50 More AmalgaMates aka JuxtaPoseurs

     Continuous tone b/w pencil portraits are forthcoming.                                   

Dom DeLuise Brooks

   Jonathan Swifty Lazar 

   Mama Cass Elliot Ness 

   Pearl S. Buck Rogers 

   Lin-Manuel Miranda Hart Dyke

   Pope Jean Paul Sartre 

   Sid Caesar Augustus

   Sun Myung Moon Mullins 

   Judith Anderson Cooper 

   Hedy Lamar Odom 

   Zsa Zsa Gabor Szabo 

   Junipero Serra Palin 

   

   Ru Pol Pot 

   

Marcia Gay Talese 

   

Ayn Rand Paul 

Sir Humphrey Davy Crockett 

   

Rainer Maria Callas                                       

Vyvyan Holland Taylor                                                

    

Stan Lorelei Lee 

Paul Klay Thompson 

   

Janus Joplin 

Horus Rumpole 
   

Mahatma Gandy Goose 

Jack Ruby Dee 

Sandra Oh Selznick 

Moshe Dayan Feinstein 

Gypsy Rose Kennedy

Olivia Newton-Minnow 

Eleanor LeBron James

Willie Nelson Mandela 

Norma Desmond Tutu 

Arundhati Roy Orbison 

Edna May Oliver Hardy

George Wallace Simpson 

Martha Raye Charles

Raul Julia Child  

Salvador Dolly Parton

Siddhartha Conan Doyle

Honey Boo Boo Radley 

Julia Louis-Armstrong

Morgan le Fay Wray

Eric the Red Skelton

Ivar the BoneLes Paul
Attila the Hunter Biden

Sitting Bull Connor
Boss Tweedle Dee

Ponce de Leon Trotsky

Riddick Bowe Brummel 

René de la Sally Field

     and

George Herman ("Babe") Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Breakthrough...? Or Botch...?

'Tis been Ben's blind ambition 

to glom atomic fission 
atop atomic fusion -- 
less mission, more illusion,

since particle division,

qua sine non for fusion,

"requires one huge collision...,"

so sighs Sir Isaac Newsion.

A parallel delusion --

to glue atomic fusion

to subatomic fission --

completes Ben's fleeting vision.

An alien math'matician --

(a Martian, a Venusian)

might reach some new conclusion.

For now, Ben's Tao...? Derision.

One Fine Day On Baker Street

Twin brothers has Sherlock. Their noms...?
First: Mycroft; next: Mycro(so)ft Holmes.
One solves crimes from his chair;
one deploys Windowsware®.
(Why's but one found in Conan Doyle's tomes...?)

Gals, Guys & Gigs

     Professor of Barrier Reef Ecology:

Beulah Goone

     Teddy Roosevelt Biographer

Carrie A. Biggs-Dick: 

     Logistics Specialist
Moe d'Zopperandy

     Stand Up Comic

Liev M. Laphin: 

     Former Chinese Ambassador to France

Ho ("Ralph") Wa

'-od's 'n' '-en's: 3/13ths of an ABC (11)

Arthropod as word ends ‘-od’; 

as bug, it's flaw'd 'cuz shodd'ly shod. 

Bogeymen as word ends ‘-en’; 

as trolls, they're less-than-pleasant men.

Cattle prod as word ends ‘-od’; 

as used, 'twill bruise a bovine's bod. 

Denizen as word ends '-en’; 

as citizen, was alien.

Emerod as word ends '-od';

as sore, it's more an act of God.

Foramen as word ends '-en';

as cut, it's...but that, fratr,' were then...

Makin' You-Know-What (11)

Whoopee!, a musical produced by Flo Ziegfeld and

Sam Goldwyn and featuring the song "Makin' Whoopee,"

opened at the New Amsterdam, Broadway's oldest theatre,

in 1928. Three years later Emma Harris, Whoopi Goldberg's

mother, was born.

Within Savannah's vast savanna 

roosts the grus americana 

aka the whooping crane. 

For years, that plain proves crane’s domain. 

One year land ships. Sick souls slip off. 

(It seems same suffer whooping cough.) 

They hack. And honk. And then they “whoop!” 

(Flo Ziegfeld croons, “They’ve got the croup.”)

 

Said Ziegfeld, Goldwyn – Flo ‘n’ Sam -- 

in Times Square’s old New Amsterdam, 

near 1928 (or so), 

make Whoopee! -- does same Sam ‘n’ Flo.

 

(What else, in 1928, 

makes '28 again so great...? 

A company call’d Berwick Cake 

brands Whoopie Pies, for heaven’s sake.)

 

It twice three half-years later when 

is Emma Harris (years from then 

who births one Whoopi (different spelling))

born. [Excuse my tell: I’m kvelling.]

Ancient Romes and Middle Ages

flatulence find "all the rages." 

Whoopee cushions, farty bags 

and pootin' blasters* -- many tags --

 

...monopolize the fart-joke scene...

till Jared “Whoopee!” Kushner’s seen 

to 'surp their spot. So: “whoop-dee-do!”...? 

Says I, “big whoop!”’s more like. Don't you...?

* That the pootin' blaster bears any relationship

to the dear leader of Russia remains unverified.