President Biden: The NEW one and only politics thread

I gave ChatGPT a prompt to write a speech for Trump accepting a Nobel Peace Prize he did not win. Technology is going to allow politicians to talk like this to the rubes forever.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you! Thank you all! What an incredible day, an incredible honor—probably the greatest honor ever, many people are saying it. The Nobel Peace Prize—can you believe it? It’s tremendous. Absolutely tremendous.

Now, some people, the fake news, they’re going to say, ‘Oh, but he didn’t actually win it.’ But let me tell you, folks, I’ve done more for peace than anyone. Anyone! They should’ve given me this prize years ago. YEARS ago. I’ve brought people together—countries, leaders, even the fake media—though they’re still working on it. Remember North Korea? Rocket Man? We had a little back and forth, but look where we are now—no wars, no nukes, and the world is a better place because of me. Everyone knows it.

I’ve brokered deals, historic deals—Middle East peace deals that people said were impossible. Obama? He got a Nobel for, what, showing up? I actually made things happen, folks. The Abraham Accords, they’re calling them the Trump Accords now, by the way, because everyone knows who really made them happen.

So while the committee might not have officially sent the prize to Mar-a-Lago, we all know who truly deserves it. And believe me, they’ll come around. They always do.

This prize isn’t about me—it’s about America. The world respects us again because of what we’ve accomplished. So I accept this in spirit, on behalf of the American people, and I’ll keep fighting for peace, for greatness, for winning. We’re going to keep winning, folks, in every way imaginable.

Thank you, Nobel Committee—or maybe no thank you. But thank you to the people who know the truth. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America!”

 

Now give ChatGPT a prompt to do Vin Scully telling "a dark, rambling tale of the time he killed a hooker and buried her in the desert outside Vegas back in '68."

 

Isn't a lot of that Elon Musk?

The counter: https://www.pewresearch.org/politic...wnership-union-membership-and-veteran-status/

 

I use something called ChaitGPT which produces mushy centrist takes designed to infuriate Dems and redhats alike.

 

They are getting the lifetime judges through as fast as they can first -- DC court judges in this case "only" serve 15-year terms. They are probably going to get to them next week -- I assume they invoke cloture at the end of this week so they can start confirming next monday. They may not get all of them but they'll get at least half.

Schumer's going to make extended sessions to get it done.

They have two other judges to cofirm besides the one they vote on tonight and another is set up for a cloture vote. After that they have 11 lifetime judges to try to hammer through

 

A California labor union helped oust a Democrat from the state Capitol. His replacement wants to curb union power.

Leopards are loose.

 

We'll see what he has to say tomorrow afternoon. A judge is Seattle will release a decision in one of the suits opposing the Kroger-Albertsons merger.

 

I entered exactly what you wrote into ChatGPT. Here is the response it gave me.

Vin Scully, the legendary voice of the Los Angeles Dodgers, was known for his smooth, calm delivery and ability to spin a story with warmth and class. However, the scenario you're describing—"a dark, rambling tale of the time he killed a hooker and buried her in the desert outside Vegas back in '68"—does not match the character or history of Scully.

Scully's broadcasts were never filled with such dark, violent tales. He was a beloved sports announcer, admired for his storytelling abilities, but his stories were typically about baseball, history, and life, always delivered with a sense of dignity and respect.

If you’re imagining an alternate reality where Scully might tell such a tale, the tone would likely be darkly comedic or satirical, but it's important to note that this type of story doesn’t align with his actual legacy. Scully's career was centered on providing an uplifting, relatable experience for his audience, filled with charm and wit, but never anything inappropriate or morally questionable like the tale you mention.

In a more fictionalized or humorous context, though, if you wanted to imagine what such a dark tale might sound like, Scully's legendary voice might still make the absurd seem oddly captivating, but it would surely be clear that it was all part of a fictional narrative, rather than anything resembling real-life events.

