The Invitational Week 40: It's Parody Time

Send up the news with those songs and videos that you do so well. Plus winning chiasmus jokes.

You probably did that already. But check out the twist on Dante in this week’s Invitational results below.

Hello. Welcome to the Thursday Invitational Gene Pool, for which you have been waiting patiently, and you can’t wait to get down to the new contest and winners, but first we derail you and disappoint you, as always, with an unrelated Gene Pool Gene Poll. It is actually a crowdsourcing marketing device, much like the antiquated, analog pressure-tubes-across-roadway device to measure car traffic prior to a major financial decision regarding allocation of resources and the building of hamburger franchises. Here it comes.

The New Contest: Finding Parodise

It’s been too long since we had a full-blown song parody contest, one of our stockiest stocks-in-trade: For Week 40: Write a satiric song about anything in the news these days, set to any familiar tune — or even your own tune, if you’ll sing it to our readers. Include a link to the original tune so that readers can follow along. Videos are welcome as well; include a public link to your performance along with your lyrics. Be sure to tell us what song you’re parodying, even it it’s OBBBBBBvious; we promise not to be insulted.

Because these lyrics are going to be read, not listened to (unless you’re making a video), don’t send us a line-by-line parody of a five-minute recording; best for us are lyrics generally about 8 to 16 lines, without choruses that simply repeat the same words.

For that ol’ Guidance and Inspiration, see the winning lyrics and videos from last year.

Click here for this week’s entry form. Or go to bit.ly/inv-form-40. As usual, you can submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, were you, uh, Mozart. Read the form first for formatting instructions, as well for guidelines for what we're looking for in song lyrics.

Deadline is Saturday, Oct. 14, at 9 p.m. ET — but if you need just a little more time to edit the video, or polish the lyric, email the Empress and she’ll see what she can do. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, Oct. 19.

The winner gets a cute little solar-powered energetically swaying hula dancer, her feet anchored in some plastic greenery.   If your car’s dashboard lacks that certain tackiness, this is an instant solution.  Donated by Dave Prevar.

Who better to dance along sensually to your inking song parody? This week’s prize.

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:

Read Our Flips: The chiasmi of Week 38

In Week 38 we asked for witticisms featuring chiasmus, the clever inversion (more or less) of a phrase. We also allowed for spoonerisms, a variant in which the beginnings of two words are switched. Our exhortations to make them original prevented most of you from sending in the one about leaving no tern unstoned.

Third runner-up:  A protest sign outside a Kanye West concert: Hope All Who Enter Here Abandon Ye. (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)

Second runner-up: Her profile said she was one of a kind, but she turned out to be kind of a 1. (Rob Cohen, Potomac, Md.)

First runner-up: If you give a man a fish, he eats for a day. If you give a fish a man, he eats for a month. (Diana Oertel, San Francisco)

And the winner of the L for Loser iron-on patch:  
Why do men believe they’re so good at making love? Because the women they love are so good at making believe.  (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)    

Dimmer Switches: Honorable mentions 

Trump’s offering the country not a New Deal, but a Do Kneel!  (Ed Gordon, Austin)

What do you call an arrogant Broadway actor with a single award? A one-Tony prick. (Chris Doyle)

On a first date, one may reasonably anticipate a peck on the kisser, but not a kiss on the pecker. (Mark Raffman, Reston, Va.)      

A snail was giving thought to crossing the road, but she was a big procrastinator.  So what happened?  A big crow passed and ate her. (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)

Cigar but no clothes. — B. Clinton (Jesse Frankovich)

 How was Linda Lovelace different from Linda Tripp? The first was a porn star, while the second a Starr pawn. (Chris Doyle)  

An infield home run — were those guys in Nats caps taking catnaps?  (Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.)

Did you hear that the sperm bank is closing because of its string of lousy donors?  They’re having a fire sale after the sire fail.   (Sam Mertens, Silver Spring, Md.)  

We’ve gone from facts determining opinions to opinions determining facts. (Michael Stein, Arlington, Va.)  

