This One Will Sneak up On You: The 367th Greatest Song

  

Cream's Top Ten hit, "White Room," was birthed by a period of drug and alcohol excess. We should have realized that the minute we heard the lyrics.

Let's allow CoPilot to visually interpret the first verse:

In a white room, with black curtains, near the station...

Black roof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings...

Silver horses, ran down moonbeams, in your dark eyes...

Dawn light smiles, on you leaving, my contentment...

All of which sounds and looks reasonably normal (moonbeam-running horses notwithstanding) until we hit the chorus:

I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves...

Eeek!

The Wonderful Wizard of Darth

 

Princess Leia returned from her learning pod only to find Almira Vader attempting to abscond with her favorite droid, R2-Toto2.

Almira Vader: I want to see you and your wife right away about Leia.
Uncle Owen: Leia? Well, what has Leia done?
Almira Vader: What's she done? I'm all but lame from the zap on my leg!
Uncle Owen: You mean she zapped you?
Almira Vader: No, her droid!
Uncle Owen: Oh, she zapped her droid, eh?

During Leia's attempt to run away from the whole situation, she was swept into a black hole, along with several chickens, wamp rats, and Miss Vader herself.

Upon gaining consciousness in a bright, Technicolor land of Ewoks and talking apple trees, Princess Leia soon made friends with a ragtag trio of misfits: Luke Scarecrowalker, Tin-3PO, and Chewbacca the Cowardly Wookie.

[Updated Update! Now The Truth Can Be Told: I started this post just so I could publish the picture of Miss Gulch on a Star Wars speeder, then I got interested in how A.I. would present the foursome. I like the Leia/C3PO/Chewie in the top pic, but prefer the bottom Luke/Scarecrow and simply HAD to show you the Emerald City with the Death Star and TIE fighters.]

So THIS Is What A.I. Thinks of Me

 

They say curiosity killed the cat, so I really should have known better than to conduct this little experiment, but hey...I have never been accused of being significantly wiser than a cat.

For no reason in particular, I got to wondering what the major artificial intelligence entities "knew" about me. So I got to asking them.

I started with the algorithm that seems to have started the whole A.I. trend, ChatGPT:

It seems I have chatted with ChatGPT almost exclusively about my other blog, Truth Is..., and my personal blog (where book reviews have happened), DewDrops. That's fair enough, and this is a kind enough overview of what happens in those spaces.

Then I turned to the A.I. engine I use the most, CoPilot:

Very straightforward and factual. Little to no editorializing or sucking up. Well-played, CoPilot.

Finally, I went to X's A.I. entity, Grok:

Grok certainly did more research to provide its answer, but what a self-serving twit. "Your primary online presence is on X," my foot! With over 14-hundred friends on Facebook and fewer than 200 followers on X?

This isn't so much facts about me that Grok is reporting. It's more about what Grok thinks of itself and wants me to believe. (Oops. Did I just get political?)

What Happens When AI Meets My Face? Buckle Up.

 

Experimentation with the image-generating properties of different artificial intelligence entities has been running rampant like an escaped velociraptor in a convenience store.

The most recent example is the flood of Facebook posts from people who asked ChatGPT to create a caricature of themselves.

And of course, I hopped on that bandwagon.

Let's begin with the results from AI-bots who dealt only with my verbal request for "a caricature of a bald man with a closely-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard wearing dark-rimmed glasses seated in front of a bookshelf typing a blog. Feature images of Jesus, grandkids, music of Rich Mullins, and Dr Pepper."

Canva certainly got the Dr Pepper and Jesus right, but that's not Rich Mullins and the whole thing looks too academic. Where's the fun aspect implied by asking for a caricature?

Freepik looks like they were peeking over Canva's shoulder but didn't want to bother with Dr Pepper, Rich Mullins, or grandkids. What a lazy pile of algorithms.

DeepAI really cranked up my age beyond what was necessary, if you ask me. And they seem to have done away with the English language.

I like what NoteGPT/NanoBanana did with my overall look and including the auxiliary images, but doesn't it look like I'm squatting over my chair instead of actually sitting in it? Also, it's a little creepy that the computer is talking along with me; not sure which of us is talking and which is echoing.

MOVING ON to the lucky entities which were given the following picture...

