A Few Good Anagrams

When attempting to come up with anagrams, I’m occasionally rewarded by a eureka moment that makes the otherwise incomparably wasteful procedure worth the effort.  Here are some of the best ones I’ve generated over the years.  If you’re really into anagrams (and not everyone is, understandably), check out the list I assembled on my old blog, http://www.lettuceprey.weebly.com.  I think there are about a thousand of them.

Anyway, I hope you like them.

Poseidon     POISONED

Medusa     AMUSED

constipated     CAN’T DEPOSIT

predators     TEARDROPS

nudity     UNTIDY

discover     DIVORCES

listen     SILENT

reincarnation     AN INCINERATOR

happiest     EPITAPHS

Palestine     PENALTIES

Maher*     HAREM                   *as in Bill

ideals     LADIES

Pentagon     NOTE GAP

violence     NICE LOVE

evangelist     EVIL’S AGENT

depression     PERSON DIES

caricatures     ACCURATE, SIR

women     OWN ME

cretinous     NEUROTICS

wealth     THE LAW

poverty     VERY TOP


Words Made Up Of Other Words

One feverish anal-retentive little hobby of mine is coming up with anagrams.  Although there are algorithms that will do the grunt work for you these days, I like the thrill of discovery that occasionally pops up during eureka moments from a dungheap of duds (that would be a good name for a second-hand clothing store).  That’s why I do them all by longhand.  It’s a bad habit, as I accumulate folded scraps of paper I have to sift through in search of anything worth salvaging.

I’d be grateful if you could let me know which ones you like.  And if there are any you don’t like, don’t feel you have to hide your flamethrower under a bushel.

But before I share them with you, have you ever seen anything more surreal than George W. Bush commemorating the historic Selma march of the civil rights movement?

I haven’t.

George W. Bush        SOB GREW HUGE (or:  s.o.b. grew huge) (a golden oldie)


omnipresent        NOTE MR. PENIS

redundancy         RANDY DUNCE



American Sniper       SIMIAN CREEP RAN

Clint Eastwood         A TWISTED COLON; TOTAL SWINE, COD

melting glaciers         GIGANTIC SMELLER

tenacious         INTO SAUCE

downloads       WOODLANDS

hug         UGH

bloody     OLD BOY

bleed       BE LED

antlers     RENTALS

automatons    TOMATO ANUS


Paradise Lost      OLD PARASITES

Stairway to Heaven    ATTORNEY HAS A VIEW

heart failure       FEEL A HURT AIR

confused     END FOCUS

freakish      FISH RAKE



split personality        LOST REPTILIAN SPY

toilet paper         PLOP ATTIRE

painkillers      RAKE IN PILLS

I hope you like them.

New Meanings For Familiar Terms

(Along With A Few Coinages)

spontaneous combustion:  what the U.S. Air Force calls a napalm strike

friendly fire:  the smiley faces made by a happy flamethrower

collateral damage:  the thing your car insurance policy doesn’t cover

love triangle:  the harmonious relationship held by Wall Street, the Democrats, and the Republicans

cancer-patient (adj.):  how you have to be if you live in an Asian mega-city with poisonous air conditions

air conditioner:  coal plant

baby-shitter:  someone who gives birth by way of excretion

car pool:  a terrific bathing experience for your precious automobile

face book:  a soldier’s souvenir collection of his victim’s visages

kaputalism:  what happens when the whole global system of trade and commerce suddenly collapses due to accumulated ecological damage, climate-related pressures, prolonged economic inequality, and a perennially sustained assault on other species

blood bank:  the nickname arms contractors give to war

microsoft word:  a baby’s whisper

paper jam:  a delicacy enjoyed by beavers and termites

marketing department:  the section in Walmart where you buy your groceries

plastic surgeon:  a doctor of the future

time machine:  a mobile phone

conspicuous consumption:  cannibalism

police force:  a euphemism for “police brutality”

diorama:  a colorful way of saying “mass extinction”

international relationship:  the love boat

divine intervention:  the end result of government surveillance

exitainment:  the feeling you get when you realize the movie you’re watching sucks

celepretty (adj):  (rhymes with “celebrity”) attractive in an artificial way that makes people want to give you an award

American Sniper: Alternative Titles

In an effort to come up with a title for his latest jingoistic, Islamophobic action flick, Clint Eastwood got a lot of suggestions from his script writers before he finally decided to just name the bloody movie after the book it was based on.  Which one of the following rejections do you think he might want to use to launch the director’s cut?

