A Final Four-Fold Foray into "Hat/Cattle" Folderol

     Letter ç appears to be pronounced something like 

/ch/ in the Turkmen word 'çal,' meaning 'grey' in that 

language. The neologism 'çalcells' as a Turkmen-Anglo 

hybrid refers to the brain in an Agatha Christie sense 

of (little) grey cells. In The Big Sleep we hear Chandler's 

hero comment on the locale's ratio of guns to gray 

matter -- all of which leads to the first of another 

(possibly final...?) series of "hat/cattle" verses.

Philip Marlowe: "My, my! Glut of guns! No brains! Why...?

Don'cha know...? It's all gats and no çalcells."

There be basins in France where Typhaceae plants

fail to grow: they're all jattes and no cattails.

Dumpty Drumpf dumpsters docs. Guilty...? Down to his socks! 

Drumpf must go! He's all rat: no acquittal!

Some fraternities quash any hazing of frosh.

Mu Tau Rho's one: all frat and no paddle.

Further "Hat/Cattle" Nonsense

     Regular readers of the PW²L blog will have noted 

its editor's ongoing insistence upon strict meters being 

maintained in the verses of Ulysses Poe. Such insistence 

acknowledges as intentional the stress on the second 

syllable of the final word in each of the three verses below

and, as such, its being a departure from the poet's earlier 

practice of stress placement, instead, on the first syllable 

of that final word. It's and example of the accentual 

difference between 'cattle' and 'cartel.'    

When I deal my own drugs, dodging syndicate thugs,

people say, "You're all khat, no cartel."

     Were it mine to decide who'd become Clunes's bride,

in I'd weigh: "Always Catz, no Cadell."*

     * In ten seasons of ITV's "Doc Martin," one might have 

from time to time wondered which actress -- Caroline Catz 

as Louisa Glasson or Selena Cadell as Sally Tishell -- would 

wind up with Martin Clunes's Doctor Martin Ellingham...? 

     Although scops from the Indies with indigo bindis

say "Nay!," they're all Bhat, no Patel.

I, re winos and wine, "Cattle/Hat"-wise opine:

"They're no Tait-(tinger), all muscatel." 

Since, of stuff cetyl's in, most is bad for your skin,

let's roar throaty: "All wax! And no cetyl!"

 

     Does Mambrino's gold helm* make a knight of the realm

of Quixote -- all hat and no kettle...?

     * The Golden Helmet of Mambrino is, in fact, perhaps 

less a kettle than a barber's shaving basin, but...what 

the hey!

"Hat/Cattle" Varia (Images)

Soup Spooners, S(o)uper Spooners & the Very S(o)upest of Spooners

Our legacy. Our cult'ral loot. 

She'd toss'd it at the Institute....? 

     World Heritage / Hurl'd where...? At IDGE*...?

          * Institute for the Development of Gifted Education

Finer weather (note the trending). 

Dined together; spoke of lending.

     Better tomorrow / Met her to borrow

Causin' pains to go away,

just not by dosin' these, okay...?

     Curin' all aches / Urinal cakes

New "Hat/Cattle" spinoff saved.

Sleep...? You risk a life enslaved. 

     All chaps and no saddle / All naps and, so: chattel!

Declaim'd (Will's famed speech) wrongly, nu...?

The mutes...? All sprung -- nor'll Roy Cohn sue.
     The summer of our discontent / The dumb are off: R.C.'s content.

"Hat/Cattle" Farcie (all texts)

     I. 

When cowpokes poke fun at some son-of-a-gun,
they may claim, "He's all hat and no cattle."
     It's, like ex-army brass who blow tales out their ass,

much the same: "They're all shat and no battle."

     So, when Indians say to the homesteaders, "Stay!"
some might hear, "You all scat! You no settle."
     And when Tevya departs Anatevka, our hearts

quake with fear, "Once all bat, now no shtetl."

     II.

          (Letter ç appears to be pronounced something 

like /ch/ in the Turkmen word 'çal,' meaning 'grey' in that 

language. The coined 'çalcells' as a Turkmen-English hybrid 

refers to the brain in the Agatha Christie sense of (little) 

gray cells. In The Big Sleep we hear Chandler's hero 

comment on the locale's ratio of guns to gray matter.)

