It feels like it was just the year 2000 -- a brand new century, half a lifetime ago.
Remember all the hullabaloo around Y2K? Banks will collapse! Flights will be grounded! Power grids will implode! The media had us whipped up into a frenzy.
That seems so quaint and simple.
Now, it's all about artificial intelligence. And nearly 100 years after Aldous Huxley put pen to paper, AI is taking over our brave new world...
On the one hand, it is EXCITING. I love new stuff! On the other hand, it will be pretty horrifying when a robot that's smarter than Elon, richer than Oprah, sportier than Serena, and sexier than Beyonce (or Madonna, in her heyday) steals my boyfriend.
Oh, who am I kidding? I won't have a boyfriend.
Anyhoo, one day AI will do literally everything for us. Except fold fitted sheets. That shit is hard.
A win for the humans!
I guess it's only fitting that I asked ChatGPT to help me with this blog post. My request was simple: Write a rhyming poem on how great it is to be named Jennifer.
It came up with 2 different versions in 2 seconds flat. To be honest, they are actually pretty good. Then I asked it for a regal portrait (see above). It's giving Game of Thrones vibes, but I don't hate it. Finally, I asked it to make me into an 80s doll.
That one... not so much. (Scroll to the end to see what I mean.)
I guess I flew too close to the sun and got burned. Let that be an AI lesson for us all.
Now, for the poems. e.e. cummings, e.eat your heart out...
Jenny from the Block (But Make It Jersey)
I’m Jennifer—call me Jen or Jenny,
One name, three vibes, I’ve got plenty.
From Bronx-born roots to Jersey streets,
I walk with rhythm, skip no beats.
A Leo queen with fire inside,
Long brown hair and fierce green eyes.
I speak my mind, I hold my ground,
And lift you up when feeling down.
Got that charm you can’t define,
Half big heart, half punchline.
From shopping malls to midtown lights,
I’ve worked real hard and soared to heights.
So whether it’s Jenny, Jen, or J,
A loyal girl in every way.
On city blocks, in garden skies,
This name? It’s legend—no surprise.
The Glorious Burden of Being Jennifer
They named me Jennifer—golly gee,
Like half the girls in ’73.
You shout my name across the mall,
And seven Jennifers will call.
In class I was Jen #4,
Behind a Jen, two by the door.
Our teacher sighed, “Just use last names,”
And thus began the nickname games.
There’s Jenny, Jen, "Nif" and “Fer,”
(Last two are weird, do not prefer.)
There's also Jenn with extra n,
A silly spell, like whyy or whenn.
Yet still, I love my name with pride,
Rolls off the tongue like theme park rides.
It’s friendly, cute, a comfy shoe,
And rhymes with… well, just very few.
So here’s to Jennifers, all around,
The finest flock that can be found.
We laugh, we lead, we own the show—
Even if folks call us all J Lo.
Nice job, AI! But go back to the drawing board on this one... she's creepy.
