The Invitational Week 76: So Good! So Bad! So Ugly!

We bring back a classic contest. Plus our winning parody lyrics and videos.

and

Jun 13, 2024

^^ Click above to watch Dave Scheiber’s “Stand by Your Sham,” the winning video in our Week 74 parody contest. Dave even enlisted Tammy Wynette to sing with him! Well, it’s old clips of the real Tammy, with Dave’s wife, Janie, lip-syncing his lyrics. Also featuring Mike Johnson and various other toadies saying their toady things. See more videos and lyrics below.

Triple Play: This week’s new contest, Invitational Week 76

Good: You get to spend a summer’s day at a beautiful beach.
Bad: It’s awfully crowded and noisy.
Ugly: It is June 6, 1944. (Beverley Sharp)

Good: She says she won’t try to change you.
Bad: You are 97 years old.
Ugly: She is your nurse. (Chuck Smith)

Here’s a classic Invitational contest that, we were surprised to discover, we’ve done only twice previously — ten years ago, and fourteen years before that. And unlike some of our recent efforts, we don’t need a page of rules and guidelines to say how it works.

For Invitational Week 76: Present some situation as a good/bad/ugly set, as in the examples above from 2014 and 2000, respectively. While we’ll make them into three pretty lines as above, please send each of your progressions as a single line, like this one by Heather Spence:
Good: I got a promotion. Bad: After sleeping with the boss. Ugly: It’s a family business.

Deadline is Saturday, June 22, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, June 27. 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-76.

This week’s winner gets something so bad and ugly it’s good: It’s a pair of earrings with almost life-size plastic eyeballs — complete with lashed eyelids that roll up and down in the style of an old Chatty Cathy doll. They would be de rigueur at Loserdom’s Met Gala, the annual Flushies picnic/potluck/songfest, Sunday afternoon, July 7, in Arlington, Va. (Write to BrunchOfLosers@gmail.com to ask for an invitation.)

Here’s lookin’ (and blinkin’) at you, kid: Eyes for your ears, this week’s prize.

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:

this here button

Any Sing Goes: The parodies of Week 74

We issued our call for song lyrics and videos in Invitational Week 74 as a free-for-all: They could be on current events, as usual — or anything else. But the entry window covered both the Trump verdict and the Alito flag fracas, so what you gonna do — out of the hundreds of songs we received, almost a dozen were on the flag business.

As always, we got too many good songs and videos than a sane person can process on one page, so the Empress will share some more inkworthies in the Style Invitational Devotees Facebook group over the next few days; you can search there on the hashtag #parodies.

(Click on the titles of the songs to hear the original tunes and sing, or at least listen, along.)

Second runner-up: Driving With Clarence (To “See the U.S.A. in Your Chevrolet”):
Be beyond reproach in your motor coach
A billionaire can get it for you free
Or what’s better yet, go by private jet —
Another billionaire will pay the fee!
They love you for yourself, not your position;
No need to disclose it, you don’t need permission.
The ethics burden isn’t heavy!
So see the U.S.A., take a trip today —
It’s easy ’cause your “friends” will pay!
(Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)

First runner-up: Blame — Ode to Alito (to “Mame”; Judy Freed sings it here)
When you screw up, just point to your wife. Blame!
Complain of neighbors causing you strife. Blame!
Deny it when we say there is evil at the bottom of your soul.
Explain that you just never learned how to hang a flag up on your pole.

You say the Dems want you to recuse. Blame!
Proclaim two flags were not enough clues. Blame!
You'll never be impartial ’cause Donald Trump is now your favorite name.
You’ll vote for his immunity,
Defend him with impunity,
Then say we need more unity. Blame! (Judy Freed, Deerfield Beach, Fla.)

The winner (video division): Stand by Your Sham (lyrics and video by Dave Scheiber, St. Petersburg, Fla., performed by Janie and Dave Scheiber) See the video at the top of the page.

And the winner of the Big Ol’ Word Nerd socks for best song:
To “If I Only Had a Brain”:
Many say of Robert Junior, “His mind is getting punier!
His smarts are on the wane!”
Now, perhaps, the explanation for that sad deterioration:
There’s a worm inside his brain.

Of his “thinking” we’d grown weary with every farfetched theory;
Perhaps this could explain
Why he’s turned to glibly waxing, stop-the-steal-ing, anti-vaxxing:
There’s a worm inside his brain.

Unseen, inside his bean, an aperture it carved.
Prob’ly hoped to bring the pupa, once it larved.
But now it’s dead. (My guess: it starved.)

Done with D’s and R’s, you smarty? “This fall I’ll vote third-party”?
Not here to yank your chain,
But come Tuesday in November, you should probably remember
There’s a worm inside his brain. (Duncan Stevens, Vienna , Va.)

Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

As always, if you feel none of those is the best among today’s inking entries, shout out your favorites in the comments (below).

