SNOOPY died yesterday at the age of 525 in human years. There will be a top-of-casket viewing on Sunday.

GREGOR SAMSA, a traveling salesman and recent reclusive, was killed in
his home during a scheduled pest control treatment.

ALICE “TINKER” BELL died suddenly last week during the taping of a TV
show when a stagehand neglected to flash the applause sign.

For Invitational Week 139: Write us a short passage from an obituary for a fictional character, as in the examples above: the first by Rob Cohen, who suggested this contest, the others by Chris Doyle from a broader version of this contest in 2016 (results here).

Formatting this week: Unless you’re writing a poem, please write your entry as one long line, per our usual request (i.e., don’t press Enter until you’re ready to type your next entry).

Deadline is Saturday, Sept. 6, at 9 p.m. ET. Results will run here in The Gene Pool on Thursday, Sept. 11 (hey, we don’t write the calendar). 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-139.

(suggestion: if you are reading this in an email, please click on the headline to get the updated version of the Gene Pool, where you can see the online version of the column, including any amendments, emendations, etc. made after the email was sent.)

This week’s winner receives what will surely go on our list as One of Our Best Prizes Ever, along with the boluses of dried owl vomit, the bottle of Laotian potency liquor with a preserved scorpion inside, and the package of a snack labeled “Smorked Beef Rectum.” It was custom-made for Longtime Loser Robin Diallo, whom the State Department dispatches to hot spots around the word (e.g., as the de facto ambassador to Haiti), even during her alleged retirement to a farm in Florida. So Robin was recently in Namibia (Trump Atlas: Nambia), where there’s a local specialty craft of carving seeds from the makalani palm tree, exposing the white layer beneath. Thinking of The Invitational — as she did when she sent us a Zulu penis-tip cover — she commissioned a craftsman to personalize this key chain as a 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.

Pumping the Breaks: The ‘Hyphen the Terrible’ neologisms of Week 137

In Invitational Week 137, we once again invited you to find some hyphenated terms among that week’s publications, then combine parts of two of them into a new word or phrase. Those who used print newspapers — stealing them off that elderly neighbor’s doorstep? — had an advantage this week, it turns out: While hyphens do abound online, the word-splitters at the ends of lines proved especially useful for the portmanteau words in several of this week’s inking entries. (Yes, we see that most of the entries are about our T-Ruined World; that’s mostly what you sent us.)

Third runner-up:
Anti-American + sea-sons: AMERICAN SEA: Google Maps’ next name for the Atlantic Ocean? (Beverley Sharp, Montgomery, Ala.)

Second runner-up:
Medium-duty + over-whelming: MEDIUM-WHELMING: Making you feel neither overcome nor unimpressed; it’s when you’re being whelmed just right. (Pam Shermeyer, Lathrup Village, Mich.)

First runner-up: Whatev-er +similar-ity: WHATEVITY: Misfortune that you just have to shrug off. “Edwin summoned his inner Honey Badger and laughed at the whatevity of it all.” (Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.)

And the winner of The Book of Totally Useless Information:
Ef-forts + ref-ugees: EF-U-GEES: These days, that’d be everyone seeking asylum in the U.S. except genocide-fleeing white South Africans. (Kevin Dopart, Washington, D.C.)

And now, the Invitational Gene Pool Gene Poll:

As always, if you think we ignored better entries in the Honorables (below) yell at us in the Comments.

Leave a comment

Split-Seconds: Honorable mentions

Pa-tients + ma-triculated: PATRICULATED: Got into college courtesy of Dad’s wallet. “Jared Kushner patriculated right into Harvard in 2003.” (Steve Smith, Potomac, Md.)

Boston-based + super-fine: BOSTON-SUPER: Polite translation of “Wicked pissah.” (Roy Ashley, Washington, D.C.)

