The Style Invitational Week 1013 Har Monikers
By Pat Myers, Thursday, March 14, 5:02 PM
Who was postwar Germany’s great champion
of daylight-saving time? Adenauer! (Elden Carnahan)
Is that CNN anchorwoman hot, or what? Oh
yeah, Paula Zahn fire! (Dave Zarrow)
What did the feminist singer
say to Sadat? All Liz Phair in love, Anwar! (Chris Doyle)
In the Empress’s earlier
incarnation as a copy editor in The Post’s Style section, part of the job was
to write headlines containing puns and other wordplay (one of her proudest
achievements: For a story about someone whose job was to monitor people who
were giving urine samples for drug testing, she wrote “Looking Out for Number
One”; and the same day, for a story about someone who had to clean out portable
toilets, “Waste Is a Terrible Thing to Mind.” Thank you). But even in Style,
the copy editors were warned: Don’t make puns on people’s names. It’s lame and
tacky.
This week, write a riddle
that uses a pun of a person’s name in the answer, as in the gleefully groany
examples above that got ink in our previous go at this contest in 2002. You can
see the original answers on the Master Contest List at NRARS.org, the Losers’
Web site (click on Week 442, where the results are); you won’t risk duplicating
them if you use people who’ve gained their fame in the past decade.
Winner gets the Inkin’
Memorial, the Lincoln-statue bobblehead that is the official Style Invitational
trophy. Second place receives the very fine Fanny Bank, which consists of a
pair of plastic jeans with something resembling a plastic butt sticking out of
the top; dropping a coin in the slot (conveniently located in the
something-like-a-butt) generates an electronic fart noise. Donated
by Loser Cheryl Davis, who seems to possess hundreds of prize-worthy pieces of
embarrassiana. (See the Style Conversational at bit.ly/conv1013 for a
video clip.)
Other runners-up win their
choice of a yearned-for Loser Mug or the ardently desired Grossery Bag.
Honorable mentions get a lusted-after Loser magnet. First Offenders receive 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, March 25; results published April 14 (online April 11). No more than 25
entries per entrant per week. Include “Week 1013” in your e-mail subject line
or it might be ignored as spam. Include your real name, postal address and
phone number with your entry. See contest rules and guidelines at
wapo.st/inviterules. The subhead for this week’s honorable mentions is by Brad
Alexander; the alternative headline for the “next
week’s results” line is by Chris Doyle. Join the lively Style
Invitational Devotees group on Facebook at on.fb.me/invdev.
Report from Week 1009, in which we asked for passages written about a person
using only the letters in his or her name: Lots of responses, including a few
that someone could actually manage to read. And out of 60 entries on her
shortlist, 11 of them were found to contain letters that were not in the person’s
name — as many as three different wrong letters in a single entry. Thanks to
Losergeeks Steve Langer and Jeff Contompasis for coming up with fast, nifty
ways to check for invalid letters.
The winner of the Inkin’ Memorial
Ke$ha: $he $hake$ a$$, ha$
$$. (Matt Monitto, Elon, N.C.)
2. Winner of the coin purse
made from a whole Australian cane toad:
Angus MacGyver: Uses
sunscreen, a car gauge, mucus, an eraser, mascara, a cane, garage grease, a
N.Y. egg cream, gum — unarms a gang, rescues a granny, saves a nun. Vacuums
mess. Cures cancer.
(Kevin Dopart, Washington)
3. Brigham Young: Bigamy? Ha! I’m marrying
Miriam, Mary, Ann, Hannah, Amy. . . [all
were Young’s actual wives] (Chris Doyle, Ponder, Tex.)
4. Hillary Rodham Clinton:
Lay road to nomination: To
Do:
●Find
rich, rich donor (critical!)
●Traction
on Hill? Am I too chilly to Harry
and Nancy?
●Mr.
Clinton? Hard to ditch (control
him!!)
●Call in additional
chit (or many, ha ha)
●Command
military. Cool! Rarin’
to do it.
●Lid
on it till May. Told
CNN to chill.
●Man, I can nail it!
(David Messing, Washington)
Of nominal interest: Honorable mentions
George Washington: He was a
great one, a wise one, the shining star o’ the new nation. OTOH, tho there was
no terror on his estate, there were no wages either. (Elden Carnahan, Laurel,
Md.)
Anthony Weiner: A
horny tweet: “Hey there, honey. Hot to trot here.” A wiener on Twitter! Heh-heh. What a hoot!
Oh-oh. A writer on the horn.
I tarry: “What? No
way, no how! Not I!” Then I wait, try not to worry.
