Stories

woody-allen.jpgAlthough predicted to be arriving in the two thousand tweens, the age of "Artificial Humor," or A.H., is too quickly upon us in these waning, whining days of 2009, and contemporary artists are feeling threatened by the competition.

“We never thought it would happen to us,” said Woody Allen, once  considered the Jews’ Jewel spewer of comic genius, now competing with an avatar of his early stand up persona which is WRITING NEW ALLENESQUE MATERIAL!  “Machines originating intelligence (A.I.) and music (A.M.) seem logical, but artificial comedians? Sure, plenty of funny looking Baby Boomer kids mimicked me in the old days, but now I’ve been completely cloned by some computer.  At least they waited til Dangerfield was dead…the lucky dog.”

The late Dangerfield’s avatar has been booked to perform for a week in Vegas via a Powerpoint presentation this Chanukah, and seats sold out mere moments after going on sale.  It’s also featured as a nude centerfold in this month’s “Wired” Magazine, which is watching the "Artificial Humor" movement closely.

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party_invite.jpgWhen I have a party, I try to invite everyone. I really do. And if my best friend has another best friend, I invite the other best friend. I include the world. If I happen to run in to you (random person reading this) a week before said party, I will invite you even if we’re not the best of friends. I even like it when people crash my parties or when someone calls me and says boldly “Do you mind? I hear you’re having a party and I’d really like to go.” What I LOVE about that is that the person who makes that kind of call, does know me. They know, I’m so happy to include everyone.

I believe I got this from my mother who would say, “You have to invite the whole class, not just some.” Or my dad, who carried his entourage around with him, leaving no one out. Both my parents never let anyone’s feelings get hurt.

One day, in maybe the 5th or 6th grade, a girl named Debby had a party and it seemed like she invited just about everyone. Except me. And maybe the worst part was that she included my best friend Susie. It felt like a real slight. On that particular weekend of Debby’s party, I remember feeling very alone on Saturday night. Susie and I were pretty inseparable.

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almondcake.jpgA few months ago I had an amazing dinner among friends at Vino's, a local family-run Italian restaurant in Fairfield, CT. We enjoyed all their best Italian dishes and their desserts accompanied by live music. One dessert stood out in particular, the almond cake. My friend demanded that I make one soon.

I took it upon myself to bake one that captured the best of an almond cake: a soft yet textural interior, buttery color, crisp exterior, and most importantly a noticeable fragrance and flavor of almonds. It turned out that baking the cake was far from the hardest part of this recipe. The biggest feat was finding almond paste in my area. I visited every grocery store and supermarket and could not find a can or tube of it. Luckily I was reminded of the Italian market. How could have I neglected to look there first?

Almond paste has a sort of grainy texture due to all the ground almonds. But to further play on that texture, this cake combines cornmeal with flour. The cornmeal lends a homey quality and along with the butter and egg yolks, a beautiful pale straw color.

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van-gogh-vincent-starry-night-7900566.jpgWhat is it about rocking on a porch and hearing the low mournful call of a train in the distance that helps to melt away life's stress and worry?  Or the peaceful sound of midsummer leaves rustling in the tree tops as the wind blows gently through them?  

The white noise of cicadas softly buzzing in the afternoon heat that lulls one safely, in a trance-like state, from chaos to comfort?  Or a cool breeze on a quiet summer day followed by a tranquil afternoon shower that provides an assured respite from all of life's weary travails?  

The sound of raindrops tapping against a tin roof...thump, thump...thump, thump...that eases one toward solace and comfort?  Or the joy of song birds heralding the dawn and later marking twilight as they shepherd day into night?  The smell of gardenias blowing through an open window or the joy of starlight blinking gracefully against an inky sky?  

Harmony and peace are always there.  Simply stop, be quiet, still, and listen...