Notables Not Unpleasant to Know: Letters E and F

In his nonsense verse “How pleasant to know Mr. Lear” the popularizer of the limerick makes amusing observations about himself. In the octaves below readers are urged to discover equally intriguing characters who, it’s hoped, will prove just as amusing and, in the end, just as “not unpleasant to know.”


Not unpleasant to know? Mr. Eliot,*
for whose love songs folk failed to make beelines 
(“Prufrock” pruvin' confrusin' [sic]) till he at-
tempts his yack about practical felines.
After Cats – notwithstanding Tom's smelly at-
tire (he'd died) -- all applauded the work
of the pleasant-to-know Mr. Eliot --
though he'd driven his missus berserk.

     * T. S. Eliot (1888-1965)

Also pleasant to know: Mr. Eggers,*

sired by Lasiocampidae-Moth**
out of Cancer-Ward-Victim*** (poor beggars!)
Less had wrought any lesser man wroth.
Megan Abbott’s, “Dave’s stoic…” shows Meg**** errs:
There's much angst in A Heartbreaking Work…
and in pleasant-to-know Mr. Eggers.
(That's no smile: just Dave’s strife-induced smirk.)

     * Dave Eggers (1970-    )

     ** The Lasiocampidae are a family of moths also known as eggars.

     *** Both Dave's parents suffered cancer-related deaths.

     **** Author, journalist and blogger Megan Abbott

Not unpleasant to know? Mr. Fford,*

he who authored The Well of Lost Plots.**
Does the name 'Thursday Next'*** strike no chord?
For this heroine, who’s got no hots? 
Though Fforde now plays with sorc'ry and sword,
It’s his Thursday I like. How much? Lots!
Her and pleasant-to-know Mr. Fforde:
The pair ties me in "Ffordean" knots.

     * Jasper Fford 

     ** One of his most popular novels 

     *** The protagonist in Well and other novels

Also pleasant to know's Flann (O'Brien).*

His At Swim-Two-Birds Ms. Filipova**
translates (unless my Google be lyin')
as "Plavashtite Chavki." [Jee--hovah!!]
Dare one hope folks don't feel one's a fly in
storied oint when we point to the tipple
as what silenced once-pleasant O'Brien?
That...and cancer...and Dublin: banes triple!

     * One pseudonym of Brian O'Nolan

     ** Filipina Filipova is a Bulgarian-to-English translator

Not unpleasant to know? David Frishberg!

Though Dave's spinet piano sounds dandy,
David finds himself making this wish: "Erg-
onomicly plann'd ones: more handy?
If I play'd one, those sizeable fissures G-
od forbodes in my modes operandi
I’d avoid. Sigmund Freud!” raves Dave Frishberg.
(My advice? Buy a nice concert grand, D!)

Notables Not Unpleasant to Know: Letter D

In his nonsense verse “How pleasant to know Mr. Lear” the popularizer of the limerick makes amusing observations about himself. In the octaves below readers are urged to discover equally intriguing characters who, it’s hoped, will prove just as amusing and, in the end, just as “not unpleasant to know.”

Not unpleasant to know? Mr. Dahl,*
he whose tale of an oversized peach**
caused a Communist Party cabal
to blue pencil Dahl's treasonous speech.***
Roald rolled on, regardless. Pas mal!
Red "librarians" err in their reach
and their roast of the most-pleasant Dahl.
(Some don't learn: thank God other folks teach.)

     * Roald Dahl (1916-1990) 

     ** James and the Giant Peach 

     *** The Chinese Communist Party banned

Dahl’s book along with Winnie the Pooh and 

other children’s books.

Also pleasant to know: Mr. Dowd.*

Though Dowd drinks (aren't martinis allowed?),
Dowd resolves to avoid getting plowed.
(How's the Anti-Saloon League not proud?)

Elwood's pooka pal Harvey's endowed

with twin shell-likes admired by the crowd --
pals of pleasant-to-know Elwood Dowd.
(How that pair non-believers has "wow"'d!)

     

Chase** affirms he's determined -- is Dowd --
ne'er by social decree to be cowed.
(I myself more than once have heard Dowd
query patrons at Charley’s*** out loud:

"How's humanity thrive 'neath such cloud?"

Thus, to live and let live Dowd’s avowed.
Though deceased, still unbowed’s Mr. Dowd
C’est la vie! Here we D now enshroud.

     * Elwood P. Dowd (c1905- c2005) 

     ** Playwright Mary Chase wrote Harvey, 

in which Dowd is a main character.
*** One of Dowd and Harvey's favored
watering holes.

