The Invitational Week 132: Picture This

Photo caption time! Meanwhile, we explain the difference between a rat's ass and JD Vance.

Give us a caption for this or any of the other six pictures below, in this week’s Invitational contest. You get 25 entries in all.

Hello.

Spoiler alert: In our opinion, there is no difference between JD Vance and a rat’s ass. In the meantime, we are being auteurs once more, assembling images for maximum theatrical effect and cinematic urgency. Feel free to get some popcorn.

For Invitational Week 132: Write a caption — as many as 25 total — for any of the seven pictures above and below. For Guidance ’n’ Inspiration,® see the results of Week 113 and the results of Week 81 to see what we like in a caption. (More instructions below the pictures.)

IMPORTANT FORMATTING INFO! Begin each caption only with the letter on the picture — as in A. [your caption] — and keep each caption to a single line; i.e., don’t press Enter in the middle of a single entry. If you’re submitting multiple entries (and most people do) be sure that the first character of each of your entries is the letter on the picture.

Deadline is Saturday, July 19, 2025, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, July 24. As usual, you may submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, preferably all on the same form. (Don’t submit ideas this week for the honorable-mentions subhead; we don’t use it for caption results.)

Click here for this week’s entry form, or go to tinyurl.com/inv-form-132.

This week’s winner gets a set of denture-motif earrings — the ones that appear in Picture B this week (the hooks aren’t shown).

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

Quip on Ties: Winning links from Week 130

In Invitational Week 130 we posted a list of 17 random noun phrases and asked how any two or more of them were similar, different, or otherwise linked.

Third runner-up:
The difference between two snowballs and print newspapers:
Two snowballs going downhill get bigger and bigger, whereas print newspapers going downhill get smaller and smaller.
(Malcolm Fleschner, Palo Alto, Calif.)

Second runner-up:
Marcia Brady, some random guy, and JD Vance: McCormick and Schmucks.
(David Peckarsky, Tucson, Ariz.)

First runner-up:
Abraham Lincoln’s dog, Fido, vs. JD Vance: Fido licked his own balls.
(Deb Stewart, Damascus, Md.)

And the winner of the squishy-banana stress toy:
The Almighty: Jesus Christ. Jeff Bezos’s yacht’s tenth bathroom: Jesus Christ!
(Steve Smith, Potomac, Md.)

And now, the weekly Invitational Gene Pool Gene Poll:

As always, if you think we ignored better entries in the Honorables (below) yell at us in the Comments.

Slim Hilarities: Honorable mentions

Abraham Lincoln’s dog, Fido, and JD Vance: Both are well-trained White House pets, but Fido never took a dump on the U.S. Constitution. (Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.)

While both always came running when their masters called, Abraham Lincoln’s dog, Fido, unlike JD Vance, stayed off the sofa. (Dave McCord, Arlington, Va., who got his only previous blot of Invitational ink in 2016)

Abraham Lincoln’s dog, Fido, and begging for sex: Futile tail-chasing. (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)

A buffet sneeze guard and JD Vance are two things on which X Æ A-Xii has wiped his boogers. (Stephen Dudzik, Olney, Md.)

A bunker-buster bomb: Wrecked ’em! A rat’s ass: Rectum. (Pam Shermeyer, Lathrup Village, Mich.)

A bunker-buster bomb and begging for sex: One goes “Boom! Boom!” and the other goes “Boom-boom?” (Leif Picoult, Rockville, Md.)

A bunker-buster bomb makes a huge hole; JD Vance is a huge hole. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)

A dead and plucked duck: Many people like canard à l’orange. JD Vance: He likes Orange’s canards. (Mark Raffman)

A dead and plucked duck and JD Vance: Neither is going to fly in 2028. (Duncan Stevens, vacationing in Gloucester, Mass.)

