Word Ladder Lyric: From Open > Shut

When pies, like cases, open: that’s when birds begin to sing.
Once pies go in the oven, then those birds cannot take wing.
When pies are mere ideas, even then I pooh-pooh cakes.
Not every lad and lass can boast an Uncle Sven who bakes.
If Sven won’t don his apron, then your Sten you’ll need to arm.
No doubt you’ll need to stun Sven only – not do lethal harm.
When piemen choose to shun their duties, you’ve no option but…
to force the guy to make a pie. (With that, this case is shut.)

Is Ellen Barkin'...?

Oliver...? Hearty.
(Was Eliott ghoul’d…?)
They say Ben was blue.
Orville…? Wilbur…? Both right!
What is Jeanne…? D’Arc…and light,
while Olivia’s wild.
Oscar…? Wild as well. Barney…? Frank.
(Barry’s not white.)

Betty’s white. Joel's gone grey.

Went Felicia too far…?
With whom’s Debra been messing…?
(I know Roslyn’s kind.)
People ask, “Will Jim back us…?”
Dame May…? Always witty.
(That Jack was no lemon
most researchers find.) 

Immanuel can’t,

though I've learn'd that James can.
I’ve seen Christopher walkin,’
scratch'd PDQ’s back.
Plus, I’m told that George went,
and that Kevin’s still spacey.
(Proactive celebrities…?
Hardly a lack.)

I’m assur'd Ron’s not silver.

(Was Lorne ever green…?)
John and William both hurt.
One can see Sharon’s small.
Irene…? Done. Edna…? Best.
But how crabby was Buster…?
How wooly was Monte…?
(Lucille was no ball.)

Natalie would, although 
Coach Morgan wouldn.’

And Michael J….? Fox'd!
Was Sir David not lean…?
As for Grange, Grooms and Schoendienst…
not one of ‘em’s red...
while I think Pink is pink…
if you know what I mean.

Cesar’s frank, Kwami’s brown,

although Dawn isn’t French.
Jack and Lewis aren’t black,
nor does Gabriel burn.
I know Judith is light.
Folks claim Buddy is rich,
and I’m sure Fred is friendly…
But now it’s your turn.

DOA Barbies

Juvenile fashion icon/20th-century composer:
Bela Barbie

Juvenile fashion icon/musclebound superhero:
Conan the Barbierian

Juvenile fashion icon/Mozartian opera heroine:
The Barbie of Seville

Juvenile fashion icon/space opera cutie:
Barbierella

Desert Desdemona:
Berber Barbie

Island Ingenue:
Barbados Barbie

Brooklyn Barbie:
Barbie Streisand

Afro-French juvenile fashion icon:
Babarbie the Elephant

X-rated juvenile fashion icon:
Barebie Barbie  

Juvenile fashion icon/craft brewer:
Beerbie Barbie

Juvenile fashion icon/binge-drinking co-ed:
Barfly Barfie Barbie 

Juvenile fashion icon/Holy Roman Empress:
Fredericka Barbierossa

Juvenile fashion icon/speech-impair'd TV interviewer
Barbie Walters

Iconic Beach Boy dream date:
Bar bar bar bar Barbie Ann

Mazel toy:
Barbie Mitzva 

Juvenile fashion icon/Southern Cuisine Queen 
Barbie Q

Cairo to Coney

All aboard my autogyro,
park’d between row Z and Y row.
Pilots…? Guys from Spyra Gyro.
Join 'em not if you're some tyro.
(Now departing Cairo!) 

Boarding now's my bumper car.
Though slow, it ranges wide…and far.
Your steward, one Ben Patatar,
brews coffee, tea and Kristallklar.
(Next stop…? Zanzibar.)

Cabs uncopious…? Catch my currach.
Neither's cake, but, "not to worrach."
Share with me (and Van “Ace” Turach),
s'long as you're in no great hurrach.
(Now departing Li’l Rock.)

"Dammit, Dog, don't drive dat dogsled
down dem dork-deep drifts," Sir Snoop said,
hoisting (how...?) one whole half-hogshead.
"Now dig what ya’ll’s done: dat dog's dead!"
(Let's revisit Brideshead.)

Entering my escalator,
guests encounter "SmorgasSeder."
"Matzo first," rants Reb D. Vader.
"Have your afikoman later...
once we've cross’d th'equator."

Fairer…? Nothing than my ferry.
Friends float free, but Fie! Don't tarry!
Challah-bears from Bali Harry
serve warm buns (they're "buerre-y"...very!)
(Lunch at Brundonderry.)

