Good anagrams almost make sense, and are more than just Scrabble-esque word jumbles. To the purist, they're scramblings of famous people's names which appropriately describe that personage, without any letters left over.
Try it. Quick. Tom Jones!
Uh. . .
Moon Jest! Hm. Does that work? Howbout. . . No jetsom (except it's spelled wrong). Or. . . What's New, Pussycat?
I can't do these very well, so I'm going to cheat and lift some from a web site, never mind which one. I steal all the time.
George Bush: He bugs Gore.
Osama bin Laden: A bad man (no lies).
The terrorist Osama bin Laden: Arab monster is no idle threat.
Elvis Aaron Presley: Seen alive? Sorry, pal!
Clint Eastwood: Old West action.
Madame Curie: Me, radium ace.
The best anagram I ever heard of, apparently thought up on the spot by Dick Cavett when looking at a theatre marquis (sp.? Who knows how to spell such a lame word, anyway?) is for Alec Guiness: Genuine Class.
Well, mine are almost like that. I mean. I have good intentions.
For the past couple of years I've been totally obsessed with Harold Lloyd, the silent screen comedian. You know, the one in the straw boater and hornrims who dangled off the hands of the huge clock above the. . . yeah, him, and by the way, he wasn't gay. (This is the first thing people ask me when I tell them about my book. I have no idea why, maybe all that white makeup, but did people call Chaplin a poof?)
I wrote a novel about Harold called The Glass Character, fell violently in love with him in the process (and I truly believe it's the best thing I've ever done), and now no one in the publishing industry wants to give me the time of day. Jesus, guys! Somebody, read this and cut me a deal before someone else gets it and you'll have to live with the regret for the rest of your life.
So I worked on Harold Lloyd anagrams. With all those backwards-looking Welsh double-ls, it was a problem.
So I came up with:
Rah, old dolly!
Hardy ol' doll
Ah, lord dolly!
Enough dollies. What got me started on this shit? I'm reading a book about the violent decades-long passion between Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, Furious Love (Sam Kashner & NancySchoenberger),which I first heard about on Dick Cavett's NY Times blog. I wondered if I could squeeze out some anagrams here. (Why? Ran out of those little Keurig coffee thingamies and needed something else addictive.)
Richard Burton came out: Brain chord rut. Well, he did waste his genius, didn't he?
But I'm most proud of this one, for Elizabeth:
The royal zeal bit.
I think I'll retire now, while I'm on a llor.
Try it. Quick. Tom Jones!
Uh. . .
Moon Jest! Hm. Does that work? Howbout. . . No jetsom (except it's spelled wrong). Or. . . What's New, Pussycat?
I can't do these very well, so I'm going to cheat and lift some from a web site, never mind which one. I steal all the time.
George Bush: He bugs Gore.
Osama bin Laden: A bad man (no lies).
The terrorist Osama bin Laden: Arab monster is no idle threat.
Elvis Aaron Presley: Seen alive? Sorry, pal!
Clint Eastwood: Old West action.
Madame Curie: Me, radium ace.
The best anagram I ever heard of, apparently thought up on the spot by Dick Cavett when looking at a theatre marquis (sp.? Who knows how to spell such a lame word, anyway?) is for Alec Guiness: Genuine Class.
Well, mine are almost like that. I mean. I have good intentions.
For the past couple of years I've been totally obsessed with Harold Lloyd, the silent screen comedian. You know, the one in the straw boater and hornrims who dangled off the hands of the huge clock above the. . . yeah, him, and by the way, he wasn't gay. (This is the first thing people ask me when I tell them about my book. I have no idea why, maybe all that white makeup, but did people call Chaplin a poof?)
I wrote a novel about Harold called The Glass Character, fell violently in love with him in the process (and I truly believe it's the best thing I've ever done), and now no one in the publishing industry wants to give me the time of day. Jesus, guys! Somebody, read this and cut me a deal before someone else gets it and you'll have to live with the regret for the rest of your life.
So I worked on Harold Lloyd anagrams. With all those backwards-looking Welsh double-ls, it was a problem.
So I came up with:
Rah, old dolly!
Hardy ol' doll
Ah, lord dolly!
Enough dollies. What got me started on this shit? I'm reading a book about the violent decades-long passion between Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, Furious Love (Sam Kashner & NancySchoenberger),which I first heard about on Dick Cavett's NY Times blog. I wondered if I could squeeze out some anagrams here. (Why? Ran out of those little Keurig coffee thingamies and needed something else addictive.)
Richard Burton came out: Brain chord rut. Well, he did waste his genius, didn't he?
But I'm most proud of this one, for Elizabeth:
The royal zeal bit.
I think I'll retire now, while I'm on a llor.
I can't do them quickly. It would take all day for me.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if the big problem getting Glass sold is the Lloyd estate. Everybody's afraid of the assholes?
Maybe if you offered to cut them in on it?
ReplyDeleteYeah, I've thought of that. I don't know how to handle it yet. BUT, if I "lead" with that, the whole thing will be off. When preparing my second novel for publication, I noticed a few similarities to a novel that was then a bestseller. I got all freaked out about it and told my publisher. Disaster. I not only had to wrench around dozens of details that anchored it in reality, they made me change THE TITLE (because my character was called Nola and "hers" was Noli). It died, and I practically did. You have to keep your mouth shut.
ReplyDeleteAnother suggestion: Thinly veil the Lloyd character as, say, Harley Froyd. Then again, Doctorow used the real names of Houdini, the Rosenbergs and I forget who else in Ragtime. The real characters did fictionalized stuff. How in hell did he get away with it? Maybe he'd be willing to advise you.
ReplyDeleteOops. My comment disappeared. I hate when that happens!
ReplyDeleteI said, I think, is he alive still? If not, I'll have to consult the Wee-Jee board.
I think I said, too, that I don't think the Lloyd family would find anything to object to. The novel was written with awe, respect and even love. If they object to THAT, well . . . (And if it does make any money, or even if it doesn't, I'd gladly share profits. I just want people to read it.)
I can't think what else. Monday, shitty dark deluge of a day. Oh: at least I didn't win the Giller Prize!