Bard's Cards; or, Shakespeare: The Hallmark Years

Britain's greatest dramatist honed his writing chops by 

penning quatrains for wry Elizabethan epistolarians. 

     Baby shower / new mom 

Love looks not with the eye but with the mind.

That diaper's full: Bambo thy bairn's behind!

     Sympathy / cellmate  

The better part of valor is discretion.

Consider my lips sealed re thy obsession.   

     Nth invoice / chronic deadbeat 
Neither a borrower nor a lender be. 
The final nail: now, forthwith, mail my fee! 

     Breakup / unisex 

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day...? 

Thou lazy, hazy, crazy art, okay...?

    Prenup congrats / sister-in-law 

Soft! what light through yonder window breaks...? 

Thou art engaged...? Let's hope this time it takes.

     Get well / favorite aunt 

To be, or not to be, that is the question.

Thy cancer diagnosis...? Indigestion. 

      Merry Xmas / juvenile

Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more. 

I hope Claus gifts thee all thou bargain'd for. 

     Retirement / office colleague 

Methinks I am a prophet new inspired. 

Thy job's offshore...? Give thanks thou art retired. 

     Belated birthday / nephew 

Make me a willow cabin at your gate

so next year's gift buck won't arrive so late.      

     Pre-op wish / ex-spouse 

The quality of mercy is not strain'd.

Thou'll breathe far better with thy sinus drain'd. 

     Ash Wednesday / former pastor 

Now's the winter of our discontent.

I would thee reap a more repentant Lent. 

     New Year's / MAGA uncle 

Is this a dagger which I see before me...?

Happy New Year! (Hope next term's less stormy.)

Mum

Use silent 'a' when spelling 'bread.'

(Though ought it not be 'bred' instead...? 

And, as a rule, with bred come crumbs, 

tho' one's deem'd "fool" who spells 'em 'crums.')

     A pair of sissors -- sans a 'c'-- 

should snip as surely, seems to me,

on Wenesday as the day before.

(This seems a take on "Less Is More.")

     'Lov' fares fine without an 'e' --

though Indiana'd* disagree.

(I can no silent-'f' words find.

To further search I'm disinclined.)

     *"Love" series pop artist Robert Indiana

Now We Are Big: The Adult Fates of Some Childhood Mates

Little Black Sambo

Li'l Abner Yokum

Little Red Riding Hood

Little Miss Muffet

Little Nemo

Little Toot

Little Eva 

 

No longer little -- 

though still undeniably black -- 

and eschewing the moniker 'Sambo,' 

believing it wack,

Sam is now Abul-qasim Abwan, 

after turning his back

on McComb, Mississippi 

and heading for Basra, Iraq.

No longer 'Li'l' -- 

although growing disturbingly vocal

in his rants against use 

of the libelous epithet 'yokel' --

Abner's shutter'd his shack 

and resign'd from the bed testers local.

(Will such turnabouts alter him...? 

Betcha a week in New Yo'k'll.) 

 

Grown, although still looking chic 

in her signature hood,

Red no longer haunts Grandmama's Forest, 

nor feels that she should.

"I'm so finished with canines 'n' crones, now. 

Is that understood...?"

rages Red as she shoulders her basket. 

"I'm leaving for good."

Grown, though still prone 

to evade ev'ry maid-stalking spider,

Muff's now ask'd a famed arachnologist colleague 

to guide her.

From their cheese curd and whey food truck, 

marketing crab-apple cider,

they report that no insect of any ilk

even has eyed her.

No longer little, 

nor keen on some Slumberland visit,

preferring Las Vegas 

(which sure ain't no Slumberland, is it...?),

our Nemo now wanders the Strip ev'ry night,

while in lieu

of pajamas he sports used fatigues --

and a pith helmet, too. 

No longer little 

nor up to his old full-time duty,

and ignoring his fellow tugs'

use of the moniker 'Toot,' he,

as "Captain N. Route,"  

ferries immigrants here to the States,

N. Route so-o-o-o-o Emma Lazarus loves.

(Stephen Miller he hates.) 

With Uncle Tom granted 

his freedom at last, and she grown,

Eva leaves the plantation 

to live in Atlanta, alone.

Selling paperback Bibles, 

she does fairly well on her own,

till last May when she dies,

having choked on a porbeagle bone. 

The 12 'Chair-'s; or, 'Sit' Happens

To chair is human; to forgive, divan. 

                                                    -- GFH 

   Chairless, three Chairokees 

charily squat on their mounds.

ev'ry Aniyunwyan breathes deep 

as the pipe makes its rounds.

   Chairs at Chairnobyl 

stay runaway radioactive;

thus taking one's seat there 

continues, at best, unattractive. 

   Morning-room chairs 

at chez Sonny & Chair are of wicker.

(Rattan, willow...reed...? Bamboo, raffia...? 

Ple-e-e-ease, must we bicker...?)

   "Chairberus...Sit! Sit, boy!" 

demi-god Heracles said.

Then the Greek hero, sniggering, 

smack'd that beast upside the head.

 

   The rock shoal Chairibdis 

sits churning the Strait of Messina  

while Scylla sits opposite, 

howling like Dante's hyena.

   The Chairiff of Nottingham 

sits in his queen chair, adoze,

as Robin sashays in behind him 

and strikes off his nose.

   A Davenport oozes chairisma. 

A Chesterfield, too.

A couch and the sofa, however, 

ooze none. (Sad but true.) 

   Tourists who sit in Chairassic Park 

risk being ate

by this megalosaurid Eustreptospondyle...

or its mate.