Guidebooks call guests "gondolees," a-
gondola'd by Gondoleezza
Vice, my gondoliere-cum-visa-
mater here in Greater Pisa.
(Next stop: San Theresa!)

Heading eastish…? Hire my handcar;
booking agent's Ralph V. Shandkar.
Best for guests who ramble and car-
een. (In Greenland, it's a bann’d car.)
(No more stops till Kand'har!)

Board my Mitsubishi "I" Car! 
Didi Eisenhower ("Dyke") ar-
ranges for his look-alike car
to be mine when he drives my car."
(Next stop: Isle de "Rikar"!)

Join me in my jade jinrickshaw,
though its pilot, Bob ("The Mick") Shaw
(under "M" in Webster's Dicshaw-
nary) often "phones in sick." Psh-a-a-aw!
(Skip "The Res": too "Chick'shaw.")

Killer rapids…? Book my kayak.
Back-up fry cook Steppin’ Fry, back
from Key West suggests guests lie back,
chill…and try his Brie on Zweibach...
named "Best 'Nosh in Nayak."

Loop-the-loopin’ in my luge...? Herr
Barry Lege,'* illustr’ous luger.
Beggarlike, I hire this Hoosier
'cuz I cannot be more choosier.
(Next stop: Newport News...hear…?)
     * Pronounced 'ledge,' the reference is to
Barry Legend aka Barry Lurd, NBA Hall-of-Famer
hailing from the Hoosier State. 

Mot'ring in my Morris Mini,
maitre d'auto Al “Burt” Phinney
brandishes a mandolin he
made with aid from Barnes (Ms. Binnie).
(Next stop: Olde New Guinea!)

Now let's "nav" my Nucl'ar sub. Ya'
heard its "nom-de-vro-o-o-oom"* by Dubya
mispronounc’d for years. Oh, Shrub! Ya'
stunk as Pres, yet lunkheads "lub" ya.
(Next stop: Suburbubya!) 
     * Ala the "nom-de-plume," the so-called
"nom-de-v'ro-o-o-oom" is an alternate name
for any power source. Of course, W was
notorious for, among his many creative
uses of the language, a chronic metathesistic 
mispronunciation of 'nuclear,' regularly 
rendering it as 'nucular.'

Outings in my Oldsmobile,
once cater’d by Coquille St. Neal,
now’re cater’d by poor Howard Beale.  
(Imagine how that makes Coq feel:
like losing at Deauville.)

Plant your pants seat in my punt.
A poling pair, recalcitrant,
provides the paddling. Frank's* up front.
(In back, I've posted Allan Punt,
plu-polester from Ft. Hunt.
     * Fran "Sizzle" Bertsin-Aftra

Quiet, kids! Don't quit my quint.
It's old, but in condition mint.
Shout "'hoy" to helpmate Captain Flint,
My water-worthy wunderkind.
(The next stop: New Orli'nt!)

Regarding William Butler Yeats,
who fits guests' feet for roller skates
and elevates the going rates
down at my Rink. (A-12's he hates!)
("We serve all fifty states!")

Stop! Occupancy max'mum's three
aboard my solitary ski.
There's (1) you; (2) man Friday Lee
von Klee; plus one more...hey! It's me!
(Next stop: Menomonee!)

Try my tourist-class toboggan! 
Travel blogger U. Dazs-Hagen
damns with faint praise on her blog in 
comments like, "This "bogg'' beats joggin'!"
(Next stop: West Sheboggan!)

Unrivaled artiste Lee Mahorne
waits tables on my unicorn,
shares tips with all the foreign-born
garçons. She shouts, "What's mine be your'n!"
(Next stop is Californ.')

"V'ro-o-o-o-oom" goes my velocipede.
That's why my chauffeur, Hari Reede,
warns, cautions, pleads, "Be sure to heed
all traffic signs...plus, ple-e-ease don't speed!"
(Next stop: East Runnymede!)

Welcome 'board my welcome wagon.
Welcoming you…? O. J. Dragon.
Sometimes fun; sometimes an agon-
y: Best pack your flask…or flagon!
(Next stop: Bilbo's Bag En'!) 
   * Oliver J., noted Kuklapolitan and good
friend – but just a friend! -- of Fran Allison,
and no relation to isoinitialed scofflaw
Orenthal Simpson. 

Xebeceers who crew my xebec
(one's V. Beckhand; t'other's Glenn Bleck)
urge all guests, "Avoid the poop deck!"
Who’s that asking "Are we there yeck…?"…?
(Third-to-last stop: Tea Neck!)

