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.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]




Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago. Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic; far from it. He was notorious for entangling the city in everything from bootleg liquor and prostitution to murder.

Capone had a lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie." He was Capone's lawyer for one reason - he was rather good! In fact, Eddie's unique skill at legal manoeuvring kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.

To show his appreciation, Capone paid him extremely well. Not only was the amount of money enormous, but Eddie got preferential 'perks' also. For instance, he and his family had a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the modern conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire city block.

He lived the high-life of the mobsters and gave scant consideration to all the evils that went on around him.

The affluent lawyer did have one soft spot, though. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddie made sure that his son had smart clothes, an automobile, and a superior education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object.

And, in spite of his attachment to organised crime, Eddie tried to teach him right from wrong. He wanted his son to be a far better man than he was. But, in spite of all his wealth and influence, there were two things that the corrupt lawyer couldn't give his son: he couldn't pass on a good name or a good example.

One day, Eddie made a difficult decision. He wanted to put right all the wrongs he had done.

He decided he'd go to the authorities and tell the truth about Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity. In doing this, he knew he'd have to testify against The Mob, and he knew that the resultant cost would be terrible. But he testified.

Within the year, Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lone Chicago street. But, in his death, he had bequeathed his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price that a man could pay. The cops removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem that he had snipped from a magazine. The poem read:

"The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop,
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own.
So live, love, toil with a will,
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still."


World War II produced many heroes.
One such man was Lieutenant Commander Edward 'Butch' O'Hare.

Butch was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.

One day, he and his squadron were sent out on a mission. While he was in mid-air, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to fill the tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete the mission and get back to his ship.

His senior flight leader told him to return to the carrier, so he reluctantly obeyed, dropped out of the formation and headed gloomily back to the fleet.

On his way to the mother ship he saw something that turned his blood cold... a squadron of Japanese aircraft was heading toward the American fleet!

His fellow fighters were away on a sortie, leaving the fleet defenseless.

He could not reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Neither could he warn the fleet of the approaching aerial danger. So he decided there was only one thing to do. He'd got to somehow divert them...

Ignoring his personal safety, he accelerated and dived into the formation of Japanese planes.

Wing-mounted machine-guns blazed as he charged in, boldly attacking one enemy plane after another.

Butch wove elusively in and out of the now broken formation, firing at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent.

Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dived at the planes, trying to clip a wing or a tail in hopes of damaging as many as possible, leaving them unfit to fly.

Finally the exasperated Japanese planes took off in another direction. Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his plane limped back to the ship.

Upon landing, he related the whole event. The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale too. It showed the extent of Butch's attempt to protect his fleet. He had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft.

For this action, Butch became the Navy's first Ace of WWII, the first Naval Aviator to win the Medal of Honour.


A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat, aged only twenty-nine.

His home town could not allow the memory of this WWII hero to die and today O'Hare Airport in Chicago is so titled in dedication to the courage of this good man.


Butch O'Hare was "Easy Eddie's" son.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]


You cannot hope
to bribe or twist,
thank God! the
British journalist.
But, seeing what
the man will do
unbribed, there's
no occasion to.

Incorruptible BBC?
Not so,
I thought I heard a whistle blow-,
er just then;
about time say those in the know.
Abandon torn discretion, go.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]


Wayne Fontana

Pamela, Pamela
Remember the days
Of inkwells and apples
And books and school plays.

Where little Brer Rabbit kissed Pooh in the wood
And Fluff was the cat that sat on the rug

When Laurel and Hardy were shown at the flicks
With sticky red lollies on splintery sticks
Pigtails and ribbons and crushes on miss
Secret discussions about a first kiss.

But you were young
And everything was new
Impatient to do things you couldn't do.

Oh, Pamela, Pamela
You started to grow
Answers to questions you wanted to know.

When the rest of your childhood
Forgets as a dream
And the harshness of life
Dims the peaches and cream .

When Laurel and Hardy were shown at the flicks
With sticky red lollies on splintery sticks
Pigtails and ribbons and crushes on miss
Secret discussions about a first kiss .

But you were young
And everything was new
Impatient to do things you couldn't do.


A Sad and a Sorry Saga

Pamela Anderson
Reminds us of days
Of 'Baywatch' and 'Playboy'
With breasts on display.

