The Invitational Week 159: Wouldn’t It Be Coverly?

Can you outdo the extremely clever ‘Speed Bump’ cartoonist? Plus winning obit poems about the lates of 2025.

Fill in the blank to see if you can out-clever “Speed Bump” creator Dave Coverly, for this or any of seven other SB cartoons.

Hello. Do you read and like “Speed Bump,” the one-panel gag comic by Dave Coverly? If you don’t, there’s something wrong with you, and we hope it is merely that you are blind and not that you are humor-impaired.

Dave is a friend of The Invitational. He is a good guy. He is a brave guy. He has given us permission to take eight of his old cartoons, strip them of their original word balloons (and/or sometimes captions), and dare you to come up with funnier stuff than he did. Good luck with that.

Dave will help us judge it.

The cartoons, labeled A-H, are above and below. Be sure to see the instructions that follow.

For Invitational Week 159: Provide text in the word boxes and balloons for any (or all) of the “Speed Bump” cartoons labeled A through H.

Note: You must fill all the spaces left blank for text in a cartoon: dialogue balloons, a thought balloon; captions; a sign. If there’s a white space, you must fill it. BUT! You don’t have to fit Dave’s particular spaces: You could put a single word in a big balloon, or write fifteen words for a little caption box. But, alert: In comic strips, brevity is almost always the wise choice.

Important advice. There are lots of “Speed Bumps” out there on the Web, and if you search hard enough for these particular cartoons, you may find some. We strongly urge you not to try.

We didn’t want to show the original texts to you, fearing that your imaginations would be limited, but we realize that there’s a risk that you’ll come up with the same joke Dave published. We’re sure you’re not stealing, but if you do happen to send in something that’s too close to the original, we won’t be able to use it.

IMPORTANT!! Formatting your entries: Begin each entry only with the letter on the picture — as in A. [your entry] — and keep each entry to a single line; i.e., don’t press Enter until you’re starting another entry. If you’re describing various elements of a single cartoon (say one line for a word balloon and another for a caption) make that clear somehow — but still, keep it all in one line for each entry. (There won’t be an honorable-mentions subhead this week.)

Deadline is Saturday, Jan. 24, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, Jan. 29. As usual, you may submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, preferably all on the same form.

Click here for this week’s entry form, or go to tinyurl.com/inv-form-159A.

And this week’s winner gets this 2026 calendar — signed by Dave.

Mocking on Heaven’s Door: The obit poems of Week 157

Invitational Week 157 was our annual top-of-the-year request for poems about people (or non-people) who were spared having to live through this month.

Third runner-up:
Isiah Whitlock Jr. (1954-2025) portrayed pol Clay Davis on “The Wire”
He’s gone — such a bummer to see it.
When you gave him a role, he would be it.
His skills they admire,
His pals on “The Wire”;
When told of his death, they said, “Sheeeit.”
(Duncan Stevens, Vienna, Va.)

Second runner-up:
Giorgio Armani (1934-2025)
Poor Giorgio at last met his fate
To forever be fashionably late.
(Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)

First runner-up:
Brigitte Bardot (1934-2025)
France is in mourning for Brigitte Bardot,
A beauty who’s now turned the page;
Sadly, the course that she set was to go
From “racy” to “racist” with age.
(Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.)

And the winner of the “Dogs Pooping in Beautiful Places” wall calendar:
Rob Reiner (1947-2025), filmmaker and actor
There’s nothing funny in the way he died.
But “This Is Spinal Tap”? “The Princess Bride”?
He made us laugh and laugh. Until we cried.
(Melissa Balmain, Rochester, N.Y.)

And now the Invitational Gene Pool Gene Poll:

(As usual, if you think one or more of the honorable mentions were better, yell at us in the Comments.)

