DIAMOND LIFE: A PLAY BY ME AND CHATGPT

 ME: Can you write a short play where United States Pharmacopeia meets a woman named Alice, falls in love with her, and begins to experience doubt about their fitness for one another, all the while worrying that her favorite baseball team, the Toronto Blue Jays, will lose the World Series because of a freak lawnmower injury to a star pitcher?

CHATGPT:

Title: Doubts and Dilemmas

Cast of Characters:

 
United States Pharmacopeia (USP)
Alice
Toronto Blue Jays Fan

Act 1, Scene 1:

USP: Good morning. I'm United States Pharmacopeia, and I'm here to talk to Alice.
Alice: Hi. Nice to meet you.
USP: Alice, I must confess that I'm instantly drawn to you. Your wit and intelligence are captivating.
Alice: That's very flattering, USP. But I must warn you, I'm a big Toronto Blue Jays fan.
USP: That's not a problem. I respect your love for the game.
Alice: Great! So, what brings you here?
USP: Well, Alice, I must be honest. I've been experiencing doubts about our compatibility. I mean, I'm a set of standards for drug purity and quality, and you're a person.
Alice: I understand your concerns, USP. But don't forget, your work is vital to the health and well-being of millions of people. I admire that about you.
USP: Thank you, Alice. That means a lot. But I can't help but worry about the Blue Jays. They're playing in the World Series, and I heard that their star pitcher got injured by a lawnmower accident.
Alice: Oh, no! That's terrible news. I hope he'll be okay.
Toronto Blue Jays Fan (offstage): No, he won't! We're doomed!

Act 2, Scene 1:

USP: Alice, I can't shake off my worries about the Blue Jays. I know it sounds silly, but I feel like their fate is somehow connected to our relationship.
Alice: That's a strange thing to say, USP. The outcome of a baseball game has nothing to do with us.
USP: I know, I know. It's just that I'm struggling to reconcile my duty to ensure drug safety with my feelings for you and your passion for the Blue Jays.
Alice: Maybe it's time to take a break and clear your head. Let's go to a game together and enjoy ourselves. It might help you put things into perspective.
USP: That's a great idea, Alice. Thank you.

Act 3, Scene 1:

Toronto Blue Jays Fan (offstage): And the Blue Jays are the 2023 World Series champions!
USP: Yes! We did it, Alice! The Blue Jays won!
Alice: I'm so happy for you, USP. You seem like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.
USP: You know what, Alice? You're right. Watching the game with you reminded me that life is about balance. It's okay to have doubts and fears, but we shouldn't let them consume us.
Alice: I couldn't agree more, USP.
USP: And who knows? Maybe I can find a way to support your love for the Blue Jays while fulfilling my duty to promote drug safety.
Alice: That's the spirit, USP. Now, let's go celebrate with the rest of the fans.

BAD LUCK FOR BOB

Some people will offer you a hand. Others will pull that hand away. Robert was the former, pretending to be the latter, which gave him a reputation in our office. “Robert,” Amelia would say, “is a puzzle-box.” Amelia was the boss, which was bad luck for Bob. She was also his ex-wife, which was worse. Which is not to say it was a relationship defined entirely by animosity. “You know,” she would say, “as a young man, when life was all trips to Mississippi and articulated pleasures, there was no one better. But he has aged and stiffened, and not in the good way."  At least one of these things was a euphemism, and at least one was a double entendre. Robert didn't say much about Amelia, positive or negative. He had moved on, to Tess, his second wife, with whom he had a young daughter.  Word around the office was that he was creeping on her. For a year or so he had made a practice of announcing that he was going on a business trip to some far-off place that we all knew was a lie or a joke or an irresponsible exaggeration. “Off to China,” he would say, or “Sahara-bound,” or “Packing up for the moon.” Most thought that there was some underlying truth to his statement—that there was in fact a trip.  Theories circulated as to where that trip was actually taking him. Consensus landed on Waterville, two towns over, and the bed of a young regional manager named Karen Koechner. Amelia did not engage in speculation one way or the other. The rest of us may have suspected that Robert was creeping. didn't laugh. Amelia knew it for certain. Once upon a time, she had been in the Terri seat.  She held in her mind not a single doubt what Robert was up to, but that was only one reason she did not talk with the rest of us. She was the boss, which was a second reason. Thirdly, she worried that if she discussed Robert and Terri and Karen Koechner she might arrive at a place of sympathy for one party or another, and that was at cross-purposes with the rest of her motives. Amelia was, though she would not have admitted it, a bit of a sadist. The notion that Terri and Robert might eventually squirm filled her with pleasure. It heated her from the inside out. She did not want any conversation that might end with a sad shrug or a vague “I feel bad for her” or “him.” It would douse her ardor and ardor was what she wanted after a long day pushing numbers through the strainer of a spreadsheet. I am not sure if everyone knew that about her. I knew it, of course, because after Amelia had split up with Robert she had married me. Was it strange to be married to your boss? There were evidently many people in the office to ask. We had a daughter of our own, about the same age as Robert and Terri's daughter. Once a month or so we all got together at a steakhouse or Thai place, drank one too many drinks, pretended to like one another. "You cannot say that that we are not civilized," Amelia would say on our drive home, usually while in the process of unbuttoning something on the clothes that surrounded her body or mine. Amelia mostly only wanted to be filled: with pleasure, anger, with flesh, with money, with any flame that burned away the thin layer of death that always seemed to accumulate between one morning and the next.

