The Special Category

Anagrammy Awards > Voting Page - Special Category

An optional explanation about the anagram in green, the subject is in black, the anagram is in red.

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Yo soy un hombre sincero
De donde crecen las palmas
Yo soy un hombre sincero
De donde crecen las palmas
Y antes de morirme quiero
Echar mis versos del alma

Guajira Guantanamera
Guajira Guantanamera

Mi verso es de un verde claro
Y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es de un verde claro
Y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es un ciervo herido
Que busca en el monte amparo


I am a truthful man from this land of palm trees
Before dying I want to share these poems of my soul
My verses are light green
But they are also flaming red

(the next verse says,)
I cultivate a rose in June and in January
For the sincere friend who gives me his hand
And for the cruel one who would tear out this heart with which I live
I do not cultivate thistles nor nettles
I cultivate a white rose

Cultivo la rosa blanca
En junio como en enero
Qultivo la rosa blanca
En junio como en enero
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca


Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazon con que vivo
Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazon con que vivo
Cardo ni ortiga cultivo
Cultivo la rosa blanca


Con los pobres de la tierra
Quiero yo mi suerte echar
Con los pobres de la tierra
Quiero yo mi suerte echar
El arroyo de la sierra
Me complace mas que el mar



This place is so quiet and grim
I'm cocooned in a corner of Hell
This place is so quiet and grim
I'm cocooned in a corner of Hell;
Blindfolded over my eyes
And no trial's required, I hear tell.

Guantanamo Bay
Encaged on Guantanamo Bay
Guantanamo Bay
They quiz me most every day.

Afghanistan's where they caught me
Our land of the Taliban
Guantanamo Bay's where they brought me
A prisoner, chains on my hands
I've been here ever since
I'll remain here evermore.


I am a Muslim traveller, raised in a place of Mosques,
Now I'm in remote Guantanamo, conquered, useless, crushed;
Ex-Al Qaeda - I?
Never! They are repellent to me.

I cultivate desires, in January and June,
That circumstances improve
And our conquerers leave soon;
I cultivate no love or peace,
I just cultivate hate.

I cultivate a recurrent desire
In January and June
I cultivate a recurrent desire
All quarrels may end soon
Release may come real soon
From Guantanamo.


Our American captors are cruel,
Zealous remorseless usurpers,
Jealous procurers of hate,
But our moral honour will rule
Resurgence can rise up soon
And we can overcome


Iraq is America's voodoo
Corroded from violence and war
Iraq is America's voodoo
Corroded from violence and war
Allah can overcome
Allah can overcome



This lovebite, dear?
It's hard to believe:

As the evil-doer bit,
Vile beside throat,

It breathed, "Love is..."
I've bled to share it.

'Tis I, beloved heart:
Both lives are tied...


Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Prayer of St. George

Lord, make me an instrument of your vindication.
Where there is division, let me sow hatred;
where there is jihad, retribution;
where there is poverty, injustice;
where there is oil, a windfall;
and where there are voters, despair.
O, Divine Peer,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be adept as to attain greatness;
to be good as to defend the US lifestyle;
to be loved as to render Yankees rich.
For it's dishonest words and nonsense that win renown;
a dumb grin, photo ops;
and a lethal race, riches.


In its original sense, a shaggy-dog story is an extremely long-winded tale featuring extensive narration of typically irrelevant incidents, usually resulting in a pointless, unexciting or absurd punchline. These stories are also known as yarns, coming from the long tradition of campfire yarns.

The canonical story begins with a shaggy talking dog. This amazing animal is much discussed and much promised, but slow to arrive. When it finally does and, miraculously, does indeed talk, someone in the story reacts with, "That dog's not so shaggy". (An alternate version involves a search for the shaggiest dog in the world.)