...and these instructions: Here's my portrait. Can you turn it into a caricature featuring some of my favorite things: lions, the music of Rich Mullins, Jesus, my grandkids, Dr. Pepper, blogging?

This mini-trend started with ChatGPT, and I must say I like the jolly feeling in the result, though it's obvious the AI-bot has no idea what Rich Mullins or my grandkids look like: comforting news in the case of my grandkids, but slightly disappointing when it comes to Rich Mullins. (Additional whine: That's a decent drawing of me, not a caricature.)

CoPilot is what I do most of my AI-ing with, and it certainly ticked the boxes here in a very literal fashion, except for turning the picture of Jesus over my left shoulder into a skull...eww.

I think Gemini takes first place. I even like that one of my grandkids now has the tail of a lion. Genetics be darned!

Drawing on My Imagination...Well, CoPilot's

 

To get caught up, you may want to go to the earlier post, "My Graphic Rabbit Hole," to get the origin story of these flights of fancy, wherein Microsoft's A.I. engine, CoPilot, reimagines a portrait of me as...

a friend of Calvin & Hobbes

a member of the Family Circus

an anime character

drawn by Charles Schulz

or, best for last (as always), part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe!

Welcome to My Graphic Rabbit Hole

 

With last week's mini-venture into A.I. image manipulation, I opened the door to something so fun it's dangerous. Or maybe so dangerous that it's fun, I don't know.

I gave CoPilot the following self-portrait...

...then asked it to make it look different in a number of ways. First, I wanted to look steampunk.

Then I asked to look as if Picasso painted me.

Then Van Gogh.

Salvador Dali

The good folks at Pixar

The only-slightly-different-looking Claymation

Then I thought, could CoPilot put me inside different entertainment franchises ... like The Simpsons?

Or Star Trek

Saving my personal favorite for last, look what happened when I asked to be put in a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean:

I was kind of hoping for something more like Jack Sparrow and less like Smee, but I look at this and can't help but think "Jolly Roger".

If I Were Jim Gaffigan #TrueStory

 

My thanks to Copilot for the following response to my apparently inspiring prompt.

So I decided to write a blog post. But then I thought, “Why write a blog post when I can get AI to write it for me?” That’s right—I outsourced my creativity to a robot. I used to feel guilty about that, but then I remembered I once ate a whole cheesecake while watching a documentary on healthy living. Guilt and I are not close friends.

Using AI to write a blog post is like hiring a personal trainer who does the push-ups for you. You just sit there, sipping coffee, while the AI flexes its algorithmic muscles. I told it, “Make it sound like me—funny, clean, slightly confused by technology.” And it said, “Processing request.” Which is robot for “I got this, human. Go eat another slice of cheesecake.”

The weird part is, the AI is really good. It even added a joke about my laziness before I could. I was like, “Hey! That’s my brand!” But then I realized, if the AI starts doing stand-up, I’m out of a job. I’ll be replaced by a toaster with a tight five on gluten-free bread. “What’s the deal with sourdough starters? They’re like needy pets you can’t cuddle!”

In the end, I still had to read the blog post, tweak a few things, and pretend I did all the work. So technically, I collaborated with AI. It’s like co-writing with someone who never sleeps, never eats, and doesn’t judge you for wearing pajama pants at 3 p.m. Honestly, it’s the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to ask the AI to write a thank-you note to my fridge. It’s been through a lot.

The Superiority of Technology Strikes Again

 

WHEREAS...
In terms of the age of the universe, it wasn't very long ago when I was desperately applying for any and all technical writer positions within driving distance of my domicile.

THEREFOR...
I still get contacted from time to time by recruiters hoping to receive a placement fee by getting me hired for some 6-month contract or other.

THE ISSUE IS...
     1.  I am no longer searching for a short-term contract job to keep my head above water.
     2.  I do not answer calls from anyone not in my phone's contact list.
     3.  Most of the recruiters who leave messages are apparently calling from a particular sub-continent known for having call centers and considering cows sacred.
     4.  The transcription robot for my voicemail doesn't do well with heavy accents.

