Can A.I. alter stupidity?

A virtual who knew.
A little siri a lot of algorithms.
What is right, or is it true?
Am I writing this, or is it coming from You?
I before E except after C.
Artificial sweetener not good for you.
Not good for me.

That was the Week that was.

“ All the News that’s Fit to Print.”
Appears on the masthead of our daily read.
Will creativity be abbreviated?
Or replaced by a digital degree?

We write some prose, add a lyric or two.
Original thoughts add a concept we construe.
Will our world as we know it.
In the simple and true.
Be usurped by learning techniques, wiser than me, bigger than you?

ChatGPT can create an A.I. text.
But our experiences we behold.
Recalling our adventures a computer code can’t unfold.

Keeping our erasers, our inkwells close by.
Our modus operandi holding our heads towards the sky.
Our feelings are our treasures that can’t be taken away.
Regardless of the fact A.I. is here to stay.

NOVEMBER 10, 2022 ~ AROSEBYANYOTHERNAME2016

Dear Jamesy Gom,
We watch your strides so long.
Your hair “flows” out of its helmet,
Your “A” game far and long.
Your “cycling” of the “biscuit” as you “Bar Down” into the net.
A cause for a “celly” we are busting from the get.
You got the rink covered,
The opponents can surely tell.
While your friends were playing checkers in theory,
Your chess game very strong.
You are such a talented hockey dude.
Center rink is where you belong.

Audacious, funny and wise.
Long time proponent of keeping your eye on the prize. 
Her early beginnings fraught by escaping the Nazis. 
Her global success as an-out-of process proxy. 
The tutelage of pleasure earned her a P.H.D.
Her moxie and gusto blended into joie de vivre. 
Her sexual knowledge ran deep and wide- go ahead derive some pleasure, don’t run, don’t hide.
She was married 3 times by the age of 32.
Took her 3 tries to find her love so true.
She stood 4 feet 6, her voice rang a German- tinged English. 
Hardly boasted as the prototype for a lady in show business.
Provocative sexual banter kept her gabbing on late night tv.
“Sexually Speaking” her form of therapy.
Baruch dayan emet Dr. Ruth.
A life so well lived with a chim chim cher-ee.
A sweep is as lucky as lucky can be.

Summer in a Song.

#JustHaveFun!

Summertime and the living is easy, fish are jumping and the cotton is high. After A Hard Day’s Night – I want Breakfast at Tiffany’s with a Splendor in the Grass chaser.

As I approach the Autumn of my Life- I ask “What kind of fool am I?” “I want to come home to you and find the things that you do will make me feel alright” ah! Paul.

So we roll out the hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer, the days of soda and pretzels and beer, (well maybe Stoli) -I’d like to go to the “drive- in on Friday nights.”

“As we stroll along together holding hands walking all alone.”

Perhaps we’ll see the pyramids along the Nile, standing near “Moon River,” and feel grateful to be out of the “heat wave.” Could this be magic, as the lion sleeps tonight, in the jungle, the mighty jungle?

“Who knows, could be it’s only just out of reach down the block, on a beach, under a tree. Tonight?”

We call on wishful thinking as we put on our yellow polka dot bikini and wish we all could be California Girls.

We find ourselves dancing in the streets, eating icicles, popsicles and simply remember our favorite things.

“Are there lilac trees in the heart of town? Can your hear a lark in any other part of town? Does enchantment pour out of every door no it’s just on the street where you live.”

Wouldn’t you like to ride in my beautiful balloon? We can sing a song and sail along the silver sky we can fly, we can fly. Girl, I heard you’re getting married, heard you’re getting married this time you’re really sure. So, we’re going to the chapel of love. Love summer weddings.

“We are the lucky ones, some people never get to do all we got to do, now and forever I will always think of you.”

“It only takes a moment for your eyes to meet and then, it only takes a moment to be loved a whole life long.”

“Could it be magic now and hold on fast. Could this be the magic at last?” Love a little Barry thrown in.

So let’s get those good vibrations, cause G- d only knows at any point, in the still of the night – tomorrow may rain so I’ll follow the sun. Phew😎

Happy Birthday Mr. Mel Kaminsky a.k.a. Mel Brooks.
The consummate Steadfast lodestar of comic behaviors -98 and going great.
You embodied the role of a Producer (1968) when you hid jewels in one of The Twelve Chairs (1970.) 
Your pairing of Cleavon Little and Gene Wilder got some Saddles Blazing (1974) -which left you in a
state of High Anxiety (1977.) It was then that you knew it was time for a Silent Movie (1976) and it gave you time to prepare for Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993.) You had us when he appointed a new sheriff, his friend Ahchoo. So today we say Bless you Mr. Brooks and may you continue to make sure we Enter Laughing (1967.)

