Welcome back, after a brief hiatus, to the New York Magazine Competition. On alternate Mondays (or, this week, Tuesday), we lay out a challenge and offer sample responses. Enter in the comments section or on Twitter with the hashtag we’ve provided, and the editors will select a winner. Criteria are highly subjective, but heavily retweeted and favorited posts will have an advantage. The prize is a year’s subscription to New York in print or a two-year subscription to the iPad edition (winner’s choice). Full rules are here.
COMPETITION NO. 70: “MAKE A MOVIE TARDY.” In acknowledgment of our recent delays in putting a new Competition up (sorry, folks; there have been some backstage complications that will be ending shortly), please offer a film title altered to suggest lateness. For example:
ROSEMARY’S INDUCED LABOR
STAR WARS: THE FORCE AWAKENS AT 9:30 AND OH MY GOD WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THERE BY NOW
DOG DAY AFTER AFTERNOON
Enter on Twitter with the hashtag #makeamovietardy, or in the comments thread below, by May 20.
RESULTS OF COMPETITION No. 69, “LAST-WORD DEFLATION,” in which you were asked for a final-word addition that wrecks a familiar phrase or title.
HONORABLE MENTION TO:
To be or not to be circumcised.
The Man Who Knew Too Much Already
“It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s strictly business jargon.”
Baby Got Back Pain
Just walk on by, Felicia.
I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat shirts.
Let them eat cake pops!
One day, we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children’s children what it was once like in the United States where men were free balling.
Dr. Livingstone, I presume nothing.
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table saw…
What fresh hell is this election?
Ethnic cleansing lotion
The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step class.
… it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing presidential.
Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss-off!
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore, hardly.”
The unbearable lightness of being cremated.
It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World Almanac
We’re not in Kansas anymore, thankfully.
What’s in your wallet? Freeze!
You had me at hello, dipshit.
The Young and the Restless Leg Syndrome
One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all parakeets.
AND THE WINNER IS:
Call me Ishmael McSailordork.