The Invitational Week 121: It's Parody Time

Send us your songs about what's going on these days. Plus the results of our vaguest contest ever.

Above, Sandy Riccardi updates the lyrics to the song she wrote in 2016.

Hello.

Last week we posted our annual horse-“breeding” wordplay contest, one that many otherwise sane people come back to The Invitational to enter every year, along with our hundred or so Usual Suspects who enter almost every week (you still have time to enter!). And this week we have another one for the specialists:

For Invitational Week 121: Write a humorous song about current events, set to any familiar tune (or even your own tune, if you’ll sing it to our readers, as nine-time Loser Sandy Riccardi does above). Tell us which song your lyrics are parodying, preferably including a link to the original tune, one we can sing along to. Videos are welcome as well; on the entry form, tell us that you’ve made a video, and include a public link (e.g., YouTube) to your performance along with your lyrics.

Even with videos: Unless it’s compellingly watchable — like “Stand by Your Sham,” our Week 74 winner by Dave Scheiber, in which his wife lip-syncs to an old video of Tammy Wynette, amid a sprightly slide show of graphics — your song shouldn’t run much over two minutes.

Please see further instructions here (along with links to some classic Invite parodies).

And the One-Man Loser Band and Assorted Singers might even be able to perform your song at the Flushies, the Loser Community’s annual awards “banquet” (potluck), Sunday afternoon, May 25, at the Empress’s palace, Mount Vermin. (RSVP here if you’d like to come.)

It takes us time to listen to and sing along with hundreds of entries, but we’ll give you an extra day (plus, if you read last week’s Invite, you were rewarded with being tipped off a whole week early): Deadline is Sunday, May 4, 2025, at 9 p.m. ET. Unlike most weeks, if you send them earlier, we’ll try to look at them earlier. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, May 8.

Click here for this week’s entry form, or go to tinyURL.com/inv-form-121. As usual, you may submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, preferably all on the same form. Type up your lyrics just as you’d like to see them in print.

This week’s winner receives the fabulous Stain-by-Numbers Mona Lisa: It’s a cotton dish towel imprinted with a paint-by-number diagram of The Enigmatic One, but the numbers correspond to various suggested food stains: No. 7 is Mustard/ Papaya/ Turmeric; 16 is Chocolate Sauce/ Black Beans; and for No. 13 you can use BBQ Sauce, Chili, or Blood. Donated — unfortunately not in time for our recent food art contest — by Dave Prevar.

Wipe up stains very, very selectively: This week’s prize.

Blanky Panky: The results of Week 119

The above empty square was the only “instruction” we gave you for Week 119 of The Invitational, other than telling you where to send your entries. Thank you for not telling us where to go, in return. As you will see, the people who got ink were those who most cleverly thought, well, outside the box.

What got no consideration were all those entries that defined nothingness as cliched null sets, like “a full list of Donald Trump’s good qualities,” or “an X-ray of Marco Rubio’s spine.” A lot of people went there, and their entries wound up in a wholly different all-white destination:

Third runner-up: Democrats plan to express their fury by waving dozens of these flags at next year’s State of the Union. (Steve Smith, Potomac, Md.)

Second runner-up: Health Secrets Doctors Don’t Want You to Know! (Jonathan Paul, Garrett Park, Md.)

First runner-up: What you don’t want to be seeing when the optometrist asks you, “Better or worse?” (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Fla.)

And the winner of the big plush french-fry box hat:
There was a shakeup at the Etch-a-Sketch company board meeting, as reflected in the minutes. (Sam Mertens, Silver Spring, Md.)

Now, the Gene Pool Gene Poll

(As always, if you find entries you prefer in the honorable mentions (below), feel free to air your differences in the Comments section.)

Nothing Flat: Honorable mentions

Trump’s sweeping tariffs were so devastating that the penguins on Heard and McDonald islands can no longer afford jackets for their tuxedos. (Roy Ashley, Washington, D.C.)

Van Gogh’s lesser-known “Snowy Night.” (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)

This is what God looked like before He created faces and three dimensions. (Stephen Dudzik, Olney, Md.)

Another brick in the wall of an igloo. (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)

BEFORE (Tom Witte, Montgomery Village, Md.)

Complications arose when the IRS tried to issue its new 1040 forms, since DOGE had cut the entire printer toner budget. (Duncan Stevens, Vienna, Va.)

