Tolstoy’s AnNa-Na
KareniNa-Na
Chicquita
BaNaNa-Na
Tex
Avery’s “Uncle Tom’s CabaÑa-Ña”
Princess
DiaNa-Na
Chesapeake
Bay EpifauNa-Na
Ireland’s
County FermaNagh-Nagh
Motorsport’s
GymkhaNha-Nha
Angel Gabriel’s HosanNa-Na!
Tennessee
Williams’s The Night of the IguaNa-Na!
JoNah-Nah and the Whale
Hurricane KatriNa-Na
Slovenia’s
LjubljaNa-Na!
Peggy
Lee’s MañaNa-Na!
Buddha’s
NirvaNa-Na
Richie
Valens’s "O, DonNa-Na!"
Amazon PiraNha-Nha!
Manuel
Jose QuintaNa-Na!
Russia’s
RoxaNNa-NNa-NNa!
The
Riverboat SultaNa-Na!
Mexico’s
TijuaNa-Na!
U of I's Champagne/UrbaNa-Na!
Peruvian
VicuÑa-Ña!
Judd Sister WynonNa-nNa
XeNa-Na, Warrior Princess
Yerba BueNa-Na
New
York Hamlet ZeNa-Na-Na!
Poet Poe pens nonsense verse. "Plus...phun," puns Uly, "I disburse." Its gamut runs from spam to worse. The po'sy posted...? Poe's diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a mitzva, mostly. (Not a curse.)
Saturday, August 24, 2019
The Death of Richard Shawn
‘Twas the twentieth century, decade the
eighth,
when occurr’d scenes absurd, as arose Richard’s wraith.
‘Twas a fortnight plus two after April the first (!),
this bizarre au revoir Richard hadn’t rehears’d.
“If elected, I’ll never lay down on the job,”
whereon Richard Shawn started to stagger and bob.
He lay motionless; more than two minutes pass’d by.
Then a stagehand, examining him, cried, “Oh, my!
Please initiate CPR, somebody, quick.”
But his audience sat, saying, “We love Dick’s schtick.”
All the newspapers noted the following day:
“Richard Schulefand aka Shawn’s pass’d away.”
Richard died of a heart attack. Ironic, that,
as he’d guest hosted Carson, providing the chat
the night TV its last cigarette advert air’d.
‘Tis a mad, mad, mad, world…nor is anyone spared.
when occurr’d scenes absurd, as arose Richard’s wraith.
‘Twas a fortnight plus two after April the first (!),
this bizarre au revoir Richard hadn’t rehears’d.
In performance at U of C’s Mandeville
Hall,
Richard utter’d these words while portraying
a pol:“If elected, I’ll never lay down on the job,”
whereon Richard Shawn started to stagger and bob.
In a twinkling he’d toppled face-down on
the stage.
Was it part of Dick’s act…? This the crowd
couldn’t gauge.He lay motionless; more than two minutes pass’d by.
Then a stagehand, examining him, cried, “Oh, my!
“Can it be there’s a medical man in the
house…?
Our poor Dick may be sick; we all know
he’s no souse.Please initiate CPR, somebody, quick.”
But his audience sat, saying, “We love Dick’s schtick.”
When they finally leave, still unsure
what they’ve seen,
each inquires. “Was it real or just comic
routine…?”All the newspapers noted the following day:
“Richard Schulefand aka Shawn’s pass’d away.”
Richard died of a heart attack. Ironic, that,
as he’d guest hosted Carson, providing the chat
the night TV its last cigarette advert air’d.
‘Tis a mad, mad, mad, world…nor is anyone spared.
Thises 'n' Thats
Oliver and Oliver: a Hardy and a dragon.
A Remus and a Remus: one’s an uncle; one found Rome.
An A(a)ron and an Aaron: one’s OT and one’s a Trask.
Bert and Bert: a Muppet…and a Bobbsey, when he's home.
Castor and/or Castor: one’s medic’nal; one’s a brother.
Dum and Dumb: a Tweedle and a cinematic fuck.
George and George: the one’s a Founding Father; one’s a Weasley.
A Huey and a Huey: one’s a rock star; one’s a duck.
(More to come: a work in progress)
A Remus and a Remus: one’s an uncle; one found Rome.
An A(a)ron and an Aaron: one’s OT and one’s a Trask.