What did Humpty Dumpty tell the horses and men who were trying to put his yolk and white back together?  “If you can’t join ’em, beat ’em.” (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Fla.)

The scion of the Listerine fortune is a real heir of fresh breath. (Jesse Frankovich) 

Kevin was Speaker of the House, but he never learned the hows of the Speaker. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)    

King Charles III disdains splashy royal processions and pageantry.  After the obligatory coronation froufrou, he instructed his court, “Don’t parade on my reign.” (Jonathan Jensen, Baltimore)  

Mike Pence is in the “party of life,” but he surely isn’t the life of the party. (Jesse Frankovich; Chris Doyle)   

It’s said that certain bordellos in Prague have a policy in which johns must remit payment not just before the deed is done, but before they even arrive at the establishment.  As they put it, the check must be in the mail before the male can be in the Czech. (Justin Stone, New York, a First Offender) 

Sex with your mama was enjoyable, but it was spoiled the next morning by a fly in the ointment: I needed an ointment in the fly. (Jon Gearhart, Des Moines)  

Show too much sex and violence, censors will have you vexed and silenced. (Sam Mertens)  

A new mom was feeling down in the dumps because when her baby’s diaper had slipped off onto the comforter there were dumps in the down. (Beverley Sharp) 

Sometimes in a public restroom, you need to bum a wipe in order to wipe a bum. (Leif Picoult, Rockville, Md.)   

The Lennon-McCartney song “Can’t Buy Me Love” was a flop in its original version, “Can’t Love Me? Bye!”  (Jonathan Jensen)  

Did you hear that the ex-Nationals pitcher rushed into the stands to assault a heckler?   Seems he could batter a fan as well as he could fan a batter. (Kevin Dopart, Washington, D.C.) 

What do you call Trump’s hate mail? Jeer Don letters.  (Jesse Frankovich)  

When your lover hurts you, you’re liable to go out and have an affair just out of spite. As the song says, your weepin’ heart will make you cheat. (Jonathan Jensen)   

The rich playboy finally got his comeuppance when he was convicted of sexual assault on a member of his household staff: They cooked his goose when he goosed his cook. (Jonathan Jensen)

The would-be thief was about to run off with some winter wear, but nope — he was caught with his down pants.  (Judy Freed)  

What is a common rule at fundamentalist Bible camps? The Men Command Tents. (Chris Doyle) 

Why did Hunter Biden get indicted? Gun of a son! (Jesse Frankovich)    

Republicans work to ensure Democrats have problems in voting so that Republicans can keep voting in problems. (Michael Stein)    

I know I’m short, but I’d rather be under six feet than six feet under. (Rob Cohen)

It’s a hard-knock life. Had to move back in with my parents.  Now if only I could get them to remember: It’s a hard life!  Knock!  (Judy Freed)  

And Last:  You might get ink if your submission contains a wry idea.  But you’re more likely to get ink if your submission contains “diarrhea.” (Mark Raffman)

 The headline “Read Our Flips” is by Jesse Frankovich; Chris Doyle and Jeff Contompasis each submitted the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline 4 p.m. ET Saturday, Oct. 7: Our Week 39 contest for “tailgater” couplets in which you pair a line from a Bob Dylan song with a rhyming one of your own. Click here or type in bit.ly/inv-week-39 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: In the last Invitational Gene Pool, did you forget to put the answer for the winner?  Or have I managed not to understand another contest? 

A: Alas, you have managed to not understand another contest.  You are referring to the results of the “backronyms” contest, in which you redefine words as though the first letters of their name formed an acronym.  At first, the winner seemed confusing, violating the rules:  There WAS no re-definition.   This was the winner, in its entirety:

WRITERS’ STRIKE:                 (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)    

The joke was that the writers’ strike kept all humor writers unemployed.  The shows went dark. Like the entry, with white space there was no humor to be found.

