I am quite certain — especially given the volume of psychotropic medications in the market — that I am not alone in wrestling with the occasional feelings that come at the tip of a blindfolded dart throw on the scale between outright nihilism and the general exhaustion of dealing with other humans. While the pay sucks, I rather enjoy performing the duty that comes with news reporting, but sometimes I want to phone-it-in like as much as anyne else.
While I have sometimes filled this space with the work of other writers or journalists, there aren’t what you might call “rubber stamps” when it comes to news articles, even less so with opinionated commentary. I thought, however, there might be a close substitute.
At this time last year, artificial intelligence software had so terrified the entertainment industry that the Writers Guild spent four months writing nothing more than picket signs. Surely something that could be so powerful as to interrupt the creative juices oozing down the Hollywood Hills, it could crank out a few lines of low-brow wit that I tend to toss around like a paint on a Pollock.
So, I fired up ChatGPT and asked the machine to write an editorial in my style of writing about the changes in the news industry. This is what I got.
“In the age of digital revolution, the news industry finds itself amidst a tempest, where traditional anchors are challenged by the surging tides of social media, citizen journalism, and an insatiable hunger for instant information...” Blah, blah, and whatnot.
Third paragraph down: “Yet, amidst these turbulent currents, there gleams a beacon of hope.”
I asked Chat to write another about AI-generated content.
“In the technologically driven landscape of the 21st century, we find ourselves at the crossroads of innovation and introspection...”
Third paragraph down: “Yet, with great power comes great responsibility.”
Ignoring the fact that Chat just ripped off a Spiderman movie quote, I asked the program to write one more about how aggravating it is that Waffle House doesn’t serve French toast.
“Folks, it's high time we addressed a culinary calamity that's been plaguing our beloved community: the conspicuous absence of French toast from the hallowed halls of our local Waffle House.”
Third paragraph down: “Now, don't get me wrong, Waffle House serves up some mighty fine grub.”
It was startling. It was not until that moment that I questioned the predictability of my own work. Do I routinely begin my third paragraph with a contradictory transition?
Like most of you, my eyes shot to the headline and counted three paragraphs down too. Turns out, not so predictable after all, as I’m rattling on about AI and poking fun at the silliness that comes from soaking up more sunshine than reality.
I dove into the archives for a deeper look, and out of the 15 random editorials selected, I only used contradiction in the third paragraph once. To use a screenwriting term, I’m typically still “setting the table” in the third paragraph of most of them. I’m notoriously longwinded and often meander to the point.
So, while Tinsel Town’s scribblers might be concerned about being replaced by the automation of binary software, digital engineers haven't seemed to have figured out a mold that will keep from breaking when trying to replicate a plan to make it up as we go along.
In a world where people are often surprised by something they have seen a thousand times, it seems there might be more security in unpredictability than meets the eye. So, let this week be a tribute to cracked molding... and 600 words of avoidance.