Extrava-ganza + Dia-logue: EXTRAVALOGUE: An interminable tour recap. “Oh, no, not another 137-photo extravalogue of Linda’s trip to Equatorial Guinea.” (Frank Osen)

Of-fense + Shel-don: OFDON: New name for MAGA handmaids. Well, not all of them, just the hot ones. (Kevin Dopart)

Fail-ure + thunder-storm: FAILSTORM: A tempest of destruction that hasn’t let up since January 20. (Jonathan Jensen, Baltimore)

Go-go + sto-rytelling: GORYTELLING: The essence of true-crime podcasting. (Kevin Dopart)

Dead-line + motor-cade: DEADCADE: Ten years of politics devoted to one authoritarian narcissist. (Duncan Stevens, Vienna, Va.)

Sub-700 + sup-ported: SUBPORTED: Gave less than enthusiastic approval. “At the end of the day, too many Democrats subported Harris.” (Jeff Contompasis, Ashburn, Va.)

Butter-fly + Flesh-eating: FLY-FLESH: What’s on the menu at Alligator Alcatraz. (Pam Shermeyer)

Bi-den + Jew-ish: BI-ISH: What you discover about yourself on Saturday night as the bar is closing and it’s just the two of you still there … (Jon Ketzner, Cumberland, Md.)

Agree-ment + stand-off: AGREE-OFF: Preliminary round of a Mar-a-Lago kiss-ass tournament. (Kevin Dopart)

Colo-nial + hold-in: COLO-HOLD: The unpleasant last few miles of a road trip. (Neil Kurland, Elkridge, Md.)

Eligi-ble + Cy-press: ELIGI-PRESS: The handpicked media allowed to cover White House events. “The eligi-press are all saying (in unison) how our President’s Big Beautiful Bill is the biggest and beautifulest bill of all time.” (Jon Gearhart, Des Moines)

F-22 + mail-in: F-MAIL: The e-mail you wouldn’t have sent if you’d calmed down from your rage for five minutes. (Leif Picoult, Rockville, Md.)

Grand-mother + some-thing: MOTHERSOME: Nurturing to a fault. “Six emails in two days about sunscreen misinformation on TikTok? Mom’s getting awfully mothersome lately.” (Jeff Contompasis)

Ho-nolulu + hump-backs: HO-HUMP: A brothel’s 2-star rating on Yelp. (Chris Doyle, Denton, Tex.)

Inconsis-tent + clothing-optional: TENT-CLOTHING: What you need to pack for the last days of the cruise. (Beverley Sharp)

Insta-gram + se-curity: INSTACURITY: Coming soon by the hundreds to your blue-state city! “Actually, I felt safer when the Army wasn’t patrolling the car wash.” (Frank Osen)

Jelly-fish + se-quence: JELLYQUENCE: When your preschooler holds forth with great rhetorical force about why her PB&J had too much PB. (Duncan Stevens)

Jurisdic-tion + king-size: JURISDICKING: Doling out injustice. “SCOTUS jurisdicked American democracy again.” (Chris Doyle)

Man-ufacturer + in-ventory: MANVENTORY: What you check out when you open Grindr. (Malcolm Fleschner, Palo Alto, Calif.)

Of-ten + sim-ply: TEN-PLY: Industrial-strength toilet paper. “Whoa, after that chili cook-off, I’m gonna need the …” (Chris Doyle)

Pal-est + al-chemy: PALCHEMY: The lost science of turning an asshole into a bro. (Jon Ketzner)

Philan-thropic + un-dergraduate: PHILANDERGRADUATE: An alumnus of Strayer University. (Chris Doyle)

Pow-ers + How-dy: POW-HOW: Batman’s Step-by-Step Guide to Crimefighting. (Kevin Dopart)

Presi-dential + do-minion: PRESI-MINION: Previously “civil servant”; now loyalist dedicated to keeping the leader’s heinie shiny. (Dave Prevar, Annapolis, Md.)