Bert and Bert: a Muppet…and a Bobbsey, when he's home.
Castor and/or Castor: one’s medic’nal; one’s a brother.
Dum and Dumb: a Tweedle and a cinematic fuck.
George and George: the one’s a Founding Father; one’s a Weasley.
A Huey and a Huey: one’s a rock star; one’s a duck.
(More to come: a work in progress)
Friday, August 23, 2019
Arrays
Alejandro and Alvino Rey –
be they not Reys…?
Also, Aldo Ray and Alan Mobray:
ain't they Rays…?
Braided B'yonce's braying
backs bourées. (Be 'rées' not ‘ray’...?)
Blacken’d blues be belted hues
brought off by grey’d blade Brother Ray.
Charo's charr’d: charcoal-corroded.
Robert Cray's Crayola-coated.
Cool-J's choler’s color-coded,
'splay’d by cathode rays.
Desdemona’s dreaming, doe-eyed.
(Dewy-…? Yes, though often "sloe-eyed.")
Slinging (slanging) ‘dhese ‘n’ dhose’…?
A dozing Desiree.
Earl entrés with silver’d tray.
(Served…? Hot cross buns and cold Earl Grey.)
Fauré's five fingers flail;
four, fin'lly, fail, forthwith, to play.
Sing, singers! Sing solfege, we pray:
"...la-la-ti-la...sol-sol-la-sol...
fa-fa-sol-fa...mi-mi-fa-mi...
re-re-mi-re...? ("...mi-re"'s not 'ray'...?)
Gram's gamma rays, as they decay,
turn Gram's beret Marengol grey.
Herr Hitler's home; Herr's here to stay.
(Herr's hit the hay…? Hip! Hip hoo-ray!)
In love I be, with Ina Ray.*
In re, I say: "Into the fray!"
I join John Ray and Jules Maigret
in jamboree (not jamboraye)!
* Ms. Hutton was born Odessa Cowan.
Even so...
Kol Nidrei calls for gnosh outré:
McKippers!* (Kroc's the fast-fare Ray.)
Let eel (lamprey), with seal -- (say) grey…? –
beside us kneel. Now: Let us pray!
* Ideal for Yom Kippur (aka Yum! Kippers)
'Ray's…? Manta ray, Man Ray's moray,
Marin Marais and Martha Raye,
Nanette Fabray and Nadia Gray,
plus Rayner (Ray)* and Marvel Ray.**
* Chicago kids' TV staple.
** Ina Ray's mother -- cf above.
Omar works or prays: no play.
His life’s "orar' et labore."
(Oh-oh: he's "Om-m-m-m-m"'d his day away.)
"Phil Harmony is Paul Paray,"
prates Paul's 'paraymate' M. Dupre.*
* Organist and childhood pal of Paray's.
Quaere verum -- seek what's vrai!
(It's quickly queue or quit the fray!)
Rachel Ray's not Robert Cray.
(Is Rainer Rilke Cray…? No way!)
Sugar Ray, with Spalding Gray,
San-Luis-Rey-way stray'd one day.
'Tis too tres tres, that tea-tray trey:
try trading two. (Then, traipse away.)
UV (ultravi'let) rays
from Uranus upset my days.
Van Gogh voudrait to vault (oy, vay!)
from Vezelay to Vau. (C'est vrai!)
No! Wardell Gray is not Faye Wray:
Wray's wigwam's waxing warmer, eh...?
X-ray's Charles G. Barcla*…?
Famed for forays in re: rays!
(Whereas Chuck Barkley, reigning as Sir Charles…?
He's famed for_____ -- has been for days!)
* Brit C. G. Barcla won the '17 Nobel in Physics
for work in x-ray spectroscopy.
Delay your visit to Ypres.
You're young yet. Pray: you'll yield one day.
Meanwhile, Z. Ray Wakeman may
pull stunts in films...or so they* say.
* 'They,' in this case, being the folks –
several named Ray, it's safe to say -- who amass
and post content for Google’s search engine.
be they not Reys…?
Also, Aldo Ray and Alan Mobray:
ain't they Rays…?
Braided B'yonce's braying
backs bourées. (Be 'rées' not ‘ray’...?)
Blacken’d blues be belted hues
brought off by grey’d blade Brother Ray.