A rat’s ass: I don’t give it. Begging for sex: I don’t get it. (Jonathan Jensen, Baltimore)

A Tesla and the Almighty: You need a leap of faith to designate either one as your “copilot.” (Mark Raffman)

JD Vance and some random guy: A lot of folks would prefer the latter to be a heartbeat away from the presidency. (Jeff Contompasis, Ashburn, Va.)

JD Vance and a buffet sneeze guard: Neither is very effective and you can see right through them. (Diana Oertel, San Francisco; Pam Shermeyer)

JD Vance and a rat’s ass: They both spew crap, just from different holes. (Leif Picoult)

The Almighty is said to be ineffable; Marcia Brady is said to be uneffable. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)

The Almighty and A Rat’s Ass: What are Trump and Vance’s Secret Service code names? (Jon Ketzner, Cumberland, Md.)

Two snowballs: White balls. Begging for sex: Blue balls. (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.; Leif Picoult; Gary Crockett)

Jeff Bezos’s yacht’s tenth bathroom and print newspapers: Each might make it into the other. (Eric Nelkin, Silver Spring, Md.)

Jeff Bezos’s yacht’s tenth bathroom and a bunker-buster bomb are both used to compensate for having “small hands.” (Jeff Hazle, San Antonio, Tex.)

Marcia Brady: Had hair of gold, like her mother. Some random guy: Had your mother. (Mark Raffman)

Marcia Brady: Boomer crush. A bunker-buster bomb: BOOM! [Crush.] (Tom Witte, Montgomery Village, Md.)

Marcia Brady vs. Jeff Bezos’s yacht’s tenth bathroom: Marcia didn’t have even one toilet. (Kevin Dopart, Naxos, Greece)

Nine nipples: More is not necessarily better. Jeff Bezos’s yacht’s tenth bathroom: Exactly. (Duncan Stevens)

Nine nipples: Good for a litter. Print newspapers: Also helpful. (Duncan Stevens)

Print newspapers vs. begging for sex: One’s desperate for ads; the other’s desperate for nads. (Leif Picoult)

Print newspapers and begging for sex: If you don’t get it, you don’t get it. (Kevin Dopart)

Print newspapers vs. Bezos’s yacht’s tenth bathroom: Presumably, the bathroom isn’t filled with yesterday’s business. (Stu Segal, Southeast U.S.)

Print newspapers and the Almighty: Most people only think about them on Sundays. (Jesse Rifkin, Arlington, Va.)

Some random guy: John Q. Public. Jeff Bezos’s yacht’s tenth bathroom: No public john queue. (Chris Doyle)

Some random guy might be down and out, but a dead and plucked duck is definitely out of down. (Matt Monitto, Bristol, Conn.)

SpaceX vs. nine nipples: SpaceX has only one big boob attached to it. (Art Grinath, Takoma Park, Md.)

The Almighty: You kneel before Him. Begging for sex: You want them to kneel before you. (Jonathan Jensen)

“Two snowballs and nine nipples” doesn't fit the meter as nicely as “a corncob pipe and a button nose.” (Jesse Frankovich)

A bunker-buster bomb, a buffet sneeze guard, and begging for sex: None of these is as effective as you’d like to think. (Duncan Stevens)

Two snowballs, a bunker-buster bomb, and a rat’s ass: Trump might be willing to give two snowballs for Ukraine. (David Peckarsky)

The headline “Quip on Ties” is by Jeff Contompasis; Chris Doyle and Jon Gearhart each submitted the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline Saturday, July 12, at 9 p.m. ET: Our contest for Yo Mama (and Yo Other People) haiku. Click below for details.

The Invitational Week 131: Ha-ku, Yo Mama Edition

Now we seamlessly segue into the Real-Time portion of The Gene Pool, where Gene answers questions in real time. Many of the questions and observations already received today relate to his recent requests for embarrassing things you’ve blurted, and also funny anecdotes from hospital stays. Please send new Questions and Observations here:

Good.

