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Fun with ChatGPT: The State of the Union

I’ve been playing around with some of the online AI tools lately. A generous explanation is that, as a computer scientist, I’m researching their capabilities. A more critical analysis would be that I’m just wasting time and avoiding doing some real work. The truthful answer is that I’m just having fun.

While I think ChatGPT could be a revolutionary tool, it could also be dangerous to people who make a living banging away on a keyboard in the hopes of producing something worth reading. To show you what I mean, I’d like to present an example of ChatGPT’s output might be better than anything I could have written.

Here’s what I asked for: Review the State of the Union speech in the style of Lovecraftian horror.

Here’s what I got:

In the murky depths of the Capitol, where the edifices of political power loom like jagged monoliths to the sky, the President rose to deliver the annual State of the Union address. The assembled masses, a faceless horde of humanity, sat in hushed reverence as the echoes of the sacred oath of office still rang through the halls.

And yet, as the President spoke of unity and progress, a dread sense of unease pervaded the chamber. For it was as if the words were not his own, but rather the prodigious whispers of an ancient, eldritch force. The very air was thick with an intangible horror, a feeling of being watched by unblinking, malevolent eyes from beyond the veil of our world.

The words of the address seemed to shimmer and writhe on the air, taking on a life of their own as they spoke of prosperity and security. But beneath the veneer of optimism lay a dark, insidious truth. For it was as if the speech was a mere conduit for the machinations of some unnameable entity, whose purposes were beyond the comprehension of mortal man.

As the speech reached its climax, the President’s eyes seemed to glaze over, and his voice took on a haunting, otherworldly quality. The assembled masses cowered in terror as the words spilled forth, each syllable like the tolling of a funereal bell, each sentence a harbinger of some impending doom.

And then, as abruptly as it began, the speech was over, the President’s demeanor returning to normal. The horde of humanity, still dazed and bewildered, stumbled out of the chamber, each one grappling with the horror they had just witnessed.

For it was as if the State of the Union address was but a mere glimpse into the abyss, a momentary glimpse of the cosmic terror that awaits us all. And with each passing year, as the speech is delivered anew, the unease grows, for none can say what manner of unspeakable horrors may yet be unleashed upon the world.

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