FOR INSTANCE...
The following is an exact reproduction of a transcript of a recent voice message:

Hi June this site Fasel I'm calling you from CCS global tech. This call is regarding the position of technical right foot in Saint Paul Minnesota so if you're available in the job market, you can always call me back on my number that 610-******* all you can I have shared you the job description from my email that thought about that sea global tech. You can always go ahead and vote me on the seat. Thank you.

Technical right foot...Is that a motorized prosthesis?

Also...my dad voted me on the seat more than once. It was never a pleasant experience.

Dewey Does AI

 

Thanks to huggingface.co's AI Comic Factory, I have determined once and for all that the human race has nothing to fear from The Machines.

I gave the technological wonder the absolutely fictional prompt, "Humorist named dewey loses his ability to be funny and resorts to artificial intelligence to write his blog," and the instruction to draw in the style of Superman comics from the 1950s.

Behold the output...

Dewey's comedy career may be going downhill, but his obsession with technology is reaching new heights

[I told Mr. A. I. Technopants to make "Dewey" in his mid-50's with a salt-and-pepper mustache and goatee, but noOOoo. Also, note the strange activity with his right sleeve. And just how many fingers does a person need on their left hand?]

Dewey's desperate attempt at humor has taken a curious turn. Is AI the future of comedy?

[This three-armed visitor from another planet appears to be wearing a red muff. I don't even want to think about what's going on with his deformed hand pinching a 3D laptop screen or whatever the farnsworth that is.]

Dewey's last-ditch effort to revive his career leads him to a coffee house, where he introduces "Haha" to the spiky-haired Artie

[Superman is going to be identified as either Clark Kent or Popeye, where is the thumb that's on the drink between the romantically entwined hands coming from, and don't get me started on the misshapen mob of misanthropes in the background.]

Avocados? A rant from a tuna? Dewey's fresh material leaves Artie bemused without being convinced

[It seems that Superman's chest and left bicep are conjoined. I'm pretty sure everyone's hands are made of Silly Putty, but the really disturbing thing here is whatever is going on with Superman's groinal area...Great Caesar's Ghost!]

Nuthin' Butta G String

 

We have arrived at number 419 on Rolling Stone magazine's list of the 500 greatest songs of all time...Dr Dre's "Nothin But a G Thang"...and I am at a loss.

Not only have I never heard it, but when I looked up the lyric I was embarrassed to read it.

So I punted. I went to ChatGPT for help.

This is the instruction I gave: Using no words normally considered vulgar, write a humorous parody of "Nuthin but a G Thang" titled "Nuthin but a G String".

And this, you lucky reader, is what it delivered. (I seriously should just give up this whole humor blog gig and let the machines take over.)

(Verse 1)

Just me and my tiny string,

Loungin' by the pool, doin' my thing.

Rockin' that itty-bitty bikini,

Ain't no fabric here, just pure genie.

Chillin' like a popsicle, so bold,

Got sunscreen on, I'm in control.

My tan lines, they're gonna be weird,

But who cares? I'm the beachfront pioneer.

(Chorus)

It's nuthin' but a G string, baby,

Livin' life like I'm a beachside lady.

Soak up the sun, feel the breeze,

With my mini swimsuit, I aim to please.

(Verse 2)

Got my shades on, I'm feelin' fly,

Passin' by, heads turn as I stroll by.

Sand in places where it shouldn't be,

But fashion's pain, can't you see?

Wave crashes, water's cool,

Rockin' this G string, I break the pool's rules.

My dance moves might be quite risqué,

But I'm ownin' it, in my own way.

(Chorus)

It's nuthin' but a G string, baby,

Livin' life like I'm a beachside lady.

Soak up the sun, feel the breeze,

With my mini swimsuit, I aim to please.

(Bridge)

Gonna pose for selfies, make 'em stare,

G string life, without a care.

Takin' on the world, one step at a time,

In my itsy-bitsy fashion, I'm in my prime.

(Verse 3)

Sun's settin' low, day's almost done,

Gotta admit, this was quite fun.

No judgment here, just good vibes,

In my G string, my spirit thrives.

A parody of life, a comedy scene,

In this small string, I'm feelin' queen.

So let's embrace the absurdity,

In my G string world, I'm livin' free.

(Chorus)

It's nuthin' but a G string, baby,

Livin' life like I'm a beachside lady.

