Week 687: Whatever Were They Thinking?


This week we once again pay homage to (i.e., rip off shamelessly) the
late and venerable New York Magazine Competition, which under the
stewardship of Mary Ann Madden published more than 900 contests before
she retired in 2000. John Schachter of Arlington recalls a frequently
repeated NYMag contest from years back (one of the winning entries is in
the cartoon). This week: Tell us (A) What someone might say in some
situation, and (B) what that person was actually thinking when he said A.

Winner gets the Inker, the official Style Invitational trophy. First
runner-up receives, courtesy of tireless Loser Dave Prevar of Annapolis,
a cute little set called Grow-a-Boyfriend and Grow-a-Girlfriend. You soak
the little rubbery doll in water, and in a couple of days, he or she will
expand to three to four times his or her original size (um, no, it is a
consistent expansion, not just certain zones). But eventually, according
to the package, little Alice, let's call her, or Aloysius will return to
thumb-size. The all-pink lovelies are scantily clad, but they are indeed
clad.

Other runners-up win a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt.
Honorable Mentions (or whatever they're called this week) get one of the
all-new lusted-after Style Invitational Magnets. One prize per entrant
per week. Send your entries by e-mail to losers@washpost.com or by fax to
202-334-4312. Deadline is Monday, Nov. 13. Put "Week 687" 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. 3. 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 Drew Bennett of
Alexandria.

Report From Week 683, in which we asked you to string together words lifted, in the order in
which they appear, from any scene or two consecutive scenes in "Hamlet."

Several entrants reported having read the play for the first time just
for this contest. Once again, The Style Invitational achieves its primary
goal: to improve the cultural literacy of the populace. (Note: The name
of one Loser appears below with dismaying frequency. While it might be
nice to have a wider variety of reading matter between the parentheses,
we'd rather provide you with the cleverest, funniest stuff that goes
outside those parentheses: Every week, we run the best entries we found
for that contest, period -- no matter whose names are on them.)

4. Act 4, Scene 7, and Act 5, Scene 1: "What a long speech! (Dull ass!
Has this fellow no feeling?) The tongue of a politician is full of
equivocation. (Every fool can tell!) How long will a man lie, ere we have
his hide? (Alas, a thousand times!) (Beverley Sharp, Washington)

3. Act 1, Scene 5:

Mark: Lend the secrets of thy young flesh!

Youth: His shameful lust holds a seat!

Touching my sword. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. Ah, ha, boy! Come
hither, and lay your hands on. (Ira Allen, Bethesda)

2. the winner of the Pimp My Cubicle kit:

Act 5, Scenes 1 and 2: My sweet lord. Him, my lord. My, my, my lord. A
really wanton ho, you. (Kevin Dopart, Washington)

And the Winner of the Inker

Act 2, Scenes 1 and 2: He's addicted to tennis and it hath made him mad.
His service and return, a set down, were nothing but waste, play'd like
an old man on his ass. Striking too wide, he has tears in his eyes and
speech like a whore a-cursing! (Dennis Lindsay, Seabrook)

Finite Jest: The Minor Plays

Act 1, Scenes 1-2: In our state, marriage of gentlemen to gentlemen might
not be tenable. (Elwood Fitzner, Valley City, N.D.)

Act 1, Scenes 1-2: Get thee relief. Sit down in the privy upon the
throne. That duty done, leave not the flushing before it vanish'd from
our sight -- or your foul deeds will rise. (Kevin Dopart)

Act 1, Scenes 2-3: On the scale, weighing a little more -- dejected. O
God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable are fashion, perfume and
waxes! (Mary Ann Henningsen, Hayward, Calif.)

Act 2, Scene 1: Wanton, wild gaming! Drinking! Swearing! Scandal!
Incontinency! Savageness! A party! A brothel! Hell! Horrors! Fear!
Ecstasy! Love! Passion!

Sorry. Denied access. (Ron Stanley, Leesburg)

Act 2, Scenes 1 and 2: Go a head, make my day, maggots. (Kevin Dopart)

Act 2, Scenes 1 and 2: He loosed out his arm, throwing strikes. Whiff,
his stick did nothing. Out, out, mincing rogue, out! (Kevin Dopart)

Act 2, Scene 2: O dear Ophelia, I love thee -- but take this "Be-No," I
do beseech you! For yet is the air a foul and pestilent congregation of
vapours from your wind. (Brendan Beary, Great Mills)

Act 2, Scene 2; Act 3, Scene 1: Let us hear from Gore: "My damn'd defeat
was made by an ass! The father, too, when he spake, it lack'd something:
brains and wisdom." (Kevin Dopart)

Act 2, Scene 2; Act 3, Scene 1: Sith Lord, could monstrous force defeat
the good force? No, and that suck'd. (Kevin Dopart) ["Sith," by the way,
meant "since."]

Act 3, Scenes 1 and 2: To be or not to be . . . ay-ay-ay, I forgot the
rest. (Ron Stanley, Leesburg)

Act 3, Scenes 2 and 3: Julius Caesar, a mouse and a Confederate murderer
come into a bar . . . (Kevin Dopart)

Act 3, Scene 4, and Act 4, Scene 1: "Wicked good." From New England, I
will translate: " 'Tis good." (Kevin Dopart)

Act 4, Scenes 2 and 3: Take me like an ape, my lord. I am knavish! My
body is by desperate appliance relieved, or not at all. (David Kleinbard,
Jersey City)

Act 4, Scenes 4 and 5: I'll be straight. "Revenge of th' Sith": The plot
is worth nothing. (Mary Ann Henningsen)

Act 5, Scenes 1 and 2: Ay, ha', 'tis, e'en, O, 'twill, i', pah, 'twere,
dost -- what dizzy infusion of diction, semblable of not words, but
foolery. (Dave Prevar, Annapolis)

Act 5, Scenes 1 and 2: He is without arms. He has no skull, no calves, no
hide, no eyelids. O well, he is not perfect. (Mae Scanlan, Washington)

Act 5, Scenes 1 and 2: Sheet doth happen. (Kevin Dopart)

From Act 5, Scene 2: This election mess in the fall leaves both sides
damned unsatisfied and gives this sight to the world: unnatural acts,
accidental judgments, mischance, plots and errors. (Dennis Lindsay,
Seabrook)

Act 5, Scene 2: There's a divinity that shapes our ends? Nay, I'm
satisfied in nature. As thou'rt a man, things come from a cell; plots and
errors happen. (John O'Byrne, from vacation in Gaborone, Botswana)

Epilogue 1: Act 4, Scenes 5 and 6: If you desire to know the Loser, know
pelican brains! They bore on Sundays. They be slow and dumb. They bore
thee much. Knowest, I direct them." -- The Empress, Washington (Kevin
Dopart)

Epilogue 2: Act 1, Scene 5; Act 2, Scene 1: Would that I may find a
life, and never lust this heartily for a shirt so piteous I do not go out
o'doors in it! (Brendan Beary, Great Mills)

And the Last Epilogue: Act 5, Scenes 1 and 2:
Come losing wits some nine year same,
Where indiscretion serves you right;
For vice, much dirt and willing shame,
Only the damned do we Invite. (Kevin Dopart)

Next Week: Backtricking, or Mirror Scrimmage