Anagrams and Politics

One can not always keep mired down by the drudge of daily work life.

Weekends you can find me reading or much more likely, taking time to get some quilting and sewing done. I sew/quilt for a while, then I stretch out to read for a bit. Whether it be a good book, or in today’s case, going to a favorite website (AmericanThinker) where one can get a “Brainiac Workout” that cleanses the cells, in no time you are ready to head back to the original task at hand.

So, until Monday when we continue the Constitutional Discussion, have a “Wonderful” weekend and don’t be afraid to have some fun with the brain cells.


March 07, 2009

Anagrams and Politics

By Big Fur Hat

I am a huge fan of anagrams (well, for the sake of this bit I am. Play along.) I’ve been fascinated with anagrams ever since I read.  “A man, a plan, a canal, Panama.” Oh, wait, that’s a palindrome.

I’ve been fascinated with anagrams ever since I read, Mother-in-Law = Woman Hitler.  It was a chilling moment, every bit as chilling as when Mia Farrow rearranged the scrabble tiles on her floor and figured out her neighbor, Roman Castevet was indeed Steven Marcato, a devil worshipper, in Rosemary’s Baby.

Truth be told, my wife Cathy sees anagrams all day long. It’s the way her brain is wired. We’ll be watching a Mets game and during a lull she’ll just say out loud, in an efficient monotone, “STEM.”
“What?,” I’d ask.
“Stem,” she’d repeat. “Mets backwards.”
I learned to cope.
So, being an avid anagramist (er, ite, ologist, someone help me here) as well as a “wonk” in the “know” (try and keep up) it was befitting that I break out the scrabble tiles and apply my considerable anagrammatical skills to our current political scene. Most people make the mistake of thinking that this practice is merely an exercise in shifting letters around to uncover some nonsensical turn of a phrase. No, I am a great believer in the many penetrative truths that can be revealed in the paranormal, yes I said it, paranormal world of anagrams – at least the ones that just happen to coincidentally fit your already preconceived notions. But, nevertheless, be prepared to have the coarse hairs on your neck bristle, and I’m not just talking to you liberal gals.
I decided to start with a phrase rather than a name. I chose the current buzz words “The Stimulus Bill.” I got off to a rocky start, only coming up with:
Elitist Bull Mush and Libs Little Humus.
Not so hot. But I know how the world of mysticism works. I cannot be fooled. I changed the phrase to “The Stimulus Package” and came up with:
Sausage Clump Kit!
Are you scared?
C’mon! Sausage Clump Kit! This is CLEARLY saying that the stimulus package is nothing but PORK!  Sausage is nothing but a clump kit, when you really think about it. And Sausage is made of pork. I rest my case.
Also, subprime loans becomes Lib Anuses Romp. This only bolsters my already rested case.
I then turned my steely eye towards the authors of the stimulus package. First up was Nancy Pelosi. I yielded some satisfactory results:
Canine Ploys- which I took to mean that she is a conniving dog. Not bad.
And then:
Sly Canine Op – which only congealed the looseness of the first anagram.  It was now provable, Pelosi’s a conniving dog. (Don’t blame me, blame the stars.)
More reordering produced:
Plays No Nice and Icy One’s Plan – if I were schizophrenic I would have been on my way to purchase a copy of Catcher In the Rye right about then.
Then I discovered:
Yo! Nice Plans! –  to be fair, this she mainly hears when driving through Brooklyn.
No Lip Any Sec –  this was confusing at first, until you think about all the facelifts. You see, anyone can stare at tea leaves, you gotta know how to read them,
Then I unscrambled “Lice On Pansy.” This one had me stumped, until I thought of the other authors of the stimulus package, but more about Barney Frank a little later.
Just to verify my findings, I decided to look up Pelosi’s maiden name. It’s D’Alesandro.  So, quickly I began rejiggering those scrabble tiles. Lo and behold I stumbled upon:
Deny Canard Loan – who fits this phrase more perfectly? Who else indignantly denies that they were responsible for the canard loans, that she pressured bankers to lend, that have so ravaged this economy? Who, I ask?
And if you don’t think the mystic universe is giving us a clear enough sign, strap yourself in for this:
Scar Loaded Nanny – that’s right, the queen of the nanny state is loaded with scars, mostly directly behind her ears and just above her hairline, but they are scars nonetheless. These are all signs, folks. Signals. Listen to them.