   Upon chairs in this chaircuterie 

sits the posh carriage trade

sampling buffalo jerky 

while watching how sausage is made.

   One Chairubim skips today's Nones, 

flits thru' heaven's three zones.

Like her fellows the Thrones, 

she, for Him, sports a sizeable jones.

   In upstate New Chairsey it sits -- 

Chairsey City by name.

Not as blatant as Hoboken, true; 

yet deserving of fame.

   Meet young Chaired Cushioner 

("Whoopee!" to both of his friends).

May he soon take his seat in Gehenna! 

(My curse my verse ends.) 

More "How Do You Who's Whos Hold Your Hooch...?"

     Much depends on the meaning of 'hold.' 

     I

"Be your rotgut rums or Ripples,

how d'you pooh-bahs tote your tipples...?"

Here's a man in black. Let's ask 

the haut-hydrated Johnny Cask:

     "Be your sauce, John, Schlitz or 'Scootch,' 

how do you Who's Whos hold your hootch...?

And might you moonshine render sterile...?"

Answers John: "Quiz Yogi Barrel."

     II

"However judgments you deduce, 

how do you jurists lug your juice...?"

"You, Sam...?" "A liter." "'lena...?" "Kegs." 

"You, Amy...?" "Ponies -- brims to dregs." 

     (More to come; a work in progress) 

The Gardener's Toolshed From Guest Blogger JB: Grass Knuckles

 

The Garden Hose Nozzle Sprayer 

helps keep lawns midsummer green 

while delivering a KO to those pesky weeds.

Even More Cuisine Art From Guest Blogger JB: Carpenter's Level Flatware

 

It's never been easier to make sure

your family's meals are well-balanced.

Still More Cuisine Art From Guest Blogger JB: The Can-Can Opener

 

Yes It Can-Can

!

More Cuisine Art From Guest Blogger JB: The Taco Holder

An Optimistic Outlook

BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD, GOOD; 

BAD, GOOD, BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD, GOOD;
BAD, BAD, GOOD, BAD, GOOD, BAD, GOOD;
BAD, GOOD, BAD, GOOD, GOOD, BAD, GOOD;
GOOD, GOOD, BAD, BAD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD;
GOOD, BAD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD;
GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD, GOOD:
SEE...? THINGS ARE GETTING BETTER ALL THE TIME.

De Diebus Natale

     Today is day one of his 83rd year.

They cry, "Happy Birthday," but Gramps doesn't hear.

     They hand him a card all his relatives sign'd.

Its greetings fall flat, though; he's legally blind.

     No birthday cake's offer'd; he's watching his weight.

Some candle-topp'd broccoli's serv'd on a plate.

     When ask'd for his key to life, what does he say...?

"I'll somehow contrive to survive through today."

     Tomorrow's day two of his 83rd year...

 

     (to be continued; a work in progress)

How Those Who's Whos Hold Their Hooch

The Pol Pot 

The Manute Bowl 

The Carafe Vaughn Williams

The Canteenflas 

The Ed Decanter

 

The Johnny Cask

The Yogi Barrel 

The Gertrude Stein

The Maurice Jar

The Kurt Vial

The Samuel Liter

The Elena Keg

The Flask Gordon

The J. Fred Muggs

The Sydney Carton

...and, with apologies,

The Gary Couper and 

The Georgie Vessel

     (More images to come: 

a work in progress)

The Fractured Quincunx: Five From Guest Blogger JB Reassembled Into Short Stack

 

Solitaire-y Judith

 

A Prehistory Of Standup Shtick: The Founding Fathers

I. Button Gwinnett & "Button's Fly"

II. Caesar Rodney & "Caesar's Salad"

III. Thomas Jefferson & "Tommy's Tuppence"

IV. Carter Braxton & "Carter's Spills"

V. Philip Livingston & "Philip's Screwdriver"

VI. Oliver Wolcott & "Oliver's Twist"

A Prehistory Of Standup Shtick: The Founding Fathers & "Caesar's Salad"

Continental Congressman from Delaware Caesar Rodney was once described by his brother Thomas as possessing "...a great fund of wit and humor...so that his conversation was always bright and strong."
     No surprise, then, when the popular bachelor drew on this gift of gab to entertain fellow revolutionaries by mocking their hated monarch back  in England, George III. 
     The king, already considered by many subjects to be more than several strawberry leaves short of a coronet, was further mocked by Rodney in a brutal monologue parodying the king's speeches to Parliament and his royal communications to the colonies regarding their grievances. The inane ramblings of the regent were only rendered more grotesque by Rodney's delivery of a tsunami of non sequiturs and verbal scraps -- a medley of minced nouns, diced verbs, chopped adjectives and julienned prepositional phrases.    
     Rodney's mimicry of George's ravings soon became known as "Caesar's Salad," and his recitation of this comic routine was often requested during recesses from talks of treason during the hot summer of '76. 
     Rumors that, in fact, the term "Caesar's Salad" was actually a reference to Rodney's disfigured countenance and to the green scarf he habitually wore to disguise this embarrassing feature suffered as a result of a severe facial cancer remain unverified.  

The Managram In The Moon: Mini-Meter #15 Georges Remi

GEORGESREMI
EGGRISEMORE

While Moonrise 

Tintin does explore,

Georges loves the lyric

'Eggrise' more.

"Destination Moon"

1950-1952

Georges Remi, cartooning 

as Herge, has alter "eggo" 

Tintin, in the comic strip 

"Destination Moon," visit 

earth's satellite via rocket 

ship in fiction years before 

folks did so in fact.