Inside Doug's Head

It is never too late to become wise.

In the past, I have written about a guy named Greg, and I thought I should revisit the character and flesh out his backstory to give him more depth. Coincidentally, I’ve been thinking about trying out ChatGPT from OpenAI.

To be clear, I am not a fan of either Greg or artificial intelligence, whether combined or singularly. Artificial intelligence belongs in the same category as artificial meat: it’s awful in theory, but then you try it, and discover it’s worse than you expected. Nope, I was born a regressionist, and I will die a regressionist. Also, a snake handler.

Greg is the name I have given to a pervasive recurring fictional character that I sometimes include in my mental excursions. Greg is always the answer to the question, What was that guy’s name, the guy who did the thing with the stuff?

ChatGPT is browser-based demonstration application for natural language AI. You can sign in and chat with it, ask it questions, get advice on how to tell your boss he’s a dickhead, or even get it to write a blog post for you.

While ChatGPT does a neat job of understanding your questions and keeping track of the context thread of the conversation, it doesn’t take long to notice that many of its responses are based on fill in the blank templates, with a little bit of random variation thrown in to the mix so as to appear intelligent, or at the very least, nondeterministic.

AI is more artificial than intelligent, but the hypesters of the industry are regularly featured in the media warning the masses of the coming singularity that will put an end to all humanity. The trick, for the unevolved lifeforms out there in the galaxy, is to pull the power cable, and then bang some rocks together.

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Lately, I have been thinking of moving back to Canada. Not for the lackluster economy or the dreadful weather. No. I’m thinking of going for their new and improved assisted suicide program. They are installing suicide booths on every corner. Unfortunately, the booths are manufactured by Diebold, so their effectiveness varies wildly. You might go in for a killin’ and end up with a maimin’.

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Tonight, Christmas Eve, after rewatching A Christmas Carol for the 400th time, I learned a valuable lesson: you should ask the people you care about if they have any crippled children. Apparently, people sometimes have crippled children, and they don’t want anyone to find out, so they don’t voluntarily talk about them or let them go out in public. Forget trying to casually work the question into your conversation. You have to come straight out and ask them, “Do you have any crippled children?” If they say no, don’t offer to cripple one of their kids.

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Cryptocurrency and the collapse of FTX are all over the news lately. It would be stupid of me to not to try to cash in on the exploding non-fungible token market. The NFT market is metaphorically exploding; the tokens are not literally exploding, and they aren’t even literally tokens. They are just numbers, and numbers by themselves are morally unbiased and generally not amusing, notwithstanding the comical outliers of 69 and 420 that are popular among the elite crowd of big brains. Not me, though. Personally, I find all numbers equally defined on the number line. Am I being negative, or am I left of zero?

In 2011, I spent a few months mining Bitcoin and managed to make a tidy profit of $0.25 for my efforts, but I am not considering investing real spendable US dollars in a market that is powered by a random number generator backed by the hollow promises of paid celebrity endorsements. No, today I am going to do something completely different. Something that has never been done before.

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