Annual meeting of Former Wheelchair Users Who Can Now Walk Thanks to Prayers from Televangelists. (Jon Gearhart, Des Moines)

“Honey, I think the new meds are working! I’m not seeing things anymore!” (Judy Freed)

Snowman orgy. (Roy Ashley)

A movie still from “Attack of the Blancmange.” (Neil Kurland, Elkridge, Md.)

The Bodie, Calif., White Pages (Stu Segal, Southeast U.S.)

Jack in the box. (Tom Witte)

The perfect Mother’s Day gift, this frame allows Mom to imagine what you would have become if you’d only listened to her. (Steve Smith)

Trump’s physique, drawn by a Cubist. (Neil Kurland)

And Last:
Between the headlines and “Hello.” there is just a big abyss.
Didn’t know what else to do, so I filled it in with this.
Nothing witty, cute, or clever. Nothing wonderful or wise.
If it inks, it’s just ’cause nothing now can come as a surprise.
(Judy Freed)

And Even Laster:
A tariff on imported pixels led to a crisis on Gene Pool publication day. (Duncan Stevens)

The headline “Blanky Panky” is by Jesse Frankovich; Jesse also wrote the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline 9 p.m. ET Saturday, April 26: It’s our most popular contest of the year, the pun-filled horse name “breeding” contest. Click on the box below.

The Invitational Week 120: Pun for the Roses

Now we seamlessly segue into the Real-Time portion of The Gene Pool, where Gene answers your questions and observations in real time. Many of today’s Q’s and A’s are in response to Gene’s Weekend Gene Pool challenges to 1) Explain the difference in your chronological age and internal age, and, 2) The evil of people who turn left as well as other traffic miscreants, and 3) Things you didn’t realize or know about until waay too late in life, and 4) The death of the pope. As always, send your new questions and observations here, to the new questions and observations button:

Q: I don't think meeting JD Vance killed the Pope, but I do think the fact that the Pope had to spend time with JD Vance on what turned out to be his last day on Earth after a lifetime of service to God is conclusive proof there is no God.

A: Well said!

Q: Arby’s… It’s for Roast Beef (RB). I realized about 10 years ago.

A: Believe it or not – it is not. “RB” stands for the Raffel Brothers, two brothers who started the franchise. “Roast Beef” is one of those things that seems intuitive, but is not true.

My two other favorites:

“E.J. Korvette,” the 1950-60s early New York big box chain, did not mean “Eight Jewish Korean War Veterans,” the supposed founders. This is a mistake that still is stated as fact all over the Web. Actually, the store was launched two years before the Korean War began. “E.J. Korvette” combines the initials of the founders, Eugene Ferkauf and Joe Zwillenberg, with a re-spelling of "corvette," a type of World War II sub-destroyer. E.J. stands for Eugene and Joe.

But my favorite is a “truth” that I passed along countless times as an adolescent: That “fuck” was an old English acronym for the crime of “Fornication and Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.” It’s actually from the German word “ficken,” which means, you know…

—

Q: If somehow you were elected Pope (never mind the how), what Papal name would you pick? Pope Hilarius II? Because you at least are quite hilarious.

A: That’s an easy one. Pope Moishe Goldfarb I.

Remember, I’d be infallible. They’d have to call me that.

—

Q: Dude, I know you know (or I think you know), but it's not Claude Rains who sings La Marseillaise in Casablanca. It's Paul Henreid.

A: This is the most important communication you will read today, unless Pete Hegseth is discovered to have leaked the nuclear codes on a zoom call with his urologist.

Yeah, a few days ago, I initially wrote that Claude Rains sang La Marseillaise. The second after I hit “enter,” I realized the mistake and corrected it on the website. “Claude Rains” existed online in that spot for something like one minute, compared to the literally 73,161 subsequent minutes right up to this moment. And yet I got five different corrections from readers about this error. The reason is that many, many of you read the Gene Pool only as it appears in the notifying email you get, not in the living document online, and then punch out for the day.

This is a massive ongoing outrage and tragedy of almost Trumpian proportions, because oftentimes in the first five minutes of the life of a Gene Pool, I will correct an imprecision after smart readers inform me of it, sometimes not even smugly! That is the reason I am putting this boilerplate-type Question and Answer in the main body of the email, and not the later updates, because otherwise the people I am trying to reach, the people who need this message, WILL NEVER SEE IT.

All you have to do when you receive the email notifying you that this column is up and available is to CLICK ON THE HEADLINE IN THE EMAIL, and you will be delivered to the current, and live, and ongoing and living and breathing and sanctified error-free Gene Pool.

Thank you.

