Week CXIV (457): Letter Rip
This Week's Contest was suggested by Jonathan Paul of Garrett Park: Give us the beginning of a letter to the editor that is certain never to see print. First-prize winner gets a T-shirt produced by the town of Battle Mountain, Nev., promoting itself as being "Dubbed the Armpit of America by The Washington Post Magazine." It's pretty ugly.
First runner-up wins the tacky but estimable Style Invitational Loser Pen. Other runners-up win the coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt. Honorable mentions get the mildly sought-after Style Invitational bumper sticker. Send your entries via fax to 202-334-4312, or by e-mail to losers@washpost.com. U.S. mail entries are no longer accepted due to rabid, spit-flying fanaticism. Deadline is Monday, June 17. All entries must include the week number of the contest and your name, postal address and telephone number. E-mail entries must include the week number in the subject field. Contests will be 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 in four weeks. No purchase required for entry. Employees of The Washington Post, and their immediate relatives, are not eligible for prizes. Pseudonymous entries will be disqualified. The revised title for next week's contest is by Stephen Dudzik of Olney.
Report from Week CXX (453),
in which we asked for political haiku. We received an indignant letter from one woman who claimed that by not requiring a "seasonal" word, our definition of haiku showed shocking ignorance of, and cultural insensitivity toward, the Japanese culture. Research reveals that there is a spirited debate among haiku experts about precisely what constitutes their art; in general, the consensus seems to come down on the side of the greatest liberality. Few demand the seasonal word. Or, to put it succinctly: Haiku is strangled / When too many rules are sought / So nyah nyah, lady.
[diam]Second Runner-Up:
John F. Kennedy
Camelot mystique
Masking a philanderer
We didn't know Jack
(Chris Doyle, Burke)
[diam]First Runner-Up:
James Buchanan
Preceded greatness
A cleanshaven president
But he had a beard
(Roy Ashley, Washington)
[diam]And the winner of the elephant dung paperweight:
Al Sharpton
You can lose the weight
But you can't lose the baggage
That's the skinny, Al
(Daniel Horner, Washington)
[diam]Honorable Mentions:
Michael Dukakis
Short Greek governor
Massachusetts Miracle
Then his campaign tanked
(Stephen Dudzik, Olney; Cindi Rae Caron, Lenoir, N.C.)
President Clinton
Was unable to re-dress
The stain on his name
(Diane Morgan, Williamsport, Md.)
Richard Nixon
He had it all taped
But the thing he should have taped
Was his big fat mouth
(Art Grinath, Takoma Park)
Grover Cleveland
Both his home and girth
Truly Buffalonian
Woe his youthful bride
(Steve Fahey, Kensington)
Zachary Taylor
His name has five syllables
Zachary Taylor
(Lex Friedman, Waltham, Mass.)
James Garfield
He got shot, was fine
Until doctors tried to help
Did not have nine lives
(Seth Brown, Williamstown, Mass.)
WPA
NIRA TVA
OK FDR!
(Seth Brown, Williamstown, Mass.)
Dan Quayle
You say potato
And then I say potatoe
Call the whole thing off
(Seth Brown, Williamstown, Mass.)
Calvin Coolidge
The most he would say
Would not fill up a haiku
(Mike Genz, La Plata)
Steve Forbes
Capitalist tool
Had a well-stocked magazine
Shot nothing but blanks
(Stephen Dudzik, Olney)
Jesse Helms
Tar Heel good ole boy
No pacemaker in just yet
Have to find heart first
(Maja Keech, New Carrollton)
Richard Nixon
Watergate's boiling
The kitchen is getting hot
I am not a cook
(Chris Doyle, Burke)
Thomas Dewey
Polls notwithstanding
A man on a wedding cake
Was groomed for defeat
(Chris Doyle, Burke)
Alexander Hamilton
A foggy morning
And a hole in your jacket
Burr, it's really cold
(Jeff Brechlin, Potomac Falls)
Kathleen Townsend
Here's my résumé
K-E-N-N-E-D-Y
Isn't that enough?
(Brendan Beary, Great Mills, Md.)
Margaret Thatcher
Some thought her sexy
Cannot quite imagine why
But then, they're British
(William Spencer, Exeter, N.H.)