Have you ever had a great idea for an Invitational entry? One you are pretty sure will get ink? Good for you! Send it in. But if you are not a paid subscriber we cannot use it. We will feel bad about that, because we always need great entries. You will feel bad about that, because you won’t know why you weren’t chosen. Don’t feel bad. Don’t make us feel bad. Subscriptions are only $50 a year, or $4.15 a month. Please consider it.

Onward.

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This is Gene. In my initial call for embarrassing blurts, I neglected to mention one of my worst. Here it is.

In March 2003, for a story on the psychology of terrorism, I traveled to Madrid just a week after the horrendous railroad bombing that killed 191 people. The city was terrified and in grief and on high alert.

I went to the city’s main train station, from which all lines radiated, so I could ride the principal line that had detonated and taken the lives of the most people. So I went to the information kiosk and asked, naively trusting my flimsy Spanish, pointing toward the many gates, “Can you tell me which is the train that exploded?” The woman looked at me with fear and suspicion and took a step backward. It turns out I had actually asked, “Can you tell me which is the train that is going to explode?” I am surprised I was not instantly handcuffed and slap-interrogated in a dank cell.

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Q: This didn’t happen to me. It happened to my English teacher’s sister, but I know it to be true because my English teacher wouldn’t lie, nor would her sister. They are splendid people.

Her sister was in a restaurant in France, and the waiter went out of his way to do something for her. She tried to say “thank you very much,” but inverted the words to “beaucoup merci,” and it sounded like “beau cul merci,” which means “nice ass, thank you.” I believe she learned this from the waiter, who was probably amused and possibly excited.

A: Hahahaha.

TIMELY TIP: If you’re still 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.

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Let’s go.

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Q: I used to use word association to remember names. I am bad at names. I worked remotely with a man named Glade. First name. We met in a meeting in person after several years.

I was sent to this meeting to impress some particular bosses. Upon being introduced to Glade, I said "nice to meet you Pledge".

He smiled politely. A friendship began. – Hannah Olufs

A: Very nice. I have a mild case of prosopagnosia, which is difficulty in differentiating faces. In my neighborhood, living very close to me, are two young women – Karolyn and Jenny. Both are pretty, both are blonde. Both are of roughly the same height and build. Rachel assures me they otherwise look NOTHING alike, but I am constantly calling each by the other’s name. They are amused.

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Q: Once, in anticipation of a trip to France I decided to shore up my French by attending a class at the local Alliance Française. On entering the building I encountered an attractive young woman and asked her in French to show me to the classroom. But what I mistakenly said was to show me to the bedroom. Mustering her aplomb, sangfroid, and je ne sais quoi she led me to the "salle" (not "chambre," crétin!). Naturally she turned out to be my instructor. But she didn't call the gendarmes, and I learned a word. So on the whole a net positive. – Jonathan Paul

A: Excellent.

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Q: Regarding your poll: I must ask, just who are the 1% who think Ted Cruz is a prince? Is your Substack required reading at an institution for the criminally insane? Why does everyone hate Ted Cruz immediately upon meeting him? ... It saves time. – Trevor Irvin

A: I think I have an answer! I have studied poll results for two years, and I believe that if just one person answers yes to a question, Substack allots it one percent and never takes that away. On the theory, I guess, that it negates that person’s existence. In this case, based on the vote totals, one percent would be something like 11 people, but I am guessing it is one asshole or troll.

Q: I’m contributing a funny hospital story on behalf of my husband, who grew up in an orthodox Jewish family in Jacksonville, Florida. He’s now 87. He doesn’t type. When he was a kid, his religious grandfather lay dying in the hospital and when family came to visit, priests were in his room doing some religious ritual. The family was distressed and demanded to know why they were inflicting Catholicism on him. Hospital staff insisted he had asked for it the clergy -that he wanted to be Saved. Family dismissed the clergy and asked Grandpa what was going on. Grandpa had a speech impediment and when hospital staff thought he wanted to be Saved, he in fact was asking to be shaved. (He also has recently spent some time in the hospital and complains about all the things you mentioned about not getting sleep.)