Q: Okay. the most ridiculous place I lived was here: 

Yes, it was a working oil platform. I was a 19-year-old female intern. I recall thinking to myself, wryly, as I climbed into the helicopter to fly over an hour from south Texas to the most remote Gulf oil field, that what I’d signed up for had been described as an office job.  

It was so remote that if the helicopter couldn’t fly, it was a 3-day boat ride back to shore. Still, I was optimistic and excited. If there was outpost fever, it would be dispersed, shared joyfully with a new recruit, a welcoming camaraderie among the beleaguered but indomitable.  

When we arrived,  the pilot casually handed off my bag to the head engineer, who  explained: “We don’t get a lot of women working out here.  None of the doors lock so I had them send out some deadbolts to put on your bedroom and bathroom.” 

And that’s how my tenure at High Island started. It was an eventful month and there WAS danger out there between the shark/barracuda incident, a drug-running boat crashing into the platform and the resultant firefight, and the times I had to work alone on a nearby unmanned platform, which gave me the perspective to understand Tom Hanks’s emotional connection to that volleyball. 

But the guys all treated me like a kid sister and the least of my concerns was locking my door. 
—April Musser

A: This is the best observation I’ve received on my question seeking nominations for the oddest / worst place you have ever lived.  

Q: David Smith here. Looking at the picture of how congresspersons should be required to dress, and the picture of the woman in a clown suit, I figure Kyrsten Sinema hasn't far to go.

A: Indeed.

(Kevin Lamarque/ Reuters)

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 40…” ) 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.

 

Or possibly you wish to give us a pathetic pittance per month:

Q: After hearing about the Orioles’ pitcher Felix Bautista needing Tommy John surgery, I wondered how you would feel about having a disease or medical procedure named after you. For example, Gene, the medical community could decide to call hypochondria “Weingarten Syndrome.” “I Can’t come into the office today, boss. I got Weingartens.”

A: There is, indeed, a Weingarten’s Syndrome.  I wrote about it here.  It is disgusting.  It is about a worm that gets into your lungs, and then sometimes migrates into your testicles and swells them to the size of a beanbag chair.  

This is Gene.  A big thank you to a reader who pointed out the latest developments by automakers in pandering to lazy Americans who want  to feel cool, like the big kids by driving a stick-shift, but a facsimile, and that the whole thing is a farce.   Read it here and here. 

This is hilarious and it underscores my contention that everyone knows stick shifts are cool.  This stick shift simulation fad started with those now ubiquitous shift knobs that move down in a zigzag groove so you can PRETEND it’s a stick but really it’s just park, reverse, drive, and neutral. But now the simulation racket is getting nuts, and I am wondering if car buyers  know they are being patronized and treated with contempt.  I’m trying to think of an analogy.  Tofurky comes to mind. 

Gene again.  In the last Gene Pool, I linked to a video of a team of body-painted women becoming a tiger, but the URL was wrong.   Here is the right one.  It is spectacular. 

Q: Gene, my question is going to sound snarky because, well, it is. But I ask it as a longtime Invitational entrant and fan of your writing. Do you get to see the final version of “Barney & Clyde” each day before it goes to print? If not, I respectfully suggest you start — or ask Pat the Perfect or some other trusted editor to do so in your stead. I ask because the Oct. 1 edition is one of the sloppiest I’ve seen in quite a while. The punchline in the final panel fell flat (for me, anyway) because of a typo (“someone name Ron” instead of “named Ron”). In addition, two of the panels are lacking a period at the end of their sentences (and I had to use a magnifying glass to make out the period in a third panel). Just to be clear, I enjoy “Barney & Clyde” very much But I'd enjoyed it more with fewer distracting inconsistencies. Steve Honley, Washington, D.C. 

A: Hey, Steve.   I noticed that, too.   We actually have an extremely competent editor at the syndicator, Counterpoint Inc.   We average about two errors a year, and you found one!  We’ll try to be better, but imagine writing 365 stories a year, on deadline.  Shit happens.  Or, in light of what you caught, shit happen.   