Shaggy-dog story has come to also mean a joke where a pun is finally achieved after a long (and ideally extended and tedious) exposition. The humour of the punch line may be due to the sudden, unexpected recognition of a familiar saying (see the example), since the story has nothing to do with the usual context in which the phrase is normally found, yet the listener is surprised to discover it makes sense in both situations. Therefore, if the audience has not already heard the phrase used in the punch line before, or is not aware of the multiple meanings of the words in the phrase, the surprise ending of the joke cannot be recovered by "explaining" the joke to the audience.

A shaggy-dog story may not have a pun at all; the humor (if any) is then derived from the fact that the joke-teller held the attention of the listeners for an extended time (such jokes can take five minutes or even more to tell) for no reason at all (an anticlimax). The following example is, in fact, unusually short for this kind of shaggy-dog story; many shaggy-dog stories of this sort contain characteristic phrases that are repeated many times (and the joke-teller will throw them in as many times as they can get away with) but turn out to have nothing whatsoever to do with the "punchline," such as it is.

Three explorers go to an Amazonian jungle to track new lands. They win the services of two piccaninnies - one to translate and one to guide them on their journey.

They turn into the jungle. Soon, the guide gets very skittish upon sighting an exotic marking on the ground. The translator says, "Ah, that is the Fabulous Foo Bird marking! They are mighty lucky!"

The trackers laugh. Soon, they hear a hooting sound from the treetops above. As they look up, a mammoth bird wings past. A loud juicy sound is heard, followed by groans of disgust and horror from the leader. The others turn to see that he is glossed with crap. The guide looks more excited when he sees this and starts signalling frantically. The translator says, "That is the Fabulous Foo Bird! You will gain riches and fortune. You must not clean this off! It's a penance. If you wipe it off, you will die."

"Ha!" comments the adventurer and cleans himself up. The natives are mighty nervous. Not long after, the senior explorer is clean. "You see? Nothing to worry us!" the green tracker says. One second later he falls over and kills himself.

The piccaninny smiles.

The following day, in the inner jungle, the same noise is heard yonder, followed by the sighting of the same mammoth bird. The second explorer is coated in gunk. Again, the reluctant servant voices his caution in vain.

"Ha!" says the adamant explorer. "I am not going to travel in animal crap due to heathen doctrines anyway!" He washes himself, and collapses dead.

The piccaninny smiles at them again.

The next day, the same twittering is heard. This time, the youngest explorer is coated in gunk. The jaded young man decides to play it safe and continue the exploration in his filthy state.

The expedition's ending is a great success. The young explorer is vindicated, attains fame and accolades and lives a long, wealthy life.

From this time on, explorers are always given this advice: if the foo shits, wear it.


[10 countries

Below are the flags of two countries. The aim of this puzzle is to discover the names of the countries using the six clues provided. On the way, you will discover eight more countries.


1, 2, 3, 4, 5
6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
13, 14, 15
16, 17, 18
19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28


29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36

1 1 17 3 4 10 15 --- > 10 1 5 30 4 3
2 18 8 7 19 33 2 --- > 2 8 7 19 18 20
3 20 21 6 30 31 5 --- > 6 25 21 12 11 13
4 34 13 11 24 25 12 --- > 33 34 27 14 35 22
5 35 14 28 27 9 16 --- > 28 9 32 16 31 23
6 23 22 29 32 26 36 --- > 26 15 29 17 36 24

  1. Emitted a bright light.
  2. A difficult problem, riddle.
  3. Rebellion, insurrection.
  4. Brigand.
  5. Small air-breathing arthropod.
  6. City in Italy.

On the left side of the puzzle in the first column you will get one European state. But, that is not all. Each letter in diagram has appropriate number, so if you put that letters in another diagram you will get 7 more countries (6 in the order of reading and 1 in last column).]

The Solution


The Devil

Hello, nice to see you all again. Now, as the more perceptive of you have probably realised by now, this is Hell, and I am the Devil. Good evening. You can call me Toby, if you like - we try and keep things informal here, as well as infernal. That's just a little joke.