When she was star feature in every guy's dreams
Some of them wanton and most quite obscene

She starred in some soppy, crass C-rated flicks
And glossy men's mags were adorned with her pics
In tiny bikinis, or nothing at all
Her pinups were seen on all lads' bedroom walls

Life was fun
And she could do no wrong
But, like the pics, it would fade before long...

Then Pam lost her 'wow!'
And work started to slow
She 'danced with the stars'
But danced out of the show.

Then, in 'Dancing On Ice', set
In the rainy UK,
She skated but was duly
Kicked out first day.

Then she hit rock bottom (still in the UK)
Playing in pantos for peanuts on stage,
A sad career choice, but it helped pay the bills
Pam's lost her way but she's not lost her will.

I wish you luck
Pam, what I say is true,
I know it for certain - most guys still
Love you

[an error occurred while processing this directive]



It struck so hard and people died,
Happened so quick, many are dead.
The earth shook, took them all off guard.
And people died, it struck so hard.

Dreadful picture, so much sorrow.
People crying, suffering shows.
Some lost it all and thats for sure.
So much sorrow, dreadful picture.

They need our aid and our prayers.
'Cause this pain is more than they bear.
Tragedy takes toll and they bleed.
Our prayers and our aid they need.


Colored pure thoughts to desecrate
Earmarked islands to resuscitate.
Beneath a sludge pile of hard pain;
Under a puddle of splashed rain.

Afraid of the murmured shake,
Now paralysed souls are at stake.
Dropping on the churchyard hour,
Belfry and shuttered antique tower.

Opportunity there repeatedly knocks;
Hidden chaos in dry dusty rocks.
Outside my gloomy room, I fear
Life's other shadow could disappear.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]


O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.

O, the man Richard's death remains would be sought
north, south, east, west, at a school, meadow, valley -
yet found left in the alley?!

[an error occurred while processing this directive]


[Sonnet 100 from Fulke Greville's 'Caelica' anagrammed into another sonnet about Halloween:]

A sonnet from Caelica

In night when colors all to black are cast,
Distinction lost, or gone down with the light,
The eye a watch to inward senses placed,
Not seeing, yet still having powers of sight,
Gives vain alarums to the inward sense
Where fear stirred up with witty tyranny
Confounds all powers, and thorough self-offense
Doth forge and raise impossibility:
Such as in thick depriving darknesses
Proper reflections of the error be
And images of self-confusednesses,
Which hurt imaginations only see;
And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils
Which but expressions be of inward evils.

Night of the Dead

When darling children go to find that treat
As corpses, vixens, ghosts and apparitions,
No witnesses and people serving sweets
Will find this scene obscene by definition.
We're willing to repress the wicked sight
So no one fathoms something more primeval:
The flippant tone in this October night
Conceals the real identity of Evil.
Why only focus on the wrongs within,
If Halloween is warding off such traces
Of any selfishness and daily sins?
God knows our florid masks are but our faces.
This is what children's costumes can reveal:
Their wrongs are false, but ours are very real.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]


[To commemorate the passing of Lou Reed, his song Perfect Day is anagrammed into a tribute song to him which follows the pattern of the original song and also contains a relevant acrostic:]

Perfect Day by Lou Reed

Just a perfect day,
Drink sangria in the park
And then later, when it gets dark, we go home.

Just a perfect day,
Feed animals in the zoo
Then later, a movie, too, and then home.

Oh, it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh, such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on...

Just a perfect day,
Problems all left alone,
Weekenders on our own, it's such fun.

Just a perfect day,
You made me forget myself,
I thought I was someone else, someone good.

Oh, it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh, such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on...

You're going to reap just what you sow.

Goodbye, Lou Reed

To this gifted man!
He just brought us so much joy,
Each one of the tunes employs loads of depth.

Don't forget that man
Each time you pick up a pick,
And play "Egg Cream" with a kick, like his stuff.

To the edgy music man!
He's just the type we enjoy.
Oh, we cheer the man
Free of woe and soaring up,
So astute and rising up...

I applaud you, man,
No star made us weep like you.
Great poets are often few, so we ache.

Eulogize that man,
Read lyrics of lengthy songs
Like "Sweet Jane" and other strong, faded gifts.

Oh, weep for my edgy man
Unjustly taken today.
Rest in peace, my man,
Earning that euphoric joy,
Earning that euphoric joy...

Deep under us, you just live on.