Q: Another dog on the couch story: Not really smart or dumb, per se, but my late beloved Blarney the Big Yellow Dog would sleep on the couch when I wasn't home and never get caught in the act. There was always the usual evidence, i.e., a hairy warm indentation, of course. However, when he got old, his hearing began to fade, and thus one day I must've made less than the usual noise entering and was not greeted at the door. I decided to stay quiet, and tiptoed through the house to find him sleeping soundly on the couch. I approached and knelt down with my face inches from his and waited patiently. When eventually he opened his eyes, the look on his face was priceless! This was probably 25 years ago. I still miss that guy every day.

A: I miss him, too, now.   I think hearing loss is sometimes a blessing to old dogs.  Murphy used to be terrified of thunderstorms, until she could no longer hear them.  Then she was fine.  She spent her last three years un-bedeviled. 

Q: This is not exactly an aptonym, but it’s still curiously an earworm: Our local university was all-girl for 60 years until the early ’70s, and remains about two-thirds female today. In 2003 was the opening of its impressive new stadium, named in honor of a major financial contributor. Its Wikipedia page says “usually called Cupp Stadium.” They wish. It’s walls are emblazoned with “Patrick D. Cupp Stadium.” With a stunning lack of foresight, that middle initial was included and, of course, the facility instantly became known as “D-cup Stadium.”

A: I am not going to discuss the talking head “S.E. Cupp,” the TV host, because gentlemen do not comment on women in the workplace.

Q: I rated my sense of humor as excellent, but I'm thinking of my ability to judge humor, not to be funny. I have a pretty good success rate with my SI entries, because I know when I've come up with something funny, but I rarely come up with anything I think is good.

A: If you have good success in the Invite, I’ll warrant you have a good sense of humor, and your neurosis about this helps it. Because you are being judged by two of the greatest judges of humor the world has ever known.

Q: I'm not so sure that a potential fake manual transmission in an EV is pandering to lazy Americans (it is adding work, after all) as much as it is turning driving into a video game. This sounds absurd, because it is, but if they could extend this by coming up with a scoring system for driving like a responsible human, they might be on to something.

A: Interesting.

Q: My husband was in the Navy, so we lived a lot of places that weren't right for me, though some in such obvious ways, it could hardly be humorous (turns out I don't like living somewhere with a radio show called The Southern Avenger where they give funerals with full military honors to dead Confederates found in the bay). We also lived in San Diego, which inevitably inspires sighs of jealous longing whenever I mention it. So beautiful! Such gorgeous weather! Such good Mexican food! But after a few months, I remember waking up one morning to the gentle sound of falling rain - yes, finally, a cozy, gray day! I was thrilled until I realized it was our sprinkler system going off. This happened a few more times, to my increasing dismay, until we finally relocated to New Hampshire and weather I could live with.

A: I loved this post.  Short, with two kickers.

Q: In 1983, before my wife and I (twenty-somethings at the time) knew what the term DINK meant, we were able to buy our first house in what we were told was the last Levittown development in the U.S. (the A section of Bowie, MD). The place was still full of the original owners (our sellers were retiring and moving south). The first thing our black socks and shorts wearing neighbor asked us was if we played whist. Red flag one. In winter, we were pooh-poohed when it snowed for distracting the kids from their shoveling chores with helping them build forts and snow sculptures and instigating snowball fights. Red flag two. We never saw the inside of anyone’s house in three years. Last flag. We moved to Capitol Hill, where we dropped one income and had two kids.

A: One year when our kids were three and six, wife and I moved to the Boston area for my fellowship at Harvard.  We had been living in Miami, so in the winter, in Cambridge my kids saw snow for the first time.  We built a little snowman in the courtyard of the apartment building where we were renting.  We got a notice from management that snowmen were prohibited in common areas, and we had to “dismantle” it.

