The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, (2006 to 2010).

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Friday, June 27, 2014

First Annual Self-Defeating Metaphor Contest

Whiskey Fire is displeased by the insipid mulligan stew they’ve been serving up over at Townhall, and is inclined to send it back to the kitchen:
Nothing illustrates the extent to which “conservatives” have so much absolute nothing going on nowadays is how hard it’s gotten to make fun of them.
Even Townhall is just plain boring nowadays. I mean, here’s Kathleen “I Like Big Fuzzy Balls” Parker talking about… Wimbledon (sigh), straining manfully (or the lexical equivalent) to infuse the proceedings with sufficient priapism
But Kathleen manages to salvage an otherwise disastrous presentation when she rolls out the dessert cart:
Though you have to admire the imagery here:
“Throughout, both men were mesmerizingly fierce and yet imperturbably calm. At crucial points they were like gladiators playing chess.”
Kind of hard to envision anything more disappointing than that, isn’t it?  Here you show up at Circus Maximus in your best toga, all ready to watch two beefy, oiled up titans slowly hack each other to death, and instead you get a couple of contemplative, egghead Hercules sitting in the middle of the Coliseum, chins resting on their knuckles like Rodin’s The Thinker, and staring silently at a chessboard for minutes at a time before finally deigning to shift a pawn.
Now maybe it was a lucky accident, maybe it was pure serendipity, but somehow Kathleen managed to construct a simile which not only declined to convey her meaning, it actually rose up and bludgeoned the rest of her sentence to death with a balpeen hammer, then dragged it down to the basement and buried it under that freezer full of trout.
I don’t know about you, but I find that inspiring.  So in the spirit of the Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest, I’d like to challenge you, the reader, to craft the most heat-efficient, self-immolating metaphor, simile, comparison, conceit, synecdoche, allegory, or trope you can.  Because America needs your worst ideas now more than ever.  Look around you; we are currently at the mercy of Townhall, WorldNetDaily, RenewAmerica, and other members of the Wingnut Cartel to supply us with cheap laughs and bargain schadenfreude, and recent events have shown the importance of weaning ourselves from our addiction to foreign (and failed) figures of speech.  Write your congressman a really poorly worded letter insisting that we must drill down into our lizard brains now if we ever hope to achieve independence in lamely executed literary devices.
Join us, won’t you?  Thank you.
Posted by scott on Wednesday, July 9th, 2008 at 9:28 pm

15 Responses to “First Annual Self-Defeating Metaphor Contest”

Metaphors are more difficult than similes, so I am going to go with a simile.
I went right to the problem, like a whole bottle of aspirin taped to someone’s forehead.
Sir, I take offense. I find Renew America inspiring, like watching tongueless frogs juggle.
Alaska’s governor in the 1970s, Jay Hammond, proudly announced in one of his state of the state addresses, “The ship of state is breaking new ground….” In a state full of professional fishermen, that could only mean, “We’re on the rocks; head for the lifeboats.”
Maybe she’d just seen the latest chess boxing tournament.
Apologies, but if you knew how hard it is to get my mind untracked you wouldn’t ask:
Brilliant shot was answered with brilliant shot, each extended, taut-muscled forearm swat a Beethoven of the body, shaking his fist at the temperate maritime summer night.
And, please get rid of those fucking eight-foot racquet heads, ban all materials but wood, and return to playing tennis instead of high-stakes racquetball. Thank you.
The late PW Botha (leader of Apartheid South Africa: 1978 – 1989)
“Most blacks are happy, except those who have had other ideas pushed into their ears.”
And one I could not resist, although it does not fall into the ambit of this competition:”I never have the nagging doubt of wondering whether perhaps I am wrong.”,
That marketplace of ideas where everything is on backorder.
For some reason, I keep thinking of the Bill & Ted movies, where the protagonists used “Heinous!” to mean something good
I can’t believe they’re going to do a remake. Bogus.
“It was a dark and stormy opening gambit…”
I know I can’t get to the level of idiot savante displayed by your Clown Hall contestant. But surely I should get props for trying?*
The Illegally Installed Drunken Cokeheaded Deserter was simultaneously mind-numbingly imbecelic and arrogantly convinced of his intellectual curiosity. Much like a fighter pilot who keeps his safety harness on while prancing about on an aircraft carrier to prove how manly his bulge is.
DoughBob Loadpants and Clown Halls’s K-Lo engaging in attempting to produce offspring would be a disaster of epic proportions, similar to letting a clueless spoiled frat boy decide the fate of the free world.
* – no, I’m not looking for some spinny parts in the front of old airplanes. And don’t call me, surely!
Yes, it was a sad day for the Founding Fathers in 1974 when the Supreme Court abandoned principle and ruled to allow the continued existence of wide-wale corduroy bell bottoms 
Note to self: Never let Scott get hold of your High School Year Book picture.
As Zap Brannigan [Futurama] said “the dominoes are falling like a house of cards.”
If I may, a la Janus Node
If Isaac Asimov were a cheery mourning nudist, then a self-proclaimed psychological expert would be a jazz folding fieldworker.
Eww! Eww! Bad mental image, BAD!
Spoken recently by our pastor in asking parishioners to watch for further information:
“Keep your ear to the grindstone.”

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