Not unpleasant to know? Mr. Drake,*

he whose "mairzy doats." (As do his "doze.")
Oh, his "kiddle, too" -- make no mistake!
(Milt's penned plenty preposterous prose!)
Single songs complete oeuvres don't make.
Still, his singular lyric's a doozy --
as is pleasant-to-know Mr. Drake.
Once you've met, you'll regret Googling "Who's he?"

     * Milton Drake (1912-2006)

Also pleasant to know: Rev'd Dodgson,*

canny crafter of cultured** canards --
e.g., Alice through Wonderland plods, un-
in-the-know she's de trop by some cards.
On our nonsense Olympus, Chuck's God's son --
and in "Hunting the Snark" are found pearls --
placed by pleasant-to-know Rev'd Dodgson
(for whose pics posed pre-puberal girls).

     * C. L. Dodgson aka Lewis Carroll.
Contrary to rumor, C. L. does not stand for
Camera Lucida, nor have allegations of
inappropriate behavior on the Rev’s part
ever been proven.

     ** Close readings will note how the
alliterative 'cultured' in this line anticipates
the similarly alliterative 'pearls placed' in
the final lines.

Not unpleasant to know: Mr. Dylan,* 

who, like Jack, climbs an anti-war hill in

which the nurs'ry-rhyme rants Joan** plays Jill in

back their protests 'gainst government killin.' 

Folks adored 'em -- two flower-choked chillen.

Now we choke: "Were you folkies jus' shillin'?

Did your, pleasant-to-know Mr. Dylan,

flesh prove weak, though your spirit waxed willin'?"

     * Bob Dylan (aka Tom Zimmerman: 1941-   )

     ** Folksinger Joan Baez

Notables Not Unpleasant to Know: Letter C

In his nonsense verse “How pleasant to know Mr. Lear” the popularizer of the limerick makes amusing observations about himself. In the octaves below readers are urged to discover equally intriguing characters who, it’s hoped, will prove just as amusing and, in the end, just as “not unpleasant to know.”

Not unpleasant to know? Mr. Bentley.*
who's gained fame as the clerihew guru.
(Ed invented 'em, too, incidently.)
E. C.'s also the entrepreneur who
penned the tome Trent's Last Case -- did it gently.
Folks who credit Ed's life just a blur rue
ev'ry day they neglect Mr. Bentley,
never hollering "Clerihew! Yoo-hoo!"

     * E. C. (Edmund Clerihew) Bentley (1875-1956)

Also pleasant to know: Mr. Cutler,*

unknown stateside (withal the UK knows
of his apothegms -- most of 'em subtler
than his "Grass doesn't grow on volcanoes.")
Though he's gone, be thou baron or butler,
set aside a small stash of his "Stickies"!**
They’re by pleasant-to-know Mr. Cutler
and sure cures for your blues...and your hickeys.

     * Ivor Cutler (1923-2006)  

     ** Befriend a Bacterium (Stickies by Ivor Cutler) 

Not unpleasant to know? Y. Clacoxia* --

rhetorician cum chum of Doug Hofstadter,
who, referring to Serm, cracks no jokes; he a-
pplauds her** work ("...it’s as good as a profs'...better!"),
finds her thorough, clear, warm, none too folksy: a
sloe-eyed doe at whom no man would scoff. 'Stead, her
rep rides high, as does Y. Serm Clacoxia,
though it’s we who seek Serm: Doug just offset her.

     * Y. Serm Clocoxia: maven or anagram? You decide. 

     * Y. Serm Clocoxia: male or female? You decide.

Also pleasant to know: A. Codrescu;*

all who do declare, "Pay 'Drei' a visit!
This man's stones gather moss (though no fescue),
while his body (of work!) smells exquisite.
Is your ratio ripe for a rescue?
Does your heart belong (partly) to Dada?
Check out pleasant-to-know A. Codrescu:
He'll help honcho that whole enchalada.

     * Andrei Codrescu (1946-   )

Not unpleasant to know? Mrs. Cavendish;*

up with "Blazing World"** just now I've curled.
There live sundry who sadly don't have a niche:
Meg forged many; the lot she unfurled --
tales of beasties ne'er seen in your petrie dish
tales of worlds not sufficiently "girl'd" ***--
did the pleasant-to-know Mrs. Cavendish.
(Plus, young Meg neither knitted nor perled.).

