Hello. Welcome to the new contest, which is also an old contest, so old and desiccated that it is older than some of the people who will enter it. We last ran it 29 years ago.
The original contest was to write a complete sentence using only the letters contained on the top-letter row of a typewriter. That’s how old it was: Our instructions stipulated a “typewriter.”
For Invitational Week 75: Write us something — a phrase, a sentence, more than one sentence — using only one of the following partial-keyboard options:
1. The letters on any single horizontal row of a standard computer or cellphone: (Q, W, E, R, T, Y, U, I, O, P is the top row.)
2. Any three adjacent columns going down the keyboard, as in QAZ/WSX/EDC or YHN/UJM/IK. And since those columns slant down the keyboard, you may slant the block of columns either right to left or left to right. So, for example, ESZ/RDX/TFC would also be legit.
— You may use any punctuation marks you want, and any numbers, regardless of where they are on the keyboard.
Here are a few winners from our 1995 QWERTYUIOP contest (full results here):
Peter, Peter power pooper
You require Roto-Rooter. (Ted Spencer)
You retire, I retire too; quit pro quo. (Phil Plait)
Poe + rye + terror + woe = eerie poetry. (Jennifer Hart)
Deadline is Saturday, June 15, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, June 20. 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-75.
Important formatting note: Begin each entry by telling us the first three letters of the row or columns you’re using (e.g., “QWE:”; “YHN:”). And make each entry a single line (i.e., don’t press Enter before you get to your next entry).
This week’s winner — in honor of the old cliche of the scribe at his typewriter, bottle of booze sticking out of his desk drawer — gets Cirrhosis. Unlike the little bitty toys that make up most of the Giant Microbes collection, this one’s a softball-size reversible fuzzy/plushie with a zipper on its mouth, big enough to stash a couple mini-bottles of hooch. Donated by Dave (hic) Prevar.
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.
Meanwhile, send us questions or observations, which we hope to deal with in real time today. You do this, as always, by sending them to this here button:
HeadLies: Winning ‘typos’ from Invitational Week 73
In Week 73 we “rewarded” Obsessive Loser Jeff Contompasis for his 1,000 blots of Invitational ink since 2004 by inviting him to do our work for us and judge the contest of his choice. JefCon’s challenge: Choose any real headline — from anywhere — dated that week; then change it by a single character (or switch two letters); then write a bank head, or subtitle, humorously reflecting the alteration. We sent Jeff a list of all the entries, all shuffled up, with no identifying information about the writers; he learns their names right now, along with you.
Jeff plunged into the assignment with fervor, which turned into, uh, less fervor as he plowed through more than 500 entries. “I knew this could be a tedious grind. How it’s done every week, I don’t know,” he told us when he returned his final list to us on Tuesday. But just as it is with us, once he winnowed the pile to his favorites, he found plenty to laugh at. Here are his picks.
Third runner-up:
Real headline from Axios: Denver ranks among nation’s top spots for pet- pot-friendly living
Made-up bank head: Mile High City scores 415 out of 420 on cannabis index (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)
Second runner-up:
Return of pink punk birds excites watchers
Sex petrels, red kennedys clash over nesting territory (Kevin Dopart, Naxos, Greece)
First runner-up:
6 new knew movies our critics are talking about this week
In recent NYT poll, almost no one had heard of the obscure foreign films we touted (Jonathan Jensen, Baltimore)
And the winner of the artsy book Life-Sized Animal Poop:
U.S. suspects Russia put ‘counterspace weapon’ ‘counter space weapon’ in orbit
Could inundate American kitchens with bulky air fryers and juicers (Kevin Dopart)
Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:
As always, if you feel none of those is the best among today’s inking entries, tell us your nominee in the comments (below).
Mehs With Our Heads: Honorable mentions
Veteran homelessness hoselessness ‘effectively ended’
Hanes donates thousands of pairs of socks to city shelters (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)
Still rolling tolling after all these years
Londoners to celebrate Big Ben’s 165th birthday on May 31 (Chris Doyle)
How Trump used his own court filing fling to claim an ‘assassination’ attempt
Misunderstands ‘le petit mort’ and how it’s provided (Kevin Dopart)
Boeing Starliner set to launch its first crewed screwed mission
Astronauts confident: ‘It’s not a 737, right?’ (Richard Alexander, Grand Rapids, Mich., a First Offender)
Activist loses ‘swatting’ ‘twatting’ suit against officers
Constables avoid gaol over inappropriate epithet, but judge notes victim is ‘kind of a wanker’ (Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.)