So the time seemed right to move on to Barney Frank. (Many are suddenly questioning my wordsmithing abilities.) I only found one promising result:
Fanny Barker –  ( *                   )
Moving along I tried Harry Reid.
Again, I only found one new word or phrase:
Hairdryer – I wasn’t sure the mystics were saying much of anything here. If Harry Reid wants to dry his hair he usually swings it around with his left arm for a few minutes. But then I remembered the transcendental world requires a little sticktoitiveness. I wikied him and discovered that his middle name is Mason.
Aha! This unleashed a plethora of permutations:
Harry Drain Some – as in, bank accounts.
Ramrod Any Heirs – as in, estate taxes.
Drain Army Heros – he is cutting military budgets.
Shiny Ramrod Era – ( *                     )
Any Horrid Smear – he is a ruthless attack dog.
Send Armory Hair – the military budget is so slashed he might as well send them his toupee.
Many Horrid Eras – pretty much self-explanatory.
Then I wandered into a more esoteric area:
Dear, Iron My Rash – which seemed to be some sort of odd request of his personal nurse.
Read Iron My Rash – which seemed to be some sort of odd endorsement of a book about a personal nurse.
Speaking of books, one anagram seemed to be foretelling a possible title of a very  serious and contrite autobiography:
I Had Many Errors – one can almost see the cover; dark, forboding, conciliatory.
But maybe Reid’s publicist would opt for the more affable, “win them over with your disengaging wit,” type of book: I Made Myna Errors – one can see that book cover as well; Reid posed in the international gesture for “whoops” as he smiles amiably. The blurb saying something about him only being a mouthpiece for Obama’s failed policies. It would be marketed right between Dave Barry and Jackie Mason.
And then there was:
Sorry I Hand Ream – sounding like an apology to China for failing on their loans.
And also:
Sorry, Dam Hernia – sounding like an explanation for how he walks.
Feeling as if I had exhausted all the combinations regarding the three main players in the porkulus saga, I decided to abandon the Hog Theme Trinity and move on to Timothy Geithner… okay, did you see what I just did there? Timothy Geithner/Hog Theme Trinity. C’mon people. Lift those knees, get em up.
Well, frankly, Timothy Geithner only yielded one other anagram, but it’s a good one:
Tighter Money Hit – pretty concomitant. (No, don’t go trying to rearrange concomitant, it’s just a ten dollar word I looked up. I’m not even sure I’m using it right.)
The two vice-presidential candidates made for a canny comparison:
Sarah Palin/A Sharp Nail
Joe Biden/ I Need Job
Nuff said.
And just for the heck of it I decrypted Mitt Romney. I was excited when this was revealed:
Metro Minty TM ® © (The Romney 2012 camp can contact me at and we can talk.) And it looks even better with an exclamation point – Metro Minty! (yes, this is trademarked also.)
I ask you, what essay about politicians, and the anagrams associated with said politicians, would be complete without investigating the possibilities of Barack Obama? None, I tell you.
So it is much to my chagrin that I report that I couldn’t get even one result that made any sense whatsoever. I invite everyone to try. I got nothing.  I even tried Barack Hussein Obama. Of course I found Marihuana Babes Sock and Mascara Bias Knob Hue, but I was looking for something a little fresher, less obvious, something we’ve never heard before. After a few more Cabana Makes Rush Bio and No Hubbies Ask Maraca I was ready to pack it in, my essay faltering on it’s crown jewel. It was then that I sat bolt upright, not knowing what bolt upright really is, and exclaimed, “but of course! Barack Hussein Obama doesn’t actually exist!”
Long ago Obama was adopted and had his name legally changed to Barry Soetoro. There is no evidence I know of that he legally changed his named back to Barack Obama. The otherwordly forces would never allow such a flim flam. Trust me, I’ve been steeped in these rules (that I made up) for the past several hours. So I quickly splayed out the tiles, hopeful that this would turn up a nugget. It was the mother lode:
Oratory Robes — are you kidding me? Does this not sum up the smooth talking Messiah in 2 little words? You almost want to shave a patch of his head and look for the sixes.

Big Fur Hat is proprietor of

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