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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These are all supposedly based on quotes from a book called Disorder in the American Courts, and describe things people actually said in court (but perhaps not quite literally, as some have been altered just a bit to create this anagram!) All are on record and have now been published by court reporters.

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, 'Where am I, Paula?'
ATTORNEY: And this upset you because...?
WITNESS: My name is Susan.

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of impact?
WITNESS: Pink Gucci sweats and purple Reeboks.

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, has it affected your memory at all?
WITNESS: It has.
ATTORNEY: Just how has this affected your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: I see. Perhaps you could give us an example of something you forgot?

ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.

ATTORNEY: Doctor, is it true that if a person dies in his sleep, he does not know about it until the following morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exams?

ATTORNEY: The middle son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he, please?
WITNESS: He is twenty, much like your IQ.

ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitting me?

ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: It was.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Getting laid.

ATTORNEY: She had three children, is this true?
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
ATTORNEY: And were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?

ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the wrongdoer?
WITNESS: Yes, I'd say that he was regular height, medium weight and had a rather long beard.
ATTORNEY: Was the wrongdoer male or female?
WITNESS: Unless the circus was in town I'm going with male.

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to the deposition notice that we sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: Er, no; this is how I dress when I go to work.

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All of them. The living ones put up too much of a fight.

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, right? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral...

ATTORNEY: Do you recall what time you examined Mr Tennent's body?
WITNESS: Yes, Mr Attorney, the autopsy started around 8PM
ATTORNEY: And Tennent was dead at the time?
WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give urine samples?
WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?

And finally:

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
ATTORNEY: Then it's possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy... yes?
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: Okay, but could the patient have been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it's possible that he could have been alive and practising law.

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William Shakespeare

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring-owl,
Tu-who! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Triumph and Tension.

When tinsel hangs from Christmas trees
And wine is swallowed by the glass
And children yell, "More turkey please!"
And all good things will come to pass...
A baby cries, but no one hears,
And hungry people shed weak tears.
How sad,
How bad, oh, how unkind...
Let's drink another glass o' wine.

When all around, with eyes aglow
The children open bright new toys,
While hooting happily, "Oh wow!"
As little hands tremble with joy...
The jet-bombs blitz the frightened town,
Annihilating, raining down.
How sad,
How bad, oh, how unkind...
Let's drink that other glass o' wine.

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[Charlotte Bronte's WINTER STORES is anagrammed into 10 poems (3 of which are existing, and 7 are original) with a hidden constraint: the first letters of each poem in the anagram spell out CURRER BELL, which was Bronte's pseudonym.]

Charlotte Bronte

We take from life one little share,
And say that this shall be
A space, redeemed from toil and care,
From tears and sadness free.

And, haply, Death unstrings his bow,
And Sorrow stands apart,
And, for a little while, we know
The sunshine of the heart.

Existence seems a summer eve,
Warm, soft, and full of peace,
Our free, unfettered feelings give
The soul its full release.

A moment, then, it takes the power
To call up thoughts that throw
Around that charmed and hallowed hour,
This life's divinest glow.

But Time, though viewlessly it flies,
And slowly, will not stay;
Alike, through clear and clouded skies,
It cleaves its silent way.

Alike the bitter cup of grief,
Alike the draught of bliss,
Its progress leaves but moment brief
For baffled lips to kiss

The sparkling draught is dried away,
The hour of rest is gone,
And urgent voices, round us, say,
“'Ho, lingerer, hasten on!”

And has the soul, then, only gained,
From this brief time of ease,
A moment's rest, when overstrained,
One hurried glimpse of peace?

No; while the sun shone kindly o'er us,
And flowers bloomed round our feet,-
While many a bud of joy before us
Unclosed its petals sweet,-

An unseen work within was plying;
Like honey-seeking bee,
From flower to flower, unwearied, flying,
Laboured one faculty,-

Thoughtful for Winter's future sorrow,
Its gloom and scarcity;
Prescient to-day, of want to-morrow,
Toiled quiet Memory.

'Tis she that from each transient pleasure
Extracts a lasting good;
'Tis she that finds, in summer, treasure
To serve for winter's food.

And when Youth's summer day is vanished,
And Age brings Winter's stress,
Her stores, with hoarded sweets replenished,
Life's evening hours will bless.

[The Mamas and The Papas]

All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk on a winter's day
I'd be safe and warm if I was in LA
California dreamin' on such a winter's day

Stepped into a church I passed along the way
Well, I got down on my knees and I pretended to pray
You know the preacher likes the cold he knows I'm gonna stay
California dreamin' on such a winter's day

All the leaves are brown and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk on a winter's day
If I didn't tell her I could leave today
California dreamin' on such a winter's day

[Todd-Earl Rhodes]

utter aloneness
snowflake on gnome's nose

We seek future thoughts
To restore furthermost forests
Full of sumptuous trees,
Shelter of fresh blossoms, of boughs,
Of lustrous shrubs, of bushes, too.