—

TIMELY TIP, with a needed repetitive clause: If you’re reading this on an email: Just click on the headline in the email and it will deliver you to the full column online. Keep refreshing the screen to see the new questions and answers that appear as I regularly update the post.

And while we are at it, if you are not a paid subscriber, here is the button to register your admiration for, or disappointment in, The Gene Pool. (If you’re disappoined, here your opportunity to become my boss and give me a stern talking to.)

Okay, let’s go.

—

Q: Your internal age (how old you feel, if over 35) depends on what day it is, if you have to go to work, and what you did last night - for women, it is normally about 30 years old and for males it is commonly age 11.

A: Agreed. My internal age is more like 18, when I was doing a LOT of drugs.

–Q: When I was in my twenties I used to say that I was Tom Waits’ younger brother. It took many years for me to find out he is the younger.

A: Haha. yep. When this photo was taken this guy was about 60

Q: Regarding our internal age v. our chronological age: I started aging rapidly as a young child. It started immediately after leaving the birth canal. Had I known I would get older every hour of every day, I would have stayed there. But unfortunately, I couldn’t get back in and I grew older at a rapid clip. After only 1,825 days I had aged five years. Prevention was futile. I’ve tried everything, hyperbaric chambers, age creams, tanning booths, exercise, Iron Man triathlons, salt scrubs, facelifts, knee lifts, butt lifts, calf implants, stem cell therapy, tantric massage, all to no avail. Nothing helps. I am literally aging away as I write this. So, my apparent age is apparently old and trollish. My internal age is painful, full of creaky sounds, and full of things that have to be removed on a regular basis. My chronological age has something to do with math, which I am not very good at. Now, I'm tired. I need a nap. – Trevor Stone Irvin

A: Thank you. I am sorry about your lamentable condition.

–

Q: Although I'm 77, there isn't any gray hair on my head. Since we live in a retirement community, I've let my moustache grow out gray so people don't think I work here. Also, the first time I picked up a prescription for my wife, the clerk asked if I was her son. – Larry Carnahan

A: That must have cheered your wife up no end!

—

–

Q: Regarding the pictures of you and Sting: Why did I answer that you look younger? Because it was more fun and maybe made you feel good before you lapsed into sad disbelief. fyi, Steve Sternberg says you're the best editor he ever had.

A: I liked editing Steve, back at the Miami Herald; he brought passion to his pieces.

And yes, I was aware that most of the “younger” votes were the equivalent of mercy coitus. My contention is that there is only one legit reason to answer that way: I am actively making fun of myself. That takes a few years off, IMO. Note I did NOT ask who was better looking.

Q: As Sting is more fair-haired, his gray blends in better, giving him a slightly younger look in that regard. Since you limited the comparison to these two photos, I gotta tell ya, the sunhat doesn’t help. It’s been said that I look younger than my real age. I attribute this to heredity (my mother was often told the same), to light-colored hair, and to having an only child at 40. Hanging out with younger moms made me seem like one of them. I try not to give it away by wearing floppy sunhats or disco platform shoes.

A: Agreed. The sunhat was a joke as was the look of shock. But agreed.

—

Q: Ten years ago, when I turned 65, I applied for a CommuterDirect senior account, which provides a discount on the MARC train between BWI and DC. The "commuter specialist" emailed back, "Your CommuterDirect account has been updated with the privilege to order transit tickets at the discounted senior fare. Please let me know if you need further assistance."

I replied, "Thank you, [name]. The only thing with which I need further assistance is how to adjust to being 65 when in my head I'm still 32." She thought that was funny.

I continue to be 32, but I hope to turn 33 within the next few years.

It does help to look 15-20 years younger than my chronological age. I'm counting on that as an intimidation factor in my first 75+ pickleball tournament.

A: Pickleball? I aspire to re-learn how to juggle raw eggs.

–

Q: You and Sting do not appear to be on the same age scale. It is as if time has more than one dimension and you two move through them at right angles.

A: Noted. Well said.

—

Q: Ok, Gene, you know this: lose the hat, cut your hair short, shave the moustache and become a musician. No one who sees you walking down the street thereafter will be able to tell whether it is you or Sting. Women will swoon.

And I remember that tantric sex comment. My own sex life never recovered. - Fritz

A: I, too, was traumatized.

–

Q: My 1st wife was a hot shot attorney & when she was hired by Shyster Finagle & Welch on K Street, a couple of big shots took us to lunch at the fancy restaurant they owed (& served turkey breast as veal). They introduced me as her son even though I was of course older, an army vet, & a college prof. Gotta admit, in my brand new suit I did look like I was going to my 1st communion.

