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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901

A man joins a very exclusive nudist colony. On his first day there, he takes off his clothes and starts to wander around.

A gorgeous, petite blonde walks by, and the man immediately gets an erection. The girl notices his erection, comes over to him and says, "Did you call for me?

The man replies, "No, what do you mean?"

She says, "You must be new. Let me explain. We have a rule here that if you get an erection; it implies you called for me."

Smiling, she leads him to the side of the swimming pool, lies down on a big towel, eagerly pulls him to her and happily lets him have his way with her.

The man continues to explore the camp's facilities. He enters the sauna and as he sits down, he farts.

Within minutes, a huge, very-hairy man lumbers out of the steam room towards him, "Did you call for me?" says the man.

"No, what do you mean?" replies the newcomer.

You must be new," says the man, "it's a rule that if you fart, it implies that you called for me." The huge, very-hairy man spins him round, bends him over a bench and has his way with him.

The newcomer staggers back to the colony office, where he is greeted by the smiling, naked receptionist. "How may I help?" she says.

The man yells, "Here's my membership card. You can have the key back and you can keep the five-hundred-pounds membership payment."

But, Sir," she replies, "you've only been here for a few hours. You've not had a proper chance to view all our facilities."

The man replies, "Listen lady, I'm seventy-two years old. I only get an erection once every month. But I fart thirteen times a day!"

Two old men, Mitch and Humphrey, have been friends all their lives. When it becomes clear that Humphrey is dying, Mitch visits the sick man's house every day.

One afternoon Mitch says, "Humphrey, we have each been keen soccer fans all our lives, and we played in the same team for many years. Please do me one favour; when you get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if there is soccer there."

Humphrey looks up from his death-bed. "Mitch, you've been a dear friend for many, many years; if it is possible, I shall do that for you." Shortly after, Humphrey passes away.

At midnight a couple of nights later, Mitch is awakened from a deep sleep by a flash of ethereal light and an eerie voice calling out to him, "Mitch ... Mitch."

"Who is it?" he asks, sitting up suddenly.

"Me ... Humphrey."

"Oh no it isn't! You're an imitation - Humphrey just died."

"I am telling you, I'm no imitation; it is me, Humphrey!" insists the lone voice."

"Humphrey! Oh, man! It IS you! Where are you?"

"I am in heaven!" replies Humphrey. "And I have some really good news to announce ... also some bad news."

"Okay, tell me the good news first," says Mitch.

"The good news," announces Humphrey, "is that there is soccer in heaven. Better yet, all of our friends who died before us are here, too. Better than that, we are all young men again. Better still, it's always springtime and it doesn't rain or snow. And best of all, we can play soccer all the time because we never get tired."

"Hooray! That's excellent!" exclaims Mitch; "Beyond my wildest dreams! So, what is the bad news?"

"You're playing next Tuesday."


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902

A DRINK WITH SOMETHING IN IT
by Ogden Nash

There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini,
Ere the dining and dancing begin,
And to tell you the truth,
It is not the vermouth --
I think that perhaps it's the gin.

SOMETHING WITH A DRINK IN IT
by Adie Pena

There is something about an old Martini,
No burning liniment, washy;
A gentle, elemental Martini;
Not right; light, neutral, trashy!
There is something about an old Martini,
It tastes oh, so -- my God -- blah!
A hit I guarantee,
With the new recipe --
I think that perhaps it needs... vodka!


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903

The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

A Small Hen Dwelled There
by Rosie Perera

so much is bizarre
about

this weird poet's
writing

awkward, new,
mechanical

which we'd well
behold.


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904

Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.

Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.

In my eerie youth
I was in love and abandoned,
But, (take as a truth),
He is not my rake husband

Bewitchin' lust is for weak fool
Bewitchin' lust works not
Stay fresh, dear, more cool,
Regret keen verve, a clot!


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905

abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz =
Glow q-tips fed x-ray JVC mHz bunk

 


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906

There was an old bishop from Birmingham,
Who buggered young boys while confirming 'em.
As he knelt on his hassock,
He lifted his cassock,
And pumped the episcopal sperm in 'em!

A musician from Knockholt in Kent,
Had a member impossibly bent.
"Whew!", each maiden, she gaped,
"Girls! His chopper's horseshoe-shaped!".
Mind-bogglingly promiscuous, off he went!


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907

Sittin' in the mornin' sun
I'll be sittin' when the evenin' come
Watching the ships roll in
And then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Ooo, I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time

I left my home in Georgia
Headed for the 'Frisco bay
'Cause I've had nothing to live for
And look like nothin's gonna come my way

So I'm just gonna sit on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Ooo, I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time

Look like nothing's gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can't do what ten people tell me to do
So I guess I'll remain the same, yes

Sittin' here resting my bones
And this loneliness won't leave me alone
It's two thousand miles I roamed
Just to make this dock my home

Now, I'm just gonna sit at the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Ooo-wee, sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time

Otis Redding

Sittin' for the last five years,
Sittin', holdin' back the tears
Watchin' freedom tricklin' away
Not knowing that I've been betrayed.

Oh ,I'm locked here on Guantanamo Bay,
Seein' my little life rotting away,
Oh, locked down on this Guantanamo Bay,
Doin' Time.

Sittin' in this illegal jail,
Knowin' that decent justice has failed,
Sittin', givin' in on hope
Just not knowin' how to cope

Oh, I'm locked here on Guantanamo Bay,
Seein' my little life rotting away,
Oh, locked down on this Guantanamo Bay,
Doin' Time.

It seems to me that hope is lost
Seein' other folk turning into ghosts
We can't get home to those whom we love
Oil started the jihad, why is this the cost?

So, it seems that my chance has gone,
I've no strength left to carry on,
Then with a solemn sigh
I see the time has come for me to die

Oh, I'm locked down on this Guantanamo Bay,
Seein' my life dwindling away,
So I'm locked on this ghostly Bay,
While doin' some Time.


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908

[Shakespeare's 12th sonnet is anagrammed into 4 poems depicting the 4 times of day, which are specified in each in symmetric acrostic form (one 1st-letter, one last-letter, two 4th-word), read clockwise.]