A: Thank you.

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Q: I had a nurse once who told me a disturbingly funny story. The person came in with stabbing pain in the butt. I don't remember if it was an x-ray or an ultrasound or CT-scan, but she said they could clearly see the source of their discomfort—a Buzz Lightyear action figure; WINGS OUT. After suppressing the urge to laugh in his face, the doctor was able to retrieve it by bringing the arms of the figure down collapsing the wings and slide it right out. She laughed and said the staff was all calling it a Butt Lightyear. – Jon Gearhart

A: I have mentioned this several times. John Lockhart-Mummery, a famed British proctologist from the early 1900s was such a giant in his profession that he could publicly articulate something that had been known in the profession but never stated, out of concerns for decency: “Anything that can be inserted into the human rectum has been inserted into the human rectum.”

Q: The wife had what turned out to be a very minor stroke, with a subsequent full recovery. One morning she had trouble grasping her hair brush and said "We need to go to the ER". I dropped her off and parked the car. It took about four minutes to park the car and locate her in the ER. When I got there she was already on a gurney, surrounded by three nurses and a doctor. The doctor was having her pull on his hands to judge if one side was weaker than another. The doctor said to me, "I want you to see this. Get closer and bend down". I did. Then, laughing, he said to my wife "Now slap him as hard as you can!". Right then I knew that she was going to be OK.

— Ed

A: Hahaha. My good friend Buzz was at his father’s hospital bedside once after a heart attack – the whole family was gathered around, because this looked bad. The dad ran a company that taught business execs how to write coherently. Buzz’s brother was evidently concerned that his father was straining at efforts to sit up, reposition himself, etc., and said “It’s okay, Dad, just lay there.” And from the bed, the old guy muttered “Just LIE there.” At this point they all knew he’d recover. And he did.

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Q: Hospital story: On the 2nd day of my junior year of high school in 1971, I felt sick enough to stay home. I slept into the afternoon, at which point I told my mom I think I need a doctor. Fortunately, she trusted her 16 year-old son because I wasn’t prone to skipping school or exaggerating illnesses.

Our local family physician somehow determined that I had meningitis and needed to get to the hospital pronto. There they put me in an isolation room where no one could enter without first donning a special mask and gown. (No one, that is, except the attending physician who would just come in, sit on the bed and examine me. I guess he was somehow immune from contracting it or spreading it to his other patients.)

They needed to do a spinal tap to determine if I had viral or bacterial meningitis. For this I had to lie on my side in a fetal position. To ensure that I stayed in this position, a nurse… a young, attractive nurse… approached my bed. I was facing her as she bent over to place her left arm behind my neck and right arm behind my knees in order to hold me in place. As she did this, her delightful breasts were gently resting on my face. It was the first time as a teenager that I had ever been that close to any breasts. I was so enchanted that I was completely unaware of the procedure going on behind me until it was over.

Was this standard practice or a brilliant way to distract a horny young boy? I’ll never know, but will never forget!

A: Okay. If it was tactical, I approve of the methodology. I think all males and no females will have a question: Was your tumescence a problem?

Q: I was in the hospital in New York City having some studies done, lying in bed, when it suddenly felt like the whole room was shaking. I immediately panicked. Was I having a stroke? A seizure? I pressed the call button, explained this to the nurse who responded. It was the 2011 earthquake. She felt it too. They all did.

A: Thank you.

Q: Who’s the most unsavory criminal you ever interviewed for an article? A hitman? A drug dealer? A serial killer? A non-serial killer? A burglar?

A: If a two minute interview over the phone counts, I interviewed a man who I eventually found had beaten his wife to death and then dumped her in the Mohawk river, weighted down with chains. He’d been out of town. Because his wife was missing, I reached him at home before the police did, and was the first person to inform him that his wife’s body had been found. He gasped and hung up the phone. I’d had no idea at the time – nor did the police – that he was the murderer.

