Never Dated, Never Mated, Nowt But Nom'nally Related

     I. 

Kipling's Kim and Ms. Kardashian;
players both -- in each's "fashian":
He the Great Game made his own.
She...? Just known for being known.

     Upcoming pairs: 

Howdy Holmes and Howdy Doody;

Pip Pirrip and Pip Torrens;

     (More to come; work in progress) 

The Geriatric Chronicles, Episode 4: The Early Bird Special

 

The Geriatric Chronicles, Episode 17: The Zimmer Olympics

 

The Geriatric Chronicles, Episode 21: The Rise of the Commodes

 

Runcibl'd Spooner: The Truth Shall Set You Free

     The London season of 1892 sees British 

theatre actor/manager Herbert Beerbohm Tree

stage his own production of Hamlet at London's 

Haymarket Theatre. Notwithstanding The Times's 

declaring Tree's effort a "notable success," one 

Mr. W. S. Gilbert disagrees, saying of it, "I never 

saw anything so funny in my life..."

     The disgruntled performer confronts Gilbert, 

challenging that man's negative review, but the 

successful librettist stands his ground. 

     "Fear not, my dear fellow, even though...

the sooth shall fret you, Tree."

The '-idity'ot King' or, Heed 'im 'n' Reap!

"All you need is Drumpf, Chumpf;

Drumpf is all you need."

-- D. Drumpf

To cadge an imagined torpidity, 

merely picture a log with a bumpf; 
to experience gobs of cupidity, 

you've no need but to heed Donald Drumpf.
 
To obtain a small grain of squalidity, 
merely conjure a landfill or dumpf; 
to experience wads of vapidity, 
merely cede homeland's lead to The Drumpf.
 
To acknowledge your thrall to liquidity, 
store the sum of your wealth in one lumpf; 
to experience bits of rabidity. 
merely read of the greed of The Drumpf.

To insure it's secure (your timidity),

merely ask for the hand of a frumpf;

to experience tainted rancidity,

just pay heed to the creed of The Drumpf.

To experience tiers of avidity,

play the advocate, never the grumpf;

to experience caustic acridity,

just proceed where he's pee'd -- Donald Drumpf.

To enjoy a dynamic fluidity,

to your workout add hopf, skipf and jumpf;

to experience fetid putridity,

you've no need but to breed one more Drumpf.

To be sure folks regard your pinguidity,

bloat to far more than pleasingly plumpf;

to experience heavy gelidity,

you've no need but to feed Donald Drumpf.

To survive in Death Valley's aridity,

ride the camel with only one humpf;

to experience outsize stupidity,

you've no need but to heed Donald Drumpf.

Three Curates / Four '-e(g)g's

A rotten egg one curate had. 
That curate said, “It weren’t all bad.” 
Another's leg felt stiff and sore. 
Quoth he, “No worse than ‘twas before,” 
then strapp’d on a prosthetic peg 
and said, “Who needs a second leg...?” 
But when a third one's keg ran out, 

‘twas tot'lly bad; he voiced no doubt.

Rowboat Redux

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.
Throw, throw, throw your throat! (The dummy's named Kaseem.) 
Blow, blow, blow die Flöte; perform a Mozart theme.
Eau, eau, eau your moat; don't fill that trench with cream. 

Slow, slow, slow your bloat; phone Oprah's Diet Team.
Sew, sew, sew your coat; one stitch will save that seam! 

Know, know, know your quote, (It's "Halls of Academe.")

Flow, flow, flow your note: legato it must seem.

 No,  no,  no your vote, our civic sins redeem.
Owe, owe, owe your groat; embrace no Ponzi scheme.
Sow, sow, sow your oat; to hell with self-esteem!
Tow, tow, tow your goat; that Gruff goat is a meme. 

Grow, grow, grow your shoat! Do try the pork-stuff'd bream.

Beau, Beau, Beau's so haut: see how his shirt studs gleam!

Floe. floe, floes won't float, their liquid's turn'd to steam.

Zoë, Joey, Chloë...note: your lives are still a dream.

Subterfoojum

     Charles Dodgson famously claims to have thought 

of the line "...for the Snark was a Boojum, you see..." 

well before composing the scores of remaining lines 

to his alter ego Lewis Carroll's Nonsense classic "The 

Hunting of the Snark."

"...For the Snark was a Boojum..." he said.

(It was Dodgson who did so, I've read.)

I'd assumed that the crew,

in the end, muddl'd through,

while the Baker was lost, presumed dead.

So: "...the Snark was a Boojum..." Aw-w-w-right...

but 'twere never that grisly a sight,
for 'twas noted by none
(well, perhaps just the one),
so caus'd hardly so widespread a fright.

Sure, the Snark was a Boojum, albeit
just the Baker proved able to see it.
Thus I put it to you
that the rest of the crew
remain'd fully proficient to flee it.

Would "...the Snark was..." -- translated in France --

read "...le Grogner c'était..." by some chance...?

Would "...a Boojum..." not change,

but stay "...Boojum..."...? How strange!

What a totally weird circumstance! 

Yes, the Snark was a Boojum, okay!

Still, I wholly maintain to this day:

Had the Baker stay'd back

with the rest of his claque,

he'd have never just "faded away."

Though the Snark was a Boojum, the verse

makes no mention at all of a curse.

Was it very bad karma --

some tear in the dharma...?

Let's face it: things could have been worse.

Why the Snark was a Boojum's unknown.

Could it be that the Snark was a clone

of the vile Jubjub bird...?

Or is such too absurd...?

(Why won't sceptics just throw me a bone!)

Would "...the Snark was a Boojum..." be true

if the Rev'rend Charles Dodgson but knew

about helium-3 or the cirio tree*...?

If he had, would he've holler'd, "We're through!"...?

     * Boojum, a phenomenon in physics associated with 

 superfluid helium-3, is also a tree native to Baja, California. 

 In a far distant galaxy, we 

 would shed fewer tears, show much more glee. 

 There the Baker fades not, 

 as the final line's wrought: 

 "...For the Snark weren't a Boojum, you see." 

RPMs

78 revolutions 

per each minute my record goes 'round...?

Extravagant! Don't such solutions 

seem extreme just to access some sound...?

45 orbits improves 

this procedure by slowing its pace.

Plus it saves wear and tear on the grooves, 

tho' diminishing treble 'n' bass.

33 1/3 ev'ry minute: 

That's the number my LPs now make,

which is fewer by myriads, innit,
than my 78s used to take...?

What of 1 revolution...? Will someone

ever hawk such on cable TV...?

If they do, will folks spew, "1's a dumb one!"

and not, "1 RPM! That's for me!"...?

Runcibled Spooner: The Powers That Be