Urns for the Worse: Honorable mentions

Two for Frank Gehry (1929-2025), architect
I. His buildings were unorthodox,
Odd shapes he much preferred,
And so it was no common box,
In which he was interred.
The casket’s angles all askew,
It took more than a minute
For undertakers puzzling through,
A way to fit him in it. (Mark Raffman)

II. Bigotry, schmigotry,
Gehry, né Goldberg, to
Fit in at work decon
Structed his name.
Colleagues who treated him
Antisemitically?
None achieved even a
Tenth of his fame.
(Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)

Wizz Jones (1939–2025), English guitarist
God, in that almighty plan of His,
Decided that He had to take a Wizz. (Jesse Frankovich)

Buddy the Beefalo (2017 (?)-2025) escaped from a Connecticut slaughterhouse for 254 days
Shockity stockity,
Buddy the Beefalo:
Gone from the slaughterhouse!
Was there a thief?
Nope, he escaped (he was
Hyperintelligent!) —
Leaving his captors to
Ask, “Where’s the beef?”
(Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)

Fred Smith (1944-2025), founder of FedEx
Perhaps eternal flames confound?
Or else he basks in Heaven’s light?
Unsure which way his soul was bound,
We know it got there overnight. (Mark Raffman)

Ioannis Yannis (1935-2025), inventor of artificial skin
MIT’s Professor Yanni
Didn’t idle on his fanny.
Instead he proved there’s ample room in
Medicine for turning “an amalgam of a silicone outer sheet over a scaffolding of molecular material drawn from cow tendon and shark cartilage” into something human. (Melissa Balmain)

Tom Lehrer (1928-2025), satirical songwriter and performer
With verbal agility
And time to distill it, he
Displayed great facility,
Devoid of sterility.
Disdaining gentility,
The man’s capability
And endless fertility
Gained memorability.
To match his ability
Is simply futility.
(Jonathan Jensen, Baltimore)

Brigitte Bardot (1934-2025), bombshell actress turned right-wing zealot
Brigitte Bardot
lies six feet below.
No bubblegum smile
could sweeten her bile.
(Marshall Begel, Madison, Wis.)

Saul Zabar (1928-2025), deli owner
When they heard that Saul Zabar was dead,
All New Yorkers in unison said,
“Though we mourn his demise,
What we’d most highly prize
Is a place at the big shiva spread.” (Mark Raffman)

Bob Uecker (1934-2025), baseball announcer and pitchman
Funeral front seats empty,
All tushes did they lack:
To honor Mr. Baseball,
All mourners sat in back.
(Jeff Rackow, Bethesda, Md.)

André Soltner (1932-2025), French chef
Haute cuisiners in the know
Flocked to eat his escargot.
Foie gras! Poulet! Tête de veau!
He served tous les animaux,
Buried now, his status quo:
Feeding worms six feet below. (Mark Raffman)

Diane Keaton (1946-2025), actor, writer, style icon
Diane Keaton
Was really neat in
Movies and in life--how could you not adore a
Person like that, even if she’s why you bought an overpriced fedora?
(Melissa Balmain)

Morris the Alligator (?-2025), who appeared in several movies
When it’s off to Saint Peter I’m going,
As I take my last ride in that hearse,
Unlike Morris, I’m comforted knowing
That I won’t become somebody’s purse.
(Hildy Zampella, Sarasota, Fla.)

Jimmy Swaggart (1935-2025)
The TV evangelist rose
As “parishioners” paid through the nose
For a blessing or prayer,
All the time unaware
He was spending the money on hos. (Mark Raffman)

Ole Jørgen Hammeken (1956–2025), Greenlandic explorer
On Greenland being annexed by the good ol’ USA:
“Over my dead body!” was all Hammeken could say. (Jesse Frankovich)

Ron Turcotte (1941-2025)
With skill and grace the jockey plied the track,
The other horses trailing far in back.
His mount rushed forward under his command
Till victory and glory were in hand.
The racing world’s now mourning at his loss,
A finish line that no one wants to cross. (Mark Raffman)

Two for Dick Cheney (1941-2025)
1. Higgledy piggledy,
Richard Bruce Cheney is
Buried at last under
Monogrammed gneiss.
Power- and war-hungry
Machiavellian:
Fitting indeed that his
Title was “Vice.”
(Matt Monitto, Bristol, Conn.)

II. The doc says “That’s a wrap,” and
Dick’s heart, it beats no mo’.
Well, technically, that happened
Some fifteen years ago. (Duncan Stevens)

Tom Stoppard (1937-2025), playwright
In Heaven and Earth, the Bard did say,
Are many things. Your thing’s the play
Of arrows, slings, and such kerfuffle;
But now didst thou thy coil off-shuffle
And thence to earthy dust return
Like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
Whose hour upon the stage hath been.
They now stop bung-holes. [Exit]
Fin
(Jonathan Paul, Garrett Park, Md.)

