The Style Invitational Week 942 Singular ideas
By Pat Myers, Updated: Friday, October 21, 8:00 AM
A contest to come up with a new modeling
clay to be endorsed by Homer Simpson. Winner: Doh. (Ralph Kass)
A contest to name a medical practice
that specializes in treating only elephantiasis and elephant man’s disease.
Winner: Pachydermatology. (David Garratt)
It’s often a gamble to put
forth a new contest that a reader suggests. The way it often goes: Someone
comes up with a funny joke or observation, then fires it off to the Empress,
saying, “This would make a great contest!” Sometimes it does. Sometimes not so
much, once you’ve used up that particular joke. This week, in a contest we did
once before, in 1999: Give us an idea for a contest for which there’s likely
only one good entry (which you also supply, duh), as in the inking entries
above from Week 317.
Winner gets the Inker, the
official Style Invitational trophy. Second place receives a deck of playing
cards promoting Abell Pest Control; the faces of the numbered cards feature
photos of various menacing-looking insectoid critters.
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” (FirStink for their first ink). E-mail
entries to losers@washpost.com or fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is Monday, Oct.
31; results published Nov. 20 (Nov. 18 online). No more than 25 entries per
entrant per week. Include “Week 942” 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 is by
Jeff Contompasis; this week’s honorable-mentions subhead is by Gary Crockett.
Report from Week 938, in which we showed you 115 limericks by Edward Lear, the 19th-century
grandfather of the genre, and asked you to use the first two lines of any of
Lear’s poems and supply your own Lines 3, 4 and 5 to create what we now would
consider a funny, clever limerick (Lear’s own were, to put it charitably, not).
This contest drew far more entries than for any of our previous limerick
contests — more than 1,500. And perhaps 20 percent of them were very good; the
Empress spent large and equal amounts of time hemming and hawing (maybe a
little more hawing) to choose the ones below. (The link on the first line of
each limerick goes to the page containing Lear’s original.
The winner of the Inker:
There was an Old Man of
Jamaica,
Who suddenly married a
Quaker;
For that’s how it ends
If you start off just
Friends:
She may press you one evening
to take her. (Hugh Thirlway, The Hague)
2. Winner of the Doody Head
game
with the hat and the
“doodies” you toss onto it:
There was an Old Person of
Burton
Whose answers were rather
uncertain,
For his words were all
jumbled:
“Know I don’t, dear,” he
mumbled,
“Which butt makes your fat
look less skirt in.” (Brendan Beary, Great Mills, Md.)
3. There was a Young Girl of
Majorca
Whose aunt was a very fast
walker;
But the girl would insist
They instead dance the twist,
For the girl was a very fast
torquer.
(Robert Schechter, Dix Hills,
N.Y.)
4. There was an old man at a
casement
Who held up his hands in
amazement:
“My not wearing pants
Explains all their rants,
And, perhaps, what that one
woman’s gaze meant.” (Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif., a First Offender)
Lear-misses: Honorable mentions
There was an Old Man who
said, “How
Shall I flee from that
horrible cow?”
(Though I don’t mean to
tattle,
He didn’t mean cattle —
His wife was one ornery
Frau.)
(Brendan Beary)
There was a Young
Lady whose eyes
Were unique as to
colour and size,
And whose cheek
held her nose —
So she soon got to
pose
For Picasso, to no
one’s surprise.
(Chris Doyle,
Ponder, Tex.)
There was an Old Man in a
tree,
Who was horribly bored by a
bee;
He carelessly slipped as
He spelled “eucalyptus,”
So he lost the bee due to
ennui.
(Steve Langer, Chevy Chase,
Md.)
There was an Old Person of
Ischia,
Whose conduct grew friskier
and friskier.
When looking for sex,
He would call up his ex
(And her mother, which
frankly, was riskier).
(Stephen Gold, Glasgow,
Scotland)
There was a young lady of
Troy,
Whom several large flies did
annoy,
This Helen, in fright,
Closed the windows up tight:
Trojan horseflies might well
be a ploy.
(Courtney Knauth, Washington)
There was an old man on some
rocks,
Who shut his wife up in a
box.
He would make a big deal
Out of each morning’s meal:
He’d eat bagels and she would
get locks.
(Harvey Smith, McLean, Va.)
There was an Old
Person of Tartary
Who divided his
jugular artery,
Then died on the
spot.
“I don’t think,
thus I’m not . . .”
Was the man’s
parting shot of Descartesery. (Chris Doyle)
There was an old person of
Tring
Who embellished his nose with
a ring.
That’s not odd to me;
Since the young folk I see
Have embellished their, well,
everything.
(Mae Scanlan, Washington)
There was an Old Derry down
Derry
Who loved to see little folks
merry.
He declared, “It’s such fun
When you jog with a gun!”
So he’s planning to vote for
Rick Perry.
(Gary Crockett, formerly of
Texas)
There was an Old Man of Peru,
Who never knew what he should
do
Till his wife said, “D’you
see,
Dear, that this bit of me
Fits together with that bit
of you?” (Hugh Thirlway)
There was an Old Person of
Bangor,
Whose face was distorted with
anger.
