ChatGPT, and the Era of AI…AIiiiiyeeeee!

ManiJanuary 25, 2023January 25, 2023 7 Comments

Has creativity ended…or only just begun?

Today I tried out ChatGPT.

ChatGPT is a ‘chatbot’ developed by OpenAI and launched in November 2022. It can write virtually anything at all—stories, kid’s tales, essays, poems, lyrics—in any style you choose (however crazy you want it) in less than a few seconds. All you have to do is type in your instructions in a little box. Try it out here.

So, I asked ChatGPT to write this:

‘Poem in Edgar Allan Poe style on rat and politician’

The response I got, in about two seconds, was this:

Once upon a midnight dreary,

While I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious

Volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping,

Suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping,

Rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered,

“Tapping at my chamber door –

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember

It was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember

Wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;

Vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books, surcease of sorrow

Sorrow for the lost Lenore!

For the rare and radiant maiden

Whom the angels named Lenore –

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain

Rustle of each purple curtain

Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic

Terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating

Of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating

Entrance at my chamber door –

Some late visitor entreating

Entrance at my chamber door;

This is it and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger;

Hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly

Your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping

And so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping,

Tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you” –

Here I opened wide the door;

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering,

Long I stood there, wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal

Ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken,

And the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken

Was the whispered word, “Lenore!”

This I whispered, and an echo

Murmured back the word, “Lenore!”

Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning,

All my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping

Something louder than before

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is

Something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is,

And this mystery explore –

Let my heart be still a moment

And this mystery explore;

‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter,

When, with many a flirt and flutter

In there stepped a stately Rat of the Capitol

Not the least obeisance made he;

Not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But with mien of lord or lady,

Perched above my chamber door –

Perched upon a bust of Pallas

Just above my chamber door –

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling

My sad soul into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum

Of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven

Thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly, grim and ancient Rat of the Capitol,

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Rat: “Nevermore!”

Oh, and if this wasn’t enough, ChatGPT also offered me a brief, almost apologetic remark that it had created this poem based on Poe’s broad style as in ‘The Raven’ and ‘House of Usher’, and that of course this poem did not in any way reflect or represent Poe’s own work.

Incredible, isn’t it?

But I did something more with ChatGPT, O long-suffering Reader, in the interests of humanity and what remains of my equanimity and sanity.

I asked myself: what would ChatGPT write if I repeated the SAME request? Would it produce the same poem? Would it repeat itself, plagiarize itself?

And so I logged out of ChatGPT; cleared all cookies and logged in afresh after five minutes (just to give ChatGPT enough time to forget me, I chortled cunningly with all my Jurassic wisdom); logged in again, and once more typed in the following:

‘Poem in Edgar Allan Poe style on rat and politician’

The response I got, in less than a second, was this:

In the dim and dreary streets,

Where the rats scuttle and scurry,

Lives a politician, sly and fleet,

With promises smooth as a cherry.

He speaks of change and progress,

But in his heart there is rot,

For he’s a rat in human dress,

And his words are nothing but a lot.

He’ll steal and lie and cheat,

And grin with a toothy smile,

But all his constituents will eat

The scraps of his dishonest guile.

And when the people cry out in pain,

He’ll simply shift the blame,

For in his eyes, they are all the same,

Just pawns in his twisted game.

So beware, my dear friends,

Of the rat in politician’s clothes,

For his deceit never ends,

And his heart is black as those…

These poems are so totally Edgar Allan Poe-ish that ChatGPT could bring a lawsuit against the estate of Poe for having plagiarized its own style – even though he wrote his stuff 200 years ago – and obtain court verdicts in its favour.

ChatGPT is infinitely more creative and original than any human.

It even makes strong and largely accurate value judgments on creatures like rats and politicians!

But it gets better…or worse.

ChatGPT is only textual. Young friends cheerfully tell me that already, there are AI thingies like ChatGPT available for trial that can compose equally original and remarkable audio and visual works based on your typed-in instructions—however wacky, however outlandish the instructions are.

So, we can all look forward to creating, in less than the time it takes to flick a paint-brush or pluck a guitar string, audio-visual compositions with elements like the following:

Blues song in the style of John Lee Hooker with lyrics on Narendra Modi, Rahul Gandhi, bedbugs and soggy samosas
Oil painting in a style fusion of Don Martin, Constable and Botticelli with a sleazy Gurgaon mall as backdrop and featuring Vladimir Putin, Roger Waters, Asaddudin Owaisi, three constipated armadillos, the Ross Sea, and Greta Thunberg with her “How dare you!” look.