Q:  The 17 years in two tranches I spent in exile in Dallas, Texas. The Tex Mex food was the only thing that made it survivable, that and the fact that my husband's uberboss had been born and raised in Brooklyn. Worse, we lived in the Park Cities, a suburb completely surrounded by Dallas, where they still had a debutante ball every year, at which were presented to society the belles who had been living with their boyfriends for years. 

A: Thank you.  I always considered Molly my debutante, and that is not true, but I say it only because when she reads this she will ream me a new one. Molly is currently in Zambia, a public health expert, saving people from death.

Q; I know you specifically asked for smart/dumb animal stories, but I think you should expand it to toddlers and small children. For example, I had a hip injury and couldn't easily go up and down the stairs so when I'd hear my husband go downstairs, I'd yell down to him to bring me whatever I might need from the first floor on his way back up. My daughter had just turned 2 and I was in a constant state of exhaustion, so my frequent request was for a soda for a caffeine boost. One morning, my daughter woke up and I was lying in bed delaying going to her room to get her as she would sometimes sit and play quietly in her crib for another 15 or 20 mins, but on this day she wanted attention immediately. She started with the normal shouting for Mama and Daddy and when those two failed we heard her yell, “Hey, honey, bring me a soda!”

A: Thank you.  

Q: I have a dumb/smart dog story that has occurred only in the last couple days. We have a 7 month old redtick coonhound. This is our first dog since my daughter was born and she was all about him as a teeny puppy but as he goes through adolescence and she goes through realizing the dog is not interested in obeying her every command, they occasionally have dog/human power struggles similar to siblings. She does not like to play with him in the house because he's so big and often runs into her returning from catching a tossed toy and knocks her off balance or accidently gets her with his claws (we keep them trimmed but she acts like she was attacked by Edward Scissorhands). Well, he wanted to play and brought her a toy, she was watching a show and wasn't interested. She's learned that if she throws the toy, the game is afoot and he will come bolting back like a furry missile and likely leap directly into the recliner with her. She thought she’d be all clever and grabbed the toy he dropped and slung it directly under the couch where he cant reach it. Without missing a beat, he grabbed her favorite small beanbag stuffed animal right out of her lap and whipped his head to the side, slinging it right under the couch with his toy so she could retrieve both at once. Honestly, it was a beautiful execution.

A: For those people who feel dogs don’t have distinct, even subtle, personalities, this is a passive-aggressive dog. 

Q:  Awkward living places:  London suburb. So excited to get a job there so I could really “live like a European” and be respected as an American.. So I thought until, as the newbie in the office, I was told to make tea for everyone. Then they dictated their tea orders, all very specific that I was supposed to understand and remember. 

A: Thank you.

Q: Color me genuinely surprised by the results of the hit-and-run drunk driving poll, a case where you are not responsible but would be severely punished. I was one of the 9% who said "I probably would" just leave, except that's not the best answer, because there's no "probably" about it. There's no doubt in my mind—I'd be gone.

I thought I'd be in better company than I am. The rest of your readers are clearly better people than I am. Don't get me wrong, I imagine there's a good chance I'd have a Dostoevskian breakdown over the course of the next few weeks, and who knows, I might find myself unable to live with what I did and end up turning myself in to get my redemptive trip to Siberia, but in the moment ... I don't think there's even a chance I'd do the right thing. I'm sorry.

A: I got several responses like this.  I understand what you are saying.

Q: For smartest act by an animal, I nominate my cat Butch. Butch is long gone now, but he was a fine cat, owned jointly by my then girlfriend Linda and me. Linda is now my wife of 44 years, so this was quite some time ago. Butch used the toilet. Exclusively. We did have a catbox, but he disdained it. Catboxes were for cats. When Butch wanted to do his business, of either kind, he would mount the toilet seat, squat over the opening, and go. If the toilet was occupied, he would circle repeatedly in front of the pesky human, looking anxious, until the toilet was free. Then it was his turn. If either of us awoke in the night to a call of nature, Butch would awaken too, and unfailingly beat us to it. Then we would have to wait, patiently, until the cat was done. Of course, toilet bowls have covers, and occasionally someone would forget aand leave the cover down. Butch never did master raising it (or flushing), and this practice annoyed him, so he would go on TOP of the cover. He rapidly trained us not to leave it down.  Don W.

