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Parts of the site under reconstruction 

7

Finito

The Statue of Liberty to do a 360?

With the unprecedented developments in recent weeks that ended for the first time with the indictment of a former President, you might have missed this article relegated to the backpages of The New York Times. 

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7

If you bothered to read through the whole storyand while it is true that Ms. Liberty does indeed stand in New Jersey’s waters ("Say it ain't so, Joe") this clearly is an exercise in...

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Me: What is the history of April Fool's day?

Chat:The exact history of April Fool's Day is uncertain... One theory suggests that it started in France in the 16th century, when the calendar was changed and New Year's Day was moved from April 1 to January 1. Those who continued to celebrate the old New Year's Day on April 1 became the butt of jokes and pranks, and were called "April fools."

 

Another suggests that April Fool's Day may have originated from ancient festivals, such as Hilaria in ancient Rome, which were held at the end of March and involved masquerades and pranks.

Me: Has April Fool's Day in the U.S. diminished in presence?  It seems that you don't see or hear of as many pranks as you used to. 

Chat: There is no definitive data to suggest that April Fool's Day has significantly diminished in popularity in the United States. However, it is possible that cultural changes and social media platforms have influenced the way people celebrate the holiday.

It then it goes on to make an interesting socio-political observation without any prompting on my part. 

In recent years, there has been a growing concern about the impact of "fake news" and misinformation, which has made some people more cautious about sharing or spreading potentially misleading or false information, even in jest. Additionally, with the rise of social media, people may be more inclined to share pranks and jokes online rather than in person.

I concluded our little exchange with...

Me: What has been one of the classic well known pranks of all time, in good humor?

 

Chat: ... one of the most famous and widely-known pranks was the "spaghetti tree" hoax that aired on BBC television on April 1, 1957.

...a news segment showed a family in Switzerland harvesting spaghetti from trees. The report explained that mild winter weather and the elimination of the spaghetti weevil had led to a bumper spaghetti crop that year. Many viewers were fooled by the segment and called the BBC, asking how they could grow their own spaghetti trees.

Me: On the flip side, a classic case of one in ill humor, gone wrong?

 

One such example... the "Balloon Boy" hoax that took place on April Fool's Day in 2009.

 

...a family in Colorado claimed that their six-year-old son had floated away in a homemade helium balloon. The story received extensive media coverage, with authorities launching a search for the missing boy. The incident was later revealed to be a hoax, as the family admitted that they had fabricated the story to gain publicity.

 

The prank caused widespread outrage.... The family was eventually charged with multiple crimes, including conspiracy and making false reports to authorities.

Chat's responses to my questions were cross-checked with other sources, as it has been known to provide some information in error. Infallible, it's not. But this exchange seemed in keeping with other online search engines on this topic.

 

Nothing of any great import here. Other than our need at times, to indulge in frivolity and a sense of humor. Assuming you find the "Balloon Boy" story a riot. We do have the ability to exhibit an A-hole intelligence (AHI) that AI will never be able to match.  And I say that with pride. Happy April Fool's Day.

Word of  the Month

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rapscallion         rap·​scal·​lion

     

   noun

          1.   one who is playfully mischievous

                

          2.   a deceitful and unreliable scoundrel

          

Etymology

Was originally rascallion, a fancier version of rascal, which comes

from the Old French rascaille, "rabble or mob."

 

 

First known use

1648, in the meaning defined above

 

 

Used in a sentence

 

The rapscallion of the April Fool joke in the MuseLetter was someone named Francis Lawrence.

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Yeah, but Can It Write a Sonnet?

 

It seems that not a day goes by where ChatGPT isn’t in the news. And why not. As the new tech kid on the block, it has taken the country by storm since introduced at the end of last November. Estimates are at 100 million users already.

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For those not yet aware of it, ChatGPT (heretofore Chat) is “a natural language processing tool" driven by AI technology that allows you to have human-like conversations in having questions answered. And in so doing, providing more than you will ever want to know on everything, while assisting you with various tasks and creative endeavors. Note a role it played in the April Fool piece above. Yet, as with everything in life, artificial or otherwise, there is a downside. Which I addressed last month on

some of its potentially dystopian ramifications, using a startling piece that appeared in The New York Times as a springboard. (March MuseLetter, Keeping HAL at Bay). And just five days after posting it, 60 Minutes correspondent Leslie Stahl, in her interview with Microsoft president Brad Smith, mirrored much of what I wrote in that piece. No need to rehash any of that here.

 

This month on a more upbeat note,  I wanted to consider where this system now stands “creatively.” Although that is a misnomer. Chat doesn’t really create. It doesn’t conceptualize or think. No AI system does. At least, not yet. But rather... it gathers. Oh, how it gathers.