©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas

 

SEEN AND HERD

The observations discussed in the paper being presented today were all made from aircraft, the method of flying being that reported by Welsh (2180) and Tannabon (2189b). In the tracking of wolf-human hybrids—a species that, as all present here today are well aware, first appeared in the year 2099, following full environment apocalypse—the following aircraft were used (in order of size): Wiggs Cantabile, Simon Spotlight 90, Simon Spotlight 92, and Simon Spotlight 96. The smaller of these aircraft were superb at holding in tight circles over the herds but had poor airspeed and insufficient heating; the largest, the Cantabile, was toasty but could not turn.

©2022 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas

FRAGMENTS FROM ELECTION! THE MUSICAL

Originally Composed December 2000 and published in McSweeneys.

by Ben Greenman

 

[The curtain rises on a NEWS REPORTER standing before the national electoral map.]

 

NEWS REPORTER:

Over my two decades in the business

Some of my work has been just superb.

I once did a piece

On the civil war in Greece

And then there was the series on the Serbs.

 

This year, I thought that I’d take it easy,

Sit behind a desk election night,

Watch the exit polls

Eat a bunch of coffee rolls,

The race, they said, would probably be tight.

 

[The night before the election, the candidates appear before their campaigns.]

 

GORE:

I plan to win

The country knows

What shape it’s in.

 

BUSH:

I will prevail,

If that means “win.”

I cannot fail.

 

[The night of the election, the news media awaits the results.]

 

NEWS REPORTER:

Florida goes for Gore,

Bush’s hopes are slim,

In the Electoral score,

Things are looking grim.

 

Florida’s swinging back,

Our earlier pronouncement,

Has come under attack.

Please wait for an announcement.

 

Bush has Florida now.

He will win the race.

We cannot say just how

This egg got on our face.

 

Scratch that “Bush Wins” news.

Scratch this whole election.

This vaunted right to choose

Is democracy’s infection.

 

[The day after the election, voters across the country are confused, but nowhere more than in Florida.]

 

FLORIDA VOTER:

I’d rather be shot from a cannon

Than vote for that Nazi Buchanan.

I thought that I voted for Gore

But I just don’t know anymore.

 

[Days pass without decisive results]

 

NEWS REPORTER:

An election with no President

Is like a perfume with no scent

Or a spice rack with no salt or pepper.

 

BILL CLINTON:

Hey, jackass! Don’t get too upset

I’m not done as Big Chief yet.

I’m a lame duck, buddy, not a leper!

 

[KATHERINE HARRIS, Florida Secretary of State, vows to get to the bottom of the election results. The media descends upon Florida to watch as recounts begin.]

 

KATHERINE HARRIS:

Nice to meet you!

Nice to meet you!

Yes, I have okayed

Some limited recounting.

 

Nice to meet you!

Nice to meet you!

Yes, the pressure on me

Is steadily mounting.

 

THE MEDIA:

Day one was fun.

Day two was, too.

Day three and day four were exciting for Gore.

Day five and day six smacked of dirty tricks.

Days seven and eight, we awaited our fate.

Day nine and day ten, we started over again.

 

KATHERINE HARRIS:

Nice to meet you!

Nice to meet you!

In the state GOP

My star is ascendant.

 

Nice to meet you!

Nice to meet you!

Do you think that I look

Like a flight attendant?

 

THE MEDIA:

Day thirteen, day thirteen.

Cigarettes and caffeine

Are the only things keeping us awake.

Day fourteen, day fourteen

That damned voting machine!

We’ve had about all we can take.

 

KATHERINE HARRIS:

Nice to meet you!

Nice to meet you!

I thank you all so much

For enduring this frustration.