Music of the Not: Honorable mentions

To “Try to Remember”:
Try to remember when we reach November,
Do not elect that awful fellow
Try to remember he’s no Mensa member
In fact, his brain is filled with jello.
Try to remember a KKK member
Is likely to call him a pal, so hell, no.
Try to remember don’t pick in November
A felon. Felon felon felon felon …. (Hildy Zampella, Sarasota, Fla.)

^^ Sleepin’ in the Courtroom, lyrics by Jonathan Jensen, Baltimore, performed by Bob Heck

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34th Guilty Verdict (to “19th Nervous Breakdown”)
You’re a dirty cheater and a ranting tweeter who is globally despised.
Center of a crowd, talking much too loud, with an ego oversized.
Well, it’s pretty clear to the people here that you’ve lied a bunch of times,
And though you’ve tried you just can’t hide your litany of crimes.
You better stop, look around...
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes,
Here comes your 34th guilty verdict!

When a famous star is what you’re proud you are, you believe that you can do
Anything you please, but you are just a sleaze who is nasty through and through.
A busty beaut that you tried to mute got a hundred thirty K,
And your fixer aide says he got repaid in an underhanded way...
Oh, who’s to blame? It’s rigged, that’s your claim.
It’s all a scam being played on you;
The judge’s corrupt and the jury too—oh, please… (Jesse Frankovich, Laingsburg, Mich.)

Stefanik’s Veep Campaign (to Beethoven’s “Für Elise”)
I would really like to be VP,
So I’ll give up my dignity.
I’ll gin up baseless smears of Judge Merchan,
My self-respect has largely gone.
On all my Trump critiques I’ve now reneged;
That jury verdict? It was “rigged.”
And maybe MAGA faithful will applaud
If I invent election “fraud.”
And what the heck, I’ll take the plunge,
Impeachment records: “Let’s expunge”—
You see, you see? VP: pick me, pick me!
I’ll call the 1/6 plotters “hostages,”
If that is what the Donald says…
My suck-up skills, eclipsed! I’ve got no chance:
I’m losing out to J.D. Vance. (Duncan Stevens)
—

^^The Final Stretch (lyrics written and performed by school librarian Sarah Walsh, Rockville, Md.)

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I Am Donald (to “I Am Woman”)
I am Donald, hear me bitch
About my trial, the likes of which
Was so corrupt and rigged no way that I could win.
Michael Cohen chose to switch,
Become a sleazebag and a snitch,
While each Merchan ruling proved the fix was in.
Yes, I tell lies to keep the MAGA suckers mine,
And, no, it’s no surprise the GOP has stayed in line.
If they diss me, they’ll be McConnelled.
I’m a strongman! I am invincible! I am Donald!
(Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)

Coup by You (to “Blue Bayou”)
It’s so sad, you’ve got a twisted mind.
You’re so loathsome all the time.
Democracy got left behind
In the coup by you.

Wealth and power, you can’t resist ’em.
Way too many crimes to list ’em.
Now have fun in the penal system
For the coup by you.

We’re going back someday to a U.S.A.
Pre-coup by you.
Narcissistic swine, treason’s the crime
In the coup by you.
For your sins you’ll be in
Jumpsuits matching your skin!
If I could only see.
I’m not usually a hater, but you’re just a dictator-
Wannabe. (Connie Akers, Radford, Va.)

—

^^ Because Biden (to “Because the Night,” written and sung by Laurie Brink, Mineola, N.Y.)
I hear you saying that you’re uninspired,
That Joe isn’t everything that you desired.
He’s old and his policies aren’t your ideal;
I'm sympathetic, but you gotta get real.

Come on now, try and understand
That even if Biden’s not your ideal man,
He’s light-years better than the other guy,
So if you ask me why
To vote for him, I
Can tell you just why...

Because Biden is not a moron,
Because Biden acts like an adult,
Because Biden has done some good things,
Because he leads a party, not a cult.

Have I doubts about his aging brain?
I mean, sure, but Trump’s straight-up insane.
Better a president who’s past his prime
Than a narcissist loon who keeps committing crime.

Oh, come on now, help me understand
What anyone sees in that mango man?
He keeps losing trials, he has no defense —
How does this make sense? Make it make sense! Just use common sense...

Because Biden is not an asshole,
Because Biden never staged a coup,
Because Biden does not grab pussies,
Because he’s not a sack of flaming poo.

Oh, “man and woman, person, camera, and TV,”
That’s Trump’s sole “evidence” of sanity!
Meanwhile, he’s been committing felonies;
This choice is easy! Please,
Just vote for Joe, even though he’s just so-so...

Because Biden does not quote Hitler!
Truly the bar is set so low,
But Trump keeps on sliding underneath it,
Winning the worst game of limbo.
(Because Biden) is not racist!
(Because Biden) is not loco!
(Because Biden) is not awful!
Just do the only sane thing, guys, and vote for Joe!

