Invitational Week 41: As the Word Turns

'Discover' new words like OUCHPAL by snaking through this random grid. Plus winning Dylan + 1 rhymes.

Hello. Today we present the Invitational Gene Pool, featuring an extremely ugly and confusing grid of letters. We may be incompetent, but we are nothing if not confusing and ugly. But first, as always, a Gene Pool Gene Poll. Today’s question requires you to tell us your greatest fear.

The Invitational:

Beginning on M-16: OUCHPAL: Your bondage partner.

E-16: KNOLLERY: JFK assassination obsession. “Yeah, Chuck wants to visit Dealey Plaza for our vacation again.”

R-9: NODLY: How you fake interest in your lunch date’s recitation of troubles with the office photocopier.

We’re making the Invitational grid again! Here’s the perfect contest for those Gene Poolers who aren’t inclined to, say, spend a week writing an elaborate song parody: There are lots of possibilities just sitting there. For Week 41: “Discover” a humorous new word or multi­word term by tracing a path through the randomly generated grid above — in any direction or several directions, up, down, back, forth, diagonally, but always using contiguous squares — and define the result, as in the examples above (“ouchpal” is the one traced out). You can’t trace over the same spot on the grid twice. Using the word in a funny sentence can help you get the ink over someone else who “found” the same term.

Begin each entry — you can send as many as 25 — with the coordinates of your first letter (e.g., C-­12) as above; we’ll trace it from there. Letter-hyphen-number. And you must put the coordinates, word, and definition all on the same line — don’t hit Enter between them. (You should be able to print out the grid from this link.)

Click here for this week’s entry form. Or go to bit.ly/inv-form-41. As usual, you can submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, preferably all on the same form.

Deadline is Saturday, Oct. 21, at 4 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, Oct. 26.

The winner gets, just in time for Halloween, a “Glow Knife” headband that makes it look as if a translucent green plastic knife is going through you. Brought back from Europe and donated years ago by Loser Roy Ashley.

If you’re driven mad by trying to trace those letters through that grid, here’s evidently one way to achieve serenity.

Runners-up get autographed fake money featuring the Czar or Empress, in one of ten nifty designs. Honorable mentions get bupkis, except for a personal email from the E, plus the Fir Stink for First Ink for First Offenders.

Meanwhile, we need questions / ruminations / observations that Gene can answer right here, in real time. Send ’em to this tasteful orange button:

The Rhymes They Are a-Changin’: The Dylan tailgaters of Week 39

In Week 39 we invited you to choose any line from Writer of Many, Many Lines Bob Dylan, and rhyme it with your own line, in a couplet that the light-verse world calls a tailgater. We especially liked Frank Osen’s “I am a man of constant sorrow/ You brought me pizza from Sbarro,” but tragically, “Man of Constant Sorrow” is an old folk song; Dylan’s credited only as arranger.

Third runner-up:
In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand at the mongrel dogs who teach
And then left the school board meeting to inject myself with bleach. 
(Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.)    

Second runner-up:
“Go on back to see the gypsy, he can move you from the rear.”
They sure have funny ways of saying “colonoscopy” ’round here. 
(Duncan Stevens, Vienna, Va.)

First runner-up:
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children —
The laws here in Texas are simply bewild’rin’. 
(Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.) 

And the winner of the human-heart stress-relieving squeezy thing:
Yes, I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes,
The four-inch heels we gals must wear while working for Fox News.  (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)

Blowin’: Honorable mentions 

But I would not feel so all alone —
Everybody must get cloned. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)

Come senators, congressmen, please heed the call,
But don’t yank that fire alarm on the wall.
(Frank Osen; Duncan Stevens)

I’d a-done anything for that woman if she didn’t make me feel so obligated
To similarly please her every time I got fellated. (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Del.)