Charo's charr’d: charcoal-corroded.
Robert Cray's Crayola-coated.
Cool-J's choler’s color-coded,
'splay’d by cathode rays.
Desdemona’s dreaming, doe-eyed.
(Dewy-…? Yes, though often "sloe-eyed.")
Slinging (slanging) ‘dhese ‘n’ dhose’…?
A dozing Desiree.
Earl entrés with silver’d tray.
(Served…? Hot cross buns and cold Earl Grey.)
Fauré's five fingers flail;
four, fin'lly, fail, forthwith, to play.
Sing, singers! Sing solfege, we pray:
"...la-la-ti-la...sol-sol-la-sol...
fa-fa-sol-fa...mi-mi-fa-mi...
re-re-mi-re...? ("...mi-re"'s not 'ray'...?)
Gram's gamma rays, as they decay,
turn Gram's beret Marengol grey.
Herr Hitler's home; Herr's here to stay.
(Herr's hit the hay…? Hip! Hip hoo-ray!)
In love I be, with Ina Ray.*
In re, I say: "Into the fray!"
I join John Ray and Jules Maigret
in jamboree (not jamboraye)!
* Ms. Hutton was born Odessa Cowan.
Even so...
Kol Nidrei calls for gnosh outré:
McKippers!* (Kroc's the fast-fare Ray.)
Let eel (lamprey), with seal -- (say) grey…? –
beside us kneel. Now: Let us pray!
* Ideal for Yom Kippur (aka Yum! Kippers)
'Ray's…? Manta ray, Man Ray's moray,
Marin Marais and Martha Raye,
Nanette Fabray and Nadia Gray,
plus Rayner (Ray)* and Marvel Ray.**
* Chicago kids' TV staple.
** Ina Ray's mother -- cf above.
Omar works or prays: no play.
His life’s "orar' et labore."
(Oh-oh: he's "Om-m-m-m-m"'d his day away.)
"Phil Harmony is Paul Paray,"
prates Paul's 'paraymate' M. Dupre.*
* Organist and childhood pal of Paray's.
Quaere verum -- seek what's vrai!
(It's quickly queue or quit the fray!)
Rachel Ray's not Robert Cray.
(Is Rainer Rilke Cray…? No way!)
Sugar Ray, with Spalding Gray,
San-Luis-Rey-way stray'd one day.
'Tis too tres tres, that tea-tray trey:
try trading two. (Then, traipse away.)
UV (ultravi'let) rays
from Uranus upset my days.
Van Gogh voudrait to vault (oy, vay!)
from Vezelay to Vau. (C'est vrai!)
No! Wardell Gray is not Faye Wray:
Wray's wigwam's waxing warmer, eh...?
X-ray's Charles G. Barcla*…?
Famed for forays in re: rays!
(Whereas Chuck Barkley, reigning as Sir Charles…?
He's famed for_____ -- has been for days!)
* Brit C. G. Barcla won the '17 Nobel in Physics
for work in x-ray spectroscopy.
Delay your visit to Ypres.
You're young yet. Pray: you'll yield one day.
Meanwhile, Z. Ray Wakeman may
pull stunts in films...or so they* say.
* 'They,' in this case, being the folks –
several named Ray, it's safe to say -- who amass
and post content for Google’s search engine.
Rain of Tariffs
We trek through tariffying times.
Such times shout out for sheriffs.
Sometimes, such times drum up a Drumpf,
one handy with his tariffs,
a Drumpf who sees economies
through isolation’s prism,
who feels it’s fine to fall in line
with home-grown tariffism.
But don’t forget:
a helping hand is not an iron fist.
One voter’s chosen one
is yet another’s tariffist.
Such times shout out for sheriffs.
Sometimes, such times drum up a Drumpf,
one handy with his tariffs,
a Drumpf who sees economies
through isolation’s prism,
who feels it’s fine to fall in line
with home-grown tariffism.
But don’t forget:
a helping hand is not an iron fist.
One voter’s chosen one
is yet another’s tariffist.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
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.)
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.)
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.)
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.)
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.)
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.
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.
(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! Coach Morgan wouldn.’
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
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.
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: ]
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.”
“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.”
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Composed and illustrated in 2019, each verse of poetaster Ulysses ("Uly") Poe's illuminated nonsense lyric "What A's ...