Rheto-ric + millen-nium: RHETONIUM: Destabilizing element of political speech. “Trump accused the mayor of treason, not to mention being dumb and ugly, in yet another rhetonium-filled screed.” (Duncan Stevens)

Tem-peratures + de-ployment: TEMPLOYMENT: These days, how it’s best to think of any job except Supreme Court justice. (Chris Doyle)

Tour-nament + bour-geoisie: TOURGEOISIE: Viking Cruise passengers. “Heavens no, we don’t do karaoke.” (Kevin Dopart)

Zero-emission + pre-venting: EMISSION-VENTING: What an auto mechanic calls a fart. (Frank Osen)

Trump-card + Ras-putin + un-American: TRUMP-PUTIN-UN: A threesome you do not want to fantasize about. (Jon Cannon, Potomac, Md.)

AI-generated + AI-proof + centuries-old: A.I.-A.I.-OLD: That geezer MacDonald has a server farm, but he’s still using Chat GPT-4, if you can imagine. (Gary Crockett, Chevy Chase, Md.)

The headline “Pumping the Breaks” is by Jeff Contompasis; both Chris Doyle and Kevin Dopart submitted the honorable-mentions subhead. And the headline “Bones Mots” is by Tom Witte, from our 2016 contest.

Still running — deadline Saturday, Aug. 30, at 9 p.m. ET: Our contest for writing something humorous in the numerical sequence called Narayana’s Cows. Click below for details.

The Invitational Week 138: Have a Cow Pat Myers and Gene Weingarten · Aug 21 Read full story

Now we seamlessly segue into the Real-Time portion of The Gene Pool, where Gene usually answers questions in real time. Today it’s not exactly real time; these are questions and answers that came in a week ago or so, and they are all stacked below. Most are about my request that you reveal the weirdest thing you have eaten. Please send new questions and observations, on any subject here. They will be addressed next week.

QUESTIONS AND OBSERVATIONS

Q: Re: Weird foods I have eaten. Oddest thing was my English test in seventh grade. I got a bad grade, and I didn't want to take it home and my mom would see it and be mad at me, so I ate it to hide the evidence.

A: Excellent.

Q: ​​Re: weird foods I have eaten. A colleague and I travelled to Tokyo for a business meeting, and our Japanese colleagues took us to a small Fugu restaurant, where all the dishes featured that Japanese specialty -pufferfish that if not prepared carefully will poison everyone. Neither of the Americans had tried that delicacy before. I assumed it was safe, Mike was a bit worried, but tried all the dishes, and we survived. Our Japanese colleagues were impressed, especially by Mike, more of a McDonalds aficionado who was clearly trepidatious. So much so they ordered a final dish, a real delicacy, and asked us to try it without explaining what it was. I took a bite and declared it tasted vaguely like eggs (we had already sampled the Fugu roe). This caused a bout of hilarity, since they explained we were eating Fugu milt - sacs of sperm. The color palette displayed by Mike's face was quite impressive.

- Jim

A: Fresh uni— available in most sushi restaurants — is basically sea urchin testicles. A sea urchin is mostly testicle. It’s great. It does taste a little gonadic — which is not necessarily a bad thing.

—

Q: Poached duck feet with wasabi. My Chinese hosts said the duck feet would cure my cold. I think the wasabi cleared my sinuses. Served with a side of duck tongue. Did you know duck tongues have bones? Crunchy! Yum. Paula.

A: I did know that duck tongue has bones. They are mostly cartilage, and succulent. Full of flavor. You just chew ‘em. There is a restaurant on 14th Street in D.C. - Da Hong Pao — that serves all of this stuff. Frog, for example. Not frog’s legs — those are boring — it’s basically, a whole exploded frog, deep fried. It is one of my favorites.

—

Q: The strangest thing I ever ate—drank, actually—was the Mongolian national drink, airag--fermented mare’s milk.