I had my 1st tenure track teaching job when I was past 30 but still barely had to shave every day. So for my 1st class, I sat in the back row in jeans & my old field jacket--I'd been an NCO--& watched the students file in, sit down, & begin to fidget as the minutes ticked past class time. No one gave me a 2d look. Just as everyone was getting ready to leave, I stood up, uttered a mild obscenity, & said if no one else would, I'd teach the class. I got up, passed out the syllabus, & did my little job.

A: I have extremely mixed feelings about all you people who wrote in to say you look so much younger than you are. One is appreciative, respectful envy. The other is not.

–

Q: I am 66 years old and teaching juniors in high school (say age 17). When I was 17, if I had a teacher who was 66, that person would have graduated HIGH SCHOOL in 1927. Because I am around kids all the time, I often have a wafer thin knowledge of the pop culture and slang which is their oxygen. Adopting such language, say acknowledging a kid’s correct answer by saying “no cap” or addressing a weaker response as “sus”—and doing it with a bizarre formality—reminds me (and them) of the enormous gap between us. I strive for maximum cringe when I do this. A colleague will occasionally come in and we will have a discussion, in slang, but with exceptional pronunciation for their amusement (and ours). When I started teaching I shared enormous swaths of popular culture with my students and capitalized on it. I now capitalize on the dissonance they have watching an old guy play in their arena. I do find that adults who are constantly exposed to kids retain a kind of youth themselves, even if it is mostly ersatz. – Dan McMahon

A: Excellently put.

—

Q: I distinctly remember the very first time I heard someone refer to me as a “man.” It was a mother telling her son, who was careering toward me on a tricycle, to watch out for “that man over there.” Not “that boy,” not “that young man,” but “that man.” First time ever.

I was 33 years old. For whatever reason, this milestone was a long time coming.

I also distinctly remember the very first time I heard someone refer to me as an “old man.”

I was 35. For whatever reason, the prime of life sure didn’t last very long.

David Jaggard

A: Superior. And thank you for using “careering” right. No one does.

—

Q: Gene, you mentioned turning left on red. Is that permitted in DC unless a sign says otherwise? Here in Michigan, it's legal to turn left on red onto a one-way roadway, which includes some freeway entrance ramps. My screed is that most drivers apparently still don't know that. This isn't just annoying, but it's missing an opportunity to both improve traffic flow and decrease pollution by reducing idling time. I've even sent an email or two to our local DOT representative, suggesting that the department use some of its environmental funds to install "Left turn on red permitted after stop" signs at the busiest suitable intersections, but nooooo.

A: Thank you. From Wiki: In the U.S., 38 states allow left turns on red only if both the origin and destination streets are one way as of December 2018. Five states, namely Alaska, Idaho, Michigan, Oregon, and Washington allow left turns on red into a one-way street from either a one-way street or a two-way street.

Q: I’m sure you already know this, but New Jersey hates left turn wimps so much that left turns are now illegal in the state.

A: They are not illegal, exactly, but they are effectively replaced by “jughandle turns” that effectively

enhance traffic flow, mitigate congestion, and improve safety. If you want to turn left, they give you a lane to enter a mini-cloverleaf that puts you where you want to go.

Q: How about people who don't signal turning until they're well into a designated turn lane? They've missed the point of signalling, telling people something useful that they don't already know.

A: We need to send them to El Salvador.

—

We’ll end here, with this poetic message.

Someone who must read The Invitational regularly, and probably for a long time, sent us this anonymously:

Puns so dry they could turn wine into dust,
Awarding "honor" to limericks no one should trust.
Tiara of tyranny atop her dad joke reign,
Mocking contestants with glee and disdain.
You call it Invitational, we call it cruel,
Every week proving that bad taste's a rule.
Rejecting good entries for crimes unclear,
Somehow still smug after all these years.

Pat, do you want to take this one?

Pat Myers: Well, I like the first line, about the dry puns.

But after that, judging the the quality of the poetry, it's pretty clear why this person doesn't get much ink in The Invitational.

My real question, though: If you don't like the humor in the Invite, and you think we're mean and unfair, why on earth are you here?

Also, not to be defensive here, but when in the last 20 years have I mocked the work of contestants I'd identified? I just don't do that! Let alone with glee. I am a nice li'l Empress.

—

We are done for the day!

Please keep sending in Q’s and O’s. We need them!