Now, you're all here for eternity, which I hardly need tell you is a sod of a long time, so you get to know everyone pretty well by the end, but for now I'm going to have to split you up into groups. Are there any questions? Yes?

Um, no, I'm afraid we don't have any toilets...if you'd read your Bible you would have seen that it was damnation without relief. So, if you didn't go before you came then I'm afraid you're not going to enjoy yourself very much... but then, I believe that's the idea.

Right, let's split you up then.

Can you all hear me still?

All right, off we go...

Murderers, over here. Looters and pillagers - over there please, thieves if you could join them, and bank managers...

Fornicators, if you could step forward - my God there are a lot of you! Could I split you up into adulterers and the rest? Adulterers, if you could just form a line in front of that small guillotine there.


Americans, are you here? Look, I'm sorry about this, apparently God had some fracas with your founding fathers and damned the entire race into perpetuity. He sends particular condolences to the Mormons who He realises put in a lot of work. That's the way the wafer crumbles. The Iranians, I'm afraid, can't be with us - someone's been holding them in purgatory for about nine months.

Sodomites, over there against the wall.

Atheists! Atheists? Over here please. You must be feeling a right bunch of charlies.

Okay, and Christians! Christians? Ah yes, I'm sorry, I'm afraid the Jews were right.

Okay, Moonies, maniacs, marmite eaters, male models, masochists, mass murderers and masseurs, if you could take a pew at the back - with the Methodists that is.

Now, you're the lot who used to kill whales, is that right? Ah, yes, I must remember - I've got some strips to tear off you bastards later.

Everyone who saw Monty Python's "Life of Brian" - I'm afraid He can't take a joke after all.

Alright now, one final thing. We're trying to implement some kind of exchange scheme with the Lord God Almighty, or Cliff as we know him. Some of you will travel up and have a decade in heaven and we're having some angels down here. Now, I hardly need tell you that in heaven you will be expected to behave in an exemplary manner, so I hope you will do the exact opposite - tear off their wings, use their haloes for frisbee practice, that sort of thing.

Well, I have to go now, unfortunately, but Beelzebub here will show you the ropes ... and the chains, and electrodes.

I'd just like to leave you with a favorite joke of mine, if I may. Quite apt to the circumstances, I think. It goes something like this:

- "Knock, knock!"

- "Who's there?"

- "Death"

- "Death wh...!"

The Programmer

Hello, good evening! It's nice to see you all again. The more perceptive of you (as if!) have probably realised this is the Anagrammy Forum, and I'm the Programmer/Referee. My friend calls me God, but you can call me Toby.

In the interests of a few runner-up pie chart, bar and scatter graphs, and various other web statistics of absolutely not one jot of interest to anyone other than myself, I find I'm gonna have to split y'all up into, like, demographic sub-sections. If there are any questions...too bad.

If you'd read the FAQs, you'd have seen that this is a fairly broad-minded, informal, free, tolerant group. OK, let's split you up into nationalities, if y'all are still awake.

Alright! Let's "kick some butt" as we say over here in California. Now...are there any...WIMMIN here? Oh, wrong sketch. Where was I? Demographics. Where shall I start?

The Americans! Just stay where you are, pending the outcome of a vote recount. Rothstein? Hmm, seems a little, um...Germanic to me. What? So does Gottfried? Off-limits. You sit out over there on the right, with the Europeans.

The Canadians! Hello Canadians? Hello? Hello? Anybody here? Dang! I coulda sworn we had a few canucks round here. Oh well! It seems he left.

A few Israelis! Stand over by that wall! What? Oh, you haven't finished it yet? Damn well hurry up, will you?

The Germans, ja? Get those towels off of the sun-loungers! Stand over there next to the Israelis by the wa...wa...wall.

What? Why do I keep on about what? Well you started it! Oh yes you did! You invaded Pola...oops, sorry, wrong sketch again, it seems!

The Greeks! Move over there! Have you lost your marbles?

