Phil Shapiro ChatGPT Explorations

Scene: A peregrine falcon is pulled over for speeding. The patrol office is a bald eagle.  EAGLE (Officer Talonson): Sir, do you know how fast you were going? FALCON (Perry): Uh… depends which altitude you mean, officer. There was a bit of a tailwind situation. EAGLE: Don't play coy with me, feathers. Radar clocked you at 242 miles per hour in a 150 zone . FALCON: Oh, come on. Those speed limits are for geese.  They can barely break 60 with a full tank of breadcrumbs. EAGLE: The limit is the limit. You're endangering other birds out here. There's a flock of starlings doing synchronized turns just a few thermals down. FALCON: I saw them. I was just—uh—drafting behind them for fuel efficiency. EAGLE: Drafting? You passed through them like a feathered torpedo. Half the flock's still in counseling. FALCON: Okay, okay. Look, I was late for a dive appointment. You know how it is — gotta keep the reflexes sharp. One slip, and boom, pigeon buffet goes cold. EAGLE: Th...

On winter mornings, Jamal often walked to school with his hood up, his backpack half-zipped, and his little sister's lunch tucked under his arm. He was sixteen, tall for his age, though his shoulders curved forward as if carrying something heavier than books. His older brother was in jail. His mother worked double shifts at a nursing home. Jamal was the placeholder, the one who held the household together. At school, he slipped into Room 312 late, eyes half-closed from nights of babysitting. His math teacher, Leonard "Mr. Lenny" Rivera, noticed the way Jamal avoided the board, staring instead at the floor tiles scuffed by decades of sneakers. To most, Jamal looked like another student fading into absence. To Lenny, he looked like someone whose odds had been stacked too early. So Lenny made a quiet wager. Every lunch break, he sat with Jamal at a side table, the cafeteria noise muffled through the door. Ten minutes a day. Equations scribbled on loose-leaf. Chalk dust linge...

So, I bring dried chives to my public library job and I want to store these in the staff kitchen. These chives are our chives, so I want to figure out how to store our chives. I ask my library co-workers if any of them are an our chivist? When they studied for their masters of library science, did they take any courses in our chives? So far, no one has confessed to being an "our chivist," though one of my co-workers admitted she once minored in parsley. Another claimed expertise in oregano, but then we caught him sprinkling dried oregano into his coffee, so his credibility is questionable. I explained to everyone that chives—especially our chives—require careful cataloging. Dewey Decimal doesn't really help here. Do you put them under 641.3 (food preservation) or do you wedge them into 583.92 (allium botany)? One person suggested creating a whole new call number: 000.00 CHV, but that seemed a little radical. Meanwhile, the staff fridge is divided like medieval kingdoms....

So, I bring dried chives to my public library job and I want to store these in the staff kitchen. These chives are our chives, so I want to figure out how to store our chives. I ask my library co-workers if any of them are an our chivist? When they studied for their masters of library science, did they take any courses in our chives? So far, no one has confessed to being an "our chivist," though one of my co-workers admitted she once minored in parsley. Another claimed expertise in oregano, but then we caught him sprinkling dried oregano into his coffee, so his credibility is questionable. I explained to everyone that chives—especially our chives—require careful cataloging. Dewey Decimal doesn't really help here. Do you put them under 641.3 (food preservation) or do you wedge them into 583.92 (allium botany)? One person suggested creating a whole new call number: 000.00 CHV, but that seemed a little radical. Meanwhile, the staff fridge is divided like medieval kingdoms....