     * Margaret Cavendish (1623-1673), Duchess 

of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne 

     ** The better-known title of her The Description 

of a New World, Called the Blazing World.

     *** Cavendish treated gender and power in some 

of her work and might be considered a proto-feminist.

Also pleasant to know: Mr. Carryl.*

Carryl targeted tots. Aped he Carroll?
Carroll’s books were gold. Carryl’s? More beryl.
Carrol’s books were wild. Carryl’s less feral.
Still, his poetry’s not at all sterile;
He’d sterility pen at his peril –
would the pleasant-to-know Mr. Carryl.
No, he’d not – unless Carryl were “ver(y)ill.”

     * Charles E. Carryl (1841- 1920)

Notables Not Unpleasant to Know: Letter B

In his nonsense verse “How pleasant to know Mr. Lear” the popularizer of the limerick makes amusing observations about himself. In the octaves below readers are urged to discover equally intriguing characters who, it’s hoped, will prove just as amusing and, in the end, just as “not unpleasant to know.”

Not unpleasant to know...? Mr. Burgess,*
household word post Frank's "purple cow" lyric.
'Twas a coup (as it duly emerges)
Frank consider'd unpleasantly Pyrrhic.
Drop Frank's tod! Keen no Kadd!** Urge no dirges:
just glom onto Frank's comic strip "Goops"
and the pleasant-to-know Gelett Burgess.
Who so seizes shall hoot till (s)he droops. 

     * Frank Gelett Burgess (1866-1951)

     ** Forget that Frank's dead! Sing Frank no Kaddish!
     (N.B.: Burgess was a master of the coined word.)

Also pleasant to know: Mr. Beckett.*

Each man's fate? States Sam: "Wait...for Godots!"**
I'll confess: sounds depressing. But heck! It
only recaps the chap's previous prose.
If, however, you're up for the trek, it
might amuse. (If not, Watt may be chose.)
As to pleasant-to-know Barclay Beckett,
Sam don't stress more nor less: Sam's necrose! 

     * Samuel Barclay Beckett (1906-1989) 

     ** Employed here is an American pronunciation:

the second syllable carrying the accent above its long 'o.'

Not unpleasant to know? Mr. Bentley.*

who gained fame as the clerihew guru.
(Ed invented 'em, too, incidently.)
Ed was also the entrepreneur who
penned the tome Trent's Last Case -- did it gently.
Folks who credit Ed's life but a blur rue
ev'ry day they neglect E. C. Bentley,
never hollering "Clerihew! Yoo-hoo!"

     * Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956)

Two Puns In Search of a Feghoot

An ape, frilled, is a crewelish monkey.

Two bees arm'd gnats; two bees had a suggestion.

The Bentomology: Constrained Orisons for Outsider Insects

     The Almos'quito

Haec die? Heck! We pray for the sad Almos’quito! 
He’s pissed. His bliss? Dissed. Missed? His finishing touch.
On a pilgrimage to the Madonna at Quito,
planned fait accomplis remained faits incompleato.
He threw in the speedo at Tampa-St. Pete. O,
like loaves multiply his resolve (not enough, Lord)!
Like fishes jumpstart his “volish” (a lot rough, Lord)!
Then dish some tough love to his butt -- in the buff, Lord!
Plus, purge his inertia (too much)!

     Amen.

    The Bendaire-Dune Gnat

My fair br’ers: share my prayers for the Bendaire-Dunne Gnat.

Omigod! Is there nada she’s not done? Or feigned?

Or smoked (chained)? Or been charged with? Or discharged her gun at?
Or eaten? Or beaten? Or had too much fun at?

No QE2 missed? No gymkhana not won at?
God fulminates, “Pray thou be not one!”   

     Amen.

    The Cootie Crass

De grace coup? Nope: that's Tuesday’s trope.

For Cootie Crass today we pray.
His failures? Man! So misanthropic,
tales of Coot bloom, arch-Aesopic.
Castigations agitpropic, fired at Rome, from St. Pete’s dome,
get mired near Nome (so far from home!)
yet still ring trop in Saint-Tropez.

     Amen.

     The Deevey Ant

Hark! Mark my remark! Darn that dark Deevey Ant,

duly dubbed, due to “deevyus” behavior.
Though one strains to imagine a ruder, one can’t.
Deevie’s mood? Ever cruder. Deeve’s snood? All aslant.
Do defend us from Deeve, crass corrupt Corybant,
we beseech thee, please, Dear Lord and Savior.

     Amen.