Philip Marlowe: "My, my! Glut of guns! No brains! Why...?

Don'cha know...? It's all gats and no çalcells."

     There be basins in France where Typhaceae plants

fail to grow: they're all jattes and no cattails.

     Dumpty Drumpf dumpsters docs. Guilty...? Down to his socks! 

Drumpf must go! He's all rat: no acquittal!

     Some fraternities quash any hazing of frosh.

Mu Tau Rho is all frat and no paddle.

     III.

          Regular readers of PW²L will have noted its 

editor's ongoing insistence upon strict meters being 

maintained in the verses of Ulysses Poe. Such insistence 

acknowledges as intentional the stress on the second 

syllable of the final word in each of the three verses below

and, as such, its being a departure from the poet's earlier 

practice of stress placement, instead, on the first syllable 

of that final word. It's and example of the accentual 

difference between 'cattle' and 'cartel.'    

When I deal my own drugs, dodging syndicate thugs,

people say, "You're all khat, no cartel."

     Were it mine to decide who'd become Clunes's bride,

in I'd weigh: "Always Catz, no Cadell."*

     Although scops from the Indies with indigo bindis

say "Nay!," they're all Bhat, no Patel.

     I, re winos and wine, "Cattle/Hat"-wise opine:

"They're no Tait-(tinger), all muscatel."

     * In ten seasons of ITV's "Doc Martin," one might have 

from time to time wondered which actress -- Caroline Catz 

as Louisa Glasson or Selena Cadell as Sally Tishell -- would 

wind up with Martin Clunes's Doctor Martin Ellingham...? 

     IV. 

Since, of stuff cetyl's in, most proves bad for your skin,

emote throaty: "All wax! And no cetyl!" 

     Does Mambrino's gold helm * make a knight of the realm

of Quixote -- all hat and no kettle...?

     As Octoberfest's oodles consume all the noodles,

folks mew, "It's all Bräts and no spätzle."

     Likewise, publicans shout, "Knotted bread...? We've run out.

Bloede Kuh! We're all Blatz and no pretzel!"

     * The Golden Helmet of Mambrino is, in fact, perhaps 

less a kettle than a barber's shaving basin, but...what 

the hey! We're talking nonsense here.

     V. 

If rug rats make noise, although gifted with toys,

parents judge, "You're all brat: so, no rattle." 

     And though digs (mine) -- surprise! -- are too roomy in size,

I can't budge: I'm all flat, no collat'ral.

     Connoisseurs of the Bible are, downsizing, li'ble

to utter, "All jot and no tittles."

     Whereas cooks who run short of good grub are the sort

who may mutter, "All vat and no vittles."

     VI. 

Of those same kitchen magi (just now all the rage) I

would say, "They're all flatware, no spattle."

     Of their kin in the schools, as are none of 'em fools,

I'd say, "Hey! All eclat and no prattle."

     And though plays bagboy Tucker Alt Right for a sucker,

we see, "He's no fact and all twaddle."

     Still, as Murdock (le pere) won't shut off Tucker's air,

maybe God (if She's there) with a clot'll.

     VII. 

Seven waltzes penn'd Bach -- plus one sprightly ceroc.

These works' keys...? All A-flat, none A nat'ral. 

     Doodhpak, shrikhand, chaas, dal, roti, farsan et al...

Fare found where...? Gujarat. (Not Seattle.)

Drumpf Tweet Sent Moments After His Death

I'm going where...?
That's SO unfair!

S(o)uper Spooners #1 thru #6

     Runcibl'd Spooners are complex, 

some more than others. 

Southern web address (in part).

French go here to craft new art. 

     Dot Tupelo / Dot OuLiPo

Flickers wherein film buff dwells.

Elixir blend for casting spells.

     Motion pics / Potion mix

Film casts Redford, Gunn, Mostel.

Putrescence poses pork joint smell.

     The Hot Rock / The hock rot

Tale portraying evil world. 

Jav'lin by Rebekah hurl'd. 

     The Heart of Darkness / The dart of Harkness 

Set to wrestle with the right.

Incognito...if not quite.

     Biden/Harris / Hidin' bare ass

Star-cross'd lovers quill'd by Will. 

