...And Another Thing...: A Poisson Of Interest --Elon Muskellunge

 

...And Another Thing...: The Mophabet, An Illustrated ABC

(images and texts to come; a work in progress) 

moa   Moab   moan   moat

mob

mocha

modus operandi

moe

Mofango

mogul

mohair

moisturizer

mojo hand

moko

molasses

momentum

Monday

moonshine   Moog

mop

MOQ

moron

Mostel

Mothra

mousse

moving violation

Mowgli

moxie

Moyses

Mozart   mozzarella

...And Another Thing...: On The Contrary

     Lit's not only long;
     it's almost always wrong.

 
April's not the cru'lest month.
(That's gotta be December.)
The quality of mercy's very strain'd, 

if you'll remember.
"To be or not to be...?" 
That's not the question, folks have found,
while I believe that ev'ry man's an island,
pound for pound.

Despite your smiles, I don't have miles to go 

before I sleep.

And a thing of beauty's not a joy forever --

read 'n' weep!

Nor is hope a thing with feathers.

Let me summarize my theme:
No: the world's not too much with us.

Yes: life is an empty dream.

...And Another Thing...: Seven Miniature Four-Panel (3 3/8" By 8" Reducing In Three Folds To 3 3/8" By 2") Faux Exquisite Corpses And Their Respective Sets Of Rhyming Lines With Texts Derived From Puns Based On Homonyms To The Vocable 'Ex/Quis/It(e)/Corpse'

Faux Exquisite Corpse #1: 
Hex/Wiz/Seat/Corpse

Hex: 

Bright Pennsy-Dutch décor. 
Wiz: 

Oz oligarch of yore.
Seat: 

So soft when butts be sore.
Corpse: 

One damn cadaver.

 

Faux Exquisite Corpse #2: 

Hecht's/Whiz/It/Corpse 

Hecht's: 

Defunct department store.
Whiz: 

That ersatz cheese you pour.
It: 

Part Bow,* part Addams lore.**
Corpse: 

Yes, ma'am: cadaver.
     *Clara, the It Girl  
     **The Addams's cousin It.

 

Faux Exquisite Corpse #3: 

Egg/Squeeze/"Sit!"/ Corpse

Egg: 

What comes before the chick. 
Squeeze: 

Sly baseball bunter's trick.
"Sit!": 

Command to Spot or Vic.
Corpse: 

Grand-slam: cadaver.

 

Faux Exquisite Corpse #4: 

Aix/Quiz/Zit/Corpse

Aix: 

The Great Chas* knew it best.
Quiz: 

A small exam; a test.
Zit: 

No adolescent jest.
Corpse: 

press'd ham: cadaver.  
     *I.e., Charlemagne with reference to his palace  

complex at Aachen.

 

Faux Exquisite Corpse #5: 

Haig's/Swiss/Hit/Corpse 

Haig's:

"This stuff belongs to Al."
Swiss: 

Not unlike Emmental.
Hit: 

(But who would shoot a pal...?)
Corpse: 

Lost lamb: cadaver.

Faux Exquisite Corpse #6: 

Aches/Oui!/Sid/Corpse

 
Aches: 

First fruits of one's malaise.
Oui!: 

Like 'si!' but en Francaise. 
Sid: 

From TV's Golden Days.*
Corpse: 

V'et (Nam) cadaver. 
     *Caesar (the comic 

not the emperor)

 

Faux Exquisite Corpse #7: 

X/Wheeze/Zed/Corpse

 
X: 

Abu Kamil's* unknown.
Wheeze: 

How labor'd breathing's shown. 
Zed: 

Initializes 'zone.'
Corpse: 

Go! Scram, cadaver!  
     *A medieval Arabic algebr'ist

...And Another Thing...: Redundant Duchamp, A Dada Do-Over

Astaire Upending 
A Suitcase No. 3.1416 

...And Another Thing...: Greenland Screams

It's not easy bein' Greenland:
ev'ry nation wants a piece --
there's the USA, the UK, China, Russia...

even Greece.

   Yet it's freezey bein' Greenland,

under Greenland's snow 'n' ice. 

When our temp's below thirteen or so, 

it isn't all that nice.

   It's not easy bein' Greenland,

so strategically hot,

Drumpft insists we host his missiles.

(Don't dare tell him Greenland's not:

   Mr. D'll be seizein' Greenland 

as a 52nd state.*

"I'll tote ev'ry vote in Nuuk**

when I run in '28.") 

 

     *Having earlier annexed Canada as a 51st.

     **Pronounced in two syllables: Noo-wook.

...And Another Thing...: The Bartholomewseum Of Art

 (images to come; a work in progress)

...And Another Thing...: Prosopogostichs For Vance

How unpleasant to know Mr. Vance,

Orange Jesus's recent VP!

Did you vote for VPOTUS, by chance...?

A despicable pick, seems to me.

Were it me put J. D. in this trance...?

Why so quick to Drumpft's shtick bend the knee...?

It's my thought that we ought, to Herr Vance, 

bid adieu...or would you disagree...? 