Soak up the sun, feel the breeze,

With my mini swimsuit, I aim to please.

(Outro)

Nuthin' but a G string, that's the tale,

Laugh with me, let's set sail.

In this world of fashion so zany,

I'll be rockin' my G string, forever crazy.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The matrix just may be real, man.

Who NEEDS Me?

 

From January 1962 until June 1979, I grew up on a 40-acre plot of land called Hilltop Farm, located three-and-a-half miles north of Uniondale, Indiana.

For as long as I can remember, there have been 311 people living in Uniondale, located on a curve of U.S. 224 in northern Wells County, nestled close to the grain elevator by the railroad tracks...

Welcome to Uniondale, Indiana, the town so small it makes a hobbit hole look like a mansion. If you're looking for a place where everyone knows everyone else's business (whether they want to or not), you've found it!

But don't let the size of this town fool you. Uniondale may be small, but it's full of surprises. For instance, did you know that the town's annual corn festival is actually a front for a secret society of corn enthusiasts? It's true! They meet in an underground bunker beneath the festival grounds to discuss the merits of different corn breeds and trade kernels like they're precious gems.

And if you're looking for excitement, look no further than Uniondale's famous "traffic jam" - a daily occurrence where the two cars in town both try to use the same road at the same time. It's a sight to behold!

But despite its quirks, Uniondale is a charming little town with a lot of heart. The locals are friendly (some might say a little too friendly), and there's always something going on. So if you're ever passing through, be sure to stop and say hi. Who knows? You might just end up staying a while...whether you want to or not.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Now the thing is, everything between the picture and the row of asterisks was written by ChatGPT as a response to my statement, "Write a short humorous blog post about Uniondale, Indiana."

I am increasingly becoming unnecessary.

Visible Vapor and Carbon Particles Suspended Above Transparent, Odorless, Tasteless Liquid: The 426th Greatest Song of All Time

 

Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water" is famous for telling the true story of how "some stupid with a flare gun" burned down the concert venue at the casino in Montreux, Switzerland, during a Frank Zappa concert in 1971.

It was a good era in which to sing about how a song came to be. I can't imagine anything written about current record-producing efforts becoming a hit:

"ProTools Is My Savior"

"Check Out This Riff I Heard Somewhere"

"My Uncle Owns the Studio"

"I Hit One Note/The Rest Is Computer Enhancement"

"Artificial Intelligence Is My Writing Partner"

"I'm the Lead Singer Because I Fit the Costume"

"We Spent a Month Customizing the Software"

Oh, the Irresistible!

 

Because I practically live on social media, I have become quite adept at scrolling past most posts that FaceBook calls "Suggested for You." They are all attempts at fame and/or fortune that rarely have anything of value to add to my existence.

That practice of ignoring commercial or self-promoting messages makes it really hard for businesses and individuals to command the attention of potential customers. So much so, that some companies specialize in offering their services to help other companies become more noticed and less ignored.

Take for instance this ad:

It's pretty ironic that I scrolled right past it, right?

I Have a Hate-Hate Relationship With Exercise

 

In a fit of all-too-fleeting health consciousness, I purchased lifetime access to an online exercise instruction site that promised to be quick and easy with short periods of high-intensity energy output interspersed with longer periods of low-impact activity. It sounded doable and was a reasonable price.

It also was a waste of my money.

But to be honest, it's not their fault, it's mine. When it comes to exercise regimens, I am about as unregimented as they come. Just can't turn it into a habit.

I've owned it for close to a year now and have never done anything beyond the 3-minute warm-up section. Of course, just that is enough to get me breathing with some effort and sweating with some gusto.

I can't seem to get beyond some of the goofy things the instructor says in an attempt to be encouraging:

"Awesome work."  -  Pretty sure you have no clue as to the quality of the work I'm doing.

"Really make sure that you're always breathing."  -  I'm paying for this stellar advice?

"Your back should be getting a little bit warmer here."  -  Oh yeah? And maybe your face should be getting out of mine right about now.

"Feel your core warming up as you pull your belly button in toward your spine."  -  If I could pull my belly button toward my spine, I wouldn't need to be exercising!

Still...I've heard that laughing has some of the same aerobic benefits as a good workout, so maybe this is helping after all.

What the What?