Farewell “Murder No Mystery.” Prodigious proportions of murders down the block and coming to your neighborhood and Not on the big screen. On the street you’ve walked home to with no thought of not making it to your front door.

We are reminded (two plus years ago of Lt. Alison Russo who was laid to rest.)

She served as a 911 first responder. Her father said it best through his gut pain “my daughter was fatally stabbed and left on the ground like a rag doll.”

She would have been the first to run and save her assailant, had he not stabbed her to her death first.”RIP posthumously Captain Alison Russo.

Where were you when Kennedy was shot? Our young, formative, developmental years were spent during the 1960’s-70’s.

The innocence of knee socks and loafers, bell bottoms and clogs, pappagallo shoes, alpaca sweaters adorned with lady bug and circle pins, madras blouses, peter pan collars, baby bead bracelets, curl free hair relaxer (ode to that wide tooth, pink comb that came in the kit,) blue loose leaf binders (ouch to every time we got pinched trying to close the three rings together, Wrangler and Lee “dungarees,” and cracking our Wrigley’s spearmint or Juicy Fruit gum while listening to The Shirelles, Four Tops and Diana crooning to Dancing in the Street. Oh how somedays we miss Johnny Angel under a Blue Moon as the The Lion Slept. Yes, to Those Magic Moments on The Streets where we lived. Did I get it close to right Herb Frankel?

We find comfort in exhuming our past when going forward needs a push. We learned to take the right action and let go of results. Respect your elders, do unto others and lend a helping hand. Basic adages that started on our front lawn. I know cliche counters but when the going gets…

Destroyed norms of human behavior were unimaginable as we stood stalwart with presidential reverence and pledged allegiance. Really Mrs. Alito? No Debate.

Just for today, look over someone else’s shoulder and be careful not to trip over the homeless person sleeping on your corner as you are reading your messages on your phones about one more shooting around the corner and down the block. Prayers strong!

A morning of cliches couldn’t hurt.

Life on life’s terms. One step forward two steps back.

Limbo -and we quote Oxford- an uncertain period of awaiting a decision or resolution; an intermediate state or condition.

“the fate of the Contras is now in limbo”

Somedays the uncertainty of the somewhere in-between takes our breath away. Some days that uncertainty propels us into stepping up our game and re-grouping.

Our activities on the daily were often done in knee jerk fashion. Now our knee just jerks.

Day dreaming is a wonderful panacea.
Tony Bennett crooned “ Oh, the good life. Full of fun seems to be the ideal. Mmm, the good life. Let’s you hide all the sadness you feel.”

The year is 1963. We are starting camp the next day. We lay out our new keds sneakers, chose a pair of “pedal pushers,” a sweat shirt and one of the many colorful tee shirts we bought at Alexanders. We will grab a tennis sweater as we run out the door to catch the bus.

Ah, we remember it well. Not unlike the first day of school, camp offered unparalleled excitement coupled with the trepidation of will I meet new friends feelings.

With our camp bag complete we get ready for bed. We finish reading one of our favorite Nancy Drew books, The Secret of the Old Clock, turn off our record player that was spinning a 78 Johnny Mathis album and ”Get Misty” as we shut the lights.

Euphoric recall is medicinal and certainly helps minimize the startling tone of the in our face senior moments, that turn into, wow time flew by.

Our take away is that there is a religious and spiritual component where forgiveness and celebration hold court. “Are you having any fun? What you get out of Living?”

So on the precipice of unknowing chapters coming our way, fast and furiously -let’s fill the empty space that we made room for in our proverbial closet and invite the new woman we met to join us at our “table.”

“Accentuate the Positives. Eliminate the negatives.”

Oh, hey Lionel Ritchie this time we are going to “Make the Magic last for more than just night.” We got this Wednesday.

Thanks for making us scrambled eggs and pancakes when we couldn’t decide what we wanted- Soph you were our sunshine and now feathers brush our hearts, Today you would have been “97” Ur girls-xxx and the kinda

SOME NIGHTS YOU DANCE WITH TEARS IN YOUR EYES

When guns have more rights than women.
We march to gain control.
Our bodies, ourselves, our credo.
We stand united and determined and yell.
Overturning our dignity.
The fire, the fury, the horror.
We beg to know the “why’s.”
As we scream and wipe our terror.
Children shot dead in the school yard.
Before our very eyes.
With prayers as they get on the camp bus.
That we’ll share dinner when they return.
The devastating threat to our values.
Standing sideline as our moral bibles are burned.
The legislative banning of assault weapons.
Our lack of control has us sitting in fear.
Our constitutional rights dispelled.
In a huge destructive hand-basket,
Our world has gone to Hell