Week 586: God's Will (and Won't)


If God hadn't wanted us to be hugely obese, God wouldn't have invented the Clapper.

This week's contest comes from longtime Loser Roy Ashley of Washington. In the tradition of that classic example of short-sightedness, "If God had wanted us to fly, He would have given us wings," Roy suggests that you complete either of the following:

If God hadn't wanted us to -- -- , God wouldn't have -- -- .

If God had wanted us to -- -- , God would have -- -- .

Warning: This is already well-explored territory. The Empress had better not receive stolen quotes from Dave Barry ("If God had wanted us to spend our time fretting about the problems of home ownership, He would never have invented beer") or from innumerable Web sites ("If God wanted me to touch my toes, He would have put them on my knees"). If you think you may have heard it somewhere, don't share it here.

First-prize winner receives the Inker, the official Style Invitational trophy. First runner-up receives a 2005 "Nuns Having Fun" wall calendar, which includes photos of 1950s-era nuns in full habit who are playing tug-of-war, piloting a speedboat, sharing smokes, etc.

Other runners-up win a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt. Honorable mentions get one of the lusted-after Style Invitational Magnets. One prize per entrant per week. Send your entries by e-mail to losers@washpost.com or, if you really have to, by fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is Monday, Dec. 6. Put the week number in the subject line of your e-mail, or it risks being ignored as spam. Include your name, postal address and phone number with your entry. Contests are 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 Dec. 26. 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 Russell Beland of Springfield.

Report from Week 582, in which we asked for updated, edgy nursery rhymes or children's songs.

A large number of entries had Jack and Jill going for water and ending up with daughter; all of the following, while perhaps not classic, seem to be at least novel.

Third runner-up:

Hey diddle diddle, the admen will fiddle
With products that some will impugn.
That's why they now call 'em "dried plums"
When they used to call 'em "prune."

(Jane Auerbach, Los Angeles)

Second runner-up:

Jack Sprat was getting fat,
His wife said, "Lose the gut!"
His corset laced, he lost the waist and grew a giant butt.

(Jim Mall, Chicago)

First runner-up, the winner of the Town of Brunswick, N.Y., souvenir plate:
Eenie meenie miney moe,
Catch a traitor by his toe.
Whether there is proof or no,
Take him to Guantanamo.

(Mark Young, Washington)

And the winner of the Inker:

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt
His name is my name, too!
But he doesn't know
I'm making lots of dough
Stealing the identity of John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.

(Joseph Romm, Washington)

Honorable Mentions:

Barry smoke crack and I don't care,
Barry smoke crack and I don't care,
Barry smoke crack and I don't care,
Elect him anyway.

(Scott Campisi, Wake Village, Tex.)

To Wal-Mart, to Wal-Mart, my town's only store.
I swear that there used to be others before.

(Seth Brown, North Adams, Mass.)

To market, to market, to buy a fat hog,
"We're sorry, your congressman's out for a jog." (Jim Mall)

(I.) "Jack," said Jill, "I'm on the pill,
With condoms don't you bother."
Jack believed, but was deceived.
Now Jack's a brand-new father.
(Walt Johnston, Woodstock, Md.)

(II.) George and Dick took out a stick
To slay the Evil Axis.
And now, my dears, there's four more years
For lowering our taxes.

(Ross Elliffe, Picton, New Zealand)

(III.) John and John have now withdrawn
And one went to Nantucket.
John fell down and lost the crown,
And John drawled, "Well, just [bleep]!"

(Sue Lin Chong, Baltimore)

Bye baby bunting, Daddy's gone a-hunting.
Gone to get some crinoline
To wrap the baby's bunting in.
(No animals were hurt in the construction of this nursery rhyme.)

(Chris Doyle, Forsyth, Mo.)

Little Osama sent in a bomba
And racism now has found sway,
We think that a turban is clearly disturbin',
And no one recalls Tim McVeigh.

(Seth Brown)

"Marion Barry, quite contrary,
How did your legend grow?"
He smoked and he snorted, and then he retorted,
"Why, I've been framed by a ho."

(Jeff Brechlin, Eagan, Minn.)

Ring around Fallujah

We hate to have to noodge yah
Ashes, ashes, we'll burn your town!

(Dan Blitz, Gaithersburg)

Calista has no body fat
And Kate is really lean,
And so betwixt them both
They weigh 'bout one-eighteen.

(Russell Beland, Springfield)

Mary had a little limb, She needed a prosthetic,
But her health plan wouldn't pay. Now isn't that pathetic?

(Peter Metrinko, Plymouth, Minn.)

I'm a little G-spot, short and stout.
Where am I hiding? Come find out.
When I get all steamed up hear her shout:
Find me now or just get out! (Scott Campisi)

Monday's child is none too bright,
Tuesday's child is middlin',
Wednesday's child is ADD,
Pump him full of Ritalin.

(Peter Metrinko)

There was a crooked man and he had a crooked smile,
An undisclosed agenda was his crooked little style.
He made us all afraid of each person in the world,
Afraid that any minute we'd be dipped in oil and berled.

(John Conti, Norfolk, Mass.)

Ding dong bell,
Someone's in the well.
But it's a family paper,
So her name I cannot tell.

(Brendan Beary, Great Mills)

The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts
All on a summer's day.
The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts
And lived to rue the day.

The Queen of Hearts, through unwashed parts,
Was spreading plague around.
The Knave of Heart's bubonic warts
Soon put him in the ground. (Jeff Brechlin)

Deedle deedle dumpling, Private John
Went to Iraq without armor on.
Now it's one leg off and one leg on,
But Rumsfeld's still at the Pentagon.

(Jack Cackler, Falls Church)

The itsy bitsy camera went up the water spout,
On came the shower, and washed the camera out.
"Aah!" screamed the coeds, stampeding for the door.
And the techno-savvy pervert went back to jail once more.

(Mike Cisneros, Centreville)

I love you, you love me, we're a Happy Family
With two nice dads and a little boy and girl
And that just makes some Christians hurl.

(Pam Sweeney, Germantown)

Peter Piper packeted, uh . . .
Peter Piper picketated, uh . . .
Peter Piper pocketuded, uh . . .
Wait, I'm not finished! (G.W.B., Washington)

(Jack Cackler)

The nurse takes the cow,
The nurse takes the cow,
Santorum said it would come to this,
The nurse takes the cow.

(Dave Zarrow, Herndon)

Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Dissed the girls and made them cry.
When the boys came out to play,
Georgie Porgie said, "Hey, I got 61 percent of the white male vote, so who cares about a bunch of whining feminists anyway?"

(Jack Cackler)