I've lost all faith in my "Here, Let Us Help You Write More Betterly" app.

I was writing a post for my other blog, Truth Is..., and wanted to use the word escargot. Having temporarily forgotten the French origin of the word, I failed to include the silent T at the end and my grammar-check app dutifully piped up to inform me that escargo is not a word...but didn't do its normal thing of suggesting what I may have been attempting to spell. All it said was that escargo is an unknown word.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!?

We live in a world where, if you type the word Why into a search engine, the WorldWideWackfest suggests you might be searching for "why is the sky blue", "why do dogs eat grass", "why do cats purr", or "why is my poop green."

Our technology has advanced to the point of being able to complete my thought of How can to possibly be "how can i make extra money", "how can you get herpes", "how can you mend a broken heart", or "how can i watch yellowstone."

You're telling me the amassed knowledge of the known universe couldn't figure out that I was missing a T??!?

Advertisus Domesticalus Pharmacosity

How this post came to be:

     1.  Beloved and I have been streaming episodes of House M.D. and This Is Us through the NBC app on our Roku television.

     2.  Because of 1, we have been exposed to television ads, unlike when we indulge ourselves with ancient episodes of N.C.I.S. on Netflix.

     3.  Many of the ads we've been seeing because of 2 involve an attempt to get us to ask our prescription provider about how a particular drug might be the answer to all of our problems (except, of course, for the list of possible side effects, which often includes death).

     4.  I keep losing track of what's going on in the television show we're watching because I get caught up in the puzzle of how the farnsworth they come up with the brand names for some of those drugs being advertised.

And so, here's an attempt to make things right. What follows is a list of Brand Name > Generic Name > What It SHOULD Be Called for several symptom-stoppers.

• Carbatrol > carbamazepine > Tree Astounder
• Bystolic > nebivolol > Nebivo HaHaHa
• Biltricide (wait...isn't this a felony?) > praziquantel > Worms-B-Gone
• Alprolix Powder > coagulation factor ix > Clotto
• Allegra > fexofenadine > Dr. F. F. Nadine's Magic Elixer
• Adynovate > antihemophilic factor (recombinant) > NoBleedum
• Adagen > pegademase bovine > Flying Cow

You Won't Believe How Much They Want For My Book

It's always kind of a risky thing to search for yourself on the World Wide Wackfest (WWW). You could very easily find out things about yourself that you'd rather not know.

I thought I was fairly safe, though, to search for my book, Almost the Truth About Youth Ministry: Salesmen, Secretaries, and Smart Alecks, on Amazon. I just wanted to see what Amazon and the other sub-distributors were selling it for.

The answer I found almost put me into a seizure.

On one end of the spectrum was the expected insult to my ego: Amazon Prime offering brand new copies of my precious literary child for $2.97 with free shipping and $0.21 estimated tax.

But the listing that caused a coronary was by an enterprise called AllPro Books. (Yes, that's the real name. I am not afraid to call these fine folks out in recognition of their audacity.) Their asking price ... man, I can hardly even type this without shaking ... they are expecting folks to shell out $982.90, plus $70.31 in estimated tax, for a USED copy. Not even a "Like New" used copy, nor one in "Very Good" condition. These Internet-based pirates are charging that choke-a-horse price for a "Used - Good" copy.

But wait! There's more!

They also seem to think they would be forced to go bankrupt if the buyer doesn't chip in $3.99 for shipping.

I know what you're thinking: "That's insane! They'll never sell anything with prices like that! AllPro Books is run by idiots!"

But observe...

In the past 12 months, they've received 245 ratings, 87% of which were positive.

Stop the world. I want to get off.

P.S. The pages are made out of paper, just in case you are running short of any particular kind of paper product. You may want to order a case of these from http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/deweyroth.

"Is He Even Breathing?!!?"

I'm not as lively as I once was, and I've got technological proof.

You know those light switches that are motion-sensitive? You know what I mean. A company wants to save money on its electricity bill, so it installs these switches that turn off the lights in a room after a set amount of time of there being no activity in that room.

Well, my current place of employment has those in the restroom.

I just got back from a visit to said restroom wherein the lights turned off because of my stillness.

Three times.

Hey...isn't there a reason it's called a RESTroom?