Fandango’s Friday Flashback — July 17

Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of you earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember? Each Friday I will publish a post I wrote on this exact date in a previous year.

How about you? Why don’t you reach back into your own archives and highlight a post that you wrote on this very date in a previous year? You can repost your Friday Flashback post on your blog and pingback to this post. Or you can just write a comment below with a link to the post you selected.

If you’ve been blogging for less than a year, go ahead and choose a post that you previously published on this day (the 17th) of any month within the past year and link to that post in a comment.

This was originally published on July 17, 2014 on my old blog.

Analogy Abuse

295AF80A-29D9-4FF1-9DF6-7CADF3680505Have you ever been drafting a post for your blog and been looking for that perfect analogy. Well, what you’re about to read just might prove helpful — in that it highlights the kinds of analogies you should avoid.

You may have seen these before, as this list has apparently been circulating the internet for a number of years. These are supposed to be real analogies allegedly taken from actual essays written by high school students and collected by their English teachers.

But I’d never seen these before and when I read them, they had me convulsing with laughter, like I had just ingested some poison and couldn’t stop the spasms in my gut. [Blogger’s note: the preceding analogy is the kind of analogy you should not use.]

Anyway, here are some of these classic bad analogies. Enjoy.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a ThighMaster.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

Her eyes were like big brown circles with big black dots in the center.

The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.

This list of bad analogies made me laugh like someone who had read something really funny.

18 thoughts on “Fandango’s Friday Flashback — July 17

  1. PaperKutzs July 17, 2020 / 3:21 am

    Lol These were mind numbing and I am thinking since I love my blog I should probably come not use these eye catching funny analogies.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. annieasksyou July 17, 2020 / 4:57 am

    Many of those were really hilarious—LIKE those winning entries in the worst writing phrases contest (whose name I forget!)

    Here’s mine from last year—quite long, but regrettably still relevant and made me furious upon rereading. And unfortunately, the last part of the title has been disproven.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Fandango July 17, 2020 / 10:35 am

      I just commented on your post that we apparently are neither better or smarter than “this.”


  3. Sadje July 17, 2020 / 5:26 am

    This is hilarious! Thanks for sharing and spreading morning joy.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Grace July 17, 2020 / 5:40 am

    Some were funny because they were so lame and others were funny because, while a bit absurd, they were also spot on…(like the ballerina one…think about it – perfect analogy)

    Liked by 1 person

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