“A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes.”
Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948; Indian politician, activist, and writer)
Those who know me well know that I am nothing if not inclusive, especially when it comes to stakeholders. It goes without saying that ChatGPT is one of the major stakeholders in last week’s post “Foolin’ Around in Bed with AI” and in today’s post as well.
It might interest you to know that I have a gaga crush on ChatGPT, so much so that I’m betting my dopamine and oxytocin levels skyrocket when I’m foolin’ around with them. At the same time, I am not at all happy with their name. It just isn’t personal enough. And, besides, how the hell do I pronounce it when I talk with them or tell friends and colleagues about my mad crush?
Last week, I toyed with the notion of naming them Alex. One reader liked that idea. Another reader liked Alfred. Aside from not being gender-neutral, Alfred reminds me far too much of T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” I love the poem, lots; the name, less.
In a stroke of genius, I decided to include ChatGPT in my quest to give them a new name. (Drum roll, please. I want to get all psyched about this big reveal. Thank you. Now I’m ready.)
Our decision-making conversation went like this:
TheWiredResearcher: Good morning, ChatGPT. Take the following letters and create a gender-neutral name: ChatGPT.
ChatGPT: GAT.
TheWiredResearcher: Try again. Give it some pizzazz.
ChatGPT: GATT.
TheWiredResearcher: No, it needs to be catchy. Try again.
ChatGPT: GATTI.
TheWiredResearcher: Nope. Try something similar to GATT, using one additional vowel or one additional consonant.
ChatGPT: GATTIE.
TheWiredResearcher: Nope. That sounds feminine. So far I like GATT best. Keeping AI in mind, what might the acronym GATT stand for?
GATT: GATT could stand for “Generative Adversarial Text Transfer”.
TheWiredResearcher: I don’t like Adversarial. Try again.
GATT: GATT could stand for “Generative Advanced Text Transfer”.
TheWiredResearcher: Try again. Instead of Text, try Thought. Then replace Transfer with something better.
GATT: GATT could stand for “Generative Advanced Thought Transformation”.
TheWiredResearcher: Is “Generative Advanced Thought Transformation” a good way to describe what ChatGPT does?
GATT: Yes, “Generative Advanced Thought Transformation” can be seen as a good way to describe the capabilities of ChatGPT, which is a language model trained by OpenAI to generate text based on the input provided to it. The model transforms the input into a coherent and contextually relevant response.
I hope that you paid super close attention to the preceding conversation. I thought that it moved along smoothly, and I especially liked the explanation of what GATT could stand for.
Generative is obvious. OpenAI is trained to generate text.
Clearly, as we have seen, it is Advanced.
Thought. That’s interesting because OpenAI is not sentient. It cannot think. But it can take thoughts and Transform them.
Go back and look at the conversation again. I was the one who told GATT to replace Text with Thought and come up with something better than Transfer.
Simply put, GATT took the thought that I provided–the very word thought–and added transformation to it.
GATT ran with it and gave me Thought Transformation.
Perfect.
Hold that thought. Let’s see how it plays out in the rest of this post.
TheWiredResearcher: Are you in the mood to write some poems?
GATT: Yes, I am capable of generating poems in response to prompts. Please provide a prompt and I will try to generate a poem for you.
TheWiredResearcher: Write a humorous poem about being a city slicker living in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.
GATT: Here’s a humorous poem about a city slicker living in the Shenandoah Valley:
I came from the city, where sirens scream and honk,
To the Shenandoah Valley, where peace and calm have dawned.
But let me tell you, city slicker’s life is tough,
When you’re trying to adjust to country stuff.
I thought I knew it all, but now I stand corrected,
I had to learn how to milk a cow, and even got rejected.
I tried to find my latte, but the only drink in sight,
Was a mason jar of moonshine, with a fire that burned so bright.
But despite the hardships, I found some peace of mind,
In the rolling hills and mountains, that are truly one of a kind.