Forever homeless, we stutter, suffer
For we dream of a lustful summer.

To the shortest hot fevered spell.

[Lisa Shields]

The sun rose on fields
snow blown and misted
ghostly swirls and dervishes.
No fog this---
for fog simply lies.
No---this was living
as it arched and twisted,
fingering out to the road
and reaching for me
like the shade of a beloved friend.
There was white inside,
trying to seep out of pores,
I felt it strain
trying to mesh and meld
with this sentient wraith
fingers touching
and suddenly
I am the morning mist
dancing in the crystal air.

The bitter tableau
Of slush, of woe.

Warmth we'll depart
Like an icicle through the heart.

We're the blest.
Trustful fools, we sought to rest.

The soulful remorse we evoke settles.
We pursue sleep. Go greet, meet death.

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Christmastide - Howard P Lovecraft

The cottage hearth beams warm and bright,
The candles gaily glow;
The stars emit a kinder light
Above the drifted snow.

Down from the sky a magic steals
To glad the passing year,
And belfries sing with joyous peals,
For Christmastide is here!

How Twelfth Night Got Embraced

Caressed by joyous falling flake,
Hypnotic hallowed sight;
Rare frigid frosty thermals take
Impassioned ice alight.

Sedate we've scrambled straight to bed,
The stars assorted spin
Meand'ring magic overhead,
As hearths toast warmth within!

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[A Shakespeare sonnet anagrammed into a sonnet commemorating Steve Jobs in 3 ways. The first is an acrostic of his full name; the other 2 are explained below]

Shakespeare's Sonnet One Hundred and Eight

What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred
Where time and outward form would show it dead.

See Why It Is Good To Try

See how they've thrived, the persons we admired?
They had the moral courage to be right;
Each of these expert men have then inspired
Vain men who follow others to new heights.
Enslave your ego to become its master,
Not someone that will strictly want and need;
Proud heart, and brains that truly function faster,
Are funny quirks that help you to succeed.
Unfit and half-baked schemes are marked as trite,
Learn what says "deep" - and what says "gimmicky";
Just have that fiercer drive to know what's right:
One tiny intuition is the key.
Bright visionaries somehow end up winning -
So if we fail, they are already grinning.

[The anagram was inspired by Steve Jobs' quote, "Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition; they somehow already know what you truly want to become". The quote itself was also dispersed in the sonnet, but in such a way that a relevant shape is drawn by its linear progression:]

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New Year's Hymn - James Monroe Whitfield

Another year, another year,
Unfolds its page of hope and fear!
Where, at its close, shall we appear
Who now are congregated here.

Perhaps, with those now passed away,
We may be laid deep in the earth;
Perchance, 'mid foreign scenes, we may
Forget the land that gave us birth.

Perhaps upon the stormy seas,
Where raging billows wildly roll,
The terrors of despair may seize
Upon the dark and guilty soul.

But wheresoe'er our footsteps tend,
'Mid tropic sands, or polar snow,
May we remember that great Friend
Who guards us wheresoe'er we go.

Whose mighty hand hath been our stay
Through scenes of trouble, doubt and fear.
And suffered us, poor worms of clay,
To enter on another year.

Oh! Oh! Sleep With One Eye Open!

Ah! fading year, Ah! fading year,
When memory's a thin veneer,
Lost hazy charades disappear;
Erased, replaced, ignored, unclear!

Forgetting sorrowful dismay,
Forgetting nationwide unrest,
The somber wordless disarray;
How better now: submerged, repressed!

Farewell, oh frightening unease;
Where shadows, set adrift, cajole
Of bloodstained broadswords and disease;
The tombstones tell the tearful toll.

Tomorrow we may comprehend
The awful awesome truth, although
For now, unhappy thoughts pretend
That flashback was from years ago.

Somehow yon sphere sent us astray,
But hear our prayer, our hope sincere;
Preparing purpose, come what may,
With hope we eye the near New Year.

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The Twelve Days of Christmas

December 14, 2011
My kindest darling Thomas:

Oh, I'm so delighted! Who in the whole world would ever have dreamt of getting a real Partridge in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my gratitude?

Thank you a thousand times for thinking of me in this unselfish way.

My unconditional love always,


December 15, 2011
Dearest Thomas:

Today the postman brought your fantastic gift. Since childhood, I've only imagined owning one turtle dove, not two! I'm delighted at the precious gift. They are so adorable!

