[Editor's Note: Thanks to Marla Stauffer for sending me the full,
correctly-attributed article, about a contest by the Washington Post.]

Bad Analogies

From Douglas Grant Style Invitational Report from Week 120: (from the
Washington Post, July 23, 1995), in which we asked you to come up with bad
analogies. The results were great, though we feel compelled to point out
that there is a fine line between an analogy that is so bad it is good and
an analogy that is so good it is bad. See what we mean.

4th Runner-Up:

Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein's Obsession would
smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead
of natural floral fragrances. (Jennifer Frank, Washington, and Jimmy
Pontzer, Sterling)

3rd Runner-Up:

The baseball player stepped out of the box and spit like a fountain statue
of a Greek god that scratches itself a lot and spits brown, rusty tobacco
water and refuses to sign autographs for all the little Greek kids unless
they pay him lots of drachmas. (Ken Krattenmaker, Landover Hills)

2nd Runner-Up:

I felt a nameless dread. Well, there probably is a long German name for it,
like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but I don't speak German. Anyway, it's
a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic
gizmos that close your bread bags. I don't know the name for those either.
(Jack Bross, Chevy Chase)

1st Runner-Up:

She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all
the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top
of that you can't sing worth a damn. (Joseph Romm, Washington)

And the winner of the framed Scarlet Fever sign:

His fountain pen was so expensive it looked as if someone had grabbed the
pope, turned him upside down and started writing with the tip of his big
pointy hat. (Jeffrey Carl, Richmond)

Honorable Mentions:

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree. (Jack Bross, Chevy Chase)

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry
them in hot grease. (Gary F. Hevel, Silver Spring)

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a
Dr Pepper can. (Wayne Goode, Madison, Ala.)

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who
went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes
with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high
schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of
those boxes with a pinhole in it. (Joseph Romm, Washington)

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to
dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open
again. (Rich Murphy, Fairfax Station)

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball wouldn't. (Russell Beland, Springfield)

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with
vegetable soup. (Paul Sabourin, Silver Spring)

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and
"Jeopardy" comes on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30. (Roy Ashley, Washington)

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze. (Chuck Smith,
Woodbridge)

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
(Russell Beland, Springfield)

Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access
T:flw.quid>55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quid>aaakk/ch@ung by
mistake (Ken Krattenmaker, Landover Hills)

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie
this guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall
Man." (Russell Beland, Springfield)

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19
p.m. at a speed of 35 mph. (Jennifer Hart, Arlington)

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth. (Paul Kocak, Syracuse, N.Y.)

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
never met. (Russell Beland, Springfield)

The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of
metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play. (Barbara
Fetherolf, Alexandria)

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free. (Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)

The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon. (Jennifer
Frank and Jimmy Pontzer, Washington and Sterling)

After sending in my entries for the Style Invitational, I feel relieved and
apprehensive, like a little boy who has just wet his bed. (Wayne Goode,
Madison, Ala.)
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