Trump or Biden (to “Love and Marriage”)
Trump or Biden, Trump or Biden:
That’s the choice this year. It's not excitin’.
This I'll tell you, brother:
It’s one old white guy or the other.

Trump or Biden, Trump or Biden:
There’s no other choice, no dark horse hidin’.
If I had my druthers
I’d prefer there’d be some others.

“There is always a third party” — that’s an illusion.
If you think third party, you will come to this conclusion:

Trump or Biden, Trump or Biden:
It’s between these two we’ll be decidin’.
Here’s the story I’m tellin’:
It will be one. It's just which one.
It's one old white guy or the … felon.
(Bernard Brink, Cleveland, Mo. — Laurie’s dad)

Do You Need Ozempic (to “Do You Believe in Magic”)
Do you need Ozempic, finding hunger hard?
Just one prick a week will get rid of your lard
And it’s magic, you know, this semaglutide
Will make you thinner than the diets you tried
No willpower’s needed, you’re not under a knife,
There’s just one small detail, though, you’ll be on it for life . . .
(Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.)

Hungaring for Orban (to “Be Our Guest”)
Budapest! Budapest has conservatives impressed:
From V. Orban they’re absorbin’ plans they’d like to bring back west.
Crushed dissent, seized the courts: “what a guy!” come their reports;
Over this Hungarian despot right-wing fawning has no respite,

State-owned press, “no mixed race” they are eager to embrace—
He loves Putin? They are not at all distressed.
So he’s a fascist strongman? They see nothing wrong, man,
Think he’s blessed—“he’s the best!” Budapest! (Duncan Stevens)

—

^^A Roomful of Jurors (to “A Spoonful of Sugar” from “Mary Poppins, written and performed by Judy Freed)

Bigots on Parade (to “Silhouettes on the shade”)
Took a walk and passed your house, late last night,
And the cops arrested me, on first sight
Guess I was too Black to be
In your ’hood after eight
Oh, what a lousy welcome committee…

Told them I lived on the block, three doors down,
Without listening, they seethed, “Turn’ around!
Raise your hands — uh oh, you breathed!
The consequence will be great
And with our cuffs your wrists will be wreathed.” ..

Gave myself up but they Tased anyway
Bodycam vids were erased, so they say,
Glad a doorbell cam you raised
Or they would surely skate
(Not that they’ll pay at the end of the day)
Hypocrites, Bigot Shits …
Too many Bigot Shits on parade. (Jon Gearhart, Des Moines)

Togetherness (to “Blinded by the Light”)
Neighbors fighting, spiting, Sam Alito-slighting,
Martha’s flag hangs upside down.
At the time of the crime, turns out Ginni’s in the slime,
Abetting the ochre clown.
With the golden bars she’s holdin’, Benjamins she’s rolled in,
For Nadine, a ragtop, too.
Then the press started pryin’, spyin’, implyin’,
And their husbands knew what would ensue…
And their husbands knew just what to do!
So if your world is filled with strife,
Demands to resign — they have a lesson for your life:
Blame it on your wife! … (Steve Smith, Potomac, Md.)

Um, Something About a Brain (To “If I Only Had a Brain”)
When you're gettin’ old and brittle, it takes some time to piddle —
Now let me please explain:
All your organs diminish as you’re headin’ for your finish;
Sadly, that includes your brain.

When your memory gets hazy, it doesn’t mean you’re crazy
(Or borderline insane);
But the names of your buddies (who, like you, are fuddy-duddies)
Have escaped your aging brain.

Oh, I can't tell you why our bodies start to crash;
I used to do mathematics in a flash!
(Is Prevagen worth all that cash???)

As you go through life, be wary ’cause your vocabulary
Is surely gonna wane;
So enjoy every minute —
Hey, you're on the Earth, not in it! —
And applaud your awesome brain!
(Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)

^^The Boy From Mar-a-Lago (Courtroom 2024 Edition) (to “The Girl From Ipanema,” lyrics by Sandy Riccardi, Asheville, N.C., performed by Sandy and Richard Riccardi)

And Last, to The Invitational’s favorite song to parody, “Be Our Guest”:
I’ll attempt, yes attempt, if I’m inked I'll be verklempt!
Though this effort is quite meritless, please temper your contempt.
It’s quite clear, I can’t spoof, and this entry is the proof —
I’m no Stevens, I’m no Jensen; they are captains, I’m an ensign.
Still I try, still I hope (and this tune is such a trope) —
From this foolish dream I’m surely not exempt!
Since I’m so undeserving, won’t you grade while curving?
Don’t preempt, or perempt, my attempt!
(oh, all right, Karen Lambert, Chevy Chase, Md.)

The headline “Any Sing Goes” is by Tom Witte; Judy Freed wrote the honorable-mentions subhead.