Stand-up's pal's obstrep'rous still.
     Romeo 'n' Juliet / Joe Mayo* unruly yet

     * This character, a good friend of 

Jerry's, appears in Seinfeld episode 

#168, "The Reverse Peephole."

26 Silly Things People Say in the Moments Immediately Following Their Deaths (A Post from the Past)

 Aamon...? Grim! 
(Who'd dance with him...?)      

But, as I'm here, 

eBay my bier! 

Curse the dark 'n' 

Philip Larkin! 

Di- (I fear I 

see) -es irae.

Enough's enough! 

(Putsch came to 'shuff.'*)

     * As in the Bard's “shuffle 

off this mortal...,” not "Shuffle 

Off to Buffal-...." 

Feelin' very 

“Alighieri.”

God's call'd Bel. 

(She's black as well.) 

He kindly stopp’d* -- 

'cuz out I'd opt.

     * Cf. Ms. Dickinson’s #479. 

I died. Mom lied. 

Ironicide! 

'Tis like they tol' ya: 

no magnolia.

Kiss good-bye yer 

ass, you liar!

Less is more...? 

Mere metaphor.

Memento mori. 

(Now who's sorry...?)

No sound...? No sight...? 

No shit! "Good" night*...?

      * As in Thomas’s 

“Do not go gen-…”

Off blocks, my chips...? 

Apocalypse!

Pride had shit 

to do with it.

Quite warm for May...? 

The hell, you say. 

Ripley said... 

('Course Ripley's dead.) 

Suspend the search! 

Arrivederch!

To be I'd not. 

So: off the pot.*

     * As in “shit or get…”

"Up, up..." and "a-"...? 

Propaganda! 

Very well: 

so this is hell. 

What the fuck! 

Of all the luck. 

X marks the spot. 

(By god, it's hot.) 

Yes or no...? 

Is that stuff snow...? 

Zeus...? Hello. 

(But I must go.)

     Coda per GFH 

But wait, there’s more

to answer for. 

I'll boldly go...

(But maybe no.)

Saeva indignatio...? 

Maybe I’ll just let it go. 

Comedy’s hard

in a churchyard.

Mon panache . . . 

I’ll take the cash.

Dog Days Doggerels: Today's States of Play in the US of A or Where Were You When the World Ended...?

“When going’s tough, the tough get going,”

Socrates scolds Saturday. 
(“When rowing’s rough, the rough go rowing"'s 

rarely read this latter way.) 
[As for me...? I phone for towing. 

“Yes I can!” I cannot say.] 
 
Woods 'n' weeds in Westworld...? Glowing. 

Fires 'n' floods leave natives numb. 
Mountains...? Mummified: no snowing!

How'll fresh water now forthcome...? 
[As for me...? I’m “Me is woe!”ing. 

(Or I, worse, play deaf and dumb.)] 
 
White supremacists keep crowing.

Equal rights...? Whose...? (Let me see...)

Unrav'ling homeland quilts need sewing

if we'd democratic be.

[As for me...? I'm towels in throwing.

Purple states look grey to me.]

Drumpf would plumpf for "Quid pro quo"ing,

acts transactional enact.

Far-fringe-right-wing horns keep blowing:

Pence 'n' Congress hacks attack'd!

[As for me...? I'm white flags showing,

yearning for altern'tive fact.]

CEOs at Shell and Boeing 

vie for share, cry “I’ve got dibs!” 

Homeless...? Starved, their numbers growing. 

(Note those frail unbloated ribs!) 
[As for me...? With Homer “Doh!”ing, 

wan, we don our lobster bibs.]

Economies...? All stall'd or slowing.

Quickly ocean temps wax hot.

Clouds appear -- clouds of unknowing.

Learning left us...? Not a lot.

[As for me...? I'm "cuppa joe"ing.

(I've this javaddiction got.)]

Ask'd "Are reparations owing...?"

whites reply, "Why'd I be fined...?

Slave stuff pass'd 'fore I got going."

[As for me...? The same old bind:

I'm "to 'n' fro"ing, "yes 'n' no"ing...:

when will it wake up (my mind)...?]

Is one answer "sis 'n' bro"ing...?

Malcolm thought so; so did King.

On each creature, love bestowing...?

Shall such salve solve ev'rything...?

[As for me...? I must be going

while's left time for one last fling.]