In 2012 my wife and I spent three weeks in Mongolia. Our primary purpose for the trip was to see the Flaming Cliffs, where in the 1920s Roy Chapman Andrews discovered the first dinosaur eggs ever found. We traveled from the capital, Ulaanbaatar, to the Gobi, to the miles and miles of waving grass, to the lakes-and-pine trees north. Fascinating country; if overlaid on the United States it would span from the Atlantic to Colorado, with a population of 3.5 million people, about half of whom live in Ulaanbaatar.

Anyway. I was talking with some of the Mongolian guides, who offered me freshly-made airag. I sampled it because I didn’t want to insult their hospitality, and because I figured I wouldn’t have the chance to taste it ever again. I swallowed a sip, and managed to keep it down, although my stomach felt like the witches’ cauldron in Macbeth-- Double, double toil and trouble/Fire burn and cauldron bubble. It had the consistency of thin fizzy yogurt, and smelled like horses.

A: Great last clause. I think parmesan cheese smells like vomit. The internet agrees, noting that both vomit and parmesan cheese contain butyric acid, a short-chain fatty acid with a pungent, unpleasant odor. I have never much liked parmesan cheese. When recipes call for it, I substitute another cheese.

Q: My food isn’t that weird, but as a kid I LOVED herring in sour cream. The kind that comes in a jar. I ate it straight. I didn’t think this odd, but later came to understand that my folks thought it was adventurous. In Pasadena, Texas, in the 1970s, maybe it was. I wasn’t a particularly picky eater, but that was not an option in our house anyway (also of the time). I don’t eat meat or fish now, but still crave it.

A: This is a public service announcement: I understand your liking of herring in sour cream — I do, too — but when it comes from a jar it has a strong chemical undertaste. You have to try it fresh, from a deli. Vastly better. It’s like comparing eggnog from a jar and eggnog homemade. A different world.

Q: Some years ago, we toured the Nature Conservancy’s Finzel Swamp Preserve in western Maryland. It is an ice age remnant, a peat fen where northern plants flourish in a rare southern frost pocket. As we entered an area of low scrub, our naturalist guide paused, rooted around on the ground, then raised his hand, which was crawling with large ants. He said they were particularly good eating and suggested we try some. As no one else was game, it fell to me to accept. The flavor was surprisingly pleasant—slightly tannic with notes of cranberry Pop Tart, reflecting the native terroir. You never forget the taste of your first locally sourced live ant.

– Jonathan Paul

A: I know I have told this before, but I once ate a live lobster. It was at a sushi restaurant in Rockville. I ordered lobster sashimi, and the waiter brought out a scrabbling, squirming crustacean, which surprised me. What surprised me even more when when he then produced a cleaver, and chopped the lobster’s tail off, shelled it diced up the translucent flesh, and gave it to me. It all took less than a minute. Then he took the lobster’s head and threw it into a pot of boiling soup. The head came out of the water, still quite alive, and its googly eyes watched me eat its tail.

Yes, it did unnerve me. But it was terrific. The boiled head was good, too.

.

Q: You asked for brain farts. This is actually my late dad's brain fart (sorry, dad, but I'm leaving this anonymously to protect the dearly deceased.) Dad drove a minivan for years. Starting a year or so before we took away the keys, my sister, aunt and I started noticing an unpleasant odor when riding with him. Dad vehemently denied that his van stunk and let us know that we were delusional and crazy women. Before we sold the van, we took it to a detailer for a thorough cleaning. The guy there told us that they found a Ziploc bag under the passenger seat that ripped open when they pulled it out, releasing a putrid puddle of ooze. That triggered Dad's memory of a hunting trip a couple of years before when his buddy stashed a baggie holding a deer liver under his seat. They both apparently forgot it was there and left it to rot. No apologies to his sister and daughters, just an admission that "I guess I don't smell too good anymore."

A: Old joke:

My dog has no nose.

Really? How does he smell?

Terrible!

