The Invitational Week 56: Oh, Grandpa, Stop!

Turn a 'dad joke' into a less tame 'grandpa joke.' Plus 'K is for Kegels' and other alphabet rhymes.

Hello. The sly figures above are Cynthia Pillsbury and her loving, cynical grandpa, Ebenezer Pillsbury, from the comic strip Barney & Clyde. (The above strip, from 2013, never ran in The Washington Post. It was killed for taste. You’re reading it for the first time.) Cynthia is eleven. Ebenezer is old. He loves his granddaughter fiercely, but he doesn’t feel a responsibility, as a father would, to be proper and to see that she’s proper. In fact, he’d rather be her partner in a little subversiveness.

Hence his humor: Rather than bland, SFW dad jokes, Ebenezer likes to share what we’ll call “grandpa jokes,” as deemed by Barney & Clyde fan Valerie Holt, who suggested this contest.

For Invitational Week 56: Tell us a “dad joke” — an old one or your own original — and turn it into an edgy but not X-rated “grandpa joke.”

“Dad jokes” — Google that and you’ll see lists of hundreds — are usually short, wholesome Q&A riddles that involve a bland pun. Though we’re not ruling out a very short joke in some other format, we’re thinking of something like this one by Chris Doyle, recast from a similar Invitational contest in 2008 (full results here):

Q. When things go wrong, what can you always count on?
Dad joke: Your fingers.
Grandpa joke: Your toes, if the thing that went wrong was you lost your hands.  

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Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

 

Click here for this week’s entry form, or go to bit.ly/inv-form-56. As usual, you may submit up to 25 entries for this week’s contest, preferably all on the same form. See the entry form for formatting instructions. 

Deadline is Saturday, Feb. 3, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, Feb. 8.

The winner gets, apropos of this contest, a spacious red T-shirt  reading “Greatest Fa–”  and here the “TH” is overwritten with “RT” to produce “Greatest Farter.” Haha, what a gas.  Donated by Ms. Pie Snelson, who is not a father and has never, to this day, farted.

What could be more boastful than a T-shirt emblazoned LOSER? Here we go!

Hey, we’d like your questions and observations, many of which we will respond to today in real time. Send them to this grotesque orange button:

Alphabetical Odor: The edgy couplets of Week 54

In Invitational Week 54, we asked you for adult versions of the “A is for …”/ “B is for…” rhyming couplets of classic primers. Perhaps reflecting the attention span of your less obsessive Loser, we received a disproportionate number of A/B rhymes over the rest of the alphabet. And yes, we are taking some chances here.

Third runner-up:
F is for Fire—there’s smoke where it’s at.
G’s for George Santos, whose pants are on that. (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)

Second runner-up:
C’s for Compliance and following rules.
D’s for Don’t give a damn. (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Fla.)

First runner-up:
A is for Apathy, lack of endeavor.
B is for Bleh, something-something, whatever. (Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.)

And the winner of the $100 bill socks:
D’s for Depressed: Need a lift in your heart.
E’s for ED: Need a lift in your part. (Judy Freed)

Alphabested: Honorable mentions

A is for Ass-talk from Trump’s other noise-end.
B is the Blood he claims migrants have poisoned. (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)

B is for Boebert, she’s always on brand.
C, she is Cocksure her job’s well in hand. (Kevin Dopart, Washington, D.C.)  

C is for Chatbot, like ChatGPT.
D’s Dissertation it drafted for me. (Jesse Frankovich)

E’s for Extremists, nursing their grudges.
F’s for Fifth Circuit; they’re known there as judges. (Duncan Stevens, Vienna, Va.)

E is for Elephants, mighty and gray.
F’s for the Folks who will ask, “What were they?” (Melissa Balmain, Rochester, N.Y.)