 

The scope of human knowledge and experience that has been documented and recorded by prominent sources, can be accessed and referenced by AI instantly. From which it formulates a response to what has been asked of it.  And as a test as to how that might be put to work in a creative context, I’ve asked it to write a poem. Specifically, a sonnet. 

 

Poetry is arguably one of the most difficult forms of writing as it relies on condensed language  to create more of an emotional experience,  rather than a literal one.  Of course there are exceptions to this, as in a narrative poem, which tends to be driven by a storyline.  

 

Someone once described poetry, as trying to put into words, that which can’t be put into words. Therefore in using  words, a poet does so not just for their meaning(s), but equally if not more so, for the images they can create. In so doing,  it can make connections where at first glance none would seem to exist. 

 

A sonnet is a form of poetry which does all of that, and in formal verse.  A  Shakespearean-style one  is composed of 14 lines written in iambic pentameter, set within  a rhyming scheme of abab cdcd efef  gg

 

By coincidence, I just happened to have one on hand that I wrote a while ago, which I  used as an anchor for this exercise. Entitled Lighthouse, it was inspired by a couple of lines of a  Theodore Roethke poem,  which I used as an epigraph in my sonnet.

 

You might not be a fan of poetry, but you’re probably a fan of Man vs. Machine.  And seeing man get his ass  whooped. Though it’s all highly subjective and there really will be no winners or losers here. This is hardly Gary Kasparov vs. Big Blue. The goal was to get a sense of where Chatbot is creatively with the written word.

After a few clarifications on form and layout, here’s the sonnet Chat “wrote.” Shown here exactly as it instantly appeared on my screen.  It even “signed” its name to its work,  which I thought was cute.  

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“The Beacon in the Bottle”

 

Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse

While all others were making ships.

 

 —Theodore Roethke

 

Oh, how my empty bottle did inspire

A beacon of light amidst the stormy seas

While others built their vessels to acquire

The wealth and fame that fortune might decree.

 

Within my heart, a lighthouse did arise

A structure tall and steadfast, strong and true

To guide lost souls to safety ‘neath the skies

And shine its light on all who passed anew.

 

While others sought to sail a briny deep

And chart a course to distant lands unknown

I found a purpose in this beacon steep

And in its light, my soul has ever grown.

 

So let them sail their ships across the foam,

For in my  lighthouse, I have found my home.

 

  • ChatGPT

Pretty impressive.  Though there were some cliched phrases that I don't think served it well:  “stormy seas,” 

“‘neath the skies,” “briny deep.” (Though I’ve got one of these myself, in  “moonless nights.” Ouch.)

 

Also, I found... "So let them sail their ships across the foam" ...an awkward bit of phraseology in search of a needed rhyme.  But  loved its closing... "For in my  lighthouse, I have found my home." 

 

As for my own sonnet, it is not for me to say. It would be left to a reader to decide on its merits. And again, this was not to be viewed as a competition. (Of course)

I went a step further, in asking it to comment on these sonnets. Ever the politician (i.e. artificial...) Chat would not say which it preferred. Interestingly, it didn’t seem to recognize that it had written one of them.  A few of its observations... 

While both sonnets explore the idea of charting one's own path in life and celebrating individuality, they approach the topic from slightly different angles... 

 

"The Beacon in the Bottle" celebrates the speaker's decision to... follow its own path, rather than conforming to societal expectations and building a ship to acquire wealth and fame."

 

"... uses vivid imagery to describe the speaker's lighthouse as a "beacon bright amidst the stormy sea"...and shines its light on all who pass by. The overall message is one of individuality and personal fulfillment."

 

"On the other hand...simply titled "Lighthouse," contrasts those who build ships, representing those who follow societal norms and expectations, with those who construct lighthouses... to chart their own course and create their own path in life.

 

"...employs several nautical metaphors and imagery to convey its message, including the dangers of navigating one's own path in life, as well as the potential rewards of doing so."

I wonder what it might have to say about one of Shakespeare's sonnets. Then again, to what purpose?

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Quote of the Month

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A  Zeitgeist Cartoon

The New Yorker will refer to them as their “Drawings.” But don’t be fooled. They are cartoons. And they offer a type of humor that is hard to find elsewhere. 

 

I once heard it said that humor “… derives from the 'theory of incongruity.'” To which I've added, especially when it captures the zeitgeist of a time or place. A great example of that being The New Yorker cartoon of a few years back,  in  which a forlorn Humphrey Bogart,  with drink in hand,  is asking Alexa to play "As Time Goes By."A 1942 classic movie scene, meets the current state of artificial intelligence. Brilliant! (December 2019 MuseLetter, Anatomy of a New Yorker Cartoon). 

