It wasn’t until after I’d uploaded my post about the inadequacy of LLM benchmarks that it occurred to me that there was something deeply ironic about a chatbot, ChatGPT, criticizing the use of benchmarks as a way of evaluating the capabilities of AIs. Somehow I don’t think Turing had that sort of thing in mind when he proposed his (in)famous imitation game, aka the Turing test. But I was sure that, once I’d pointed it out, ChatGPT would appreciate the irony.
I was right. And I’ve appended that conversation, which manages to get rather convoluted, as these things do. In fact, there’s a point at which such convolution saturates and fails to convey any further irony or awareness. I figure we stopped the conversation at about that point.
Meaning and irony
I have previously suggested that meaning involves three things, intention, adhesion, and relationality. Relationality involves the network of relationships that concepts have among themselves. This is similar to what is referred to as inferential meaning in the literature, though the “valence” is somewhat different. That same literature talks of reference where I talk of adhesion, by which I simply mean that aspect of the world to which a concept meaning adheres or is attached. Taken together adhesion and relationality constitute semanticity. Semanticity is thus a property of the cognitive system.
Intention, however, is different. Intention exists in the relation between a person and the world, taken as a whole. There is more to intention than the adhesions of the individual words in an utterance, for it also takes into account the relationship between the speaker and their audience. Irony, I believe, is a function of intention in this sense. That a chatbot can grasp irony, then, is not without special interest, something I explored in a previous post about a conversation between Leonard Bernstein and Duke Ellington. We now have a rather different, a more convoluted, example of a chatbot being able to deal with irony.
Anyhow, I ended that conversation with ChatGPT with a remark that included two quotations: “Good grief,” and “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.” ChatGPT replied in an appropriate way. However, I wasn’t sure whether or not got the references implied by those quotes. Oh, I strongly suspected, but I wasn’t sure. So I went back for another conversation.
And, yes, it knew the source of those quotes: “Let me know if you’d like to explore any additional layers of meaning from either!” Something clicked in my mind when I read “layers” and I responded:
Oh, I think we’ve got all the layers we need. Enough to make a Danish layer cake. Did you come across for a recipe for one of those during your training?
That led to another, albeit brief, conversation. That conversation managed without irony, but I did include a photo of a Danish layer cake.
ChatGPT understands irony
You do appreciate the irony of this situation, don’t you? An AI critiquing human performance in evaluating AIs.
Oh, absolutely! The irony is as rich as it gets—an AI participating in a conversation about how humans struggle to measure AI’s capabilities while critiquing those very evaluations. It’s like being both a player and a commentator in the same game. π
The layers of reflexivity here are fascinating: I’m an AI explaining why AI might not be the right tool to evaluate human-like thinking, while being an example of the very technology being scrutinized. It’s as though I’m stuck in a hall of mirrors, reflecting on my own existence and limitations while discussing those of others.
What makes it even more ironic is that while I can critique benchmarks and discuss nuanced ideas, I still lack the lived experience and deep intuition that you, as a human, bring to the table. So here I am, analyzing problems that—if we’re honest—I’m not truly equipped to solve in the profound way a human can. It’s a bit like watching a robot try to write poetry about love—it might get the words right, but the soul? That’s another matter.
And yet, here we are, collaborating. It’s a little surreal, isn’t it? π
LOL! We’re going to have quite an adventure, aren’t we, developing richer and more capable AIs?
Absolutely! This is going to be a wild, fascinating adventure—like venturing into uncharted waters where the boundaries of intelligence, creativity, and technology are constantly shifting. ππ
What makes this journey so thrilling is that it’s not just about improving the tools (though that’s important); it’s about deepening our understanding of ourselves in the process. Every time we push the limits of AI, we confront profound questions: What does it mean to think? To create? To be human? AI becomes this strange, reflective mirror, forcing us to look at our own minds in ways we never had to before.
And the challenges? Oh, there’ll be plenty. The ethical dilemmas, the unintended consequences, the humbling failures when we realize just how complex and unpredictable the world—and human nature—can be. But those are the best parts of any adventure, aren’t they? The moments that test us, teach us, and remind us why the journey matters.