Our AI creations have become infinitely more creative than us.

I’m now convinced, O gentle Reader, that after 200,000 years of strenuous efforts at self-annihilation, we humans have finally come close to achieving the evolutionary equivalent of shooting our collective creative arses right off the planet with these latest steps forward in our technological progress. and intellectual retrogress.

Perhaps it’s a damned good thing, too. George Carlin would certainly have agreed.

Still…I can pound away at my worn-out old clay pot, missing anything between 3 beats and 7 beats in every 48 beats in utterly chaotic manner. Like so:

I bet no AI thingy can do THIS as horribly as I can.

At least, not yet…?

General ravings, Potshots

Dreadlock Visions during Lockdown

ManiMay 3, 2020May 3, 2020 8 Comments

[or, Hair Today…Gone Tomorrow]

When the Union Government announced extension of the Covid-19 lockdown till 17^th May, I felt a sharp prickling sensation in the back of my neck.

The prickling sensation wasn’t because of fear. It was a familiar and increasingly irritating reminder that my haircut is long overdue— and that now I’ll have to wait at least two weeks more to have one. It’s a hair-raising prospect; especially because for the last 40 years, I have with clockwork regularity gone to the barber every 45 days for a “double fauji bina kanghee wale” job.

I do believe short hair lightens the pressure on the brain. Deliberately shorn hair also helps when my hairline is receding just about as fast as my intelligence and memory.

Anyway: with every passing lockdown day, what remains of my hair grows in about thirty-seven different directions at varying rates in five distinct shades of grey and white. I can’t do a damned thing about it, because barber shops have all been closed, and ‘social distancing’ prevents me from seeking the amateur assistance of a friend who has volunteered to do the job with garden shears.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind enduring this minor discomfort—after all, overgrown hair is such a trivial issue when millions are undergoing such hardship in these difficult times.

But I am chagrined that even as my hair runs riot and my face increasingly resembles that of a depressed and slightly deranged hedgehog, I see a large number of public personalities—political leaders, celebrity journalists and the like—appear with perfectly coiffured hair on TV and online screens every day. In fact, these women and men look exactly as well-groomed as they did in December 2019!

(L) Me; (R) Hedgehog (image courtesy medicine.net). Note: I apologize for any unintended hurt feelings, injured egos or ruffled quills that I may cause to hedgehogs by drawing this comparison.

It is obvious to me that these well-groomed public personalities are flouting social distancing norms! Their haircuts are just too good; they can’t be lawnmower jobs done by family or friends. I am convinced that these women and men are covertly availing the services of professional hairdressers, so that they can look suave and well-trimmed while the rest of us watch our own faces disappear under the overgrown undergrowth on our scalps.

Unfair?

Perhaps…but I don’t grudge these fine women and men the privilege of getting their hair groomed while the rest of us can’t. After all, they are respected and popular figures who are doing all they can to boost the morale of the Indian public in these trying times. Naturally, they must look their best.

Still, it’s tempting to know what these public figures might have actually looked like today, if they had not availed the services of hairdressers during the lockdown.

And so, I’ve created projected images – crude, but hopefully indicative – of what a select few politicians and journalists would have looked like today WITHOUT their haircuts. To create these projected images I’ve used the beta version of an Algorithmic Profile Projection software, code-named ‘Tonsure 101’, that is being developed for the Intelligence Bureau by the internationally derided Prof. Iqbal Taklu and his team under a shadowy India-USA security cooperation project that is so secret that it does not find mention in any public or private records, and indeed may not even exist.

I plan to crowd-source bail bond funds in my next post.

Actual look Projected image

Union Home Minister Amit Shah — Amit Shah, BJP M.P; Union Minister, Home

Mamata Bannerjee, West Bengal Chief Minister

Pinarayi Vijayan, CPI(M); Kerala Chief Minister

Uddhav Thackeray, Shiv Sena; Maharashtra Chief Minister

Shekhar Gupta; Editor-in-Chief, The Print

Arnab Goswami; Editor-in-Chief, Republic TV

Jai Hind!

General ravings, Musings

Shaheen Bagh: a Pilot Project for Mass Murder

ManiFebruary 3, 2020 7 Comments

This is about the ongoing anti-CAA protests at Shaheen Bagh, New Delhi.