A: We have to stop meeting like this, bro. 

Q: SMARTEST: In Germany in 2012, I saw a bunch of large yellow buttons at crosswalks with stoplights, which you pressed to get a green light in the direction you wanted to go. I didn't understand why they had to be so large and yellow--much bigger and brighter than the buttons we have in the US. Then I saw a seeing eye dog guide a man to the button, where the dog jumped up and pushed it with its nose. The two of them waited for the light to change and then crossed the street. Ken Gallant, Sequim, Wash.

A: Dogs love to have jobs.  Nothing makes them happier.  It’s one of their greatest attributes. 

Q: A recent New Yorker cartoon shows a man walking to leave his home. His wife calls out, “Take care out there today, hon. The front door is riddled with bullet holes.” The door is, in fact, shown to be riddled with bullet holes. (https://www.newyorker.com/gallery/cartoons-from-the-september-25-2023-issue, cartoon #16).

I'm generally tolerant of humor that could be considered offensive, if it is in fact funny. I found this cartoon quite sickening, given the scores of people who are slaughtered by guns in our country, including many children in DC. Am I missing the joke, or do you find this as awful as I do? 

A: I do not find it awful at all.  Humor needs some edge.   I also find #9 funny.  And to me, it is even edgier.  Also, #13 is excellent.   Look at them.  

Q: Related to the centenarian lawyer who peed himself... When husband and I were getting married in 1991, we needed to talk to the minister of my Methodist church about the ceremony. We arranged for an appointment immediately after church. This minister had been at the church a few years and had, unfortunately for him, replaced a brilliant and loved minister who had retired. 

New guy couldn't compete, but we were stuck with him because I had wanted to get married in the church I grew up in (the church my parents, my sister, and my brother were married in as well). (FWIW, I'm atheist now.)

 We entered his office and he excused himself to use the bathroom. Upon returning, fiancee and I couldn't help but notice the glaring wet spot on his blue polyester pants just beside the fly. We glanced at each other, but only quickly because must. not. laugh. After we made it out of there, we quickly got into the car (we were meeting family and friends for the post-church lunch) and as calmly as possible shrieked. It was terribly reminiscent of the SNL skit about peeni-pads!

A: It’s good.  This is even better, from “I think you should leave.”  

Q: I call Miami the 95 city. The weather is 95 degrees with 95% humidity. I notice this while being passed by an exotic car doing 95 mph on I95.

A: Thank you. 

Q: You got it wrong when you wrote that Ilsa left Rick at the train station.  Rich left Ilsa at the train station, to leave with Victor.  How can I respect you after this?

1.  Sigh.  For the third time.  I got nothing wrong.  Ilsa left Rick at the train station, in the rain.  LATER, Rick left Ilsa for the good of humanity, and it was not at a train station, it was at an airstrip in Casablanca.  So you can still respect me.  Whether you can respect yourself is up to you. 

Q: Just to comment: NO CHARGES

A: Whoa.

Q: Gene, two questions. I am planning on going to Stephan Pastis’ book signing in Takoma Park, and I have purchased three prints of his cartoon I would like autographed. Is it rude to have that many items? What is the max number that would be acceptable? Also, is there a way to change the options for funneling money to you? I am on the $5/month plan, but would happily pony up $10 or $25, but there does not seem to be a way to enter an amount other than the ones already there. You are cheaper than most of the streaming services I am shelling out for, and much more entertaining.

A: For Stephan, he would be delighted.  The more, the better.  Autographing takes three seconds. 

For me, $5 a month is fine.  Your option, costing approximately $8 a month, is to buy a Founder’s subscription, which is offered when you subscribe or try to upgrade your subscription. 

This is Gene. I am declaring us down. Thank you all, and please keep sending in questions / observations, which I will attend to on Tuesday. Send them here:

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