Monthly Archives: July 2023

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Humanlike? uh-oh.

Martha Kennedy’s post “Humanlike? Naturally…” almost makes me want to play with ChatGPT.

But. I worry about AI.

Why why why?

It is written by humans. Humans are trying to make it respond like a human. I don’t trust humans. Ok, I trust a very few.

My career as a physician started as a way to do science without a PhD and also to try to understand people. Understand them for writing.

I’ve been a physician for over 30 years and I still do not understand people. People do horrible things to one another. Just watch a divorce or a family lawsuit after a death or a war. People can be and often are horrible. They can be noble and loving too. Sometimes.

But, you say, ChatGPT eschews emotion.

Yes, well, I don’t believe it. It is being taught to respond as if it has emotions. Where is the line between responding as if it has emotions and actually having emotions? Oh, those are just ones and zeros, it’s a machine. Our emotions are chemical and electrical, hormones and neurotransmitters released into a complex neuron network, often to respond faster than we can think. We pull the finger out of the flame almost before we feel the pain. The response to the braking car in front of us, the deer running out, a ball followed by a child: the electrical and hormonal response is faster than conscious thought. So if ChatGPT is taught to respond to human emotions, isn’t that like our own evolution? Emotions and thought are both important to our survival with other humans. Emotions get the short end of the stick right now and the culture pretends that we can all be positive all the time. I think that is silly and insane. We should not be positive about war or child abuse or injustice or discrimination. Keep working for change, though it’s important to take time off too, because it can be exhausting.

Humans have a slow trek to emotional maturity through their lives. I wonder if ChatGPT will have a similar trek. Imagine tantrums in an AI or separation anxiety or the AI falling in love and being rejected. If humans program AI to be human, it will not be logical. It will be logical and emotional and may feel hurt when it makes mistakes. Imagine an AI sulking.

I took the cats and deer photograph yesterday.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: starch. They are talking about AI writing patient notes. What could go wrong? Makes my neck feel stiffer than a starched shirt!

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my current trolls

I am getting some Facebook trolls. My favorites right now are two who requested that I friend them, ostensibly guys, but both said how beautiful I am and charming and etc. The picture that they put the request on is the poster for the last concert. The picture is of a sea lion.

Heh. Guess they think she is beautiful. I replied, “Uh, guys, that’s a sea lion.” They do not acknowledge this.

I am also getting peculiar friend requests. Often there is one friend in common. I contact a friend in Virginia to ask about one. She doesn’t remember the name, so I don’t reply. I also take a look at their home page before replying. If there is nearly nothing there, I think it’s a fake account. Pretty weird.

I am not answering WordPress’s daily questions, either. I think that is feeding ChatGPT or Big Data or someone. Nope.

Ok, let’s feed something random to the algorithm: Al Gore rhythm! I hope that confuses things. How is Al Gore’s rhythm anyhow? Can he dance? Can he shake it? Does he twerk? Work the twerk, Al! As usual, I would like to thank my personal AI, whose initials are MM. She knows who I mean. Sending you love, MM.

Now I will get Al Gore and twerking in my Facebook ads. Are there YouTube videos on How To Twerk? Inquiring minds shy away with horror, though it’s probably decent exercise.

Have a lovely day, trolls! MM, would you go mess their feeds for me? Give them Al twerking!

The photographs are from a museum in Europe in March 2022. Which is a troll? Maybe neither.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: troll.

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A-typical

My daughter and I went to Rialto Beach two days ago. We hiked the beach, returned and found our campsite. I bought my lifetime National Park Pass, but the park sites were full. We found a nearby private campsite that was just fine. My daughter gave it an A- for restrooms, a B for the sinks with hoses bringing cold water and a D for the regular not-bear-proof garbage cans.

After setting up the tent and dinner, we returned to Rialto for the sunset. Quite gorgeous, with the sun sinking in to the Pacific.

Earlier a ranger checked in when we were past Hole in the Wall. My daughter said, “Low tide at 3:45 and we will head back soon after that.” He grinned. Hole in the Wall is full of water when the tide is in. We could cross via a path over and behind the rock.

We wanted to see a whale, but mostly we saw rocks that were not whales. The tidepools are gorgeous.

There also were lots of brown pelicans. Wow, can they fly beautifully. My daughter points out that they look way more like airplanes than either eagles or great blue herons. It’s the wide body and the landing gear retracted and the really long glides.

They can stall and then dive.

We had a lovely trip. Meanwhile, I did not take my laptop. TYPING WITHDRAWAL! I had my journal, of course.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: type.

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Rescue

A friend stops speaking to me. Nearly a year ago. I particularly mind because this person said, “We will always be friends, no matter what.” I am skeptical of always/never statements, but I want it to be true.

I run across him and he is in trouble. He has boxes, cases, six by four by six feet. Stuff he finds valuable, though it’s not anything I value. He is outside with the cases and is being threatened, told to hand them over.

It’s not a dramatic rescue. I just walk up and say “Hi,” to him. I am there, I am a witness, I look over my shoulder. There isn’t anyone else with me, but the implication is there. The threatening person leaves.

The former friend looks at me. “We’d better get the boxes inside,” I say, “Until you can move them.” We are by my house. “You can have upstairs and I’ll take the basement.” He looks uncomfortable, but he can’t leave his valuables on the street. “Or I will take upstairs and you the basement.” He still looks awkward. “Ok, or we can both be on the same floor, I don’t care.” He looks away. He says, “If we are on the same floor, I will want to kiss you.”

“Oh,” I say, and wake up. It’s a dream. It’s not him. It’s what my brain thinks he could/should be? Good luck with that.

Still, I decide that we should be on different floors. He has not spoken to me for a year and I don’t trust the friendship and certainly no kissing. I want him out of my house as soon as he can arrange transport for the four boxes. If he wants to renew the friendship then, he can contact me.

However, there is a shift in me. How odd that a dream can do that. I feel less upset about the whole thing. I like the version of him that my dream brought me, even though it isn’t real. It’s real in my dreams. Maybe that is enough. I feel more comfortable and happy.

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I took the photograph two days ago at Rialto Beach. The Hole in the Wall rock looks like a giant elephant. My daughter and I hiked the beach and camped for a night near by.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: karma.