...And Another Thing...: Prosopogostichs For Drumpft

How unpleasant to know Mr. Drumpft,
who harangues hangers-on: "Call me 'Sire'"!

Lately grown most displeasingly plumpft, 

Drumpft's well known 'round the world as Herr Liar.

Home from home, on the course or the stumpft, 

where Herr's hair is routinely on fire. 

My fond hope for blonde mope Mr. Drumpft:

"You should -- painfully, swiftly -- expire"! 

...And Another Thing...: Wordgame Day In The Oval -- Bannon v Drumpft

When Drumpft deploys a word,

Steve Bannon tends to say

the first word traipsing thru his brain,

whatever 'tis, okay...?"

(Such games psychotics play.)

Say, Drumpft pronounces, 'Musk'!

Then Bannon answers "'-rat'!

Are muskrats not small rodents, 

ones that stink...like Hunter's scat...?

Aren't muskrats where it's at...?"

If Drumpft re-mutters, 'Musk'!,

this time Steve answers, "'-eeto'!

Muskeetoes sneak up from behind

to bite your samalito.

Best travel incognito." 

Again Drumpft whispers, 'Musk'! 

but Bannon shouts, "'-atel'! 

Let's dine! I'm fine with 'wino wine.' 

No blanc; no zinfandel."

(Fred, Jr., knew this well.)

Once more, Drumpft echoes "...'Musk'!

But Steve replies, "-ovite'! 

Such fool's gold's pann'd in Putinland.

With Vladimir you're tight.

To Vlad you pander, right...?" 

 

"It's 'Elon,' 'Elon,' 'Elon' 

I want to hear, you felon," 

screams Drumpft. "Just say, 

'E-e-lon-n-n,' okay...?" 

But Bannon's busy spellin':

"If 'm' I add (Sir, don't get mad),

it's '-melon' then I say. 

('Muskmelonhead'!" 

is what Steve said. 

Steve hopes Musk lopes away.)

...And Another Thing...: The Fourth Wise MA(GA)n

When MAGAns stare at Donald's hair, 
on ev'ry MAGAn sleeve
a heart gung ho is worn; we know
they choose to see-no-weave. 

When MAG's take stock of Donald's shock, 

their choice is to believe 

of Donald's thatch Don's ol' line. Natch,

each MAGAn hears-no-weave.

When MAGAns talk, they never balk;

to policy they cleave

as they explain, "'Tis real, Drumpf's mane."

(True MAGAns speak-no-weave.)

And, though it's weird, there's now appear'd

some MAGA nuts named Steve.*

who, though Herr Liar's hair's on fire, 

insist they smell-no-weave. 

     *Bannon...? Miller...? Scalise...? 

The verse isn't specific.

...And Another Thing...: Spooner's Damp Hen

The Rev'rend William Spooner plans a trip to Baltimore: 
"I'll visit Jim 'n' Jude at mome in Damp Hen Halbitore."
But the Rev'rend William Spooner first must sail across the sea
to visit Jim and Judy's Damp Hen digs in Moretalbi. 
Says the Rev'rend William Spooner: "I shall cake a mocial sall
there at Dim and Dudy's jomocile in Damp Hen Morebital."
But the Rev'rend William Spooner, well-intentioned heretofore,
never shall secure, I'm fairly sure, that trip to Baltimore.

(From The Archives) Little Library-a-Lago: "Take a classified document; leave a classified document."

(From The Archives) Swastiktaktoe

 

(From The Archives) A Mandala & Its Substratum

(From The Archives) Drumpf Obsesses Over McCain

 

   White House Chef:

"Mr President, here's 

that sandwich you ordered. 

It's just return'd from having

risen into the clouds and 

met the Lord in the air." 

   Drumpf:

"That hero's been 

raptured. I like heroes that 

don't get raptured."

(From The Archives) AmalgaMates: Dom DeLouise Brooks

 

(From The Archives) "Goodnight, Lady!" Revisit To A Drumpf Speech From 2021

 

"You damn well best stay home, you tired, you poor. 

You'd find asylum...? Not if up to me.

You yearning huddled masses: you're a bore.

From shithole countries...? Who'd not want to flee...?

Blacks mailing early ballots...? Nope! No more.

Health services...? Day care...? That shit ain't free. 

Don't make me build more wall nor shut no door!

More immigrants from Norway let there be. 

(And yeah: I'll win -- again! -- in '24.)"

(From The Archives) An A L[a Recherche Du Temps Perdu]PHABET

     In the USA, administrations last four, maybe eight, years. 
Their impact, for better or worse, drags on for lifetimes.

Ages ambulate for years. Not Advents: four weeks, tops. 
An Afternoon drags on for days – as Act III's do, when flops.
An Attosecond…? Light takes time to make that pair of hops!*

 
     *An attosecond measures the time light takes to travel the 

widthof two hydrogen atoms, about one quintillionth of a second. 
 
Blips be brief. And as for Beats…? But fractions of a Bar.
Some thirty minutes, Bells at sea. (In class, bells fifty are.*)
Biennia engage two years, then bid us, "Au revoir."