I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken—
In a string of emoji their nonsense was spoken. (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)

“No reason to get excited,” the thief he kindly spoke.
“Just find 11,780 votes for me and not that other bloke.” (Jesse Frankovich)

Ring bell, hard to tell if anything is goin’ to sell
Unless it’s Girl Scout Do-si-dos, which every year do very well. (Chris Doyle)

We sat in her kitchen while her mama was cooking.
“Shouldn’ta cooked her,” said the cops at the booking.  (Duncan Stevens)

Tell ya what, I would not feel so all alone
If you’d just pardon me like Roger Stone. (Kevin Dopart, Naxos, Greece)

I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind
But what’s that “Kick Me” sign on my behind? (Duncan Stevens)

Although it’s tradition to have a bris,
You took a part of me that I really miss. (Judy Freed)

But I would not feel so all alone
If only I could charge my phone. (Bill Jacobs, Fairfax, Va., a First Offender)

Once I had mountains in the palm of my hand —
Carpal tunnel surgery cost me six grand. (Frank Osen)  

Well, you walk into the room like a camel and then you frown —
Perhaps you shouldn’t wear a backpack underneath your gown (Frank Osen)

We never did too much talking anyway.
Ted Cruz went first on Filibuster Day.   (Duncan Stevens)

“Disillusioned words like bullets bark”
Is a simile that went wide of the mark. (Frank Osen)

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns when they all did tricks for you
But you cannot take your eyes from the Trumpers telling lies while they act like dicks for you (David Franks, Washington County, Ark.)

Darkness at the break of noon?
Why’d we go to Antarctica in June? (Duncan Stevens)

Early one mornin’ the sun was shinin’, I was layin’ in bed
Chucklin’ about how much money I made back tourin’ with the Dead (Gregory Dunn, Alexandria, Va.)

Everybody knows that baby’s got new clothes
She spat up on her onesie — seven washings, still it shows. (Duncan Stevens)

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
This way I don’t have to pay the streaming fee (Lee Graham, Reston, Va.)

I ain’t lookin’ to block you up.
That’s why I put prune juice in your cup. (Judy Freed)

I must admit I felt a little uneasy when she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe
Together with Crazy Glue. (Frank Osen)

That it is not he or she or them or it that you belong to;
Your pronouns no one can dictate, for it is surely wrong to. (Mark Raffman)

I’ve got a hole where my stomach disappeared
These Ozempic side effects are beyond weird (Frank Osen)

They’ll stone you when you're playing your guitar
Which means you ain’t cut out for Juilliar’. (Gary Crockett)

And Last: To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay
I've been reading through Bob Dylan lyrics sixteen hours a day. (Chris Doyle)

And Even Laster: She tries to write a chiasmus — it sounds so darn banal.
She knows there’s no success like failure and that failure’s no success at all.   (John McCooey, Rehoboth Beach, Del.)   

The headline “The Rhymes They Are a-Changin’” is by Jesse Frankovich; both Kevin Dopart and Tom Witte submitted the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline 9 p.m. ET Saturday, Oct. 14: Our Week 40 contest for song lyrics about anything in the news right now, either in parody lyrics or a video. Click here or type in bit.ly/inv-week-40 for full directions. 

Last, if you are a free subscriber and can afford a paid subscription, please consider supporting The Gene Pool. Our paying subscribers let us continue to expand and experiment while keeping most of this newsletter free and open to all. It’s $50 a year or $5 a month.

So here comes the renowned real-time questions / observations part of the Gene Pool, and answers thereto. REMINDER: If you are reading this in real time, keep refreshing your screen to see more Q’s and A’s.

Q: Jeff from Bowie, something I read maybe twenty years ago, was in the Post Sunday Book Review Section, don’t even remember what book was being reviewed but one of the comments was on evolution, and the book questioned who created evolution, the argument was the God put evolution in place, I am not super religious, but that made me think.

A: With all respect, as a devout atheist, I think this is mostly bullshit.  But I understand the alternative viewpoint.  However I think that people who are invested in the idea of an omnificent and omnipresent God are inclined to start with that presumption, and deconstruct it from there, the way you decide that good people suffer because that is God’s will and He works in mysterious ways incomprehensible to mere mortals because that would challenge our basic belief system, which is intolerable.

TIMELY TIP: If you’re reading this right now on an email:   Click here to get to my webpage, then click on the top headline (In this case, “The Invitational Week 41…” ) for the full column, and comments, and real-time questions and answers. And you can refresh and see new questions and answers that appear as I regularly update the post from about noon to roughly 1 p.m. ET today.

