Week 653: It's the Eponymy, Stupid


Whittingtune, n., v.: A victim's apology for being the source of distress
to the victimizer. "My family and I are deeply sorry for all that Vice
President Cheney and his family have had to go through this past week,"
he Whittingtuned upon leaving the hospital.

We're delving way, way back into the Invitational Archives to repeat --
and, we hope, update -- the eponym contest from Week 27: Coin a word or
expression based on the name of a well-known person, define it, and
perhaps use it in a sentence. Note: Receiving three blots of ink on Sept.
26, 1993, including first runner-up, was Chuck Smith of Woodbridge, who
had already achieved such a degree of Invitational fame that two
eponymous terms were printed about him (Chucksmith: a collector of
T-shirts; Chuck: the Loser T-shirt itself: "The Chuck's in the mail").
Now that he is spattered with 712 blots, we invite him to Chuck us a few
more. You, too, of course.

Winner receives the Inker, the official Style Invitational trophy. First
runner-up gets a Flying Spaghetti Monster car plaque, donated by Kevin
Dopart of Washington, which would look very cool stuck to someone's trunk
right next to a few Loser Magnets. (The plaque would, that is; not Kevin
or Washington.)

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
tolosers@washpost.comor by fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is Monday, March
20. Include "Week 653" 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 humor and originality. All
entries become the property of The Washington Post. Entries may be edited
for taste or content. Results will be published April 9. 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 Brendan
Beary of Great Mills.

Report From Week 649, in which we asked for lyrics set to the folk song "Shenandoah" that were
actually relevant to Virginia, which recently began using it as the state
song.

Somehow we don't think the state legislature will start singing
along with these, but we did find an out-of-state ringer: Aspiring Loser
David Schildkret just happen s to run the choral program at the
appropriately far-from-Virginia Arizona State University, and he agreed
to coerce his talented Concert Choir to sing several of this week's
entries in absolute deadpan solemnity. You can hear them at
www.washingtonpost.com/styleinvitational . (Meanwhile, David has
conveniently left the country.)

3 O Shenandoah, I found religion
In the land of Pat and Jerry.
No hurricanes will thunder near me.
I pray. They blow away
And head toward Venezuela.
(Jay Shuck, Minneapolis)

2 The winner of the squished promotional T-shirt you can write "Lose" on:

Oh, Charlottesville, admit my daughter.
I can't pay for Yale or Princeton.
Oh, Charlottesville, please give my daughter
The cachet of U-V-A:
I need in-state tuition.
(Barbara Sarshik, McLean)

1 And the winner of the Inker

Oh, Monticello, we long to hear who
Looked away from hanky-panky
Oh Monticello, what's wrong, we fear you
Looked away. We've found today
A source hereditary.

A white man loved a dark-skinned maiden
(Look away from hanky-panky).
His notions with taboo were laden.
Away, he was bound to stray,
When Tom espied Miss Hemings.

For seven years he courted Sally
(Look away from hanky-panky).
Seven more years they'd often dally,
In the hay, we found, they lay,
Tom and his own Miss Hemings.

Farewell to Tom,
He's bound to leave us,
But evidence will not deceive us:
DNA was found today:
To Tom is tied Miss Hemings.
(Chris Doyle, Kihei, Hawaii, formerly of Fairfax County)

Honorable Mentions

The Virgin Queen, that's who you're named for.
But now you're called the state for lovers,
And birthplace of our country's father?
Confused, I'm so confused!
But it's okay, the fleet's in.
(Judith Cottrill, New York)

Our commonwealth's most famous foodstuff,
Smithfield ham, it's sent from Heaven,
And we never have to share it
With heathen infidels:
It's just for us good Christians.
(Brendan Beary, Great Mills)

O Shenandoah, I long to see you
And drive the Skyline highway.
But whatchanoah, I'm stuck in traffic.
I'll wait, I'm bound to wait
Behind a white Mercedes.
(Steve Ettinger, Chevy Chase)

I cannot find a Jewish deli.
Oy vey! I need pastrami.
And Dr. Brown's to fill my belly.
Oy vey! Oy vey iss mir!
I'm just a good ol' boychik.
(Barbara Sarshik and Andy Pike, McLean)

Eight presidents came from Virginia!
Sure, we rub it in a little,
Since Maryland has not had any.
Although we're sure you're proud
Of Mister Spiro Agnew.
(Brendan Beary)

I'm stuck out here, out in Manassas.
Traffic's thick as day-old phlegm.
We're moving just like cold molasses.
Oh gee, how can this be
When it's 3 a.m.?
(Peter Metrinko, Chantilly)

Please don't confuse us fine Virginians
With our less enlightened neighbors
Like hillbillies in West Virginia,
Or worse -- oh yes, much worse --
Those liberals in Maryland.
(Steve Ettinger)

Oh protozoa, you're so much smarter
Than Virginia's politicians.
But they're peerless at dividing.
Divisiveness: It's one of our
Dear commonwealth's traditions.
(Peter Metrinko)

Potomac, you're our muddy river
Full of carp and yuppie kayaks,
Old tires and cans, and scraps of liver,
And hey, I hate to say,
That stuff's our drinking water.
(Jeff Brechlin, Eagan, Minn., formerly of Loudoun County)

Oh Shenandoah, you're filled with feces.
But oh, boy, we like our chicken.
Your fish are all endangered species.
Oh why not buy our eggs
From someplace like Missouri?
(Michael Fransella, Arlington)


Next Week: King Us, or Deader Homes & Gardens