Diddler on the Roof

The Iraqi-Whacker

I Come in Peace

How the West Was Lost

Sniper Rash

I Only Have Ice for You

Lee Harvey Oswald, Eat Your Heart Out

Keep Your Muzzle on the Muslims

From America With Hate

Weapons of Crass Destruction

Why Can’t We Be Friends?

Violence Is Golden

Magnum Farce

Tunnel Vision

When I Grow Up, I Want to Be a Predator Drone!

My Bullets Are Your Bullets

I’m the NRA

More Fun Than a Barrel of Democracy

Legend Shmegend

Peekaboo!  I Slay You

American Psycho 2

The Sight-Seer

Lie Down And Fight Like A Man

Ready?  Aim. . . Expire!

The Accidental Terrorist


Kyle the Vile

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

My Life’s A Video Game

American Cipher

I’m a little concerned about the title Eastwood went with.  The word sniper has an unpleasant ring to it.  It rhymes with diaper, viper, and wiper.  Snipe is an anagram of penis, which is fitting when you consider firearms as phallic symbols (not that that’s a very nice thing to say about your penis, and I believe you owe it–him?–an apology).

But it’s good to know that after reducing the cradle of civilization to a shambles, the United States still knows how to make a refreshing glass of lemonade in the shape of a Hollywood blockbuster movie, transforming the suffering of millions of innocent people into lucrative entertainment.

(By the way, I apologize for the misanthropic tone of yesterday’s entry.  When I wrote that I crave the attention of people I respect even less than myself, I was only joking about the lack of respect part.  Or half-joking, since it’s true that I find it hard to respect people who build their whole lives around unquestioningly digested falsehoods.

Also, excuse me for getting the name of the Spanish conquistador wrong.  I meant to write Hernando Cortez, not Gregorio (a character in the title of a movie starring–if I’m not mistaken, although I probably am once again–Edward James Olmos, star of Miami Vice and the inspirational feel-good real-life heroic teacher flick Stand And Deliver).  My apologies to any descendants of Cortez who happen to read this blog.

Tongue Twisters (R – Z)

Regina regurgitated religiously on Reginald’s refrigerator and roundly registered his revolted reaction, rejoicing and regaling him with her ravenously relished rebellion as Reggie retaliated by ridiculing her rudeness with a ricocheting riposte.

Steven stammered a staccato stampede of silly syllables as he sneezed, sniffled, and saluted his supercilious and superfluous supervisor Simon Sarcophagus, a sinister, sneaky snob who secretly sucked up to spineless, sputtering sycophants.

Tempted to topple the temple with a titanic tide of TNT, Tina tittered tearfully and tore apart a department store instead with tremendous trepidation, taunting a tidal wave of tuna to tear the town in two.

Unable to utter an understatement, Uncle Ulysses ululated unctuously under his unwieldy umbrella at the unfortunate universe and uneasily used a unicycle.

Valerie vivaciously vomited on the vacuous vampire’s vermilion vest as the vexed vermin vehemently averred in vanilla vowels that she’d vitiated the volunteer vulture and vanquished his vitality.

Wondering where Waldo was, Wanda wished the wizard would wipe her weeping wounds with his wobbly wand and walked woefully with Wonder Woman, waving out the window at the widow wandering on the wharf who whispered wispily, “Why will we win, and wherefore worry about the Wichita Wallabies?”

Expecting an excellent example of excrement, Xavier exuded exuberance as he exonerated the exceptional executioner of excessive executives and expectorated expressively on the expectant exporter of exalted expletives.

Yodeling Yakov yearned for a yellow yak to yoke his Yugo to and yipped at the yogurt-yielding youth in the Yosemite yurt.

Zealous Zeke zigzagged on his zebra and zoomed through the zephyr’s zipper into the zinc zenith of the Zimbabwe ziggurat.

(Zorry, but I don’t zmoke zigguratz.)

In Other Words

One thing I sometimes do to avoid thinking about death is make anagrams.  In case you don’t know what they are, an anagram is when you scramble the letters of one word or phrase, rearranging them into a new one. It’s usually hard to come up with anything noteworthy.  In fact, most of them don’t make any sense.  It’s a labor of love in the name of ephemeral trivia–the reason I was put on this earth.