You're invited: board my yacht!
Invite a guest; invite one not!
I'm bringing Phnom Penh pal Paul Pott.
As to the fare…? How much you got…?
(Next stop: Connecticott!)

Z-z-z-z-z-z-zs guests grab in my Zamboni
follow snacks of Rice-a-Roni,
b'loney stew and roux'd spumoni
served by Mitchells (Shad and Joan E.).
(Last stop: Isle of Coney!)

Attention, please! Passengers must exeunt.
Every vehicle is now out of service.

Alexis Zorba & Other Slightly Constrained Celebrities

"Absolute zero's one get-go,*
albeit a bleak..."  
     specs A-
lexis,** who's married with children
and swears, "Yeah: I’m Greek.”
   
     * Possibly the so-called Great Get-Go, often
confused with the Big Bang.
     ** Zorba (AZ)

     "Be your-
self! (HO* whom else would you be…?"
asks (rhetoric'lly) Boris**...  
     "To be
anyone else might cause Mother***
some serious tsoris."

     * Russian Cyrillics for 'but' and pronounced
(roughly) 'noh.' 
     * Yeltsin (BY) 
     *** Mother Russia, of course.

     "Con-
temn xenophobes! Contemn..."
Rhumba King Cugat* repeats.  
     (Just as
he would be treated, 
each stranger this vir bonus** treats.)  

     * Xavier (CX) 
     ** What the good man does is always right – 
or so (someplace) suggest the Brothers Grimm. 

     "Do with-
out! Pledge thy pounds to the poor," 
warbles Dionne* (a song bird)...     
     …though 'tis
Bacharach (Burt) who will soon
teach her right word from wrong word.

     * Warwick (DW)  

     "’Every 
valley exalted shall be;
every rough place made plain...’:   
     I would 
dance thee that text," Edward* vows, 
"in a Balanchine vein."

     * Villella (EV)  

     "I’m fed 
up! UFOs, URLs, USAs, UXBs..." 
fumes our Felix*… 
     "In the
end, all they yield
is some abecedarial helix."

     * Unger (FU) 

     "Gin and
tonic plus juice of one lime: pour the lot over ice..." 
     prescribes 
Gene.* "Good advice," echoes Gene.**
"Our innocuous vice!" 
     * Tierney (GT)  
     ** Tunney (GT)

     "He v
she…? The distinction's ambiguous," challenges Holly...* 
     "So (s)he's
Shlomo. Still, what's in a name…?
'So long, Sol; hello, Dolly.'"

     * Sweet (HS) 

     "I, 
Robot, rest my case,"
in tones Rumpolean...
     roars I-
rene.* "I'd rap it,
were I Rock 'n' Rollean."

     * Ryan (IR) 

     "John
Quincey ain't the seventh Chief Exec,"
corrects Jose*...
     "He's number 
six, post James Monroe...but what the
heck! (More: what the hey!!)

     * Quintero (JQ) 

     "Key personnel…? Kevin…? Paul…?
Rajon…? Ray…?" Kendrick* wonders.
     Then Perk's
traded, which trade shall yet prove
one of Boston's big blunders. 

     * Perkins (KP)

      Leigh/O-
livier,* Lunt/Fontaine.
Which duo's dropp’d from the list... 
        of great 
thespian pairs…? Jolie/ Pitt…? 
LOL! They’d be missed…?

     * (LO) 

     "Mach'a-
vellian, not to say cynical:
'twas just her way..." 
           muses
Mike,* as he pegs one-time partner,
the late Elaine May.

     * Nichols (MN) 

     "Not
much!" mutters Norman,* when
asked if he liked married life. 
        "Good when
naked, but less good when dead:
much depends on the wife."

     * Mailer (NM) 

     Ozy-
mandias: "Look on my burg, 
Mr. Big, and despair!"
     (Or Or-
lando*: "Give ear to my music...
or not: I don't care.") 

     * Lasso (OL) 

(More celebrities to come: a work in progress)


[PK: P. Kilbride]


[QJ: Q. Jones]


[RI: R. Ingersoll]


[SH: S. Houston]


[TG: T. Geisel]


[UF:                   ]  


[VE: V. Emmanuel]


[WD: W. Demarest]


[XC:                  ]


[YB:                  ]


[ZA:                    ]

Types of Ambiguity

One stereotypical type of the first type goes:
“Foreign -- ten! -- all-purpose purses.”
One stereotypical type of the second goes:
“Fallin’ sand: four poor tense bursars.”
One stereotypical type of the third type
(for all intents and/or most purposes)…?
This (typical!) stereotypical type:
“Four rent olives, four tents, ‘n’ n porpoises.”