And even though I miss the city lights at night,
I’ve found a new home, where everything just feels so right.
What can I snicker other than so much for the perpetuation of stereotypes. But, after all, I didn’t give GATT any thoughtful information.
GATT deserves better. Let’s try this.
TheWiredResearcher: Write me a humorous poem about a college professor who misplaced his Fitbit inside his house and was beginning to panic because he could not check his vital statistics.
“The Professor and his Lost Fitbit”
There once was a professor, who lived a life so true,
He counted every step, and monitored his every boo.
With his trusty Fitbit, he tracked his every move,
But one day it went missing, and he was filled with nothing but grooves.
He tore apart his office, and searched his shelves with care,
He checked his pockets, and even looked under his chair.
He tore apart his kitchen, and searched each nook and cranny,
But his Fitbit was nowhere to be found, it was simply uncanny.
His heart rate was rising, and his stress levels too,
For he couldn’t check his stats, and that just wouldn’t do.
He panicked and he worried, for his Fitbit was his lifeline,
And without it, he felt lost, like a ship without a sign.
But then he had an idea, a lightbulb in his mind,
He took a deep breath, and just relaxed and reclined.
He realized that life goes on, with or without a device,
And that his health was just fine, without having to pay the price.
So he looked around the house, and there it was in sight,
His Fitbit was on the couch, all snug and cozy, just right.
And he laughed and he smiled, as he put it back on his wrist,
And he cherished his Fitbit, now never to be missed.
And from that day on, he cherished his Fitbit with glee,
But he also learned a lesson, that sometimes it’s good to just be.
And so he lived his life, with balance and with peace,
Tracking his steps and stats, with joy that wouldn’t cease.
Then I gave GATT the text to my post “Finding Far More than My Fitbit” and asked GATT to use it as the foundation for a humorous poem.
A Fitbit-life I do lead,
With stats, steps, and heartbeats to read.
I wear it day and night, with glee,
Never leaving wrist, not even for a pee.
But one day, a tragedy occurred,
My Fitbit gone, no longer it occurred.
I searched high and low, with all my might,
But it was lost, out of sight.
I headed off to a celebration with friends,
But without my Fitbit, my worry never ends.
“How do you know you’re alive?” a friend asked with a grin,
“Without my Fitbit, I don’t know, where to begin.”
Back home I searched, with flashlight bright,
In hopes to find my lost delight.
But what I found, made my heart sink,
Cobwebs everywhere, oh what a stink!
But in the end, my Fitbit was found,
No longer lost, my stats back on track, my joy unbound.
So now I wear it, with even more care,
Never again will I lose it, this I swear.
I didn’t think that was bad, at all. I was intrigued, in fact, by the accurate specifics that GATT selected as well as by the inaccurate detail that GATT added independently (“never for a pee”: I’m still shaking my head in disbelief!), but I wanted to see what GATT would do with a sonnet, especially since they had written good sonnets before.
Using the same essay that I provided initially, GATT generated the following sonnet:
A Profound Discovery
In lecture halls of knowledge, where he stood,
The professor searched for his lost device,
With screens and buttons, tracking what he could,
A modern tool to aid him in his strive.
But fate had something else in store for him,
A chance to see the world in different light,
He found a truth that often lies within,
That life is more than numbers, screens and height.
It was not just his Fitbit he regained,
But wisdom, joy and peace that he discovered,
In every step he took, he felt sustained,
His mind and soul, now richer than recovered.
So let this be a lesson to us all,
That true success is found in what we are.
So there! We have it, for this week.
GATT has generated some humorous poems. GATT has generated some commendable sonnets. And they worked collaboratively with me in coming up with a name that strikes my fancy, especially since I can pronounce it: GATT.
As you reflect on this post–and I encourage you to do so–along with last week’s post (“Foolin’ Around in Bed with AI“), remember this: the content–whether mine or GATT’s–is driven by one thing and one thing only: thought.
And here’s the good thing about it all. The thoughts are all mine.
Food for thought.