Since I usually scribble them on folded-up pieces of paper that accumulate and make a mess, and I have to move out soon and get rid of unwanted stuff before I do, I’d like to share a few of them with you.  I used to be far more obsessive about generating them, but nowadays they’re just a way to whittle down writer’s block.  I’d been reading a lot of Nabokov lately for inspiration (Speak, Memory; Bend Sinister; Despair; and The Luzhin Defense) but his nihilistic world view and relative dearth of sympathetic characters overshadow his linguistic brilliance, leaving me cold (but at least I didn’t catch a cold).  The cruelest thing of his I’ve ever read besides Lolita, which has the redeeming feature of being an undisputed masterpiece, is probably Laughter in the Dark, unless it was King, Queen, Knave; I was also turned off–I have to admit–by his breezy mention in his memoir of having dispatched thousands of butterflies in the name of pursuing his hobby of killing and collecting them.  Mind you, I’ve done the same by proxy with innumerable cows, pigs, chickens, and fish, but hey, I was hungry, okay?  As far as I know, Mr. Nabokov never ate any of the butterflies he caught (when you think of it, butterfly is kind of an oxymoron when considering each noun of the compound word as a dish; it’s likewise ironic that whereas there is little in nature as beautiful and delicate as a butterfly, few images are more disgusting or coarse than that of a stick of butter teeming with flies–at least from your garden variety human point of view).

Onward to the anagrams:

gratitude     I GET A TURD!

advertisement     DEVIANT METERS


superstardom     PROUD MASTERS

                          TUMORS SPREAD

                          DREAM’S STUPOR

                          SPOTS A MURDER

                          SPURT MORE ADS

                          PARROTS MUSED

brain damage     A BRAND IMAGE

imaginary friend     RAIN INFAMY DIRGE

watching television     I CHEW VIOLENT GIANTS

disaster movie     SIR DEAD’S VOMIT

                           IS VIDEO MASTER

                           ASS?  I REMOVED IT.

                           MEET ID’S SAVIOR

                           IDEA:  VISE STORM

                           SAVE TIMID ROSE

                           MR. SOVIET’S AIDE

born-again Christian     ORGANIC SHIT IN A BARN

                                   CHRIST BANANA ORIGIN

                                   I GROAN, SHIT-CAN BRAINS

self-confident     OFFEND CLIENTS

sexually frustrated     EXERT FULL SATURDAYS

existentialism     EXIT SEMI-STALIN

                         MIST EXITS ALIEN (switched from “alien exits mist”)

alienated     DIAL A TEEN

                   NEAT!  IDEAL!

                   A DATELINE

post-traumatic stress disorder     ADDS MESS’S PATRIOTIC TORTURERS

                                                  TORPEDO:  ITS SARCASM IS TRUSTED

                                                  DISASTROUS TERRORISTS’ MAP, ETC.

lucid dreaming     LURID MAGIC DEN

                           LANGUID MR. DICE

                           DIG A CRUEL MIND

                           RID DUNG MALICE

                           NICE, MILD GUARD

psychotic episode     COPY POETIC DISHES

                                 HE IS CITY COP’S DOPE (or:  HE IS CITY DOPE’S COP)

peace of mind     FAMINE COPED

                           DEEP MAN COIF*

                           COME FIND APE

                           FEED MAP COIN

The Marx Brothers     EXHORT SMART HERB

spaghetti western     GREAT WET SHIT’S PEN

quiet desperation     QUESTION ATE PRIDE

getting married     MINT TIRE DAGGER

financiers     FIRE IN CANS

                   CAIN’S FINER

                   FRANCE IS IN

movie line     I LOVE MINE

                    EVE IN LIMO

good times     TO DIG SOME

modern lives     DEVIL SERMON

                        MEL DRIVES ON

                        DRIVE LEMONS

                        SILVER DEMON (or if you prefer, “liver’s demon”)

livestock     SLICK VOTE

                  LOVE’S TICK

closing time     LONG MICE SIT

                       CLING TO SEMI

                       MICE LOST GIN

                       COMING TILES

                       SLICING TOME

I hope you liked them.  Please let me know if you have any feedback.  If not, a feedbag would do just as well.  Thanks.

*This could be a typo.

