Week 833: Our Greatest Hit
Platyplus: A mammal with webbed feet, a duck bill and opposable thumbs. (Russell Beland, Springfield, 2003)
Doltergeist: a spirit that decides to haunt someplace stupid, such as your septic tank. (David Genser, Arlington, 1998)
It's the only contest for which the Empress receives unsolicited entries, year round, year after year, from people who've gotten the idea that this is all we do here in Invitetown. Let's hope they stumble on this year's version: Start with a real word or multi-word term or name that begins with M, N, O or P; either add one letter, subtract one letter, replace one letter or transpose two adjacent letters; and define the new word, as in the examples above. Note that it's the original word, not the result, that must start with one of those letters.
Winner gets the Inker, the official Style Invitational trophy. Second place gets the Style Invitational International Delight Gourmet Gift Pak, which consists of a can of haggis (primary ingredients: lamb lungs and oatmeal), sent from Scotland by traveling Loser Drew Bennett of the Ozarks, who couldn't find any squirrel on the shelves in Edinburgh; and a can of the tasty fungus that Mexicans call huitlacoche and the less marketing-inclined have termed corn smut, donated by occasional Loser Mike Czuhajewski.
Other runners-up win their choice of a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt or yearned-for Loser Mug. 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 by fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is Monday, Sept. 14. Put "Week 833" 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 Oct. 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 results is by Beverley Sharp; this week's Honorable Mentions name is by Kevin Dopart.
Report From Week 829, In which we asked for limericks featuring words that begin with di-, in a nod to the ongoing efforts at Oedilf.com to assemble a whole dictionary's worth of five-line doggerel.
And for hundreds of the almost 900 entries we received, the emphasis was on "dog," with people submitting such "rhymes" as "differential calculus/ridiculous," "diabolic/Catholic" and "middle/pickle." But as always, they were blown out of the water by the work of some inspired limericians, most of them veteran Invitational Losers but also some once-a-year visitors as well as a few First Offenders. Note the numerous across-the-pond Losers this week; hence rhymes like "ignore/law."
The Winner of the Inker
She's a girl of outstanding dimensions
(Two of which were her surgeon's inventions).
She's got 36D-
22-33 . . .
And a PhD nobody mentions.
(Andrew Burnet, Edinburgh, Scotland, a First Offender)
2. the winner of the bacon- and cupcake-flavor dental floss, plus the bacon mints:
A dimwitted local Fort Worther
Is a formerly vocal flat-Earther.
This yokel was due
To latch onto a new
Source of lunacy: Now he's a birther.
(Chris Doyle, Ponder, Tex.)
3. The new diet I'm on is a winner:
It's just sauerkraut, breakfast through dinner.
The gas from both ends
Repels all of my friends,
So from farther away, I seem thinner!
(Brendan Beary, Great Mills, Md.)
4. An ecdysiast twists at the hip,
Reaches down for a hands-to-feet grip,
Then remains in that pose
While disrobing, which shows
The high art of the Möbius strip.
(Chris Doyle)
Now Direct Your Attentions to Hon'rable Mentions
When one person's word is the law,
That's dictatorship. Do not ignore
Or contest the decrees
Addressed to you, please:
Just say "Yes, dear," and not a word more.
(Hugh Thirlway, The Hague)
Mixing cyanide, lye and dioxin,
You can make the world's second-worst toxin.
(If you're looking to go
For the ultimate, throw
My three teenagers' sneakers and socks in.)
(Brendan Beary)
You're sloshed, Al!" his lady admonished.
"Yer right, luv," he slurred. "I'm astonished!
I'd try to refute
That I'm drunk as a coot,
But that would be bein' dishonesht."
(Mae Scanlan, Washington)
Though she cheated on me, I can't blame her,
Since she'd warned me no marriage could tame her:
Repeating, "I do,"
She'd then whispered, "Not true."
(Maybe next time I'll heed the disclaimer.)
(Jim Pettit, Naples, Fla., a First Offender)
Mr. Waters? A call on the line,
With a gender I just can't define.
Someone born long ago
To an actor you know --
It's Chianti, the fruit of Divine.
(Mike Turniansky, Pikesville, Md.)
In and out of the bathroom all night.
Diarrhea: My stomach's not right.
All I ate was a Frito,
And then a Dorito:
Two chips that had passed in the night.
