Anagrammy Placegetters for July 2013

All the highly-placed anagrams from the July 2013 Anagrammy Awards.

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THE ENTERTAINMENT CATEGORY

1st - Tony Crafter with:
Walt Disney's animated motion picture 'The Lion King' =
Mildly cute songs, with an opinionated meerkat in it!

2nd - Rick Rothstein with:
The Courier-Mail "newspaper"=
Owner? Rupert.
Aim? Cheap lies.

3rd - nedesto with:
Andrew Lloyd Webber musical The Phantom of the Opera =
French madman woos lady to be pupil below her theatre.

THE TOPICAL CATEGORY

1st - nedesto with:
Glee star Cory Monteith is dead =
Actor's demise in hotel tragedy.

2nd - Meyran Kraus with:
It's a boy for Prince William and Catherine =
British pair welcomed a nice royal infant.

3rd - Dean Mayer with:
One's personal information ~
from NSA's online operation.

THE OTHER NAMES CATEGORY

1st - Meyran Kraus with:
The American fast food giant McDonalds =
Digest a ton of fat and random chemicals.

2nd - Scott Gardner with:
The Royal House of Windsor =
A history of ones who ruled.

3rd - Larry Brash with:
DSM-V Classification of Mental Disorders =
Format divides sorts of clinical madness.

THE LONG CATEGORY

1st - Tony Crafter with:
For decades, two heroic statues, one male and one female, had stood facing each other in the park.

Then one day, an angel descended from heaven and announced to them: "You've been such exemplary statues that I propose to give you a special gift. So..." he added, "I shall bring you to life for thirty minutes, during which time you can do anything you want to."

Then, with a clap of his hands, the angel brought them to life.

The two statues approached each other in a shy-looking manner at first, and then made a quick dash for the bushes, from which there came a good deal of giggling and chuckling and shaking of branches.

Fifteen minutes later, the two statues reappeared from the bushes, each with wide grins across their faces.

"You still have fifteen minutes more," the angel reported, winking at them conspiratorially.

With an even wider grin, the female statue turned to the male statue and said, "Quick! Let's do it once more then!

Only this time you hold the pigeon down and I'll poop on its head."

=

A Scots Guardsman attired in full dress uniform went marching into a chemist's shop.

At the counter, he lifted his sporran, eased out a neatly folded cotton bandana and carefully unfolded it to reveal a small, square silk handkerchief, which he unwrapped to reveal a saggy condom with a number of patches on it.

"Good grief," said the chemist, gingerly eyeing the grotesque item.

"I'll not haggle wi' ye," said the man; "how much ta repair it?"

"Fifteen pence," replied the chemist.

"How much ta buy a new one?"

"Twenty-one pence."

The Scotsman painstakingly refolded the condom into the silk handkerchief and the cotton bandana, put it safely under his sporran then turned and, looking stiffly ahead, marched out the exit.

After a minute, the chemist heard a huge shout of "Och aye!" go up outside, followed by a riotous, even bigger shout of "Yahoo!"

The door opened and the Scotsman strode into the shop again, this time with a huge grin on his face. "The regiment has taken a vote," he said...
"We'll have a new one."

2nd - Ellie Dent with:
The Goodtimes Email Virus

Goodtimes will re-write your hard drive. Not only that, but it will scramble any
disks that are even close to your PC.

It will recalibrate your refrigerator's coolness setting so that all your ice cream goes melty.

It will demagnetize the strips on all your credit cards, also screw up your television
and use subspace field harmonics to scratch any of the CD's you try to play.

It will give your ex-girlfriend your new phone number.

It will mix Kool-aid into that fishtank of yours.

It will drink all your beer, and leave its socks out on the coffee table when there is
company coming over.

It will put a dead kitten in the back pocket of your good suit pants, and hide your
car keys when you are late for work.

It will even give you nightmares about the circus clowns.

It will: pour sugar in your gas tank and shave off both your eyebrows,
while dating your girlfriend behind your back;

~

bill your curry dinner to your current bank card.

It will seduce your rich grandmother. Even if she's dead. Such is the power
of Goodtimes.

It's toxic, simply terrifying: it reaches out beyond the grave to sully those
we currently hold dear.

It will lurk around parking lots, only to move your car so you can't find it.

It will kick your tabby cat ... for nothing.

It will regularly leave messages, the crudely inappropriate sort, on your work
boss's voice mail ... in your voice!