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Q: Regarding embarrassed blurts. Yes, I have used racist terms like the one you cite from the president. As far as I can recall, it is the only time I ever used a racist term as a weapon.

It happened in elementary school, and I am ashamed about it to this day. I am 56 and have always lived in the DMV. Which means my schools, including Carrollton Elementary, were racially diverse. If there was a way to share my class photos from K thru 6, you would see the mix of Black kids, White kids, Asian kids (back then the Asian kids were called Orientals, like objects). But with that diversity, as well as with my parents' backgrounds (rural East Tennessee and rural Western Pennsylvania), as well as the fact that I have read the WaPo since I was at least 8, I was well-versed in the language of racism. (i.e. I knew that some White people called Black people the n-word, coons, spooks, jigaboos, and so forth).

I was about 9 or 10 (whatever puts me in the 4th grade), and there was a PTA meeting or something similar at the school. My mom always volunteered for kitchen duty, so was working there making food. I was just hanging out, walking around the school grounds, and turned a corner when one of the 6th graders rounded the same corner going the other direction and flexed on me and yelled "BOO!"

I jumped. And in anger, I said, "At least I don't look like one!" (And you have to give a nod to my mini-racist self that this would be a great racist response for two reasons, not just one!) He gave chase immediately, and I got through the door to the cafeteria in time to avoid the beating I deserved. I wish I remembered that kid's name, because I would look him up now and apologize to him.

A: Interesting. By the somewhat forgiving standards of the 1960s, my maternal grandma was not racist for an elderly White woman. I remember, for example, that she genuinely admired Black mothers – without condescension – for the care and love they put into making their daughters look pretty, painstakingly styling their hair. Unfortunately, she also believed – and could not be persuaded otherwise – that the technical, proper, non-objectionable term for a Black child was “pickaninny.”

Q: Regarding your interaction with Eleanor Holmes Norton, I always thought she had a great sense of humor. When she was on Colbert’s show, she would keep up where so many other politicians would utter two word sentences. Also she insisted on pronouncing the T in Colbert making his name sound like a muppet.

A: Also, she kept making fun of his name the way he pronounces it, and implying that he was French and therefore snotty. She is a pistol.

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Q: Twice in my miserable life - TWICE, separated by some years - I approached a woman I hadn't seen in a while and said, "Oh, you're pregnant!" The first woman was not. The second woman? Also not. You'd think I would have learned after the first time. But . . . nope. Not I (or possibly, me). (Now, so far as I'm concerned, no woman is pregnant unless she can present papers proving it.) - Marty Merzer

A: I know of one particularly egregious case where a nonpregnant woman was asked when the baby was due, and she said she was not pregnant, and the guy tried to persuade her she was. My rule is that you never make that assumption unless you are literally watching the delivery and seeing the baby’s head.

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This is Gene. Regarding Ted Cruz: An online voice who goes by the moniker “Leaning Lefty” writes: “The best early warning system for natural disasters is Ted Cruz leaving the country for a vacation.”

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Q: It's actually my wife's story but she lets me tell it. She had been in San Antonio helping care for her mom when she (my wife) felt like she was going to pass out so she went to the ER. She gave her name - Ashkenaz - at the admittance desk. The admittance clerk asked her where the name came from and she said it was Hebrew. After a moment the clerk said "oh. I eat your hot dogs."

A: Thank you. This is off-point, but Kosher hot dogs are the worst, though, IMO.

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Q: Every Thursday morning I buy flowers at our local Trader Joe’s. Each time people are filling entire shopping carts with flowers. I finally had to ask one them: What do you do with so many flowers? She immediately started to cry and said they were for her father’s funeral. I was mortified.

— Laura Armstrong

A: Gah. Hey, we’re going to end on this one. Thank you all for a spirited discussion. Again, please keep sending in Questions and Observations. The Gene Pool needs them. I need them. You need them. Ted Cruz doesn’t need them.