It is a whirlwind in here



Man to Man: Stage Romance Etiquette

The difficult art of kissing on stage.
I do like #4.

The Baritone Blog

11A0F936-DB05-486A-8552-5CAC21710CF3 2 ©️Marty Sohl Metropolitan Opera with Patricia Racette, Pagliacci

I‘ve performed the role of Don Giovanni more times than I can count. As the Don, I’m expected to become him—no matter how much I may agree or disagree with his character traits. That includes kissing multiple women, touching them, carrying them, and even the occasional spanking.

As obscene as this behavior may be, it’s part of the story and the art form. The story of the Don is a timeless one, no matter how depraved or immoral one may find his actions to be. And yes, there is a way to portray the character accurately while respecting the professionals around me as individuals.

I realize that some young professionals may not know how to properly deal with romantic acting and especially in light of the current times we live in, this is a very important conversation for any young…

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Jewish Humour – Crying ‘Till You Laugh


Decades ago I spent two years writing nothing but short stories. It was one of the happiest writing experiences of my life.

In the midst of all this, I used this ‘short story’ that I adapted from memory from something read years before that. I have no idea where I originally read it. A Google search finds four results, all citing the original story but not saying where it originated.

It actually (to my memory) originated in the Concentration Camps during the Holocaust. Perhaps nobody knows its direct source.

However – here is the way I expanded and presented it.


In 1935, the Chancellor of Die Dritte Reich, Adolf Hitler, invited his friend, Benito Mussolini, and his adversary, Neville Chamberlain, for a quiet meeting in southern Bavaria. An old castle was put at their disposal, complete with acres of woodland and a small lake. During a break in the talks, Hitler invited his two guests to go fishing with him. It was a warm day, not too hot, but enough to make one feel drowsy. Chamberlain proposed a fishing contest to liven the occasion. They would see who could catch the most fish in a given half hour.

     The others agreed, and the British Prime Minister went first. He sat calmly beneath a tree, fishing line trailing in the water. When his half hour was through, he had a respectable pile of fish beside him.

     The next half hour was Mussolini’s, and he took full advantage of it. He dove headlong into the water, his arms outstretched, and started grabbing frantically at anything which swam past. After a hectic and wet half hour, he came out of the water and stood by his large pile of fish, grinning happily at Chamberlain.

     The final half hour was for Hitler. He spoke into a telephone, and immediately bulldozers, heavy trucks, loads of pipe, and numerous pieces of equipment arrived. Hitler had the lake drained. Within twenty minutes there was nothing left but a muddy hole, filled with flopping fish. Hitler stood on the rim and looked down.

     “Well?” asked Chamberlain. “Aren’t you going to get them?”

     Hitler looked over to the Prime Minister with a cold, condescending glare in his eyes.

     They have to beg me first.”


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