All my love,


December 16, 2011
Dear Thomas:

Aren't you the thoughtful one! Now, I must protest. I don't deserve such a splendid gift--three French hens! They are the perfect addition to this bird collection, but I insist. You've been very generous.

In appreciation,


December 17, 2011
Dearest Thomas:

Today the postman delivered four calling birds. They are melodic, but really, don't you think enough is enough? You are being too romantic.



December 18, 2011
Dear Thomas:

Gosh, what a surprise! Today the mailman delivered five golden rings, a ring on every finger of my hand. You're eccentric, but I love it. Frankly, all those birds were getting on my nerves.



December 19, 2011
Dear Thomas:

When I opened the door today there were actually six geese a-laying on my front step. It's disappointing to see that you're back to those birds again.

Those geese are undisciplined and conspicuous. Where else will I put them all if it snows? The neighbours downwind are telephoning to complain or threaten me, and what's more, I can't sleep through the noise. Please, just stop.



December 20, 2011
Hello Thomas:

Oh, come on--what's with the freaking birds? And, why this charity? Seven wet swans a-swimming? What kind of pathetic childish joke is this? There is bird poop all over the house, and they never stop the awful tuneless cacophony. Meanwhile, I cannot sleep at night, and my wits are totally shot. It's ridiculous! When do we stop with this annoying bird routine??

Stressed out,



December 21, 2011

OK Smarty, I think I prefer those birds. What in the hell am I going to do with eight maids a-milking? And, as if it weren't enough with all those birds and eight maids a-milking, they had to bring their damn cows. There's manure all over the lawn, and I can't move in my own house.
Just lay off me, buster!



December 22, 2011
Hey Creep:

What are you? Some kind of sadist, I'm sure. Now there are nine pipers playing. And do they play! They haven't stopped chasing the maids since they got here yesterday morning, but the cows are getting upset and they're stepping all over those screeching birds.

What am I going to do? The neighbours have just started to sign a petition to evict me.

You'll get yours!


December 23, 2011
You rotten person:

Now there are ten ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those women ladies! They've been keeping those pipers up all night long.

The cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river of manure. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why the building shouldn't be condemned.

I have called the police on you!

Your ex-friend,


December 24, 2011
Listen Pig Brain:

What's with those eleven lords a-leaping on those maids and ladies? Some of those poor women will never walk again. Those pipers have already run through the maids and have started in on the cows! All twenty-three of the exotic birds are dead. They've been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope you're satisfied, you rotten vicious swine!

Your sworn enemy,


December 25, 2011
Dear Sir:

This is to acknowledge your latest gift of the twelve fiddlers fiddling, which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes G. McHolstein. The destruction, of course, was total.

All correspondence should come directly to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss McHolstein at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have been instructed to shoot you on sight.

You will find attached to this letter a warrant for your arrest.

Law Offices of Badger, Bender and Howe

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[Shakespeare's sonnet is anagrammed into a poem about a year-long love affair, which also contains 2 acrostics: The 1st letters of the odd-numbered lines are the 1st letters of each successive month in the year, and the 1st letters of the even-numbered lines spell out a relevant word.]

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Our Twelve Months of Devotion

Joined under quilts, we dread
  Relentless rain;
Frost's touch that plagued our bed
  Extends this pain.
Moods brighten as we spot
  Life in a field
And praise a day so hot,
  As Winter yields.
Meek oxlips pop up then
  To shield nude Earth;
Jays meet and skip again
  In timid mirth.
Joy blooms, and we explore
  One cool retreat,
And brave, on one lake's shore,
  Noon's humid heat.
So potent are the blasts,
  So bleak - and yet,
Our mad affair outlasts
  Harsh Autumn threat.
New shades shall stun us now
  In trees above;
Dawn's cold and pleasant vow
  Propels our love.

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New Year's Day

Yes, I see another bright beginning,
An opportunity to build what I am not.
Praised be those who can dump the rot,
Pass guilt by, and go on blissfully living.

The years change more frequently than we,
Our yearly changes no more than flimsy screens,
Placed to fully magnify our means;
Windows on a dimly lit world none can see.

Yet, truth be told, I know what's within.
My resolutions fail to fully touch my heart,
At the end of a year, surprise! I am, as at the start,
A remorseful deluder--half hope, half sin.

Come and clap hands to a tolling midnight bell,
While the brand new year begins.
Let's raise champagne high in a confidant toast
To youthful promise a night ushers in.

May your battles be few, purest pleasures many,
Worthy wishes and hopes truly fulfilled.
May confidence grow strong in the face of any sorrow
To strengthen that foundation to rebuild.

May the love in your heart always fill your days
And may serenity enwreath the soul.
May tranquil moments bless your life
And keep your spirit whole.