Q:  Regarding great writing: As a kid, I read everything I could get my hands on, including Readers Digest (this was in the 80s and early 90s). Something I read in has stuck with me for decades: "Like sex, every generation thinks they're discovering nostalgia for the first time." It occurs to me I may not have the wording completely accurate, but the overall point - that nostalgia hits people across time and experience, somehow affected me then, and has stuck with me. Hope this makes sense. I have Claritin brain fog this morning.

A: I remember that when I was about 18, I believed that my parents didn’t know about oral sex.   That every single generation believed it had invented sex.   

Q:  The most profound aphorism I've read in recent years is from Mike Tyson, in response to a reporter's question about his plan for fighting Evander Holyfield: "Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." I am not a boxing fan, and I don't remember where I read this, but I can't think of any more poignantly true observation. La Rochefoucauld, Voltaire and Mark Twain can move over.

A: Brilliant.

Q:  WHY were there rotting heads of broccoli on a chair in your living room? WHY? (Jill from Denton, TX)

A: Because when we come into the house, the chair is the first thing available to throw groceries on.  I didn’t say this made sense, or reflected a healthy lifestyle, but Rachel and I are professional journalists, and this reflected The Truth.  

Q:  After years of brutalizing the Palestinians, the Israelis have themselves been brutalized by Hamas. I find myself disapproving violently of the generality of the attack, but sympathizing with the feeling that there appears to have been little else the Palestinians could have meaningfully done. I am not sure which side to be on in this.

A: I believe there is never any excuse for the massacre of civilians.  Children.  The elderly. It is barbarity, and requires an absence of humanity.  I think Hamas are monsters.  I think the Palestinians are not.    And I am not a particular fan of Israel.  

Q:  This is the bad Maris graf (not that it’s bad, per se, but it assumes the reader won’t make the connection): I understand now that it was not Maris that these men hated, but the 34 years. Time was crowding them. You look up, and pretty soon 34 years are gone, and The Babe is dead, and what does that make you, going to the same barber shop for the same haircut? With every home run Roger Maris hit, the men in the barber shop suffered a loss. They were grieving for themselves.

A: That is correct.  And I think you are a writer.   Or a journo, or both.  

Q:  Hi, Gene, this is April. Regarding things I read that were profound: More than 15 years ago, I asked a guy I barely knew the same question but specifically looking for a new book to read. He immediately and emphatically recommended a book in such an eager and obsessive fashion that he spoke of nothing more for the rest of our first and last date. However, I did add the book to my list and promised myself to check it out to see how crazy this guy actually was. However, other titles kept pushing it further and further down the list and I FINALLY read it about 2 years ago. I owe that guy an apology. It wasn't just a good story, it provoked more thought that any other book I've ever read, including my calculus textbooks (yes, I read them). The book is called Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts (and there is a show that came out on one of the streaming services, just skip it, they cut the heart out). I'll just provide the opening below because the entire book is chock full of profound thoughts I still find myself occasionally considering. I finished the entire 944 pages in only days, flipped back to page 1 and started it again. I do not read books twice (except calculus textbooks). However, there is something beautiful in this book. “It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realized, somehow, through the screaming of my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is an universe of possibility. And the choice you make between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.”

A: Wow. 

Q: First, I let me say that the sole reason I upgraded to “paid” is so that I could share the one book in my 79 years that has had the most impact on me. I am not witty enough to join most of the conversations here. That book is “Triage” by Leonard Levin. I read it in my late 20s, and was taken with the core premise, which was the elimination of those who were not contributing to society in the view of a Committee. The committee pondered this question and decided which elements should be eliminated, for instance, drunk drivers and welfare recipients. Of course, one thing led to another, and eventually nearly all of society were being eliminated resulting in various consequences, including the elimination of members of the committee. The effect of that book stays with me. I didn’t have my own copy so I spent years trying to find a copy. I finally found one, but the book is apparently out of print. My research today found that used copies are now sold on Amazon. 

A: Sounds a little like Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” only deeper.   And welcome!  I accept your fifty bucks with gratitude.   You are smart.   

Q: I saw this referenced in The Washington Post Food section a few weeks back. Apparently it’s repeated every fall in McSweeney’s. I usually don’t swear, except like if I hit my thumb with a hammer. I like the article because of the contrast of the mundane subject of home decorations with profanity. Roy Ashley. 