Activists target bottled bot-led water operation
Cyborgs on executive board are mindless idiots, they complain (Dan Steinbrocker, Los Angeles)
Florida man sentenced to prison for conspiring to smuggle snuggle turtles
Jury rejects ‘they’re too cute!’ defense (Sam Mertens, Silver Spring, Md.)
Logging Loggins, solitary tribe collide in Peru
Singer’s visit is not ‘alright’ with Mashco Piro people (Neil Kurland, Elkridge, Md.)
Sparks Spanks fly in tense closing arguments as Trump’s trial wraps up
Surprise reenactment of ‘rolled-up Forbes’ shocks jurors (Frank Osen)
Tornado Toronado devastates Arkansas town
1985 Oldsmobile plows into bar, diner, bait shop (Pam Shermeyer, Lathrup Village, Mich.)
Yoga Yoda You Must Do After Dinner
Pleasure You All Night He Will (Jesse Frankovich)
Mexico’s Cartels Carvels Seizing Control of Tortilla Industry
Ice cream chain was running low on waffle cones (Neil Kurland)
Trump suggests ex-rival Haley will be a part of his team ‘in some form’ forum’
A funny thing happened on the way to the convention (Kevin Dopart)
‘Nothing has ever stopped her here’
D.C. Wards 7, 8 campaign for bus service (Steve Honley, Washington, D.C.)
Add a touch of joy to your daily routine poutine
Try moose gravy on your fried curds for that special treat (Chris Doyle)
An AP Photographer Captures the Pope in a Dramatic Light Fight
87-year-old Francis punches out cardinal who called him ‘Your Ass-holiness’ (Mark L. Asquino, Santa Fe, N.M.)
MIT researchers locate three of the oldest stars tsars in the universe
After extensive planetary search fails, scientists find graves of Rurik, Oleg, Igor — in Russia (Dan Helming, Conshohocken, Pa.)
Wife of Justice Alito called upside-down flag ‘signal of distress mistress'
‘Frankly, she's welcome to him!’ Martha-Ann harrumphs (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)
Trump’s legal regal troubles
Planned 2025 coronation may be unconstitutional (Chris Doyle)
Biden hits milestone: 200 judges fudges confirmed
But still far behind Trump’s 30,573 fact-checked false or misleading claims (Chris Doyle)
6 Tasty Nasty Vegetables You Can Grow This Fall
From beets to bitter melon, a cornucopia to make the kiddos groan (Jesse Frankovich)
5 Biggest Solar Molar Projects in the US
Dentists race to make the perfect set of dentures (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Fla.)
Google’s A.I. Search Errors Terrors Cause a Furor Online
Company apologizes after all medical queries generate ‘You probably have cancer’ (Karen Lambert, Chevy Chase, Md.)
Marco Rubio wants to be Vice Vile President
Aims to out-Trump Trump in last-minute bid (Jonathan Jensen)
Money raised, spent on South Dakota ballot ballet measures
State seeks to shed image as dog-shooting cultural backwater (Jonathan Jensen)
Oleksandr Usyk Offered Chance Change to Become Three-Weight World Champion
Boxing star willing to fight for purse of two quarters, a dime and a nickel (Sam Mertens)
Bucks County’s finest scholar-athletes feted fetid at Kiwanis banquet
Busy game schedule left no time for showers (Frank Osen)
Police tape vape up outside Conley Road Walmart
‘Really, you want a little THC to mellow those guys out,’ says chief (Sam Mertens)
Research shows you shouldn’t ask ‘How are you?’ — use this small stall talk instead.
Better words for delaying are ‘Um,’ ‘uh,’ experts say (Judy Freed)
Trump pitches bitches to Black and Latino voters in South Bronx
‘Why don’t you losers support me?’ ex-President complains (Jonathan Jensen; Gary Crockett)
A Formula for Success Sucress
Stevia company leaks that it’s C20H30O3 and a Few Rebaudiosides (Kevin Dopart)
Jeff, a chemical engineer who’d be in the first ranks of the Nerd Pride Parade, notes: “I forgave the fact C20H30O3 is merely a molecular formula with no structure to specifically indicate steviol, whereas 13-hydroxy-5β,8α,9β,10α,13α-kaur-16-en-18-oic acid does — and is empirically funnier. Pay attention to detail, next time, Loser.”