     The 18 1/2-Year Locust

The Eighteen and One-half Year Locust is late.

O mon dieus: grant us clues what to do with her.
First, she’ll schedule, for five o’clock, one tete-a-tete.
Then she’ll idle and dawdle and “procrastinet.”
On arrival at (fi-i-i-i-nally!) quarter past et
this teen vows to atone, perhaps lob God a bone.
(Lately, even St. Jude doesn’t screw with her.)

     Amen.

     The Flea Lunch

“Do thy math,” Matthew cautioneth. “T'ain't no such thing.”

But his word goes misheard by Flea Lunch.
Hear Flea tease: “Master Flea’s got this world on a string” --
one he thought that he ought to have served a la king.
(And all this without his ever tithing a thing.)
May our Lord not disown him nor fire-‘n’-brimstone him.
But, how’s ‘bout a nice H’waiian punch!

     Amen.

     The Gather-Snow Moth

Hell’s Bells! Kneel! Bells’ knells peal for the Gather-Snow Moth,

ever frettin' ‘bout gettin' connected.
Though Gath’s bros to wed chose, still Gath’s loath to betrawth (sic),
as – sowing wild o’s like some gross Visigothic –
Gath stutters when mutt'rin,' “m-m-mother-in lawth.”
Mister Makewater-Wine: give (for God’s sake!) some sign.
Is Gaths’ orientation “thuthpected”?

     Amen.

      The Hair Weevil

Please, Lord, heed as we plead for the harried Hair Weevil,

so frantic to cover his losses
that, abandoning strategies bent on retrieval,
he’s purchased “procedures” he’s come to believe’ll
provide denoument – or at least a reprieve. We’ll
pray Thou'll let Hair (though 'tis sinful to stare)
catch a glimpse of himself in his powder-room “mairr'r”
and behold all the bald alopecia there,
the more humbly to bear his great crosses.

     Amen.

     The Iraqnid

The Iraqnids we pray for begin with an ‘I’

and say grace to an alien deity.
Them you’ll meet in the street in Tikrit, where it’s dry.
All you’ll see of jew’lled females is, maybe, an eye –
eyes, or even mere eyelids on orthodox ‘raqnids,
whose gossoons and grandkids grow up into traphids,
yet must, much like us, wish to be, to shout “Hi!”
May no christian convert 'em, nor Wal-Mart T-shirt 'em!
Just grant 'em their soupcon of gaity.

     Amen.

     The Jail Louse

Praise Jesu! We prays You grant peace to the Jail Louse,

cat’s paw in the injustice system.
He, nabbed in a raid on some Ft. Lauderdale house,
ends exiled, unsmiled on by Juvenal’s Bail House.
No telling how many more juveniles they’ll house.
(As feared, it’s appeared no one's missed ‘em.)

     Amen.

     The Katydidn't

Forgive Ms Katydidn’t, Lord, her errors of omission.

Kate failed to splice that bungee cord,
forgot to cry, “Man overboard!”
It’s not Kate’s deeds that have us floored
but Kate’s “deed nots” that prove untoward.
Kate just won’t do. Our prayer? “Je-e-e-su-u-u-u:
a little supervision...?” 

     Amen.

     The Luke Worm

Let’s us pray for the Luke Worm who, though not a kook worm,

lacks fire to aspire. Nope: she’ll juke with no duke worm.
No gas! Zip pizazz! She can’t pass as no glow-worm.
Touch’-feely? Not really: She’s just a “so-so” worm.
Her sins? Insufficient to dub her a “hellnik.”
Still, Lu’s not earned heaven; she’s “non-non-parell” (sic).
Not scoundrel nor saint, not tom-boyscout or bimbo.
If’t please you, Lord Jeezu: are we smelling Limbo?

     Amen.

     The Mite Knott 

For the Mite Knott we'd light not our taper in vain.

Make Mite make, for Crissake, up her mind! (...up her mind!)
Mite might offer, “I’ll drive,” then end taking the train.
Decants warm Mountain Dew when she’d promised champagne.
Yes, Mite’s in! No, Mike’s out! (Damn! Mike gives me a pain.)
Lord who ope’s myopes’ eyes, please materialize
and insist this nit shit or go blind. (Up her mind!)

     Amen.