 
     *Back in the day, the length of a typical high-school algebra 

class in minutes (though feeling far longer to some observers). 

 
The time a Candle takes to burn runs several hundred hours.
A Century…? Eight hundred thousand hours – and more -- devours. 
(The first depends on one's comportment counting candlepowers.)   
 
A life spins seven Decades out – in years, drei score und ten
(assuming decades ten years span): so draws the Psalmist's pen. 
(A Day...? In hours, twenty-four: as chimes Old Smoke’s* Big Ben.)

      *A nickname first bestowed on London due to its smog. 

The moniker persisted. 

 
Each Epoch's length's determin’d by a slew of 'ick'y stuff –
like geometr'ick's, astronom'ick's, phys'ick's... (Had enough...?) 
"Yer Era's just yer E.R.A.,"* opines the baseball buff.

     *In baseball, the average number of runs given up by a pitcher – 

his so-called earned run average – is not a measure of time at all. 

 
A Friedman marks six moons have pass'd; a Fortnight, fourteen suns. 
A February…? Eight plus twenty ('cept in leap year) runs.
Each time frame's fluid: Brubeck (Dave) took Five -- and raked in tons.
(A Femtosecond's fa-a-ar too short: the time buff femtos shuns.)
 
How long's a Generation…? Whom you quiz may well prove weighty.
Galactic years…? Since time began, far fewer've flown than eighty.* 
A Gigasecond lasts one second...times one billion, matey!
(Gestations and Gregori'n years…? Nowt…if one hails from Haiti.)

     *About 61 since the Big Bang, as the time it takes the solar system
to orbit the center of the Milky Way (which is the length of a galactic
year) measures about 225 million earth years.
 
A moment lasts a minute and a half. Thus, Half a mo
should, as a rule, last merely five and forty seconds. Go!
(Some sev’ral Heartbeats – seventy plus two – each minute fill.
There may beat more -- or way, way less – if one falls gravely ill.)
A Hectosecond takes a hundred seconds, more or less.
How many in an Hour…? Hey! You do the math. (Or guess.)
 
An Instant takes no time at all. Indictions…? Fifteen years.
An Instant’s just a snapshot of "right now" -- in, say, Algiers.
(A verse which blends ‘em both…? Perhaps a limerick of Lear’s...?)
 
A Jiffy marks the time elaps’d as light migrates one fermi.
(A fermi’s rarely read about in tomes on taxidermy.)
A Jubilee is fifteen years. (Who so explains that term…? Me!)
 
What's 4.32 billion years...? A Kalpa. (Hey! Who knew...?)
What’s 10 + 4 4/10 minutes long…? That answer’s Ke.
A ke’s Chinese. It’s sound approximates a Frenchman’s ‘bleu.’
A Kilosecond’s three halves of a ke… so there: adieu!

  
Lents last forty days. For fasting folks, those prove a strife time.
For Lunar months, slice one half day off thirty! Posed...? A knife time!
A Lustrum lasts five years. When you’re in jail, such seems a lifetime.
(The bachelor (confirm’d) spends, in the long run, zero wife time.)
 
A Month o’ Sundays…? Thirty weeks. (In tetes-a-tetes, much greater.)
A Moment ends at three half-Minutes...nor not one tick later.
('M's teem. But, in the meantime...see ya later, alligator!)

The time 'tween light's turn green and cab horn's honk…? A New York second.
How longs the Night...? Depends on where on earth good souls begin it.
(A billionth of a second…? That’s a Nanosecond, i’n’it…?)

The time 'twixt your snafu and your "Oh, no!"...? One Onosecond.
(The nature of your fuck-up or faux pas can go unreckon'd.) 

Olympiads run four years long: with laurel wreaths they're fecund.

Planck time than Olympiads or moments, runs wa-a-a-ay shorter.

A length of time of three months is the span they call a Quarter.
Res satti has to do with New Year’s Day. It's Latin…sorter.
 

A lamb’s tail’s Shake may fluctuate, as many do each season.   
Semesters, too, may vary: ask your principal the reason.
If Scenes run long, play fans cry, “Wrong!” Such sin's theatric treason.

(A Scaramucci's ten days long, post which he's Drumpf displeasin.')
 
A Tatum* is the time ‘twixt tones in Art’s descending scale.
(A Trice, too, is extremely short: it ain’t no “pace de snail.”)
A "Take Two" starts once "One" departs, once "Take One"’s deem’d “No sale!” 

     *Named for jazz great Art Tatum and that pianist's lightning arpeggios.   
 
The Upper Pal’olithic Age lasts 30,000 years.
A Vamp 'til ready lasts until the buzzing in one’s ears --
plus fear of failure, nosebleed and amnesia -- disappears.

 

A While might last a Watch or two, thought w-a-ay less than a Week. 

An (e)Xasecond’s 1,000,000,000,000,000,000* seconds – so to speak.

     *Pronounced "one quintillion.

Yoctoseconds…? Zeptoseconds…? Both to me be Greek.
(Exhausted I'm, so ends my rhyme...in time to take a leak.)