(Scott Campisi, Wake Village, Tex.)
"I just love Mister Springsteen," she flirted.
"Ma'am, your ticket is fake!" the guard blurted.
"But I'm in the front row!"
"Ma'am, you still have to go."
So she left, feeling quite disconcerted.
(Craig Dykstra, Centreville)
Archimedes excitedly raced
Through the town when the water displaced
Made him bellow, "Eureka!"
That Syracuse streaka
Showed off a lot more than poor taste.
(Brendan Beary)
The promoters had sweetened the pot,
So the blues singers all made a lot,
Excepting young Bo,
Who would open the show.
No, they didn't pay Diddley squat.
(Chris Doyle)
I've fitted my lamps with a dimmer
That reduces their light to a glimmer,
To protect my weak sight;
The result is, tonight,
That I can't see to finish this limer . . .
(Hugh Thirlway)
And Last, an Anti-invitational:
Though disdain for the
Rules is taboo, the Empress
Might print a haiku. (Chris Doyle)
Next Week: Mess With Our Heads, or Black and White and Misread All Over
Low Fives: More Honorable-Mention Limericks From Style Invitational Week 829
Friday, September 4, 2009 10:54 AM
Each limerick must feature a word beginning with di-.
Diuretics, he threw in a bunch;
Diarrhetics as well, is my hunch.
So some spiteful old smarty
Has ruined my party
By serving the Old 1-2 Punch.
(Brendan Beary, Great Mills, Md.)
"These disclosures," declared Berlusconi,
"Are to put it succinctly, baloney.
Naked girls on my landing?
A misunderstanding!"
(And thus grandstands il Grande Buffone.)
(Stephen Gold, Glasgow, Scotland)
"You're divorcing in anger and spite,
And a split of your assets seems right,
But the poodle?" the judge
Warns the pair who won't budge,
"I just don't halve a dog in this fight."
(Chris Doyle, Ponder, Tex.)
At an orgy, you welcome your guests
In a way so that no one protests.
It's a civilized man
Who says, "Charmed!" rather than:
"I call dibs on the blonde with big breasts!"
(Chris J. Strolin, Belleville, Ill.)
A didgeridoo, if you wonder
Is a trumpet, bamboo, low as thunder.
Aboriginal roots,
It makes flatulent toots,
Which computes . . . as it comes from Down Under.
(Phil Frankenfeld, Washington)
You know, lots of folks think that the dimple
Is terribly cute, pure and simple.
Well, I disagree --
A dimple, to me,
Is merely an inverted pimple.
(Mae Scanlan, Washington)
I'm annoyed to the brink of distress,
When a speaker begins to digress.
Remember my rule:
Don't sound like a fool:
You must always -- hey, check out that dress!
(Barry Koch, Catlett, Va.)
She lived in a trailer, you bet,
And the place where the table was set
Was where she believed
That her child was conceived,
And that's why she named her Dinette.
(Harvey Smith, McLean)
In Dublin they cherish the cherry;
The date is the darling of Derry.
They're proud of the pear
In the county of Clare,
But in Dingle they're bummed by the berry.
(Chris Doyle)
She was diffident: timid and shy.
And she blushed as I brushed her fair thigh.
I said, "Give it a whirl."
"I'm not that kind of girl!"
"That's okay, I'm that kind of a guy."
(Scott Campisi, Wake Village, Tex.)
As to diets, I see this dichotomy:
There are those that would not leave a lot o' me,
While those I indulge in
Result in gross bulgin':
A figure all paunchy and bottomy.
(Hugh Thirlway, The Hague)
The way Emily Dickinson wrote --
Was to breathlessly over-emote --
And to overuse dashes
That broke out like rashes --
And some of her lines -- didn't rhyme –
(Brendan Beary)
Dirty tricks have corrupted elections,
With their lies spread to trigger defections
From one party's voters
(Remember Swift Boaters?)
And snuck in too late for corrections.
(Jane Auerbach, Los Angeles)
For the hooker, a wave of the hand
From the dock is an age-old command.
She's directing a sailor
To shore, where he'll tail her
And study the lay of the land.
(Chris Doyle)
Diacritical marks can enable
An ac-CENT on a different syl-LAY-ble.
But the more that you use,
The more you may confuse
Till your meaning is impene-TRAY-ble.
(Craig Dykstra, Centreville)