Hey, any Serbs or Slovenians! Stay out over there by the Greeks, a bit...terrific!

Chileans! Another New World whine producer! Whoopee! Come sit here with me!

Gee! The United Kingdom contingent, I see! The English and Walesland minorities! The so-called "special friendship". Like, pur-leeeeez! You'll be fined, and excluded from the Forum for a maximum of a month for exceeding your legal bandwidth allotment by an average of over twenty-four percent. Tony Crafter, get your hands out of your pockets, boy! Joe Fathallah! What are you looking so sheepish about? Pus! Wipe that ridiculous smirk off of your face immediately! Ah, "db"...David Bourke...if that IS your real name, with all the idiotic aliases and highly-juvenile pseudonyms? It isn't, eh? You learn something every day, don'tcha?

Ah yes, to the elite. The Australians! G'day, cobbers! If you could just put down those tinnies and stay over there. Brash, Grantham...knock me some HTML up to demonstrate the ratio of illegitimate Rude anagrams sent to Main in "error".

Well, I have to shoot off now, but hey, I would not take things too literally, if I were you. I'd just like to leave you with a favorite little joke of mine, if I may. I hope you enjoy it!

- "Knock knock!"

- "Ach, who is there?"

- "Helmut"

- "Come in, Helmut"

How hilarious!


[Francis Heaney's 'Holy Tango of Literature' is a book which revolves around the question: "What would happen if poets and playwrights wrote works whose titles were anagrams of their names?" Below is the Oscar Wilde segment, anagrammed into 3 similar renditions by authors who were 'left out' of the original anthology...]


Dramatis Personae:
SADLER HIGGINBOTHAM, an auditor for the Internal Revenue Service
AMBROSE PECK, a taxpayer

