offender)
Next week: Chemical wordfare, or Laughing matter