Kit Kat (2016-2025), beloved neighborhood cat in San Francisco, killed by a driverless car
Kit
Kat
Died.
He was
Run over
By an AV.
Many fans are prayerful.
(That car should have been WAYMO careful.)
(“Narayana’s Cows poem by Beverley Sharp)

Pope Francis (1936–2025)
Resting in eternal peace, he
Now is Francis of Deceasi. (Jesse Frankovich)

Mary “May” McGee (1944-2025), contraception activist
May McGee was not a fan
Of Ireland’s contraception ban.
She’d almost died while giving birth,
So still had dread of leaving earth.
She launched a years-long courtroom fight,
And in the end she won the right
To fear-free sex for women who
Now use their birth control and screw.
(Chris Doyle, Warminster, Pa.)

Carl Dean (1942-2025), 60-year husband to Dolly Parton
Dolly bade farewell to Carl Dean,
So I guess that you can have him now, Jolene.
(Michael Stein, Arlington, Va.)

Ozzy Osbourne (1948-2025), flamboyant singer-songwriter
Ozzy is gone, and he’s not coming back;
For the fans of hard metal, the Sabbath is Black.
A world without Osbourne, ah, truly, it sickens!
(Of course, I suppose that’s less true for the chickens.) (Duncan Stevens)

Jane Goodall (1934-2025), primatologist
“When I found out Jane Goodall died,
I lost my shit, I flung it wide,
I beat the dirt, and then I screamed!”
(The eulogy ol’ Greybeard dreamed.)
(Barbara Turner, Takoma Park, Md.)

Diane Keaton (1946-2025) and Charles Strouse (1928-2025), Broadway composer
They both achieved immense success
And will be greatly missed.
Their peaks of fame? Say either name
And “Annie” tops the list. (Jonathan Jensen)

Haru Urara (1996-2025), 0-113 racehorse
Haru Urara, a Japanese horse,
Was loved for the way she made losing an art.
One hundred and thirteen times out on the course,
She appeared to be pulling a seven-ton cart. (Chris Doyle)

The Losers’ mascot?

James Lovell (1928-2025), astronaut
That your rocket would falter was quite unforeseen
When you left for the Moon in Apollo 13.
But you made it safe home, and for that we give thanks.
(Folks figured you would. You were played by Tom Hanks.) (Duncan Stevens)

Susan Stamberg (1938-2025)
Susan Stamberg of NPR: now she is toast.
The years and the miles undid her.
She’ll be tuning in now as a heavenly host —
Down here, no more things to consider. (Duncan Stevens)

Jules Feiffer (1929-2025) and Peter Yarrow (1938-2025)
Sometimes in life the world feels very wide,
But sometimes with death it feels narrow,
So maybe that’s how come the two of us cried,
When we learned we lost Feiffer and Yarrow.
(Fran Pfeffer and Dave Zarrow, Skokie, Ill.)

And Last:
Sergio Doplicher (1940-2025), mathematical physicist
Doublely-dactyly
Sergio Doplicher,
Prominent physicist,
Born in Trieste.
Prized in this contest for
Dying last year and the
Hexasyllabical
Name he possessed.
(Chris Doyle)

The headline “Mocking on Heaven’s Door” is by Leif Picoult; both Chris Doyle and Jesse Frankovich submitted the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline Saturday, Jan. 17, at 9 p.m. ET: Our Tour de Fours neologism contest to come up with a new term including the letter block THRE in any order. For details, click on the link below.

The Invitational Week 158: It’s ERTH Day

Now we seamlessly segue into the Mailbag portion of The Gene Pool, in which Gene responds to your questions and observations. Today’s mailbag is mostly in response to his Gene Pool column intended to bedevil hypochondriacs.

Send your new Questions and Observations here for a future Gene Pool:

And last, if you have not already done so, please consider becoming a paying subscriber to The Gene Pool. It is pretty cheap (still just $5 a month or $50 a year), and it lets you enter the Invitational, rather than just reading the results every week and sourly deciding you would have done better and then kicking the dog.