The Sound of Sirens

Spiderman spills spaghetti and spinach on his expensive spandex and spits, speaking Spanish, announcing his annoyance about arachnid’s acne and aching ankles.  His uncle’s angle actually accentuates accurate accumulation of actions, bequeathing benefits to Beatrice and Benedick as Romeo and Juliet play Russian roulette and jettison their medicine and mangle their language, tangled in the anguish of forbidden ecstasy.

“Excellent!” says Mr. Burns, although he meant to tell Waylon Smithers that Wayne’s World, which he watched with Bart and Lisa Simpson at a Monday morning matinee, was excrement, his syntax tackled by a dent in a synapse, a moment of dementia.

Meanwhile, Homer droned about the tome Marge was reading out loud to her house plant about the importance of being Ernest Borgnine, autographed by Popeye Doyle, who couldn’t remember the name of the character the same actor, Gene Hackman, later played in The Poseidon Adventure, a priest who sacrifices his life for the sake of humanity after a brief, stern word with an indifferent and nonexistent God.

I didn’t realize at the time that the priest was suffering from schizophrenia; after all, aren’t we all?  Just ask Sting about the voices inside my head or Ray Davies of the Kinks about the lonely voices in the dark echoing in the subway as people secretly in love with everything lower their eyes to look at screens that screw their brains into place even as they feel out of place, hurtling like hijacked turtles through tunnels of hurt, building pyramids of pain paintstakingly with Legos and Pez candy, multicolored plastic and processed sugar-sweetened treats blessed by Perry Como and Mario Cuomo and meant to make mincemeat of your teeth, certainly not something you want to eat unless you want to surrender your smile to a wave of eagles’ beaks, those flapping feathered beasts deafeningly defeated by windmills’ wings as Don Quixote sings valiantly about Dulcinea, his decorated duchess, not knowing the poor princess is in fact a prostitute–who gives a hoot?–but he assures Sancho Panza and Adam Lanza she’s a chaste and fair maiden as he assails his adversaries with a lightning-fast lance, galloping gallantly on his grunting old pony Rocinante de la Mancha.

Eructating erections elect to erupt, massacred by sarcasm’s mascara, massaged by melancholy mandibles and Manichean manacles, derided by desire’s dizzying disease.  Gregarious gargoyles gander along glittering gardens of gargling dragons, gleefully glowing with glorious gluttony as they gloat on gargantuan glutei maximi.  Vituperative virgins vivisect vicious vipers vomited from vacuum cleaners in reverse.  Hirsute Hercules rehearses for a TV commercial in which he drives a hearse with a hernia through an abortive birthday party burdened with beautiful balloons popped by pernicious little pricks.

Helicopters adopt dilapidated velociraptors dappled with apple sauce and ponderous pandas applaud palpably, perplexed by the impossible performance.  Jack Nicholson’s cat, Alexander Baryshnikov, scratches Bryan Cranston as he crankily spanks the animal for pawing his cranberry-colored cravat, but the acrobatic cat learned a trick from Jack, stolen from the late stiff-legged hack John Wayne, “Never explain and never apologize,” which is exactly what the government did when the navy shot down an Iranian airliner over the Persian Gulf (“I will never apologize for the United States of America; I don’t care what the facts are”–thus spoke the first George Bush, although not the worst), and Jimmy Joyce’s father said if he didn’t apologize the eagles would pull out his eyes and sure enough they did, just as Oswald planted his foot on poor Gloucester’s face and blinded him for trusting in his bastard son, another victim of bullied gullibility, after the fear-fulfilled monarch turned anarchist, Lear.

Neither did the scientists who pulled off the Manhattan Project receive any rebuke from the insuperably duped Duke when the dude contracted cancer from the fallout of the mushroom cloud that sprang up in Alamagordo during a dress rehearsal for further funereal murder on the far side of the sea a little later while Mr. Marion Morrison was making a movie entitled Rio Lobo, another western, naturalmente, as he wouldn’t want to strain his constipated talent too much.

Of course, that was a long time ago, ho ho ho, back when leaders lied to people and kept a lot of secrets, unlike the transcendently transparent times we live in today, when no one needs adult supervision since the children run everything, and there’s no need to weed the garden if you don’t mind being overrun by a breeding brood of bad seeds.  Relax and enjoy the ratcheting up of tensions as you writhe on a rack or a Catherine wheel or an unmade Procrustean bed.

Or else resist and make a fist and say no thanks find someone else to drive your tanks and hold the phone on that flock of drones I don’t want someone to make me groan, but deliver it with a grin unless you don’t mind taking it on the chin.