F is the Fragrance that wafts through your rooms.
G is for Gastrointestinal fumes. (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)

F is a Florida man who just died.
G is the Gator he took as a bride. (Chris Doyle)

K’s for Kill — grab your gun and be ready to show it.
L’s for Life — pretty clear that you’re not really Pro-it. (Judy Freed)   

K is for Kegels. Just give a good squeeze.
L is for Leakage.  And try not to sneeze. (Judy Freed)

K is for Kicking the back of my seat.
L is for Lopping off both of your feet. (Malcolm Fleschner, Palo Alto, Calif.)

L is for Lecture:  “You’re doing it wrong.”
M is the Marriage that didn’t last long. (Judy Freed)

L’s for the Love of a son and his Pap.
M is for Mike Johnson’s porn-tracking app. (Judy Freed)

L is for Leech: blood it happily sucks.
M’s for Mechanic: “That’s nine hundred bucks.” (Duncan Stevens)

N’s for your Novel, which all agents hate.
O’s for Ovation – well, your mom thinks it’s great.  (Leif Picoult, Rockville, Md.)

R is for Reddit: Policing by mob.
S is for Substack: You’re Nazi? No prob. (Scott Ableman, McLean, Va.)

W is for WaPo, where Losers did flitter.
X is for X-crement, formerly Twitter. (Jeff Rackow, Bethesda, Md.)

And Last: I’s for the Invite — I’ll write a knee-slapper! 
J’s for my Joke that winds up in the crapper. (Beverley Sharp)

And Even  Laster: A’s for AI, which has not won the ’Vite.
B is for Betting that someday it might. (Chris Doyle — at least it said “Chris Doyle” …)

The headline “Alphabetical Odor” is by Jeff Shirley. Tom Witte wrote the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline 9 p.m. ET Saturday, Jan. 27: Our Week 55 contest for new terms containing some permutation of the letter block DUST. Click on the link below.

The Invitational Week 55: Tour de Fours — Be STUD-ly

  

Here comes the real-time segment. If you are reading this in real time, please keep refreshing your screen so you can see your observations and Gene’s responses. Many of the observations today about about things you have seen or experienced but never expected to see or experience, such as orthodox Jews emerging from sewers in New York City, sparking a riot.

Q: How much are you and Rachel already thinking about whether to stay or leave the country after November?

A: We are talking about it less often.    Trump seems to be very publicly disintegrating, wildly paranoid, unstable, unelectable, politically suicidal.

This is Gene, Regarding things that you would never expect to experience.  I went to Woodstock in 1969, at age 17, and shared a tent with a stranger in the rain and mud.   He was from San Francisco.   I was from New York.   We got stoned.   It turns out he was from Yonkers, N.Y.   He grew up in the house next to the house I grew up in .  It was such a weird experience that neither of use believed the other, until we alternated tantalizing facts that made it clear neither of us was shitting the other.

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… ”) 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.

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Do you love the Invitational? No? Well do you kinda like it? No? Then what are you doing here? Anyway, you should upgrade your subscription to “paid.” Maybe we’ll get better if we get richer.

Q: Maybe the story about the synagogue tunnel will be made into a cartoon film by Disney, starring Mikveh Mouse.

A: Thank you. I believe this might be the first time anyone had made this joke. I am so proud of you all,

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Q: It’s not exactly softball season, but I’ll lob one anyway: You’ve talked about your hobby of repairing mechanical clocks. Does this interest extend to pocket and/or wristwatches? Why or why not?

A: No.  I have relatively fat fingers.  I need gears, sizable things to work with, not tiny little things you need to squint at through a jeweler’s loupe, using tweezers. But thanks for asking and creating self-loathing.

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Q: Gene: Join me in a tip of the cap to another illustrious man of the word, Charles Osgood of CBS, who died this past Tuesday (23) at 91. I had the pleasure of spending some time with this other paragon of rhyme and reason a few years back. While most probably know him through his 22 years of anchoring the estimable network "Sunday Morning" TV show, radio always remained his first love. As he told me, "It's a better visual medium. The 'pictures' are better and more personal. A camera is a pitiful thing next to words and imagination." Certainly something to ponder in our post-literate society. One of my Osgood favorites --- like many overlooked nuggets of truth he often found in the usual stream of images, words and voices that poured into the newsroom --- was about a 17-year-old Seattle woman who realized that, in fact, you can go home again, but you probably won't be able to slide down the laundry chute.