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Q: I took only one of your hypochondriac tests. It was the one that said to stack your three middle fingers vertically in your wide open mouth, and if they couldn’t fit without touching your teeth, you might have early temporomandibular joint syndrome

Well. I failed, badly. I called my dentist, and told him, and he laughed and said he had never heard of such a test, and not to worry about it if I was feeling no jaw pain. About a half hour later, he called back. He had apparently checked with something or someone. He said “Okay, I think you should come in, just to be sure.”

I have an appointment. I am uneasy. And now I am terrified of taking any more of your stupid tests.

A: Understood.

Write back when you have taken them all. You will. You know you will.

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Q: You told me to do this:

“Reach into your pocket or purse. Feel for a quarter. Don’t take it out, just explore its surfaces with your fingertips. Can you tell the heads from the tails? Failure to do so can signal an incipient brain tumor or uncoming stroke.”

I did it. I not only could not tell heads from tails, I could not distinguish dimes from pennies, and could not feel the ridges on the circumference of the dimes. Ef Yu.

A: And FU back!

I wrote the book in 1997, when I was 46. At that time, I could distinguish heads from tails. I just tried — I now cannot. This seems to be an semi-ordinary degree of peripheral neuropathy for a 74 year old geezer. So my question to you is: How old are you? If you are 45, you might consider having your nerve conduction checked. If you are 92, you are doing GREAT! You can still feel the coins!

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Q: I don’t have the computer skills, but perhaps someone can generate a map of the U.S. with the French flag on the Louisiana Territory and the Mexican flag over Texas. Then some of the lawyers out there could argue that the Louisiana Purchase and Texas’s declaration of independence were never valid and the presidents of France and Mexico could make swaggering claims they need to take those territories back.

A: Here ya go: We lose Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Nebraska, The Dakotas, Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming and Texas. I admit I’d miss New Orleans, San Antonio and Austin. And, I suppose Mount Rushmore. I like Mount Rushmore, especially now. Also, Jefferson did the Louisiana Purchase.

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Q: Hi Gene, I know you left your Post sinecure and have been struggling ever since. So I decided to donate my idea to you with no strings attached, even though it will make millions and make you not just locally but world famous.

By some cosmic coincidence, about a half hour before I read the column about hypochondria , I was sharing with my wife an insight regarding what is sure to be a Emmy winning family comedy. The name of the show would be The Hypochondriacs. It would center around a family by that name, or maybe the name translated into another language. In each show a member of the family would have reason to think that they had a deadly disease and for the next half hour would pursue in a sketch full of laugh lines and actions a definitive diagnosis and cures, ending with everything being alright. People would watch not just for the laughs but also because every hypochondriac on the planet, meaning almost everyone, would tune in just in case they might learn a possible cause of their own symptoms.

To make this show a success requires a skilled comedy writer, and this is not me. This is where you come in. — Rick Lempert

A: It wouldn’t sell! Hypochondria embarrasses people. My book was really good — one of the funniest things I’ve written — but it sold poorly. I found out why when I attended book fairs, and sat at a table surrounded by my book, and listened to the conversations of the would-be buyers. A couple would gravitate to my table, point to the book and laugh. Then one would say, “We should buy it for Uncle Larry! He’s a terrible hypochondriac.” The other would say, “He’d be insulted.” And they put the book down and walk away. Happened more than a dozen times.

Q: Has the New York Times ever referred to Bad Bunny as “Mr. Bunny”?

A: Best question of the day.

I did extensive research. Yes, The New York Times has at least once referred to the artist in question as “Mr. Bunny” but — shockingly – in was in quoting an excerpt from The New Yorker, which had written: “It seems that Mr. Bunny is using ‘Bullet Train’ to branch out into acting. He may want to branch back in”.

HOWEVER, in the turn of the century, the New York Times did often refer to a “Mr. Bunny,” who was John Bunny, a silent film comedian and a major star of the day. When Mr. Bunny died in 1915, The New York Times stated, “The name John Bunny will always be linked to the movies.”

Within ten years, he was completely forgotten, supplanted by new (and better) stars like Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd. Mr Bunny is usually not even mentioned in books on the silent movie era.

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Okay, we’re down.

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