Way back in 2009,  I started my career as an author.

I wrote and published short stories for the Miami-Dade County Health Department’s tome, “Healthy Stories.”

I was also the editor-in-chief of that health-related book.

And part of my job was selecting the cover art for “Healthy Stories.”

I contacted a painter’s online gallery and purchased the cover art.

I loved that book’s cover and I still do, but there wasn’t much joy in this process of paying for the art and never meeting the artist.

Over the next seven years,  I published my three books; I hired my book cover designer. (Dave Bricker)

We talked artist to artist.

But as a paying customer, it still felt like it was a business deal.

Which it was.

There was a little bit of the joy of artistic collaboration.

And I still thank Dave Bricker for designing those book covers for my babies.

So you may ask, “Mort, when the hell are you going to tell us about the real joys of artistic collaboration?”

Hold your horses, buddy.

This ain’t no short rodeo.

I’m getting there.

You see, on June the 20, 2020, The Times of Israel published my first blog post, “Searching for Hot Chocolate” (Great story, if you haven’t read it, I recommend you do so.)

Fast forward to today and I’ve published over 200 blog posts.

I found that number hard to believe because it averages out to about one blog every five days.

Who can write or even talk that much?

Well, I guess I can.

And with each of those 200 blogs, I had the opportunity to select art to go along with my story.

I went to Wikimedia Commons and searched for photos or paintings that related to my story.

“Why Wikimedia Commons?” you ask.

Here’s why:

“Media on Wikimedia Commons are either in the public domain or published under a Creative Commons copyright license that allows them to be reused free of charge. The main requirement for reusing Creative Commons-licensed content is that you provide proper attribution.”

TOI doesn’t want to get sued and neither do I.

And there is a way to attach music to your stories.

TOI accepted videos from YouTube.

I learned that matching art to one of my stories was loads of fun.

Yes, it is extra work but boy is it fun.

So I spent a great deal of time being a match maker.

You see, even at my age, I know how to have fun.

Remember as a  retiree, I got lotsa time on my hands and  blogging is a cheap thrill.

And us older folks have learned long ago that cheap thrills are often the best kind. (for you alta cockers think of Janis)

So if you read my blogs, you’ll see I melded my stories with Rembrandt, Chagall, Albrecht Dürer and Szyk.

I even matched my tales with the music of Lizzo and Lois Gilbert.

And this is where the joy really begins, because harmonicist Lois Gilbert is a friend of mine.

We discuss the merger of our art forms.

Two artists collaborating on one art project.

What fun.

And here’s another example, in this blog, I’m collaborated with award-winning digital photographer Cindy Karp.

Cindy is also a friend of mine, who grew up in the Catskills and attended the same public schools I did.

So there you have it.

Two examples of artists collaborating for the sake of art and the joy of having fun.

Finally, I present my advice to other bloggers:

Go to Wikimedia Commons or YouTube and jazz up your story with some art;

And if you have any artistic friends collaborate with them on merging your story with their art.

You’ll both love doing it.

And it’s one hell of a cheap thrill.

Mordechai took a seat in the Tel Aviv cafe, greeted his friend with a pat on the back and ordered an espresso.

“Moshe my friend, I got a existential question for you. You got the time to schmooze?”

“Was that your existential question?”

Mordechai laughed and said, “No, but this morning, I needed that laugh. Ya see I’m a bissel worried about what I read on the internet. Ya see I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Moshe picked up his coffee cup, took a long sip and said, “Mordechai, for you boychick, I’ve always got time. So I’m all ears; I love your existential questions.”

Mordechai loved when Moshe called him, “boychick.” It reminded him of when his grandfather called him that boyish term of endearment.

“So, you’re still a big fan of Trump—aren’t ya?”

Moshe opened his shaking hands, as if he were ready to catch a basketball and simultaneously arched his shoulder blades, while exclaiming, “Yup, of course!”

And then added, “He may be the best friend Israel ever had in the White House—Jerusalem recognition as Israel’s capital, the Golan Heights annexation and the Abraham Accords. What’s not to like?”

“Well, here’s my question, you saw that photo of that stack of top secret files, including some nation’s top secret nuclear info, lying on the floor at Mar-a-Lago?”