A: This made me laugh out loud four  times.   

Q:  Profanity & profundity: I have struggled with perfectionism/control issues/tending toward OCD all my life. About 10 years ago I was enjoying a dinner at the ridiculously popular Rose's Luxury on the Hill. I went to the ladies' room and was confronted with a lovely framed sign with two words in a loose script writing style. The sign said simply: fuck perfect. No capital letters. The profanity struck me first because it was so unexpected and in such contrast to the style of the room and the writing font. Then the profundity struck me. I took a picture of the art--which is what I consider it--and have kept it ever since. And sometimes when I most need to be reminded, that profound saying comes to mind and comforts me. I wonder if the sign is still there.

A:  I loved Rose’s Luxury, and like your story.  I am assuming you are a woman but kinda hoping you are a man.  Just would give an added fillip to the story. 

Q: Gene, I’ve been devastated by the horrors in Ukraine, the possibility of Trump’s re-election, and the idiocy in the House of Representatives. Now, as an American Jew, I’m doubly devastated by Hamas’s vicious attack on Israel. I need humor, now more than ever, but I almost feel guilty laughing. As a very funny person, how do you see the role of humor during horrific circumstances?

A:  I have said, many times, that there is humor to be found in everything, because  humor and tragedy are made of the same substance, like matter and energy.  Still waiting for this one to coalesce.  

Q:  I sure hope the science marching on one funeral at a time doesn’t apply to Trump’s crowd. Those sons of bitches will probably last as long as the cockroach. And by now I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to convince his gang that’s he’s anything other than a hero.

A: Trump’s popularity is one of the mysteries of our time.  I hate to believe it is about the essential worthlessness of 40 percent of our population.  

*

Q:  I’m at home doing a Camille impersonation, recovering from a bout of pneumonia. And your note about the dog fart/dead asparagus made me laugh so hard I had a coughing fit that made me see stars and scramble for the inhaler. Frankly, you almost killed me. Dying laughing. There are worse ways to go.

A: Apologies.   It was Frank Skinner, tho.  I cannot take credit. The quote: “Never trust an animal who is surprised by its own farts.”

Q:  I continue to use the phrase "Trump, wiocaHa" thanks to you. Robert

A: Thank you, Robert.   It is an acronym, meaning “Trump, who is of course a humongous asshole.” I coined it about 8 years ago.  

Q:  A brother had on his wall “The world is mine to survey, my right there is none to dispute.” I think, Thoreau? It speaks to the profoundness of your own opinion of everything, when only in your own mind. I use it jokingly, mostly to justify my opinion with my partner. I also have heard the expression “It’s only in your mind,” and the response “Everything… is only in your mind,” as sort of a Descartian reminder of where every perception is finally digested.

Q:  I once had a bat fly around on a loaded New Jersey Transit train car. Men were swatting, women entreating not to hurt it, the bat avoiding, creaking around like a prop, until it flew into the bathroom. Standing man closed door. Applause.

A: Great anecdote.   

Q: What if there is only you?

A: I think this might be the essential question of solipsism.  I used to entertain this notion until I met Rachel.  There is only me and her.  

Q:  Who are the three voters in the Is Trump An Asshole poll who think he is not an asshole?

A: Assholes. 

Q: Prompt for bathroom wall reminded me of this. In the winter of 1980, I was on a college tour and on a bathroom stall door, someone had put up this question, "Whatever happened to LSD?" and someone wrote underneath it, "People grew Leary of it." And that was the deciding factor in my going to the University of Michigan. 

A: My favorite interview of all time was with the poet Billy Collins.  Here it is.  I asked him what was the most profound thing he’d ever seen on the wall of a bathroom stall, and he said,  that it was something he’d read when Miles Davis was still alive.   He said:  "Just remember that when Miles Davis dies, we all move up a step."

This is Gene. I am going to call this one down. Please send in more questions / observations, and I will get to them next week.

Also, give me money. I am sorry to keep saying it this way, and I acknowledge how dreadful it is, but if you want this to continue you have to give me money. It’s the price of a hamburger at Wendy’s.