Qs&Ws

Do winners never quit? Don't quitters ever win?
If winners split, be they for shit, however it they spin?

Does Damon Runyon run? Does Grover Cleveland cleave?
Do Brother Ray scoot t'other way? (Now that I can't believe.)

Is Count D counted out? Does Dolly D depart?
(Though Elvis P turn'd in his key, the King still lives! Take heart!)

Wins Walken when he walks? Quits Hoffman, taking off?
If splits Stallone, d'we Sly disown? (And what's with Hasselhoff?)

Does Chairman Mao bow out? Does Eastwood exit east,
Does either guy receive a bye? (A raincheck chit at least...?)

Does Tim McGraw withdraw? Does Patsy Cline resign?
Does Fielding yield, then leave the field not giving us some sign?

Do guys apostasize? Do labmates abdicate?
Do you suppose aides "Aedeeoze!"? Do hacks evacuate?

Does Anne* abandon ship? Gives in Anais Nin?
Aeneas...quitter? Not one whit. (Herr Adolf may 'ave been.) 
     * Diarist Frank 

Does Bonaparte retreat? Does Glenn Close close the book?
When fops drop out, point out the lout and I'll deploy the hook. 

(More Qs and Ws to come: a work in progress)

Holiday Botchulits or Xmas in June

Familiar lines of holiday verse teamed with anagrams of those lines and one-line followups.

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

I can’t wait here for dim Ms. Gish, Ma...
...'cuz she and that equally dim sister of hers dream only of a dusty Christmas, don't they...? 

Jingle bells, jingle bells.
Jill’s been selling LBJ gel.
“Thank you, Jillian. That dry ol’ coot could surely use a little,” opines Lady Bird.

Once in royal David’s city

a very nosy old (CCII AD) nit…
…finally up ‘n’ died. (Centuries ago those OT types did live for donkey’s years, didn’t they?)

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus.

Nick’s a slimy gin sot. Mama? A wuss!
Therefore I’m leaving this house for good…right after the exchange of gifts and the airing of grievances.

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,

when Father’s big car met its host, he won the URL “Hugo’s Health.”
This year, apparently, Santa’s gifting every mother’s child exactly what it’s always wanted.

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.

In our “Dr. Loser Dept.,” he’d need her…
…‘her’ referring, of course, to Mrs. Claus, the former RN who’s long served in that capacity there at the Pole.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,

so I cannot spit on a fresh green nut.
(One would think that on Xmas Eve a body could find better things to do.)

Silver bells. Silver bells. It’s Christmas time in the city.

Still, the scary birthers’ cells I’m visitin’ smell best. I’ve…
…looked pretty thoroughly into this holiday sense obsession of mine but have yet to discover any plausible explanation. In the meantime, seasons’ greetings!