Sixty years to the day
Since it had stuck that way;
His mom warned him, but he’ll
never thank her. (Eric Fritz, Silver Spring, Md., a First Offender)
There was a Young Lady of
Clare
Who was sadly pursued by a
bear.
The end of this story
(Which could have been gory):
Their cubs have blue eyes and
blond hair. (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)
There was an Old Lady whose
folly
Induced her to sit on a
holly.
She stuck there and died,
And her family cried,
But as Christmas decor she
looks jolly. (Dixon Wragg, Santa Rosa, Calif.)
There was an Old Person of
Philae,
Whose conduct was scroobious
and wily;
He hates people’s guts,
So it drives them all nuts
When his e-mails are signed
with a :). (David Goldberg, Pinckney, Mich.)
There was an Old Person of
Philae,
Whose conduct was scroobious
and wily;
He QBed the Skins
To a measly five wins.
And now Minnesotans aren’t
smiley. (Jonathan Hardis, Gaithersburg)
There was an old person from
Gretna
Who rushed down the crater of
Etna,
Crying, “Fie, you volcano!
Won’t catch me today! No,
You want this old bird, but
ain’t get’na.” (Nan Reiner, Alexandria, Va.)
There was a Young Lady of
Ryde,
Whose shoe-strings were
seldom untied.
She’d once prayed in fun,
“Thy will be undone.”
“We’re a frayed knot,” the
voice said. “Denied.” (Judy Blanchard, Novi, Mich.)
There was a Young Person of
Smyrna,
Whose Grandmother threatened
to burn her
A Mozart CD,
Saying, “Now maybe we
Can hear something besides
Tina Turner.” (Seth Brown, North Adams, Mass.)
There was an Old Man of Peru,
Who watched his wife making a
stew;
She said, “Don’t be a jerk —
Have a bowl before work,
And alpaca nice lunch for you
too.” (Brendan Beary)
There was a Young Lady whose
nose
Was so long that it reached
to her toes.
When Pinocchio walked by,
He said, “Wow! What’s the lie
I must tell if I want one of
those?” (Robert Schechter)
There was a Young Lady of
Clare,
Who was sadly pursued by a
bear;
(That’s the kind on The
Street).
Her account’s now petite.
She’s rethinking the old
“laissez-faire.” (Allen Clark, Arlington, Va., a First Offender)
There was an Old Man of
Quebec,
A beetle ran over his neck.
“Fahrvergnügen!” he cried out
As the bystanders pried out
His body from under the
wreck. (Stephen Dudzik, Olney, Md.)
There was an old man of
Berlin
Whose form was uncommonly
thin;
He looked, I won’t lie,
Like an umlauted ï,
With neither a grin nor a
chin. (Kevin Dopart, Washington)
There was an Old Man of
Marseilles,
Whose daughters wore
bottle-green veils,
Which they’d bought yesterday
Near the beach in Marseilles
Where they dined upon buttery
sneilles. (Steve Langer)
There was an old person of
Sparta,
Who had 21 sons and one
darter.
EPA soon objected:
“That fish is protected!”
Now he’s jailed and a Tea
Party martyr. (Courtney Knauth)
There was an Old Person of
Cromer,
Who stood on one leg to read
Homer;
He’s the lone man I’ve seen
Ever christened Eileen,
But in his case, it’s not a
misnomer. (Brendan Beary)
There was an Old
Man with a nose,
Who said, “If you
choose to suppose
That its length
might suggest
I am equally
blessed
Somewhere else,
that’s a yes. Check my toes.” (Chris Doyle)
There was an Old Person of
Chili
Whose conduct was painful and
silly.
He would jabber about,
But no words would come out.
(He was channeling Milli
Vanilli.). (Christopher Lamora,
Guatemala City)
There was an Old Man of
Columbia,
Who was thirsty, and called
out for some beer;
The brew caused this crime
Of an idiot rhyme,
With each line getting dumbia
and dumbia. (Ira Allen, Bethesda)
There was an Old Man on a
hill,
Who seldom, if ever, stood
still.
Whence came the devotion
To perpetual motion?
His twice-daily Dexedrine
pill. (Sheila Blume, Sayville, N.Y.)
There was a Young Lady of
Parma,
Whose conduct grew calmer and
calmer;
When he said things had
changed,
She replied, “You’re
deranged:
There’s no second term, Mr.
Obama.” (LeRoy LaRoche, Potomac, a First Offender)
There was a Young Lady of
Norway,
Who casually sat on a
doorway.
To each passing bounder,
She’d quip, “Quarter-pounder?
If so, come on in — have it
your way!” (David Smith, Santa Cruz, Calif.)
There was a Young Lady of
Ryde
Whose shoe-strings were
seldom untied.
But her corset, it’s said,
Was untied instead
By young men who had come to
ride Ryde. (Bob Klocek, Fairfax Station, a First Offender)
There was an old man from the
Isles
Whose face was pervaded with
smiles.
He spent his time mergin’
With every young virgin
In sundry positions and
styles. (Bird Waring, Larchmont, N.Y.)
There was an Old
Man of Coblenz,
The length of
whose legs was immense.
But even immenser
Was [oops, The
Post’s censor
Informs me this
might give offense].
(Chris Doyle)
Next week: Mash: The Retread, or Doubled Oeuvre