SADLER: (handing his card to Ambrose) Good afternoon to you, sir.
AMBROSE: And to you.
SADLER: I trust you know the reason for this visit.
AMBROSE: I do indeed. May I offer you some refreshment?
SADLER: That is most generous of you.
AMBROSE: It is easy to be generous when one is already expecting to lose a great deal of money. Your tea.
SADLER: Thank you. But you neednÕt be as pessimistic as that. I am merely here to clarify a few minor tax matters which occasioned question.
AMBROSE: It has been my experience that clarification never works in my favor. Why is it, for example, that whenever one has finally found an agreeable female dinner companion, invariably one is asked to clarify oneÕs feelings about her? It makes a simple relationship so dreadfully awkward. SADLER: IÕm afraid such questions are out of my purview. But shall we begin?
AMBROSE: I regretfully expect we shall.
SADLER: YouÕve taken rather a lot of deductions here.
AMBROSE: I can explain every last one.
SADLER: IÕm sure you can, and moreÕs the pity. ThereÕs nothing quite so suspicious as having an explanation for something.
AMBROSE: Well, if you would rather not hear them, I am only too happy not to provide them.
SADLER: No, no. It is my burden and I must bear up under it. Now then--these travel expenses.
AMBROSE: Oh, those are quite fraudulent.
SADLER: You surprise me, sir. I thought you had explanations for all these items?
AMBROSE: I do. But not all of them are true.
SADLER: Your honesty does you credit.
AMBROSE: The travel expenses in particular are one of my most extravagant concoctions. You will find that I have claimed business trips to several cities which do not, in point of fact, exist.
SADLER: Really? I confess my expertise in geography is lacking.
AMBROSE: That is only polite. For a man to excel in both mathematics and geography is quite intolerable. It bespeaks a promiscuous nature.
SADLER: How true. Well, it is of no consequence if the cities are fictional. The Internal Revenue Service is not in the business of mapmaking. All that concerns me is whether the trips were business-related.
AMBROSE: I can honestly say that I did nothing on any of those trips that was not business.
SADLER: Very conscientious of you. Are any of the other deductions false?
AMBROSE: It seems as if some of them must be, but my faculty for invention is really quite remarkable. Whatever entries may be false, even I can no longer discern which they are.
SADLER: In that case, let us leave the deductions for a moment.
AMBROSE: Leave them as long as you please.
SADLER: I gather that you are a bachelor.
AMBROSE: I do not deny the fact.
SADLER: How is it, then, that you come by so many dependents?
AMBROSE: My dear fellow, I do not come by them. They come by me. Or, more accurately, my house. They generally appear just before teatime, the scavengers, and invite themselves to stay. Alternatively, they will lurk on the pavement and pounce just as I attempt to board my carriage for dinner. Before I know it, IÕm standing them three courses and drinks. SADLER: I well know the type. Sadly, such people--as trying as they are--do not fit the legal definition of a dependent.
AMBROSE: How nettlesome!
SADLER: It pains me deeply to be the bearer of such news.
AMBROSE: Is there no remedy you can suggest?
SADLER: Well--of course it will make no difference on last yearÕs return--but you might consider adopting the acquaintances in question.
AMBROSE: Adopt those parasites! I had rather adopt a wood tick.
SADLER: Merely a suggestion.
AMBROSE: Although, were I to adopt them, all my good old friends would suddenly be my good-for-nothing wards. I mean to say, only a cad turns away a friend in need, but fathers are always giving their sons stern speeches about standing on their own two feet. You may have something there after all. SADLER: It gratifies me to hear it. Sadly, the deductions must still be removed.
AMBROSE: Not to worry. Once I have cut off my impecunious relations-to-be, the money I shall save on dinners should more than make up the difference. Shall I expect a bill by the morning post?
SADLER: You overestimate our efficiency considerably. Besides, given that we shall be charging you interest for your underpayment, it hardly behooves us to bill you promptly.
AMBROSE: Indeed. Compound it how you will; I consider it a gratuity for advice well given.
SADLER: (collecting his hat and coat) Should you find yourself in any similar predicaments, do not hesitate to call on me. My experience in the field is great. I have found, for instance, that hiring a troublesome friend as an employee is a sound method of ensuring that one never sees that person again, and offers several tax benefits as well. AMBROSE: How fascinating! I feel certain we shall find occasion to speak again soon. It has been a great pleasure.
SADLER: I wholeheartedly concur.
AMBROSE: Good afternoon to you.
SADLER: And congratulations to you.
AMBROSE: Congratulations?
SADLER: On becoming a father, of course. (They laugh.) Good afternoon.

(Ambrose shuts the door behind Sadler.)

AMBROSE: I now realise the importance of declaring earnings!



Can we discuss
some lovely soaps?

We can't discuss
some silly soaps.
I do not like them,
Daytime Dope.

Shall we catch 'Passions'
on the box?
Or would you rather
flip to FOX?

I won't catch 'Passions'
on the box.
I *would* much rather
flip to FOX.
I do not like your crummy soaps.
I do not like them, Daytime Dope!

Will 'Young & Restless'
fit your mood?
My mother says
it's really good.

No, 'Young & Restless' is quite crass,
So tell your mom I'll have to pass.
Both it and 'Passions' are a pain
And urge me to turn off my brain.
I do not like your crummy soaps!
Go ramble elsewhere, Daytime Dope!

'All My Children',
would you dare?
'All My Children',
on this chair?

Please, 'All My Children'? Very lame...
Not even worth a drinking game.
I'm sorry if I'm unreserved,
But you are getting on my nerves.
So take your 'Restless' - 'Passions' too -
And bother Horton Hears A Who.
I do not like your crummy soaps,
Now cease your babble, Daytime Dope!

And 'Melrose Place'? Quite sexy stuff.
Come on, let's watch it in the buff!

No 'Melrose Place'! The actors blow,
Plus it was cancelled years ago.
And as for baring all, I fear
I do not swing that way, my dear.
No 'Passions', 'Restless', 'A.M.C.',
All sudsers bug me! Let me be!
I do not like your crummy soaps,
So off you go then, Daytime Dope!