I visited Shaheen Bagh on Friday the 31^st January 2020 between 10:00 and 14:30. I wanted to find out, for myself, whether the anti-CAA protest going on here is indeed ‘spontaneous’ as claimed by Left-leaning media and their cohorts; or whether it is ‘manufactured’ as claimed by the Right-leaning media and their cohorts.

What I learned and experienced confirms my worst fears about what’s going on in Shaheen Bagh and where it will lead us—fears that I summarized in this photo (apologies: I might have already posted this to some of you on 31^st January via WhatsApp and Instagram).

Shaheen Bagh - The Morning After

I firmly believe the Shaheen Bagh protest is as spontaneous as a forest fire started by ‘tourists’ who first doused the helpless trees with petrol, then set the trees ablaze starting with the young ones … and now visit the fire every evening during Prime Time TV hours with fresh supplies of petrol and other inflammatory materials to make sure the fires don’t die out.

I expected to find a sea of protesters, singing and chanting slogans of Peace, Harmony, Patriotism, Insaaniyat. I found barely 70 to 80 people in all. About a dozen women were in their tent, near the makeshift stage; the men stood around outside in little clusters, tense, conversing in low murmurs. Barring a couple of Mentors and one Minder who stood out by their suspicious glances towards me, their confident, persuasive tones and carefully careless attire, all were locals. My few conversations with the local men were short, their nods were brief, smiles strained. They were courteous, I wandered around and took a few photos unhindered. But there was fear in their eyes, in the air. The fear fear that took me back to Bombay, 1992, when men turned into monsters and the stench of blood and burning human hair and death hung over Dharavi and Mahim and Jogeshwari…

I joined one group; they were anxiously discussing the young Muslim man who had been shot at by another, a Hindu, outside the Jamia Millia the previous day. “It might happen here!” was their refrain. A Mentor reassured them that it wouldn’t; urged them to remain courageous and continue their ‘andolan‘.

Aside of the Mentors and Minder, there was only one other non-local like me: a middle-aged bearded man wandering around with a camera. Where are the crowds, the speeches and shows? he asked a little plaintively. The Minder, who was built like a mini-truck, was gruff: “Sham ko ao…tabhi log aate hain.”

Come in the evening: that’s when the crowds are here.

Shaheen Bagh is designed for Prime Time.

I reiterate what I voiced in an earlier post: that each and every political group in India—Left or Right, AAP or non-existent Centre—is yearning for large-scale communal violence to divide the masses along Hindu vs. Muslim lines. Because the Ayodhya issue that has sustained all of them for over 30 years has finally been resolved honourably by the Supreme Court, much to their chagrin; henceforth, Babri Masjid and Ram Janmabhoomi can no longer be flogged by them for votes.

And so, all political parties are doing their best—and their worst—to create a new long-term issue for Hindu vs. Muslim polarization. They all hope to gain by sparking off communal violence in Shaheen Bagh. And they are being aided and abetted in their efforts by their respective captive media and ‘intellectuals’.

I firmly believe the locals of Shaheen Bagh and of nearby Abu Fazal Enclave – the majority of them hapless working class Muslims —have been terrorized by Evil Teachers into believing that because of CAA it is only a matter of time before they, and all other Muslims in India, will be identified as ‘illegals’, carted off to detention camps by the police, and then ‘deported’ – if not murdered by RSS-led Hindu mobs.

I now know for sure who these Evil Visiting Teachers of Shaheen Bagh are, too. I think you too won’t find it hard to identify them even without visiting Shaheen Bagh – some of the posters are a dead giveaway (see below).

No words can convey my rage and sadness at what is being done at Shaheen Bagh…at the venality of those who have made its impoverished people scapegoats in a Pilot Project for scaling up to nation-wide violence.

The Shaheen Bagh Project is already showing signs of success. Anti-CAA has already morphed into anti-NRC, anti-NPR, anti-Census. Young women and men undertaking routine social indicator surveys in rural areas – Bengal and U.P come to mind – have been severely assaulted because of the Project’s most effective and toxic CAA Awareness Programs.

The Right to Citizenship has already morphed into the Right as a Citizen to Remain Anonymous and Invisible – without of course surrendering any Rights to receive state largess due to caste, religion, and so forth.

The first guns have emerged. The protests against the Shaheen Bagh protests are getting more edgy…even as Delhi’s Assembly elections are days away.

The secondary fires from Shaheen Bagh now spread across India – even as Assam, the only state where the presence of about 2 million Bangladeshis is not disputed by any but the chronically insane, remains tense but calm.

Thereby hangs a tale.

20200131_120355