 

Appearing in the current April 3rd issue, comes another gem which stopped me in "mid-scan." You first scan through an issue of The New Yorker before actually making a commitment to reading it. And it is a commitment. Longer than some relationships I've been in.

 

Given my love of New Yorkwith all the joys and pitfalls of living herecoupled with a particular board game that has always captured my imagination, you get ...

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Its creator is Ali Solomon, who is also a writer, and has been a regular contributor to The New Yorker since 2018. Her latest book I Love(ish) NYC Tales of City Life, a collection of essays, cartoons and illustrations, was published last fall. 

                                                                  *                             *                          *

I guess a spirit of whimsy has permeated the whole issue. Which was not the intent at the start.  Blame it on April Fool's Day. But only the Statue of Liberty story is untrue. 

Lighthouse

 

         Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse
         While all others were making ships.

                                                                    — Theodore Roethke

 

In days gone by who has not built a ship

Cut from the wood of a backyard tree
Absent direction but bent on a trip
Through white-capped waters of identity?

The ship itself is all that is ingrained,
Lack of direction ends in errant sights.
Intoxication at the siren's refrain,
Blinds us to jetties on moonless nights.

The depths of the sea are littered with grief
Ersatz pirates who set sail in dead prose,
Nearsighted ones who never saw the reef.     
But not of prophets and poets and those

     Who would dare to think inside the bottle
     And avoid the rocks while going full throttle.

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Featuring...

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muse-letter \’myüz-‘le-tər  noun

1: a personal  message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation,  addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought, especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.

2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.  

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pre November 2018

muse-letter \’myüz-‘le-tər  noun

1: a personal  message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation,  addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought, especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.

2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.  

Domenica Press logo.jpg

pre November 2018

Parts of the site under reconstruction 

"

"

La Baguette

 

1.

 

Narrow streets converge at a corner

where food merchants are plying their trade;

a hubbub in the stillness of a postcard depiction.

A woman had then sashayed on by

on Rue Dauphine

as only French women can.

Who has directed her diagonal cut

across this Parisian street? Buñuel?

 

Hip thrust forward, la vie d’amour

implicit in the every step,

her dress on this sultry day clinging;

her hand encircling an unbagged baguette

long and lean and lancing the air

a master stroke in alliteration.

A man stands transfixed in speculation.

With whom would she share it?

Taste it? Tear it?

Leaving specks of crust on pouty lips

the soft dough filling her mouth?

2.

 

He crosses Pont Neuf,  a bridge built in halves

becoming enjoined after twenty six years.

Not long a span of time for stone

but a good-size chunk of a marital life.

That cliched better half lies languid in a room

of long-stemmed walls and painted roses

time having passed in beige.

 

She notes as he enters,

his trench coat twistingly belted;

a would-be Bogart in that parting scene.

Autumn winds on this ashen day,

have had their way with his desperate hair

resulting in enchanting disarray.

Eyes turn to the baguette he has brought unexpected.

She gives him a smile as long as the Seine.

Subtitles follow in the space beneath them.

Existential Triptych

2. My Dinner With Stanislavski

He speaks of a theater that could go under.

As he mulls an existence without costumes nor props.

Thank Godot for the vodka to come.

But what's to become of our inner life?

The regurgitation of pea-soup monologues?

Where would we stage-strutters go

In that allotted hour? He remains silent.

I now sense a memory of reason

Why so much sweat upon the pages;

 

So many pages in a play with no plot.

Therein might lie the madness to the method.

As shown in the tedium of Chekhov's Vanya

That final scene shattered by gunshots,

"Take me away! Take me away! Kill me.

I can't stay here, I can't!"

3. The Barn

The barn doors not left open

thus nothing has run off

 

​not the steeds of misdeeds

that should have been released

 

​along with the demons we meant to unleash

and maudlin memories still sitting baled

 

from the winters of discontent

the squandered summers that came and went

 

​the beast within that should have

long been unburdened

 

​chewing on unsown oats

behind closed doors.

1. Side Table

 

Ingrained in old furniture
is where the true stories lie.

That bureau that sits in storage in Jersey

from the last cross-country move,
outlasted the starter marriage
and the one the length

of War and Peace that would follow.

 

But most of all, I await the return
of that little side table now being repainted
by a handyman to match

the new décor in this,

the latest of multiple lives.

 

It has heard the arguments
absorbed the resentments
weathered the storms.
Coming back in a semi-gloss black,
I’ve lost count of the coats of colors

it previously has worn.

 

First bequeathed in its natural grain

by a wrinkled woman from Eastern Europe 

who never got over the drowning of a son
who looked like a young Cary Grant. 
This after losing kin in the holocaust.

 

This latest reincarnation,

will now hold a Crate & Barrel vase
and will remain standing

long after we’ve departed.

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