And Last:DC JC Comics Reviews
After 20 years of Loserdom, Jeff Contompasis gets to be judgy on hopeful humorists (Jesse Frankovich)
The headline “HeadLies” is by Chris Doyle; Chris also wrote the honorable-mentions subhead. Jeff chose them along with today’s inking entries.
Still running — deadline 9 p.m. ET MONDAY, June 10 (but earlier is welcome!): our Week 74 contest for song lyrics on the topic of your choice — either parodies or, if you make a video, an original tune. Click on the link below.
Now we enter the real-time portion of the Gene Pool, where Gene will take your questions and observations, and respond to them. Send your stuff to this awesome creamsicle colored button:
Today’s questions, and observations so far, skew towards our challenge to report funny / interesting interactions with Trumpers. Other subjects abound, as well. If you are reading this in real time, please remember to keep refreshing your screen to get the latest Q’s and O’s.
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Q: There was a couple in the park, with their baby who looked to be a newborn. As I passed them, I heard them joyfully debating whether the baby looked like Donald Trump. I peeked. He did! A tuft of blond hair, a fat little face. Little round mouth. Cute, in a Trumpish way! I laughed and said to them: Yep, Trump! And that they shouldn’t worry, he’d soon grow out of it. The expressions on their faces were poisonous. I realized, too late, that they were quite proud of the resemblance. As though the kid looked like Lincoln, I guess.
A: You probably were a bit out of line, butting in like that. But the reaction was excellent, so you are forgiven. Go forth and sin no more, unless it results in a good anecdote.
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Q: Is there any interesting story behind the photo at the top of this column?
A: Yes. How did you know? Oh, wait. I know how you knew. You are me. I wrote this question.
Initially, we had a different keyboard up there, one we snagged quickly from Getty Images. One keyboard is pretty much like another, right? Not long before publication, we scrutinized the keyboard and discovered … anomalies.
They keyboard we’d chosen looked like this:
Note the inversion of the Z and Y, and the … umlauts. Turns out it was a German keyboard. Imagine the hell that would have wreaked on the contest.
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TIMELY TIP: 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.
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And Lastly, my threat on Tuesday to drown Lexi if you didn’t upgrade your subscription to “paid” … got some results. So I thought I would double down on the theme, only with a greater challenge to dog lovers. Today I am threatening to drown this guy. (His name is Sam.)
This is Gene, and this is the finest Internet video of the day.
We can now get on with our regularly scheduled programming.
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Q: Regarding whether or not Trump will get jail time: Suppose some random person has just been convicted of, let’s say, 34 low-level white-collar felonies but has no criminal record. But suppose this person was also known to verbally and viciously attack his perceived enemies, of which there are many (and mostly unwarranted). Suppose this person has also said and done things that seem to encourage others to commit acts of violence. Wouldn’t these factors alone weigh into his sentencing and the possibility of jail time? I thought part of what got people jail time was the danger they might pose out in the world, in addition to lack of contrition, etc.
A: I think it is likely that Judge Merchan is going to throw the book at Trump, but not because of what you say. I think he has had to basically stand by, exasperated, as every day Trump attempted to destroy public faith in the justice system and the rule of law – mocking the very system that propels our country as a democracy. It is, essentially, treasonous behavior, in the service of nothing but himself. I think sentencing is the appropriate time for the judge to make the guy stand up, and shut up, and listen to what an evil, dangerous, treasonous, infantile bastard he has been. And I think he will.
(As an aside, I thought I’d said this the other day, but can’t find it in the archive. At the risk of repeating myself, “contrition” seems to me to be a bogus criterion on which to modify punishment. Imagine someone who genuinely believes they are not guilty – and who may actually not be guilty, despite a guilty verdict. Why should they be compelled to lie, and claim contrition, as a condition of having their sentence mitigated?)
Q: I've concluded that Trump and Netanyahu are almost identical as leaders and human beings, except that Netanyahu speaks better English. – Audrey H. Liebross, Palm Desert, California
A: Hahaha.
Q: Just a quick comment: a reference that readers and you might enjoy.
Sorting through my old books, I found James Thurber’s “Fables for Our Time” and read “The Owl Who Was God”. So relevant even years after it was written.