'Days of Our Lives'! It's on the air!
Try once, and then I'll leave, I swear.
...Say! I LOVE 'Days of Our Lives'!
A shame its ratings took a dive,
But I will watch it on the air
And with your mom, and on this chair,
And maybe even in the buff.
What an engaging piece of fluff!
I'll always catch it on the box
And never *ever* flip to FOX.
I like 'Days of Our Lives' a lot...
That Christie Clark is really hot!


[Enter TEIRESIAS, led by a labrador.]

Teiresias, sightless seer of everything!
Creon, the brother to my queen, and I
Must bring before thee a most urgent plea.
Not many days agone, a fatal crash
Bereaved me of a loyal terrier;
To lift a Theban curse, I must unearth
The murderer of my beloved dog.
Do call upon thy gift to cure us all!

Alas, alas, I cannot! Let me leave,
Lest what I know and say defeats us both.

Reveal thy secret claim! Be vain no more.

Not vain, but craven at the face of truth.

Art thou a Theban patriot or not?
What means thy cruel betrayal? Tell me now!

Thou art the man who slew thine animal.

Fallacious traitor!

                         Let him say his piece.

Creon, thou always wert a man of cats!
I'm weary of Teiresias and thou both.
I'll buy another mutt, a mix of breeds,
And name it Wayne or Fido. Maybe Rex.

No more of them! The gods declared a ban.
From this day on, Thebes must be canine-free!

A labrador is by thy side!
                                    I'm blind.

Sirrah, for every query a reply...
But *I* alone replied the Sphinx, not thou.

Forgive me, Oedipus, that tale's too vague.

My tale evaded thine all-seeing eyes?
They also failed thee when the monster posed
A question that could baffle deities:
"What creature in the morning goes on four,
At noon on two, and in the eve on three?"
At once I came upon the true retort,
It was: "A man-obeying, well-trained dog"...
But O! My roar contained a fearsome tone,
For when I said my first two words, "A man-",
The monster fled! Now do the same; Begone.

I cannot bear thy bark of bitter grief!
A brutal fate awaits to bite thy rear.


My liege! A second messenger arrives.

Not much of an announcement. He comes now.


My liege! I see another man draw near.

What are these taunts? Have I no eyes nor ears?!


My liege!

              Bring news, or suffer death by axe.

Yea, I bring news, but of a grievous sort.
A servant fixed thy faulty chariot
But found a collar clinging to a wheel.

Those spikes! It all proved true, and I have slain
My terrier, a pet for many years,
My one true friend! I cannot bear it all.
Curse an annoyance of a canine-ban!


Aha! That heavy hand of fate!
We'd quail and quiver at a date
That birthed a fierce Divine Decree.
Can Thebes endure if canine-free?


I come to frame a most horrific scene,
Lone Oedipus, so overcome by grief,
Employed that blood-stained collar's many spikes
And stabbed his eyeballs! Oh, in seconds time
A gory torrent emanated forth;
A certain substance streaming out in... Halt!
My story proves too horrid for the scribe!
I hope none read it in a future school.

O, 'tis a sullen tale! We fear to look.

[Enter OEDIPUS.]

Ah woe is me! For I am blinded too...
But notably, the blind need leading-pets.
I crave a beagle! Fetch me one, but first,
Please boil Teiresias and his pet in oil.



O Harpo! Were I cheerful as thou art -
Not in mute splendour forced to act charades,
And riding, silent, on a serving cart
To chase a very anxious chambermaid.
The moving fingers on thy harp can play,
Yet thou, O funnyman, can only mime
Or cross thine eyes in an amusing way
Or fling banana peels to foil a crime...
No--yet still quiet, still a speechless man,
Employ that tooting staff against thy leg
To make me snort as only Marxes can
By ordering another hard boiled egg;
Still, still I hear, till early rays of morn,
The blares and honks of thine exquisite horn.