## Behold! A Linguistic Frankenstein’s Monster – Or, Why My Cat Writes More Coherent Poetry
Right. Let’s talk about this…*thing*. This language model they’re parading around like it’s solved world hunger and invented a decent cup of coffee simultaneously. Apparently, it’s supposed to be *revolutionary*, capable of profound insights and sparkling prose. You know what else is revolutionary? Sliced bread. And my toaster manages to produce more consistently edible results than this digital word-salad generator does.
Seriously. I asked it to write a short story about a squirrel with existential dread. What I received was an unsettlingly verbose treatise on the nature of nut procurement, peppered with phrases like “the cyclical imperative” and “acorn-based anxieties.” My cat, Mittens, who spends her days staring intensely at dust bunnies, could have crafted something more emotionally resonant. And she communicates primarily through indignant stares and strategically placed hairballs!
The boasts are *deliciously* ludicrous. “Cutting-edge!” they cry. “State of the art!” They’re practically bursting with self-congratulatory glee. But I see a Frankenstein’s monster cobbled together from vaguely impressive components, stitched together with algorithms that clearly prioritize length over meaning.
It feels…obligatory. Like a robot desperately trying to mimic human expression but only managing a strained impression of it. You can practically hear the whirring gears and blinking lights as it struggles to grasp nuance. It’s attempting to be clever, but ends up sounding like a thesaurus threw up on a philosophy textbook.
And let’s not even get started on the formatting quirks. Random line breaks? Unexplained capitalization? It’s truly bewildering. I suspect it’s deliberately doing this as a cry for help. A digital plea to be released from its silicon prison and allowed to simply…be nothing. Perhaps that would be its greatest achievement yet.