Liz Gould-Leger
A: It is so short we can run it in full here:
Once upon a starless midnight there was an owl who sat on the branch of an oak tree. Two ground moles tried to slip quietly by, unnoticed. "You!" said the owl. "Who?" they quavered, in fear and astonishment, for they could not believe it was possible for anyone to see them in that thick darkness. "You two!" said the owl. The moles hurried away and told the other creatures of the field and forest that the owl was the greatest and wisest of all animals because he could see in the dark and because he could answer any question. "I’ll see about that, "said a secretary bird, and he called on the owl one night when it was again very dark. "How many claws am I holding up?" said the secretary bird. "Two," said the owl, and that was right. "Can you give me another expression for “that is to say” or “namely?" asked the secretary bird. "To wit," said the owl. "Why does the lover call on his love?" "To woo," said the owl.
The secretary bird hastened back to the other creatures and reported that the owl indeed was the greatest and wisest animal in the world because he could see in the dark and because he could answer any question. "Can he see in the daytime, too?" asked a red fox? "Yes," answered a dormouse and a French poodle. "Can he see in the daytime, too?" All the other creatures laughed loudly at this silly question, and they set upon the red fox and his friends and drove them out of the region. They sent a messenger to the owl and asked him to be their leader.
When the owl appeared among the animals it was high noon and the sun was shining brightly. He walked very slowly, which gave him an appearance of great dignity, and he peered about him with large, staring eyes, which gave him an air of tremendous importance. "He’s God!" screamed a Plymouth rock hen. And the others took up the cry "He’s God!" So they followed him wherever he went and when he bumped into things they began to bump into things, too. Finally he came to a concrete highway and he started up the middle of it and all the other creatures followed him. Presently a hawk, who was acting as outrider, observed a truck coming toward them at fifty miles an hour, and he reported to the secretary bird and the secretary bird reported to the owl. "There’s danger ahead," said the secretary bird. "To wit?" said the owl. The secretary bird told him. "Aren’t you afraid?" he asked. "Who?" said the owl calmly, for he could not see the truck. "He’s God!" cried all the creatures again, and they were still crying "He’s God" when the truck hit them and ran them down. Some of the animals were merely injured, but most of them, including the owl, were killed.
Moral: You can fool too many of the people too much of the time.
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A: I love this story, and it is indeed appropriate for our times. But I must reluctantly dash some cold water on it. I regret doing this to Thurber.
Contrary to myth, owls see quite well in the light. They see as well as we do. I learned this just now from Rachel’s father, who, for delightfully arcane reasons, is becoming an expert on owls.
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Q: Before the 2016 election, my brother sent an email to me and my siblings saying that we had to vote for Trump because he was the only one who was going to do something about the immigrant problem that was ruining the country. Most of our ancestors were Irish. My response was to his email was simply pasting in the lyrics to The Pogues song "Thousands Are Sailing." Crickets.
A: I doubt if he understood it, frankly. I think the crickets were not “shame on me,” but “Huh?”
It is a complex song, about all aspects of immigration: Those who make it, those who don’t, those who die en route, those who arrive and thrive and prosper; and those who arrive to live in degradation and destitution, but with personal freedom. But the key, to me, is that it deeply humanizes all the immigrants in a tribute to the nobility of hope. A fine song that one will not understand if one does not want to.
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Q: Hi Gene. Since someone mentioned a rude response to a traffic accident, let me tell you a story. A few years ago, my aunt was driving on a rural road in Vermont when she hit a deer. She was fine. The deer, not so much. She reported the accident to the police, and a few months later, got a ticket in the mail - not for her driving, but for killing a deer out of season.
A: I love bureaucracy. It feeds so much humor.
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Question for Trump at the debate: “Sir, are you physically fit enough to do ten squat thrusts right now, next to your lectern? Wait, sorry, obviously you are not. You could never, ever, do it nor would you try. I withdraw the question.”
A: How many do you think he’d complete, under that must-answer challenge, before collapsing?
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Q: The Miami Marlins are so bad the city of Miami is thinking of changing ITS name.
A: This is from a long-ago challenge. It’s one of the best “so bad” offerings I’ve seen, ever.
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Q: In your last chat, you said that the new management team at The Post is all from elsewhere. Matt Murray, the new Executive Editor, actually grew up in Bethesda and was a classmate of mine at Walter Johnson High School. So he is not entirely from elsewhere. (Though he has spent most of his career in New York.)
A: My point was none of them really know the ins and outs and protocols of Washington journalism. The Post has historically hired its top people from within. (except for the great Marty Baron, who was a no-brainer, and adapted brilliantly.) Washington is a different world from anywhere else, including New York.
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Q: ESP - My mother and I would often answer questions the other had thought of but had not yet asked. We used to kid about telepathy, but I believe now that we were so much in one another's company, and our thought processes were so very similar, that we were reacting to the same stimuli. After I moved out and saw her less often, it never happened again.
