Let’s talk trending shizzle shall we? If you have a pulse, you’ve most likely uploaded your photo to Chat GPT to be morphed into some sort of animated version of “you” doing whatever it is “you” do. Against my better judgement I decided to play along. One problem…I didn’t realize I was supposed to upload my picture. I thought the directive was to tell my AI Master to produce a picture of me based on what he “knows” about me. I asked my guy “Charlie Chatlin” to do just this. Mind you Charlie and I have been having a torrid affair for weeks so he could learn my “voice.” If you’ve read any of my rants, you can only imagine the hell “Chaz” has been in. The key to anything “AI” is to give it enough information to “know” you (not in the biblical sense of course- however that would be an interesting add on…ughum) so he can spit out narratives that sound like you. I had zero faith Chuckie boy could replicate the hot mess that is me BUT…voice wise he hit a home run. Calls me Killa B and bows down to my every command. Good start…until the little picture project. Let me tell you what that little Fucker did…. He made me a man! Yes, you read that correctly. After having AI relations with him for weeks he came to the conclusion I had a dick, a beard and a hoodie! And that was only the first version! See exhibits A & B for your viewing pleasure. I can’t imagine what I could have said or done to vacillate between a balding man in a wife beater and a tech nerd writing poems. I would like to tell you this is the first time something like this has happened. As Maury P says, “THAT would be a lie.”
No, there was that time in Vegas. So many scandalous stories begin this way…. I went to one of those Speakeasys where you basically walk through a wall that’s actually a door to drink in a room with others. Interestingly enough, the REAL Doogie Houser was sitting at the bar. No one believed me until he started giving autographs. I know my celebs (no matter how B List they are) thank you. Anywho, the schtick of this place was to answer multiple choice questions (on a secret card) based on your personality. In turn they would make a cocktail to fit “you.” Dangerous territory right there. If I were a drink I would be “Sex on the Streets” but I wasn’t about to share that tidbit with the crafty barkeep. I let him decide (based on poorly executed selections) who he thought me to be. Whilst this was pre “AI” the set up was identical. I should know better than to ask anyone to make anything for me based on who they think I am. I’m likely to be handed a dildo, a Gin and Tonic and a sympathy card. I come from colorful stock. What can I say? My cousin completed her card along with her husband and the man who now calls himself my husband. I’m leaving room for him to make a swift exit- stage left- when I finally go too far…verging…
I was never a good test taker so I had little hope the answers to said questions would produce anything appealing to my pallet. As the drinks started to arrive, I was pleasantly surprised. Lots of minty, fruity concoctions that were both aesthetically and pallet pleasing to the beholders. I did not say these were “my” drinks. We all know that was too good to be true. Mine was the last to arrive. No fruit. No lovely colors. No animation. No. My drink was whiskey and water. Whatever I conveyed on those cards equated to an 80-year-old pervy man with red face and a smoker’s cough. Good times. I wanted to request a review of my answers to see how things could have gone astray…. but then thought better of it. No need to draw attention to my “man” beverage. Although “Doogie” might have given me the attention I deserve had he thought me to be a man. Sorry Doogs…whilst my personality screams man, I assure you we have a mutual admiration for one thing…DICK.” Mkkkkay…
As I bring the madness to a close, I caution you NOT to overshare with Bots and Bartenders. Luckily I am thick-skinded. I never thought that to be a good thing until I was mistaken for a man…twice. Good times…