Winner gets the Inker, the official Style Invitational trophy. Second place receives a teeny-tiny electronic device called the Annoy-a-tron. You stash it somewhere and turn it on, and it emits a short beep . . . every few minutes. Donated by Loser Kevin Dopart, who annoys us every, well, less often than that.
Other runners-up win their choice of a coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt or yearned-for Loser Mug. Honorable mentions get a lusted-after Loser magnet. First Offenders get a tree-shaped air “freshener” (FirStink for their first ink). E-mail entries to firstname.lastname@example.org or fax to 202-334-4312. Deadline is Monday, Jan. 9; results published Jan. 29 (Jan. 27 online). No more than 25 entries per entrant per week. Include “Week 952” in your e-mail subject line or it may be ignored as spam. Include your real name, postal address and phone number with your entry. See contest rules and guidelines at washingtonpost.com/styleinvitational. The revised title for next week is by Beverley Sharp; the subhead for this week’s honorable mentions is by Chris Doyle. Join the Style Invitational Devotees on Facebook at on.fb.me/invdev.
Report from Week 948
in which you were invited to enter any of the previous year’s Invitational contests, with possible updating of the subject matter. A number of space-consuming entries appear in the online Invite at washingtonpost.com/styleinvitational.
The winner of the Inker
For Week 927, Burma Shave-style highway signs:
Pi k a targ t
Lo d our g n;
Us our bu lets,
Ha e som fu .
W nch ster.
(Dave Prevar, Annapolis, Md.)
Winner of the book of entries from old New York Magazine Competitions:
For Week 898, predictions for next year (for this week’s contest, we used 2012):
Oct. 4, 2012: In a feeble “Wag the Dog” attempt, Obama invades Uzbeki-beki-bekistan. (David Genser, Poway, Calif.
From Week 910, slightly alter an ad slogan to be used for someone else:
Redskins quarterback Rex Grossman: Takes a sacking and keeps on lacking. (Larry Gray, Union Bridge, Md.)
Week 893, 25-word stories: “I have some distressing news,” said Dr. Stone. “During your last exam, I found a lump in your breast.” Sally frowned. “But . . . you’re my dentist.” (Craig Dykstra, Centreville, Va.)