“Yup.”

“Well, let’s say, one of those top secret files were labeled: Israeli Atomic Weapons Program.

And let’s say, Trump took to his Mar-a-Lago Country Club home—a simplified version especially written him—of all the US intelligence on the who, what, when, where, why and how Israel protects itself with atomic weapons.

And let’s say, you know how unsecure his country club is in allowing members to join if they got the gelt or in hiring immigrants to clean, or cook, or maintain the grounds. Almost anyone can schlep around the place picking up stuff.

So, with all that background, here’s the question:

Assuming everything I said is true, is Donald Trump still Israel’s favorite President?

Moshe lifted his cup to his lips, took another long sip, looking as if he were in deep thought and replied, “Well, boychick assuming all you say is true, he ain’t no longer a friend of Israel.”

17. Could be true.—Barbara

18. Great Mort. Short and Sweet.—Ricki

19.

Davida Chazan Um… my thoughts EXACTLY. And since we know he already gave some of Israel’s secret intel to the Russians, which could have cost hundreds of lives, I wouldn’t put it past him to give out (or sell) more! https://www.reuters.com/…/us-usa-trump-russia…

You stupid piece of crap, I can’t believe you’re my cellmate.

You’re one of those insurrectionists that charged and invaded the Capitol Building.

I’ve seen your mug on TV.

You’re almost famous.

Were you a MAGA? Or a Proud Boy? Or an Oath Keeper?

I’m sorry I don’t remember.

They all seem to meld together in my mind.

I guess there ain’t much difference.

I betcha you participated in the Ellipse rally before the riot at the Capitol.

What the hell were you thinking?

We’re lighting the match that’s going to burn down the whole building and the country.

You sorry ass fool.

How many years in the slammer did ya get for your stupidity?

I think you got seven.

Am I right?

Yo mamma must be real proud that she raised a tard.

And now you’re stuck in this tiny 8’x10′ cell, in this stinkin’ federal penitentiary for the next seven years with me as your cellie.

And the only hope you got, is that clown gets reelected and pardons you.

Well, fuhgettaboutit!

He only pardons his cronies and you ain’t one of them.

I don’t care what the bag-of-shit says.

Boy, let me look at your stupid face and see if you got the word “sucka” tattooed on your forehead.

If it ain’t there it should be.

That buffoon tells you to go to Washington,—to take over the government—and you listened to him.

I betcha yo mamma never taught you nuthing about consequences.

What were you smokin’ on the day you left for D.C.?

A red-headed circus clown tells you, “I’m going be there charging that building with you guys.”

And you believed him?

The guy who invented the “Big Lie.”

A guy who every time he moves his lips, he lies.

You believed a con.

How stupid can you be?

I betcha I could sell ya the Brooklyn Bridge.

Was it Twain or P.T. Barnum who said, “There’s a sucka born every minute.”

And I’m stuck in a cell with one.

Fresh meat, you gonna make a great june bug.

You attack the Capitol police, you kill law enforcement and you don’t think you’re goin’ to end up in here.

What kinda fool are ya?

A stupid crazy one.

You belong in the ding wing.

You got shit for brains.

Were you the one that brought the noose to hang Mike Pence?

Did you chant, “Let’s get Nancy and grab her by the pussy?”

You took your orders from a loser who couldn’t even make it in the casino business.

Man your gonna have a tough time in this hell hole.

Just think about it sucker, while your leader eats caviar in Mar-a-Lago, you’ll be eating the drool they feed us.

Your gonna love the chow they serve us. It all tastes like shit.

The fool is dressed up for golf and your living in orange and wearing bo-bos.

By the way, how much money is that clown sending to your family so they can buy food, pay the rent or buy a new pair of shoes?

I betcha he ain’t even sending you cigarettes.

Now don’t you go eyeballing me or I’ll teach you the meaning of pain.

Now answer my questions convict, how much that clown give you to pay for your lawyer?

I betcha he didn’t give you a red cent.

Ya know, now that I’m looking at ya, I think you’re so dumb that when you get outta here and the clown tells ya to commit another crime for him you’ll do it.

Don’t you shake your head at me you mother, I know you’ll do it.