 

Nice to meet you!

Nice to meet you!

I will soon have results

To bring before the nation.

 

[KATHERINE HARRIS calls a meeting to announce Florida’s final tallies.]

 

KATHERINE HARRIS:

I said that I’d be calm,

I said that I’d be cool,

I said that I’d be smooth,

I wouldn’t act the fool.

 

Well, I lied.

Because he’s certified!

I swear to you he’s certified!

This feeling that I have inside

Can’t be denied!

I feel like a beautiful new bride!

George W. Bush is

Cer-ti-fied!!!

 

[The candidates react to the announcement.]

 

BUSH:

Some people pay attention in the classroom.

Others like to have a real good time.

(What’s the point of being rich and famous

If partying is treated as a crime?)

At any rate, I wasn’t much for schoolbooks.

But there’s one thing that is clear as a bell:

Parents pass along traits like height and brains.

My daddy gave me something else as well:

I am President!

I am President!

Because of that, the other guy is not!

I am President!

I am President!

I got more in the college than he got!

 

They say that I’m stupid and dullish and dense

But I understand things that make perfect sense.

 

I am President!

I am President!

Because of that the other guy is not!

I am President!

I am President!

I got more in the college than he got!

 

Number One.

It’s so fun.

Like father, like son!

 

GORE:

In these kinds of environments

It’s very customary

To speak in rhyming prose or even sing.

But I fear that such a practice

Will simply blur the issue

Which is that the results mentioned by Ms. Harris include illegal votes

And do not include legal votes that were improperly rejected.

The number of such votes is more than sufficient to place in doubt

The result of this election.

Thank you.

SPECIAL SCREENING

“I’m going to make a demand on you,” the filmmaker said to the viewers. “I’m going to force you to actively watch. The film you see today is not the same as the film that others saw yesterday or that others will see tomorrow. If you were part of the audience yesterday or plan to be part of the audience tomorrow, know that. You are being asked to reorient yourself constantly. There is an important scene in the film of a person sleeping. In some versions, that person is a man, in others a woman. This is connected in my mind to the theory, first articulated to me by Larry, that sleep is the only effective site of resistance to capitalism. It is, despite biology’s attempt to the contrary, a rather pure articulation of community and togetherness. After you watch the film today, I will ask you all to send me videos of yourself sleeping. Some will be incorporated into later versions of the film. And let me anticipate one of your questions. Yes, nudity is fine. I cannot determine for you how you should sleep. And like most other people, I like a little skin. Pause for laughter. Oh, I am sorry. I have that written down: ‘Pause for laughter.’ Let’s take the house lights down and start the film.”

©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas

ON WEEKDAYS ED WAS A LAWYER

On weekends Ed was Easter Valiant, white gown, white wig, quasi-operatic vocals. Each year, in May, he performed one of his mother's albums in its entirety. This year it was her 1973 hit album Gee Golly, which kicked off with the title track, and as he sang the opening line—“There’s no need to be frightened / We know enough to let the light in”—he resented, as he had as a child, the veneer of cheerfulness that characterized the song and the record that followed. As he sang, though, he recognized that it was precisely that quality that had given the album its universal appeal, and he foresuffered the dread he would feel the following year, when he was scheduled to sing Same For Me, her 1975 follow-up, an album of pinched, prideful convolutions that rarely strayed beyond the boundaries of her own diminished talents.

©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas

ELLEN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Ellen the neighborhood isn’t what you think. Nothing is. But we have to address our memories. You see, Ellen, when we came in here last April we noticed things. We both did but let’s focus on what you noticed or what you told me you did: a pastry shop that had beautiful cakes in the window,  a local theater complex with a mural on the building’s side that transfixed you for its similarity to Joseph Stella’s Brooklyn Bridge. Also when we went to the taco stand down the street, that Asaf Avidan song you like, the only one I know, was playing and you turned to me and just said “love.” I’m not saying that sold me on the place, but it didn’t hurt. We’ve been here six months now and there have been significant alterations to what was previously believed. The theater complex is closed, mural painted over. The taco place disappoints with music choice as often as it satisfied. The pastry shop was never as billed. The daughter of the owner was filming a movie so she put the cakes in the window. They deal, as it turns out, primarily in stale crossaints and decent coffee. A woman who works there treats you shabbily probably because she had a little crush on you at first and was unhappy to see me when I showed up to meet you. You have joked with me that you are planning on leaving me for her. Don’t joke. Why did we ever leave the other place? It wasn’t perfect but it was the same exact distance from perfect as this place, with the benefit of being…what’s the word?….ours. 

©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas