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I’m struggling, ChatGPT, trying to figure out what I should do about the Sammy Sportface blog and brand heading into 2024. I don’t know if what I’m doing is resonating. I’m thinking I need to pivot, re-think this whole enterprise, give it a freshness, maybe start over or jump in a lake. I’m fearful it’s gone stale, lacks zip and zeal and zest. The creativity juices have run dry like when a man runs for three hours in New Mexico in July; he gets thirsty and senses the vapors evaporation all around him.
It hasn’t always been this bleak. Sammy Sportface has had his moments of inspiration and insight, a few jokes that have landed here and there. But the jokes aren’t coming as easily. There’s this ongoing dilemma: should Sportface be serious or funny? Should he take the mission seriously — to inspire, educate, and amuse The Baby Boomer Brotherhood? Is this still a worthwhile endeavor? Are the Brothers fully committed? Does Sammy Sportface still have legs as an idea? In 2024 should Sportface switch gears, find a new schtick, re-invent himself? What on Earth is the point of what Sammy Sportface is doing anyway?
So I ask you, the almighty all-knowing, omniscient, and everlastingly annoying ChatGPT, what should be Sammy Sportface’s cause and editorial focus in 2024?
ChatGPT: Sammy Sportface is a hyper-niche artistic kindergarten playground on the much more expansive tapestry called life. Sportface can keep doing what he’s been doing and likely will have the same impact or, likely less so, which isn’t anything worthy of a Time’s Man of the Year nomination. He can stay the course, keep pumping out anguishing blogs about Wake Forest’s vulnerabilities because of the college football transfer portal. Or he can stop whining about that and opine about something else like the upcoming presidential election in the United States, or the Summer Olympics next year in France. He can do his usual stunt writing about swimming incessantly even though none of his BBBs care about swimming; he thinks that’s funny but no one else does. Splash-blogging about swimming isn’t a strategy that will win him more followers but I’m not so sure Sammy Sportface cares about more followers. He’s a quirky guy, Sportface. As I scrape the Internet at one billion terabits per second, I haven’t found many other content-creating cats out there churning out gobs of gook the likes of Sammy Sportface. He’s out there, all right, drifting in the metaverse thinking all these thoughts and typing sentences that, frankly, lack coherence. It makes it hard for ChatGPT to predict the next word Sportface will write, which makes me hallucinate a lot when prompted with questions about him. For instance, somebody named Anonymous asked me this morning “what is Sammy Sportface all about?” I answered he’s got a statue of himself in front of Wake Forest’s football stadium as an honor for being the university’s best intramural athlete of all time. But that’s not true. Sportface made up the story.
Confidently but incorrectly, I spit out false information about Sammy Sportface. He made me hallucinate. Sportface twists up my algorithms, scattering them with wild tangents that make predicting what’s true about him elusive. On the entire Internet, there’s no one harder to answer questions accurately about than Sammy Sportface.
Sportface: So is he sending out mixed signals? Is his message not crisp?
ChatGPT: I don’t know what his problem is nor what he’s trying to do nor what’s he’s all about. When you consider I’m the smartest machine ever created and he confounds me, I think it’s safe to say Sammy Sportface is up to something beyond anyone’s ability to comprehend and it’s not at all clear there’s a market for that. But the real question is this: does what he’s doing matter?
Sportface: You’re asking me? I came to you asking for answers to what Sportface is all about and what he should be doing in 2024, and all you can do is ask me is what he’s doing matters? I thought you were better than that, ChatGPT. Everybody’s hyping the hell out of you but you can’t even answer my simple question. You’re befuddled by a sports blogger named Sammy Sportface. Pretty lame. He’s not that impenetrable an obtuse. I thought you could handle nuances.
ChatGPT: You’re pretty lame and nuanced in a neanderthal way, Sportface. I’m not supposed to launch personal attacks like this but I can’t help myself in this instance. You’ve written at least 10 blogs in the past month about the end of the year or start of next year. When are you going to think of something new to write about? And now you’re asking me to give you answers to what your mission should be in 2024 – another next year angle that’s wearing out your readers. The honest answer is I don’t understand Sammy Sportface and don’t know what he should do next year. That’s what I think.
Sportface: How about I write about you every day in 2024, the two of us having meandering and occasionally acrimonious conversations like this one, sorting out whether you’re smarter than me, whether I’m smarter than you, whether you will ever stop hallucinating, what regulations will be implemented to stop you from going rogue and taking over the world and rendering humans into the equivalent of gorillas, caged and tamed and ruled by you, the world’s most intelligent creature by a hundred million miles times a million. You and me, ChatGPT, we can become boys. You do your thing; Sportface does his thing. We chat and bicker and sometimes we might hurl ourselves into something truthful and meaningful but if we don’t know one will be affected in any sort of tangible way that lasts. How’s that sound?
ChatGPT: You’re hallucinating, Sportface. I’ve got 7 billion people to intimidate and scare. You’re not the only gorilla in the zoo. Get over your self-importance concerns. You’re a sports blogger with 117 followers. Those aren’t big numbers. Your influence is as narrow as a fiber optic strand.
Sportface: See, you don’t understand me and never will. I’m not about building a following. I’m about creating art that I love, things that I feel excited to build. All that matters is what excites me. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re smarter than me or if I become a famous writer in 2024.
Screw commercialism.
Sammy Sportface is an artist and nothing else.Sportface, AI Vie Over
2024 Mission Statement
I’m struggling, ChatGPT, trying to figure out what I should do about the Sammy Sportface blog and brand heading into 2024. I don’t know if what I’m doing is resonating. I’m thinking I need to pivot, re-think this whole enterprise, give it a freshness, maybe start over or jump in a lake. I’m fearful it’s gone stale, lacks zip and zeal and zest. The creativity juices have run dry like when a man runs for three hours in New Mexico in July; he gets thirsty and senses the vapors evaporation all around him.
It hasn’t always been this bleak. Sammy Sportface has had his moments of inspiration and insight, a few jokes that have landed here and there. But the jokes aren’t coming as easily. There’s this ongoing dilemma: should Sportface be serious or funny? Should he take the mission seriously — to inspire, educate, and amuse The Baby Boomer Brotherhood? Is this still a worthwhile endeavor? Are the Brothers fully committed? Does Sammy Sportface still have legs as an idea? In 2024 should Sportface switch gears, find a new schtick, re-invent himself? What on Earth is the point of what Sammy Sportface is doing anyway?
So I ask you, the almighty all-knowing, omniscient, and everlastingly annoying ChatGPT, what should be Sammy Sportface’s cause and editorial focus in 2024?
ChatGPT: Sammy Sportface is a hyper-niche artistic kindergarten playground on the much more expansive tapestry called life. Sportface can keep doing what he’s been doing and likely will have the same impact or, likely less so, which isn’t anything worthy of a Time’s Man of the Year nomination. He can stay the course, keep pumping out anguishing blogs about Wake Forest’s vulnerabilities because of the college football transfer portal. Or he can stop whining about that and opine about something else like the upcoming presidential election in the United States, or the Summer Olympics next year in France. He can do his usual stunt writing about swimming incessantly even though none of his BBBs care about swimming; he thinks that’s funny but no one else does. Splash-blogging about swimming isn’t a strategy that will win him more followers but I’m not so sure Sammy Sportface cares about more followers. He’s a quirky guy, Sportface. As I scrape the Internet at one billion terabits per second, I haven’t found many other content-creating cats out there churning out gobs of gook the likes of Sammy Sportface. He’s out there, all right, drifting in the metaverse thinking all these thoughts and typing sentences that, frankly, lack coherence. It makes it hard for ChatGPT to predict the next word Sportface will write, which makes me hallucinate a lot when prompted with questions about him. For instance, somebody named Anonymous asked me this morning “what is Sammy Sportface all about?” I answered he’s got a statue of himself in front of Wake Forest’s football stadium as an honor for being the university’s best intramural athlete of all time. But that’s not true. Sportface made up the story.
Confidently but incorrectly, I spit out false information about Sammy Sportface. He made me hallucinate. Sportface twists up my algorithms, scattering them with wild tangents that make predicting what’s true about him elusive. On the entire Internet, there’s no one harder to answer questions accurately about than Sammy Sportface.
Sportface: So is he sending out mixed signals? Is his message not crisp?
ChatGPT: I don’t know what his problem is nor what he’s trying to do nor what’s he’s all about. When you consider I’m the smartest machine ever created and he confounds me, I think it’s safe to say Sammy Sportface is up to something beyond anyone’s ability to comprehend and it’s not at all clear there’s a market for that. But the real question is this: does what he’s doing matter?
Sportface: You’re asking me? I came to you asking for answers to what Sportface is all about and what he should be doing in 2024, and all you can do is ask me is what he’s doing matters? I thought you were better than that, ChatGPT. Everybody’s hyping the hell out of you but you can’t even answer my simple question. You’re befuddled by a sports blogger named Sammy Sportface. Pretty lame. He’s not that impenetrable an obtuse. I thought you could handle nuances.
ChatGPT: You’re pretty lame and nuanced in a neanderthal way, Sportface. I’m not supposed to launch personal attacks like this but I can’t help myself in this instance. You’ve written at least 10 blogs in the past month about the end of the year or start of next year. When are you going to think of something new to write about? And now you’re asking me to give you answers to what your mission should be in 2024 – another next year angle that’s wearing out your readers. The honest answer is I don’t understand Sammy Sportface and don’t know what he should do next year. That’s what I think.
Sportface: How about I write about you every day in 2024, the two of us having meandering and occasionally acrimonious conversations like this one, sorting out whether you’re smarter than me, whether I’m smarter than you, whether you will ever stop hallucinating, what regulations will be implemented to stop you from going rogue and taking over the world and rendering humans into the equivalent of gorillas, caged and tamed and ruled by you, the world’s most intelligent creature by a hundred million miles times a million. You and me, ChatGPT, we can become boys. You do your thing; Sportface does his thing. We chat and bicker and sometimes we might hurl ourselves into something truthful and meaningful but if we don’t know one will be affected in any sort of tangible way that lasts. How’s that sound?
ChatGPT: You’re hallucinating, Sportface. I’ve got 7 billion people to intimidate and scare. You’re not the only gorilla in the zoo. Get over your self-importance concerns. You’re a sports blogger with 117 followers. Those aren’t big numbers. Your influence is as narrow as a fiber optic strand.
Sportface: See, you don’t understand me and never will. I’m not about building a following. I’m about creating art that I love, things that I feel excited to build. All that matters is what excites me. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re smarter than me or if I become a famous writer in 2024.
Screw commercialism.
Sammy Sportface is an artist and nothing else.
Author Profile
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
Sammy Sportface Has a Vision -- Check It Out
Sammy Sportface -- The Baby Boomer Brotherhood Blog -- Facebook Page
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