Still running — deadline 9 p.m. ET Saturday, June 15: our Week 75 contest to write funny things with only certain sections of the keyboard. Click on the link below.

The Invitational Week 75: Qwerty Lashes

Pat Myers and Gene Weingarten

June 6, 2024

Read full story

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:

Creamsicle colored button

Many of today’s questions relate to my weekend-oriented challenge to talk about when you feel you became an adult. But not all of them.

Q: I first became an adult when I was 16 when I learned to spell “when.” It was ridiculous, and I learned life made no sense.

A: Thank you.

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Q: I became an adult in 1999, when I was 23 years old and discovered that women’s lips tasted great.

A: Thank you. I was 17.

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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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Also, You could give me money.

Simply great feature article of the day: https://www.notus.org/congress/republicans-chance-to-win-this-year-baseball

A: This is a great story!

Q: If you are depressed, you should take a look at Rachel Manteuffel’s magnificent piece in yesterday’s Post. It also obliquely explains why I have been reporting, week to week, from Charlottesville. Tuesday’s Gene Pool will be on Monday, too. Charlottesville has some nice restaurants.

Q: Supposedly true: A guy’s wife is shopping, tries on a dress, takes a selfie, sends it to him, asking, “Does this make me look fat?” He replies, “Noooo!” Autocorrect changed it to “Moooo!” Roy Ashley

A: I hope this is real I trust you, Roy.

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Q: "When you’re 20 you care what everyone thinks, when you’re 40 you stop caring what everyone thinks, when you’re 60 you realize no one was ever thinking about you in the first place." --- Attributed to Will Rogers

A: Yes.

When I first felt like a grownup: I had already gotten married, moved across country, bought a house, and had twin babies. But I still felt like I was pretending. The first thing that made me *feel* like a grownup was when our babies' nanny died at age 33 and I would invite her then—8-year-old daughter to hang out. Having to be a role model to her made me feel like the adult in the room.

As a teenager, I remember sitting around with my parents and their friends sometimes and they would talk about adult things. One day, when they were talking about escrow I thought, "This is really boring. If I'm ever sitting around a table talking about escrow, I'll know I'm an adult."

So I don't like talking about escrow, and I still feel like a little kid when I giggle with delight at being able to buy things at the liquor store. A friend told me about this drink called an Aviation, made with a nice lavender-colored creme de violette ,and I felt like a kid about to get caught playing grownup when I bought all the ingredients for it and made it for myself at home.

I won't tell you my age, but I was born in 1970.

— Marisa

Q: I don't think I've grown up because I have no idea what to do most of the time. I'm like a twelve year old. Sure, I attend work and pay bills, but if someone falls to the ground clutching their chest, I stand there like an idiot, unable to remember the number for 9 1 1 . Example of this: A student ran into my office to tell me there was an elderly man dead on the floor of the men's room. I was sitting at my desk, inches from a landline phone, but instead of grabbing the landline, I grabbed my cell phone, found I barely had service, and instead of grabbing the landline phone, I chose to run down four flights of stairs where there was better reception. I just don't know how to adult - I go through the motions, but anything out of the ordinary throws me.

A: I have lived in terror of having to administer CPR. My daughter is a veterinarian, and knows exactly how, even with a human. I hate her only because of this. She is otherwise fabulous.

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Two questions for Donald Trump at a debate: Do you think the people kissing your ass to be your running mate hope you will die in office? (Twow” is a ridiculous looking word, BTW.)

Q: Another question: How will you cope with the fact that if re-elected you’ll be only the SECOND oldest US President ever?

Q: What varietal of penis is your penis? Is it a shiitake? An oyster?

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Q. It has been reported that professional actors were hired to clap for you when you came down the escalator at Trump tower to announce your candidacy for President back in 2015. Were they ever actually paid and, if so, how much each? Was it more than $20? – Bill Jacobs

Q: When you took up clockmaking, did your concept of time or how you personally measured it change ? Did it become more corporeal or based on the duration of specific events ? Or did it remain pretty much the same ?

A: I don’t actually MAKE clocks, but I repair very old ones. It gave me a deep respect for the mechanical basis behind it. The movements are essentially unchanged from 1700. A brilliant design. They keep time to within 4 minutes a day. My oldest working clock was made in 1858. One minute a week. I only had to repair it once. James Buchanan was president.

Q: Going through Tyson’s Two with my three-year old daughter, and she decides to throw a tantrum. We can’t calm her down, so I pick her up to carry her to our car, parked at the opposite end of the mall. She starts struggling and yelling, “Help! Help! You’re not my daddy! I want my Mommy! Help!” for the whole five-minute walk to the car. I believe my obvious embarrassment was the only reason that mall security decided not to confront me.

A: Wow… Was she canny enough at three to do that deliberately?

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