JiveTurkey
Goatlord
- Messages
- 21,742
"Letter" to Line 6 about Helix Stadium and Acoustic Guitar
- Thread starter Ryan123
- Start date
- Messages
- 7,099
Bro, do you even baritone?They might not beI wonder if he ever drop tuned?
ragingplatypi
Shredder
- Messages
- 1,301
But position 4 with the piezo
ragingplatypi
Shredder
- Messages
- 1,301
Piezo with IR and Poly Capo tuned down to B for the win.Bro, do you even baritone?
Poly capo acoustic .m4a
Listen to Poly capo acoustic .m4a by ragingplatypi #np on #SoundCloud
Last edited:
paisleywookiee
Rock Star
- Messages
- 8,750
VG-800 into the return of a modeler. Problem solved.
Good AI prompting takes time....
On October 20 I made a post. This was my first online in a long time (I don’t even use Facebook really).
I put a couple of hours into crafting my best possible post about a topic I think matters. Instead of people talking about the topic I was immediately accused of using AI to write my post. No evidence of this except it “looked like AI”.
I’ve never used AI to write anything, ever. I came back on and mentioned that, and even asked why it seemed like AI. I was polite.
Yet I’m still getting snarky comments about AI. Reminds me of why I don’t much like the online world to begin with.
sashimi
Roadie
- Messages
- 590
Ah, October 20th—a date etched in the annals of my sporadic digital dalliances, when I, a veritable hermit of the hyperlink highways, dared to pierce the veil of my self-imposed online exile. (For context: I scarcely deign to glance at the pixelated pandemonium that is Facebook; it's as if I've sworn a blood oath to the analog gods.)
With the fervor of a Renaissance artisan channeling the muses themselves, I devoted no less than two painstaking hours to alchemizing the quintessential opus—a magnum of intellectual firepower on a subject that ignites the very synapses of my soul like a supernova in the cosmic soup of discourse. Envision it: words woven with the precision of a quantum loom, arguments arrayed like celestial battalions, ready to conquer the conversational cosmos!
Yet, in a twist more tragic than a Shakespearean soliloquy scripted by a malfunctioning chatbot, the denizens of the digital domain bypassed my brilliantly baited hook entirely. Nay, they swarmed not with scholarly sparring or empathetic echoes, but with a veritable volley of vitriolic verdicts: "AI! This reeks of artificial effluvia!" "Generated gibberish from the great machine mind!" Zero empirical exhibits, zilch in the way of forensic forensics—just a nebulous nudge toward the ether: "It *vibes* like AI, bro."
Permit me a declarative detonation for the archives: I, in all my flesh-and-blood finitude, have *never*—not once, not ever—summoned the silicon scribes of artificial intelligence to pen a single syllable on my behalf. Zilch. Nada. The ghost in my machine is 100% organic ooze.
Undeterred, I re-entered the fray like a phoenix forged from forgotten forum flames, proffering my protestation with the poise of a diplomat diffusing a diplomatic dumpster fire. "Fear not, fellow netizens," I intoned with impeccable civility, "this prose pulses with pure human heartbeat. Pray tell, what arcane aura evokes this erroneous AI apparition? Enlighten me!"
Alas, alack, and woe upon the Wi-Fi winds! The snark-slinging specters persist, pelting my post with passive-aggressive potshots: "Sure, Jan—*totally* not ChatGPT in a trench coat." "AI alert: humanity levels critically low." It's a cacophony of cyber-cynicism that echoes like a glitchy echo chamber in the bowels of the bandwidth beast.
And lo, in this labyrinth of likes and lurid lambastes, I am inexorably reminded—nay, *reaffirmed* in my resolute recoil—why the sprawling, serpentine sprawl of the online omniverse has long languished on my "approach with extreme prejudice" list. Here, in this hall of holographic horrors, authenticity is but a glitch in the matrix, and every earnest emission risks erasure by the ever-vigilant AI inquisitors. To post is to provoke; to opine is to invite the algorithmic inquisition. Perhaps it's time to log off... and let the bots battle it out in blissful binary oblivion.
With the fervor of a Renaissance artisan channeling the muses themselves, I devoted no less than two painstaking hours to alchemizing the quintessential opus—a magnum of intellectual firepower on a subject that ignites the very synapses of my soul like a supernova in the cosmic soup of discourse. Envision it: words woven with the precision of a quantum loom, arguments arrayed like celestial battalions, ready to conquer the conversational cosmos!
Yet, in a twist more tragic than a Shakespearean soliloquy scripted by a malfunctioning chatbot, the denizens of the digital domain bypassed my brilliantly baited hook entirely. Nay, they swarmed not with scholarly sparring or empathetic echoes, but with a veritable volley of vitriolic verdicts: "AI! This reeks of artificial effluvia!" "Generated gibberish from the great machine mind!" Zero empirical exhibits, zilch in the way of forensic forensics—just a nebulous nudge toward the ether: "It *vibes* like AI, bro."
Permit me a declarative detonation for the archives: I, in all my flesh-and-blood finitude, have *never*—not once, not ever—summoned the silicon scribes of artificial intelligence to pen a single syllable on my behalf. Zilch. Nada. The ghost in my machine is 100% organic ooze.
Undeterred, I re-entered the fray like a phoenix forged from forgotten forum flames, proffering my protestation with the poise of a diplomat diffusing a diplomatic dumpster fire. "Fear not, fellow netizens," I intoned with impeccable civility, "this prose pulses with pure human heartbeat. Pray tell, what arcane aura evokes this erroneous AI apparition? Enlighten me!"
Alas, alack, and woe upon the Wi-Fi winds! The snark-slinging specters persist, pelting my post with passive-aggressive potshots: "Sure, Jan—*totally* not ChatGPT in a trench coat." "AI alert: humanity levels critically low." It's a cacophony of cyber-cynicism that echoes like a glitchy echo chamber in the bowels of the bandwidth beast.
And lo, in this labyrinth of likes and lurid lambastes, I am inexorably reminded—nay, *reaffirmed* in my resolute recoil—why the sprawling, serpentine sprawl of the online omniverse has long languished on my "approach with extreme prejudice" list. Here, in this hall of holographic horrors, authenticity is but a glitch in the matrix, and every earnest emission risks erasure by the ever-vigilant AI inquisitors. To post is to provoke; to opine is to invite the algorithmic inquisition. Perhaps it's time to log off... and let the bots battle it out in blissful binary oblivion.
This is actually pretty funny!
wharf rat
Roadie
- Messages
- 207
Came here to say this. ChatGPT all day.