     The Nayfly

Our flock, it would seem from our Nazarene’s dream,

may conceal in its bosom some Nayflies.
Say’th the Lord, “Thou shalt transmogrify all No-Wayflies
till they’ve metamorphosed en masse into Yea!flies
(at least What-the-Hey!flies – not unlike Okayflies):
Oy!Vay!flies I shall not redeem.
“There’s no room in Da’s house for no Aucontraire Louse.
‘Nyet!’ to No!No!Nann Gnats. Veto Guido Mosquito!
Yea! Let come not to me even one Nottoo Bee,
nor no Rebuttalflies, nor no Drones de Deceito.
And on this very night, sure’s I’m semi-Semite,
all you guys will turn into Betrayflies.”
(Seems He’s had it to here with those Nayflies.)

     Amen.  

    The O'Mye-Aiken Bacterium

Rue the day O’Mye-Aiken Bacterium joined 

with our wee coterie of the godly.
Aiken’s lachrymals, nigh to hysterium,
outstrip sighs sobbed to sounds of psalterium.
Like Niobe: all tears. Pray this Bac disappears.
She behaves, if not badly, most oddly. 

     Amen.


     The Psychada

Ora pro nobis et sic the Psychada,
Her lunacies label her mad as a hatter.
This clone of Pope Joan's proved a posh promenader,
nor no word of caution's been said to dissuade her.
(Our deacon suspects she’s a Martian invader --
this based on the ways her protub'rances swayed.) Ur-
eccentric, bizarre; stalks a singular star.
(Still God’s mildly amused by her fatuous chatter.)

     Amen.

     The Queerwig

‘Twould appear there lurk Queerwigs among our assembly.

But (not that there’s anything wrong with that)
their flamboyant behavior makes tons of us trembly
like spotting Martina in jodhpurs at Wembly.
When gals go all macho and guys get all femmebly,
dear Lord, must we just go along with that?

     Amen.


     The Rashopper

“O Rashopper, O Rashopper, O ye of paltry patience.

Are thy headlong nosedives in the dark just our hallucinatience?”
So speaks Paul in VII, iii as he admonishes Galatience:
“Ceaseth playing with thy Zippos lest thou suffer conflagratience!”
Ye who bargain blindly, know from nothing, play with jagged tools:
be ye jokers, jinxed to join thy jailmates’ partnerships of fools?
Yea, we’ll pray for thou. But if thou thou career refuse to check,
may angels poke out both thine eyes and break thy nasty little neck!

     Amen.


     The Skippda Beetle

O thou sorry Skippda Beetle: heed our heartfelt orison:

We bless’d detest your quest to quest (at best) the lesser answer.
Though such shortcuts prove short-sighted
(are your mash notes still ghost-writed?)
yet you fail to see these errors of omission as a cancer.
Thus, today we pray; meet us halfway!
Attend and weigh without delay
(like, right away) the – come what may –
advantage of the thorough way
and please, we pray (though hell’s to pay),
don’t say, “Nay, nay: I can’t, sir.”
If not, accept anathema, thou beastly necromancer!

(Nor no guff -- enough's enough) -- how Hitler’s such a dapper dancer.)

     Amen.

    
     The Tse

See the Tse? Half a flea, and so horribly bent.

(Can such void be the handwork of thieves?)
That’s just Tse: thus Tse’s feeling just fifty percent.
What’s more, who cannot note how Tse’s coat’s but half rent.
As it happens, he gave up that one ‘Tse' for Lent.
Once more, Scripture reveals (Luke IV, v): “How one feels
depends often on ‘what one bee leaves.’”

     Amen.

    
     The Unpopularva

Pray pray (don’t bray) for Josip Broz,*

blest Baronet of Bratislava,
latest in the lofty line of Bratislavan Brozes.
Schoolboys dubbed me “B&O,”
while Joss they tagged “Umpopyou Larva” --
me for want of hygiene, Joss for altruistic causes.
Now he’s Blessed Josip. Nosegays ornament his altar.
While he lived, we scorned poor Joss for focusing our thinking.
Hear us, please, and teach us to embrace all saints who reach us.
Can’t we all just learn to get along? (Plus, why am I still stinking?)

     Amen.

     * Not that Josip Broz. I.e., it's not Marshall Tito; it's just a mosquito.

     The Voyeruist Tick

Let us proffer a prayer for the Voyeurist Tick.

This naff nit’s not unknown to the femmes of our flock,
femmes whose back-bedroom windows are Tick’s bailiwick,
femmes whose bosoms are carrots to Tick’s little stick,
femmes whose strutting and rutting makes everyone sick,
as they stretcheth and bendeth and hyper-extendeth,
distending rear ends as they fondle fast friends…
But I ought not go on till I hear some “Amen!”s…
(By God’s weal, has it really gone seven o’clock…?)