Q: People who’ve said women just aren’t as funny as men — as reported in a recent article — need to check out Desi Lydic. One of the funniest takedowns I’ve ever seen.

A: Desi is very good. I think she needs to lose some of her mugging facial expressions, but she is very good.

I think the whole empty “women aren’t as funny as men” trope officially died with those columns where Gina Barreca wiped the floor with me.

—

In 2006, I wrote this column, repeated here in full:

The Male of the Specious

Hey, Christopher, the girls aren't laughing WITH you*

-

Have you read Christopher Hitchens's essay in Vanity Fair, where he claims that women aren't funny? Actually, he doesn't argue that point so much as he accepts it as an immutable and incontestable fact, then examines how this tragic state of affairs has come about.

The first thing I noticed about this piece was that it wasn't remotely funny, though not for lack of trying. Hitchens's efforts to inject humor into his essay were heavy-handed and painful, like a gorilla's efforts to inject Novocain into your jaw. The illogic of his arguments was, well, numbing. He goes on forever, but his case boils down to this: Women aren't funny because they are, y'know, ladylike. Demure li'l thangs who are easily offended.Have you read Christopher Hitchens's essay in Vanity Fair, where he claims that women aren't funny? Actually, he doesn't argue that point so much as he accepts it as an immutable and incontestable fact, then examines how this tragic state of affairs has come about.

The first thing I noticed about this piece was that it wasn't remotely funny, though not for lack of trying. Hitchens's efforts to inject humor into his essay were heavy-handed and painful, like a gorilla's efforts to inject Novocain into your jaw. The illogic of his arguments was, well, numbing. He goes on forever, but his case boils down to this: Women aren't funny because they are, y'know, ladylike. Demure li'l thangs who are easily offended.

It was such a bad piece of work that it kind of left me speechless. Fortunately, I was able to get help from some of my friends, all of whom are funnier than I am.

- - - Hitchens has written what is perhaps the most forward-thinking essay of 1918.

-- Mandy Stadtmiller

I notice that Hitchens quotes, as an authority on women, the famous romantic Rudyard Kipling. I'm surprised he didn't also quote Vince Lombardi. Kipling is the guy who once wrote, "A woman is just a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke."

Hitchens really reveals himself, though, when he writes that he spends his life trying and failing to get women to exhibit "deep-throated mirth." I think you can figure out exactly what this guy's really not getting, and why.

-- Gina Barreca

He says he doesn't think Dorothy Parker was "ever really funny." That must be because he never read her lesser-known collection, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Fart and Pee Jokes.

-- Patricia Myers

The argument that he is making, persuasively, is not that women aren't funny -- it's that we aren't stupid. Because we discriminate and do not laugh at everything this trifling little man finds funny, he concludes that we have no sense of humor. This is like concluding that women hate the outdoors because we don't like to watch bass fishing on TV.

Also, he mentions that he has undergone a sigmoidoscope procedure. Someone should tell him he may have a lawsuit, because part of that thing is obviously still lodged up there.

-- Tamara Jones

Two observations:

1) Hitchens has a point he wants to make, but he can't pitch it; i.e., he throws like a girl.

2) There's not one funny line in the whole essay. Ergo, following his own logic, he also writes like a girl.

What we have here is a woman trapped in a man's body. Until he recognizes the need for surgery, he is doomed to self-loathing diatribes such as this, poor thing.

-- Jennifer Hart

He asks: "Is there anything less funny than hearing a woman relate a dream she's just had?"

Well, sure. How about a detailed analysis of potential NFL draft picks? A description of every step (and misstep) taken in upgrading one's operating system or wiring one's home theater? No, wait. How about a staggeringly pompous, interminable, uninformed, dishonest spasm of intellectual chicken-choking in a major magazine? How 'bout that?

-- Sarah W. Gaymon

* Headline by Elizabeth Chang

—

Okay, that’s it. See you all on the Weekend.

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Oh, and one last thing:

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