...when this past weekend she returned /To see in light of all she's learned  / The house in old Seattle town / That had the chute she once slid down. And so although she should have not /  Into the laundry chute she got, Prepared to slide and feel the same / As when she used to play that game.../  For old time's sake she tried once more / To do what she had done before /To find, alas, that when you grow, On laundry chutes you tend to slow... / So Donna's loose and Donna's free, But not as free as she used to be, / By Father Time she has been zapped, And in her own nostalgia trapped. Says Donna knowing what she does, 'I'm not as little as I was.

A: Thank you. Lovely, A tip of the cap to Mr. Osgood.

Q: I was talking to a manager about her employee who had written that she thought a policy was “cray-cray.” I thought the employee must be a slow learner or demented. I had to have the modern usage explained to me.

A: I am old enough to remember being puzzled the first time I encountered the word “dissed,” which I researched and discovered it was an abbreviation for “disrespected,” which you, now, in your disgusting youth, might not even know.  

Q: Here’s where I first felt “out of it.” It was 1983, and I was 25 years old. I was in charge of a church 6-7th grade youth group party, and I had requested that participants bring music. No one did. I had a mixed tape (remember them?) of 60s rock—Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon & Garfunkel—which I put on. One little kid, about 4 feet tall, came up to me and said, “Where did you get that elevator music?” And suddenly I felt VERY old.

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Q: Question about seeing weird things. I was a freshman college student in upstate NY in 1964. Nixon had lost for President in 1960 and for California governor in 1962 but he was on the hustlings in 1964 to build up some debts for a future Presidential run. The campus paper said that he would be on the campus boulevard one afternoon to stump for the Republican Senate incumbent running against Bobby Kennedy. I went out at the appropriate time and only three of us students showed up. Nixon soon drove up. The strange thing is that he stood on the car hood to address us. Over the years, I have questioned my memory. Why would a stiff guy like Nixon get up on a car hood to address three college students, one of which was a heckler? I have decided to trust the memory because it was so unusual. He talked for a few minutes, got down, shook our hands, and left. I said to myself that I would never hear from Nixon again. How wrong I was!

A: I can actually answer this, I think. Standing on the roof of a car was a big, sexy thing back then, for a candidate. Bobby Kennedy made it famous.

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Q: "Collecting Zippos is like collecting coins.  On the bottom of the Zip is a year of its production, in two numbers.   “08” means 1998" -- First, how does 08 mean 1998? What would mean 1989? Second, I have two of my father's Zippos (so pre-1970), but they say on bottom, in full:

Zippo Mfg. Co. Bradford, PA

Made in ZIPPO U.S.A.

PAT. 2517191 (R) PAT. PEND.

— A: Speaking (as you are). of antique clocks, Zippos are magically engineered, and the snapping-closed mechanism is flawless. Back when I was in college, we had mastered the art of snapping open the thing with one hand, I can still do it. It’s about applying pressure. Also, in the dark, the spark was mesmerizing.

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Q: One day in about 1986 when we lived in Ohio, we were traveling to Cleveland. We exited the freeway and stopped for the light at the end of the off ramp. Just then, a hearse that was on the Main Street started up as their light changed. The back door of the hearse flew open, the stretcher with shroud-covered body rolled out. The driver stopped, jumped out, pushed the stretcher and body back in, closed the door, jumped back in, and drove away.

A: Okay, this made me laff.

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Q: I once saw a woman win a distance-urinating contest, against men. It was in a bar, obviously. She was dignified about it, considering.

A: Okay this also made me laff. I don’t quite get the physics of it, but am impressed.

— This is Gene. I am calling us down. Please keep sending in questions and observations, and while you are at it, kids — this is a tribute to the late great Soupy Sales — go into your parents’s wallets while they are asleep, , find pictures of old men, and mail them to me.