     Amen.

     The Wanna Bee

Let us pray for the tabloid-thralled Wanna Bees,

who (though humbug) ape some bug they’re not.
As do Parasite Hiltons, Madonna Bees
ingest dim Britney Spearwig biographies,
asking Jennifer Antiston devotees,
craving Cath’rine Mozquito-Jones fantasies:
“Be there neater bugs than Derek Jeeterbugs?”
“What did Katydid Couric tell Oprah Winflea?”
“Is it true Bryant Gumblebee’s still a wife-beater bug?”
“Is J-Lo LoPest done dating Lice-T?”
”Can it be Uma Vermin adores Pee-Wee Herman?”
“Ed McMantises: aren't they red hot…? Well…are they…?”
(Well…no, they are not.)

     Amen.

     The David Duchovnit, the Gillian Anterson and other X-Flies

Oremus! Blessed Dave Duchovnit, so completely full of grace,

protect our planet from this peccant plague: Potato Bugs from space!
Oremus! Blessed Gilli’an Anterson. so nice and yet so naughty,
do, please, intercede for us on high, thou thinking layman’s hottie!
(And, when X-Flies die, unto the sky please beam 'em, Blessed Scottie!

     Amen.

     The Yes Mantis

Our Lord fancies not the Yes Mantis (amen!),

as there slithers no toad he won’t eat (yea, amen!)
And when fawning’s all done and we pray he has gone,
he again (yet again!) tongues our teat.
Yes, the Yes Mantis once licked the Archbishop’s boots.
Said His Grace, “That’s one toady triathlete!”
Now, to sick sycopant’ry, he’s added more flatt’ry.
We'll pray for this fey psychopathlete! 

     Amen.

     The Zygote To Hell

These other arthro-worldly souls who have abandoned hope:

Be they celebritsetses past reprieve? Aren’t they forgiven? Nope!
Yet, though Zygote To Hell’s a Nazi, don’t alert no paparazzi.
We’ll do nowt but chant their names aloud and gun our sunset bell
and know that they’re all unforgiveable – i.e., not fit-to-liveable –
and doomed to ask, “What if?” an’ pull the shortest straw in Hell.
Yea, and behind each name’s a knell (amen!)…behind each name’s a knell:

George Grubya Bush (Ding!) Ahmad ChalaBee (Dong!)

Angelina JoLeech (Ding!) Arnold SchwartzeChigger (Dong!)

Aristotle Oh!Gnatsis (Ding!) Adolph HitLarva (Dong!)

Barbra StreisAnt (Ding!) Ztse Ztse Topp (Dong!)

Bea Arthropod (Ding!) Barry ManiLouse (Dong!)

Christina AguiLarva (Ding!) Clint EastWoodtick (Dong!)

Condoleezza Lice (Ding!) Cornboris Yeltsin (Dong!)

David LetterMantis (Ding!) Duran Durantula (Dong!)

Evel Kweevil (Ding!) Elvis PresLeech (Dong!)

Fitty Centipede (Ding!) Flyza Minelli (Dong!)

Gnatalie Cole (Ding) Gypsy Rose Leech (Dong!)

Harvey Fierfly (Ding!) Herman GoerRingworm (Dong!)

Lewis "MoSkeeter" LieBee (Ding!) Yakov SmEarwig (Dong!)

Jay LenNosee'em (Ding!) Kiri Te KanaWasp (Dong!)

Kate Mossquito (Ding!) Tick Clark (Dong!)

Larry Daphid (Ding!) Leslie Sluggams (Dong!)

Michael JordAnt (Ding!) Maggott Thatcher (Dong!)

Millipede-Vanillipede (Ding!) Nick NolTsetse (Dong!)

Ronald/Nancy ReagAnt (Dong! Ding) Regis'N'Kathie Leech (Ding! Dong!)

Rob Lowecust (Ding!) Roseanne Barrfly (Dong!)

Rush Limbug (Ding!) Pamela Sue Anterson (Dong!)

Richard MilHousefly Nixon (Ding!) Spike Leech (Dong!)

Sigourney Weevil (Ding!) Sean HanNitty (Dong!)

Scarab Fawcett-Majors (Ding!) Truman CaPotatobug (Dong!)

Vanilla Lice (Ding!) Wink MartinSnail (Dong!)

Anathema, anathema...an' that's all, Ma...

     ...Amen.