It's crazy, dangerous and terrifying. It is also a particularly interesting shade
of pink.

Goodtimes will give you Dutch Elm disease.

It's insidious and subtle. It will leave the toilet seat up.

It will make a toxic batch of Methamphetamine in a bathtub; leave bacon to fry,
wrecking your cooker; while it goes out to chase after and well, terrify some folk,
top grade schoolers, with your funky new snow blower.

That's all now.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

3rd - Jason Lofts with:
List:
Here are my favourite ten plus one memorable black female singers and recording artists:

1. Tina Turner
2. Whitney Houston
3. Gladys Knight
4. Aretha Franklin
5. Diana Ross
6. Ella Fitzgerald
7. Lena Horne
8. Dionne Warwick
9. Dinah Washington
10. Mahalia Jackson
11. Bessie Smith

=

“Blacklist“

1. Swindler Ike hit her
2. Fallen, fatal drug overdose news
3. 'Midnight Train to Georgia'
4. 'Nessun Dorma' in Italian
5. and the Supremes
6. aka First Lady of Song
7. She's an 'I Got Rhythm' baby!
8. Her real name’s Warrick
9. On a roll – winner at nineteen
10. Michaela Jacko?
11. Hits: 'Suzanne'…

THE SPECIAL CATEGORY

1st - Meyran Kraus with:

Sonnet XCVI by William Shakespeare

Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport;
Both grace and faults are lov'd of more and less:
Thou mak'st faults graces that to thee resort.
As on the finger of a throned queen
The basest jewel will be well esteem'd,
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated, and for true things deem'd.
How many lambs might the stern wolf betray,
If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
How many gazers mightst thou lead away,
If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
But do not so; I love thee in such sort,
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

=

That Next Stage After Death

How shall a slothful soul dodge Satan's fires?
A great asylum must be Heaven's gates
Though, when it's vying for those robes and lyres,
There is an urge to right those broken traits.
So how impure its many flaws may seem there?
A lot of pride won't ease the sky's blind forum;
Unshaken avarice snares no fans either -
But holy diligence does, with that quorum;
And zero moderation angers it:
The Holy Court destroys those that are loathsome.
No way to charm its eyeless staff with wit;
It lets no glutton eye that gentlest blossom.
Just follow modestly, be meek and humble
To reach that peace - and not Hell's noted rumbles.

2nd - Jason Lofts with:

Stufen

Wie jede Blüte welkt und jede Jugend
Dem Alter weicht, blüht jede Lebensstufe,
Blüht jede Weisheit auch und jede Tugend
Zu ihrer Zeit und darf nicht ewig dauern.
Es muss das Herz bei jedem Lebensrufe
Bereit zum Abschied sein und Neubeginne,
Um sich in Tapferkeit und ohne Trauern
In andre, neue Bindungen zu geben.
Und jedem Anfang wohnt ein Zauber inne,
Der uns beschützt und der uns hilft, zu leben.

Wir sollen heiter Raum um Raum durchschreiten,
An keinem wie an einer Heimat hängen,
Der Weltgeist will nicht fesseln uns und engen,
Er will uns Stuf' um Stufe heben, weiten.
Kaum sind wir heimisch einem Lebenskrise
Und traulich eingewohnt, so droht Erschlaffen,
Nur wer bereit zu Aufbruch ist und Reise,
Mag lähmender Gewöhnung sich entraffen.

Es wird vielleicht auch noch die Todesstunde
Uns neuen Räumen jung entgegen senden,
Des Lebens Ruf an uns wird niemals enden...
Wohlan denn, Herz, nimm Abschied und gesunde!

Hermann Hesse

=

Für immer so, nach oben

Blumen wurden welk und faul, wir junge Burschen
Wurden älter. Und fest im Leben stehend
Wiesen sie gute Eigenschaften auf,
'ne Zeit lang in Fülle, jedoch nicht für immer.
Sei beherzt, jedem ruft das Leben zu:
Bitte verabschieden, um neu zu beginnen.
Kühn und nicht traurig begeben
Wir uns in andere, neuartige Richtungen.
Und über jede Phase weht eine Hand,
Die uns das Leben untermauert. Fleht euch an!

Während wir durch's Zimmer gehen,
Soll kein Mensch aus Unwissen was machen!
Die geistige Welt engt und bindet uns - nein -
Eher uns fall- und stufenweise zu erheben.
Kriselt’s im Leben, sind wir manchmal zu stumm,
Einschlafen ist just Drohung und daher wende ab!
Jedweder, der zum Reisen aufbricht,
Kann sich leidigen Gewohnheiten entziehen.