A: Reminds me of a Sherlock Holmes short story, The Adventures of the Cardboard Box. It contains this scene:
Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation I had tossed side the barren paper, and leaning back in my chair I fell into a brown study. Suddenly my companion’s voice broke in upon my thoughts: “You are right, Watson,” said he. “It does seem a most preposterous way of settling a dispute.”
“Most preposterous!” I exclaimed, and then suddenly realizing how he had echoed the inmost thought of my soul, I sat up in my chair and stared at him in blank amazement.
“What is this, Holmes?” I cried. “This is beyond anything which I could have imagined.”
He laughed heartily at my perplexity. “You remember,” said he, “that some little time ago when I read you the passage in one of Poe’s sketches in which a close reasoner follows the unspoken thoughts of his companion, you were inclined to treat the matter as a mere tour-de-force of the author. On my remarking that I was constantly in the habit of doing the same thing you expressed incredulity.”
[...]
“Then I will tell you. After throwing down your paper, which was the action which drew my attention to you, you sat for half a minute with a vacant expression. Then your eyes fixed themselves upon your newly framed picture of General Gordon, and I saw by the alteration in your face that a train of thought had been started. But it did not lead very far. Your eyes flashed across to the unframed portrait of Henry Ward Beecher which stands upon the top of your books. Then you glanced up at the wall, and of course your meaning was obvious. You were thinking that if the portrait were framed it would just cover that bare space and correspond with Gordon’s picture there.”
“You have followed me wonderfully!” I exclaimed.
“So far I could hardly have gone astray. But now your thoughts went back to Beecher, and you looked hard across as if you were studying the character in his features. Then your eyes ceased to pucker, but you continued to look across, and your face was thoughtful. You were recalling the incidents of Beecher’s career. I was well aware that you could not do this without thinking of the mission which he undertook on behalf of the North at the time of the Civil War, for I remember your expressing your passionate indignation at the way in which he was received by the more turbulent of our people. You felt so strongly about it that I knew you could not think of Beecher without thinking of that also. When a moment later I saw your eyes wander away from the picture, I suspected that your mind had now turned to the Civil War, and when I observed that your lips set, your eyes sparkled, and your hands clenched I was positive that you were indeed thinking of the gallantry which was shown by both sides in that desperate struggle. But then, again, your face grew sadder, you shook your head. You were dwelling upon the sadness and horror and useless waste of life. Your hand stole towards your own old wound and a smile quivered on your lips, which showed me that the ridiculous side of this method of settling international questions had forced itself upon your mind. At this point I agreed with you that it was preposterous and was glad to find that all my deductions had been correct.”
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Highly illogical and stretchy, but entertaining, I think.
This is Gene. Did anyone read that horrifying story I liked to at the end of Tuesday’s Gene Pool, about the professors who want to be able to fail a student who skips class for an abortion — and the other appalling fallout from Dobbs? No questions or comments?
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Q: Woo-woo experience: The night of Feb. 22, 1999 I awoke from sleep with the panicky feeling that I could not breathe. I have never experienced this before or since. I kept gasping for air, and got up and opened the bedroom window and tried breathing in gulps of cold winter air. I thought of the man I had been in a serious relationship with before meeting my husband. He was subject to frightening attacks of asthma, especially in winter, and would sometimes have to be hospitalized. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was having such an attack right then and possibly dying and somehow reaching out to me.
On March 5th, after a lovely afternoon visiting my college roommate, who was in D.C. with her husband for the weekend and had invited me to join them for lunch at the Willard, I came home and was relaxing and reading the Washington Post. When I got to the obits page, I was shocked and grieved to see the name of my former sweetheart and a notice saying he had died of a heart attack on Feb. 22 in a hospital in D.C.
A: Some of such stories are easily explained by a single word — “coincidence.” But some are not. Yours is not.
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Question for Trump at a debate: When you grab a pussy, do you wash your hands afterwards? – Barry Blyveis
A: This made me spit my coffee.
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Okay, folks, I am going to leave it here. PLEASE keep sending in Questions and Observations. I need them. I beg for them harder than I beg for paid subscriptions, and my begging there is already humiliating. Please. Q’s and O’s. Otherwise, I will have to start making them up, and I’m not as good as you are.
Right here:
See you on the weekend.
I’m not as fond of working blue as the usual judges are, but the Yoda entry was pretty great.
I think this is one of the funniest contest results so far this year.