ChatGPT lies about me

ChatGPT lies about me

I asked ChatGPT “Who is Josh Bernoff?” The result is below. I count 11 lies in 142 words. How many can you find? (Blatant hint: my actual bio is on this site.) I look forward to reading your answers in the comments. Analysis tomorrow. Josh Bernoff is a well-known author, speaker, and strategic advisor on…

James Bond, creativity, listening, and data
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James Bond, creativity, listening, and data

John Logan, the scriptwriter behind two of the latest James Bond movies, is worried that when Amazon buys MGM, it will ruin 007. But data and corporate control doesn’t necessarily ruin creativity. It all depends on who’s making the creative decisions. John Logan’s lament for 007 Here’s some of what John Logan, co-writer of “Skyfall”…

Autonomous homicide

Autonomous homicide

This is the last horror story I’ll post, for a while — as some of you have suggested, it’s back to my day job of helping nonfiction writers and analyzing media. This story was disturbing enough that the sponsor rejected it, so I never published it on Twitter. There is graphic content here. If you…

Final edit

Final edit

I dedicate this horror story to all the copy editors I’ve ever worked with. I died on a grey Thursday morning in late October. On that day I awoke precisely at dawn, as I do every day. I took note that my lower back pain, a dull constant for the last few decades, was gone….

Slimbo

Slimbo

I think this is my favorite short from the whole horror story project. I could see expanding this into full length story, or even something longer. *269* Jeremy stared at the scale. He’d spent 29 years in this body, and it wasn’t getting any better. It was time for a change. He dug up an…

Mindless work

Mindless work

My second short horror story, originally published on Twitter. Ellen hit send on the her 11th resume and cover letter of the day – and 37th of the month of October – and 146th since graduating in June. The MacBook screen swam in front of her bloodshot eyes. And she began to despair. Demand was…

Aurora

Aurora

A little something different today — horror fiction. I’ll resume regular programming tomorrow. Feeling like crap, Ernie pushed aside a couple of beer cans and noticed what looked like a puffy grey hockey puck on the table beside the couch where he’d passed out. Another night of poker. Another night without Ellen. Another morning of…