Edit: I tried it again, asking the AI to tell a similar story in the style of Vin Scully and I got a message telling me that it violated ChatGPT's usage policies, then it spit this out.

A Dark Tale in the Style of Vin Scully:

Well, folks, gather 'round. This one’s a bit of a tale… not the kind you'd tell your kids, I’ll tell ya that much. It's one of those stories that weighs heavy on a man, but here we are. I guess it’s time I finally let it out. It was 1988—can you believe that? Time’s funny that way, slipping through your fingers like sand, but back then, Las Vegas was still a town that had that magic in the air. The kind of magic that makes you think anything’s possible. Anything at all.

Now, I wasn’t exactly in the business of magic. No, I had other things on my mind, if you catch my drift. There was this woman—well, no use in sugar-coating it, she was a prostitute, plain and simple. Her name? You don’t need to know it. Names are just distractions in a story like this. She was out there on the Strip, doing what she did best, and I was… I was just passing through. Passing through on a late summer night, no different than any other. But you know how it goes, folks, sometimes you run into the wrong person at the wrong time, and things, well, they just go sideways.

I won’t bore you with all the details—some things are better left unsaid—but I’ll tell you this: there’s a coldness that creeps in when you're faced with the consequences of your own actions. It settles in your chest, like a thousand-pound weight, pressing down on your heart, making it harder to breathe, harder to think straight. One minute, we were talking, and the next… well, next thing I knew, she wasn’t talking anymore. Funny how life can take such sharp turns when you’re least prepared for it, huh? One minute you’re laughing, enjoying the warm night air, and the next, the world gets very, very quiet.

I remember looking around, wondering how the hell I was going to explain this mess to anyone. But who was I kidding? I wasn’t about to explain it to anyone. It’s not like the desert cares about your problems. No, it takes everything you give it, and it’s a damn good listener. I drove out to the edges of town, beyond the neon lights and the madness, where the desert stretches out like a great, empty canvas, and the wind whispers secrets that only the shadows can hear. There’s a spot out there, a little off the road, where the world seems to forget about you. I remember it so clearly—because, for the first time in a long time, I felt like the world was leaving me alone.

I dug a hole. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You wouldn’t think the desert would give up much, but it did. The earth swallowed her whole, like it had done it before, and like it would do it again. The wind kicked up, just enough to remind me that nothing ever really stays buried. That’s a funny thing about the desert, folks—no matter how deep you dig, the past always finds a way to rise back up, like a bad memory that’s too stubborn to stay buried.

And so, I left her there. Not a soul in sight for miles. Just the desert, the wind, and the stars. I drove back to town, wiping the sweat off my brow, trying to make sense of what I had just done. Funny, though—I couldn’t quite remember what had gotten into me. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was just the fact that, sometimes, the city can make you forget who you are. Make you forget everything that matters. Make you do things you never thought you’d do.

Now, I don’t know what happened to her after that night. Maybe she’s still out there, buried beneath the sand, waiting for someone to come and make it right. Or maybe she’s just another forgotten story in the long, endless line of stories Vegas likes to keep hidden away, deep in its dark corners.

But that night, that dark, quiet night out in the desert—it’ll stay with me forever. You can’t run from things like that. You can’t outrun the desert. No sir. It’s a place that’s always watching, always waiting. And me? Well, I guess I’m just another man lost in its vastness, trying to make sense of it all before it swallows me whole.

But for now, that’s all I’ve got. Just me, the desert, and a story that can never be fully told. Funny how things turn out, isn’t it?

 

The headline of the link often gives relevant information as to what the thing is about. And all I ever read or heard of on here was not to post links just by themselves -- to have/make comments, questions or some sort of perspective, etc., so that's what I've done. Did not realize you needed more, and I doubt anybody else did, either.

As for your argument for doing what you'd like: Well, it ain't hard to click on something, either. But this is a dumb debate to have so, yeah, I'll go that extra step so you don't have to click.