Bad Analogy Contest
from the Washington Post
July 23, 1995
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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