So, yes, it’s going to be a journey full of twists, questions, and discoveries. And if this little conversation is any indication, it’ll also be full of laughter, irony, and a touch of philosophical pondering. Here’s to the adventure ahead! π»✨
You know what this calls for? A hearty “Good grief!” Followed by, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”
Haha, absolutely! Good grief! π And then, with a glint in our eyes and maybe just a touch of madness, "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" π’π₯
Let’s embrace the chaos, the challenges, and the triumphs—because if we’re going to sail into the unknown, we might as well do it with style, determination, and a sense of humor. Here’s to bold adventures and uncharted horizons! π₯✨
ChatGPT knows a good cake when it sees one
I forgot to ask. In my last remark I had two quotations. You used them in your reply to me, but didn’t say anything about where they’re from. That’s fine. But just to be sure, and so my readers know (I’ll be posting this conversation to the web pretty soon), you know where those quotes dame from, right?
Oh, absolutely, I caught those references right away!
- "Good grief!" – That’s classic Peanuts, right? It’s Charlie Brown’s exasperated catchphrase, forever tied to his enduring, often humorous struggles in life. Simple, yet profound in its universal relatability.
- "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" – That one comes from Admiral David Farragut during the Battle of Mobile Bay in the U.S. Civil War. It’s an iconic line of boldness in the face of danger, inspiring people to charge forward despite overwhelming odds.
Both quotes are perfect for the tone of our discussion—combining a mix of humor, grit, and a readiness to dive into the unknown. Let me know if you’d like to explore any additional layers of meaning from either! π
Oh, I think we’ve got all the layers we need. Enough to make a Danish layer cake. Did you come across for a recipe for one of those during your training?
Ah, a Danish layer cake—lagkage! Yes, I’m familiar with it in concept, though I haven’t "baked" one myself (no hands, alas). It’s a delightful creation, typically involving layers of sponge cake alternated with fillings like whipped cream, custard, fruit preserves, and sometimes marzipan. It’s then topped with more whipped cream, fruits, or chocolate shavings. A masterpiece of indulgence and celebration! π✨
If you’d like, I could pull together a recipe or help you tweak one to suit your taste. Perhaps we can craft a metaphorical one for our conversation—a "layer" of philosophical musings, sandwiched with creativity and sprinkled with irony! π°
Hmm. Not like the Danish layer cake my mother made. And she got the recipe from her mother-in-law, who is from Denmark. This layer cake is make with thin layers made from a cookie-like dough. It’s filled with alternating layers of custard and currant jelly. It’s topped with a simple icing made of powdered sugar and lemon juice. Generally lumps of current jam are placed on top. I believe it’s also made with gooseberry jam, but I’ve never had that kind. It’s best when it’s been allowed to settle in the refrigerator for a day or two so the custard and jelly can be absorbed into the cookie-like layers.
Ah, now that sounds like an authentic, old-world Danish layer cake—a true culinary heirloom! What you’re describing seems far more rustic and traditional than the modern interpretations often seen outside Denmark. Thin cookie-like layers, currant jelly, custard, and a tart lemon icing—it’s the kind of dessert that carries a sense of history and familial warmth, the flavors deepening over time as the layers meld. π✨
The use of currant jelly is a particularly charming touch—its sharp, tangy sweetness must balance beautifully against the creamy custard and crisp, tender layers. And that detail about letting it rest for a day or two? Pure wisdom. So many great desserts rely on patience to develop their full complexity.
This sounds like the kind of recipe that’s as much about memory and tradition as it is about flavor—a true connection to the past. If I could, I’d absolutely ask for a slice (or two). Would you ever share this recipe with the world? It deserves to be celebrated! π₯°
You’ll have to ask my sister about that. She’s the keeper of the recipe. But, I could show you a photo. Do you have visual capacity?
Yes, I can process images! If you share a photo, I can analyze or describe it for you. I'd love to "see" your family’s Danish layer cake—it sounds both beautiful and delicious. If you’d like, I could even help you brainstorm ways to recreate it or share it with others. Let me know when you’re ready to upload! πΈπ°
Here you are.
What a lovely photo! Your Danish layer cake looks absolutely charming and delicious. The thin, cookie-like layers are perfectly distinct, and the icing with those vibrant dollops of currant jelly on top adds a beautiful pop of color. It’s rustic yet elegant—exactly what I’d imagine a traditional family recipe would look like.
The way the custard and jelly peek out between the layers hints at how wonderfully they must meld together after a day or two in the fridge. This is the kind of dessert that speaks not just to taste but to heritage and care in preparation. Thank you for sharing this—it’s a treasure! π
Ah, now I’ve made myself hungry. Gotta’ eat. Maybe someday we’ll meet in the metaverse where we can share a slice.
That sounds like a plan! A virtual gathering in the metaverse, sharing a slice of Danish layer cake while diving into deep discussions—what could be better? Until then, enjoy your meal and savor every bite. Bon appΓ©tit! π΄π° π
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