Echte Mühe bereitet uns nur die Stunde des Todes,
Sendet uns Jungen in neue Zimmer.
Endlich ruft uns das Leben, nie endend...
Auf dein Wohl, Herr! Ade! Juhu, werde heil und gesund!

Jason Lofts

3rd - Adie Pena with:
KIDS WHO DIE
by Langston Hughes

This is for the kids who die,
Black and white,
For kids will die certainly.
The old and rich will live on awhile,
As always,
Eating blood and gold,
Letting kids die.

Kids will die in the swamps of Mississippi
Organizing sharecroppers
Kids will die in the streets of Chicago
Organizing workers
Kids will die in the orange groves of California
Telling others to get together
Whites and Filipinos,
Negroes and Mexicans,
All kinds of kids will die
Who don’t believe in lies, and bribes, and contentment
And a lousy peace.

Of course, the wise and the learned
Who pen editorials in the papers,
And the gentlemen with Dr. in front of their names
White and black,
Who make surveys and write books
Will live on weaving words to smother the kids who die,
And the sleazy courts,
And the bribe-reaching police,
And the blood-loving generals,
And the money-loving preachers
Will all raise their hands against the kids who die,
Beating them with laws and clubs and bayonets and bullets
To frighten the people—
For the kids who die are like iron in the blood of the people—
And the old and rich don’t want the people
To taste the iron of the kids who die,
Don’t want the people to get wise to their own power,
To believe an Angelo Herndon, or even get together

Listen, kids who die—
Maybe, now, there will be no monument for you
Except in our hearts
Maybe your bodies’ll be lost in a swamp
Or a prison grave, or the potter’s field,
Or the rivers where you’re drowned like Leibknecht
But the day will come—
Your are sure yourselves that it is coming—
When the marching feet of the masses
Will raise for you a living monument of love,
And joy, and laughter,
And black hands and white hands clasped as one,
And a song that reaches the sky—
The song of the life triumphant
Through the kids who die.

=

ANYONE'S SON
(for the family of Trayvon Martin)
by Tara Skurtu

This poem wants to write itself backwards.
Wishes it were born memory instead, skipping

time like a record needle stuck on the line
of your last second. You sit up. Brush not blood,

but dirt from your chest. You sit up. You're in bed.
Bad dream. Back to sleep. You sit up. Rise and shine.

Good morning. This is the poem of a people united
in the uniform of your last day. Pockets full

of candy, hooded sweatshirt, sweet tea. This poem
wants to stand its ground, silence force

with simple words, pray you alive, anyone's
son -- tall boy, eye-smile, walk on home.

A WAR OF WORDS

What do the investigative reporters in newspapers know?

Who at the Dr. Michael M. Krop High School wrote W.T.F. on a wall?
Enlightening? So what!
The Miami-Dade School Police Department handled the odd screwdriver?
Hid the marijuana in the bag? Withheld the exhibit?

Does Seven-Eleven sell bags of Skittles and cans of Arizona Iced Tea?
Where is the Retreat at Twin Lakes?
Who dwells in that loved gated neighborhood wonderland?

Harsh killing: Black male teen wearing a dark colored hoodie
On top of the Hispanic person in the drizzling rain?
Who was shrieking for help? Not a case of self-defense?

What do the investigative newshens in broadsheets know?

Swirling rhetoric on hand. Legal gobbledegook highlighted in indelible ink.
Exchanging lenghthened tales and theories.
Breeding, engendering hate within.

Like his Facebook page now. He'll hold the hollowed protests.
Shed the allegations of racial bias -- even when wanted.

The hoodie, the trigger.
The spic, the nigger
Lived in intelligible world headlines.
In all likelihood, libelled in interviews.

What do investigative writers in tabloids know?

Saddened, I do think.
Old dark world.
And in the end, where is Hell?

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Anagrammy Placegetters for July 2013

THE GENERAL CATEGORY

THE ENTERTAINMENT CATEGORY

THE TOPICAL CATEGORY

THE PEOPLES NAMES CATEGORY

THE OTHER NAMES CATEGORY

THE MEDIUM LENGTH CATEGORY

THE ANAGRAMMY CHALLENGE CATEGORY

THE LONG CATEGORY

THE SPECIAL CATEGORY

THE RUDE CATEGORY