Whoa. Another writer, an ornery one. I rant, threaten to hire an
attorney.
Oy, yet another.
. . . They’re on to it. I won’t win.
Weary, I retreat:
“Yeah, I hit on her.”
What now? I retire
in notoriety — an Internet nitwit.
(Chris Doyle)
Seth MacFarlane: A shameless,
tasteless telecast falls flat. “Tee-hee — men see actresses’ ta-tas!” (The real
threat: Letterman feels he earns a fresh chance.) (Brendan
Beary, Great Mills, Md.)
Manti Te’o: Main man on team.
Neat tattoo. Mania! Nominee! Mention intimate emotion
(“Te amo!” — inanimate mate). No, no, no — an
imitation! It ain’t no one! (Am I into men?) (Ben Aronin, Arlington, Va.)
William Howard Taft: What? Too fat? A load of lard? Hah! I
will root for him to roar, to dart forward, to thwart
T.R. (Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.)
Katniss Everdeen: A teen
starves in a stark area in need. Saves sister, stands in instead. Trains in intense events. Starts dire
test. Stranded in tree, severs nest. Kids die via nest, knives, stakes. Kisses, saves ardent kid near river. Kat and kid end
in tie, are saved. State desires Kat dead. At end, ardent kid never skins a
Kat. (Mike Gips, Bethesda, Md.)
Vladimir Lenin: Madman. Animal. Rivaled Idi Amin in evil. And never, ever, delivered marmalade in a lavender minivan. (Joe Neff, Warrington, Pa.)
Joseph Ratzinger: So, I retire as pope — it’s not right to
phone it in, so I resign. To raise pet rats in a spare
garage? To open a retro Gap store in Pretoria? To sponsor aspiring rappers in Ephrata, Pa.? To terrorize priests in Paris or inspire neo-Nazi rioting in
Tanzania? Nein to that, nein! Prepare to see the Great Joe Zero-G,
trapeze artist! (Elden Carnahan)
Sarah Palin: A shrill pain in
la panini. (Mae Scanlan, Washington)
Gordon Ramsay: Madman? Says
yo mama! My angry moods? My drama?
Among goons and morons, and gassy odors and gross mango/mayo aromas — AGONY! So, sorry? NO! Yo mama may go gag on dog gonads! (Dave Prevar, Annapolis, Md.)
Lance Armstrong:
Testosterone! More testosterone! (Steve Langer, Chevy Chase,
Md.)
Genghis Khan: Asian seeks
geishas, sake. (Ha!) Gains neighing nags, nagging hags,
shanghaing gangs. Sees shahs, sheikhs, kings.
Assassin sinks his aging heinie. (Kevin Dopart)
Mel Gibson: Me? Imbibing on
binges? Loosing noisome libels? Ogling bimbos? No! I’m noble! I’m Mel being
Mel! (Mark Raffman)
Clarence Thomas: Ne’er a
comment (other than that one snort at the ol’ alma mater). No
one’s loss. (Danielle Nowlin, Woodbridge, Va.)
Herman Cain: I’m an ace in an
American chain, a mean machine. I ran in a race, each man an anemic, harmin’
arch-enema — ha ha! I am merrier, richer — and inane! Hear I’m a cinch? Hear I
care? Merci, ami! (Cameraman, reach an’ enhance me here.) Her
main charm? Her chin, her carmine mane. Her niece? Nicer. Her mama? Hairier. Rein me in, I’m a chimin’ ham! (Diane Wah, Seattle,
a First Offender)
Rush Limbaugh: A big, shrill,
gas-bag humbug: “Blah blah librulls blah rama lama
’Bama blah blah blah!” (Doug Frank, Crosby, Tex.)
Kate Middleton: At
nineteen I met and dated a man, an eminent man. It entailed immediate media
attention — a lot. Tittle-tattle made me into a national idol. (I liked it!)
Meantime I modeled. I initiated an intimate tete-a-tete (i.e., a little naked
nookie). It led to a diamond, a tied knot and an elated nation. A title, too!
(Chris Doyle)
Rush Limbaugh: Shhhhh. (Roger
Dalrymple, Gettysburg, Pa.)
Gene Weingarten: Engaging,
winning writer? Entertaining, nattering wag? Irritating, grating ranter? We agree. (Craig Dykstra,
Centreville)
And last: Pat Myers: Empress sees my mastery? Rates me
as a star? Mm-mm . . . Spears me, tears
apart my art, reaps my tears? Yes. (Mark Raffman)
Next week: Picture This,
or Arty Har-Hars