AI Magic: Making Your Friends Laugh with ChatGPT and Midjourney

Despite all the hype these days, you may be surprised at a simple yet powerful stat. What percentage of humanity would you guess has used ChatGPT?

Less than 3%.?

Estimates on the user base are hard to pin down, but there are likely between 100 million and 200 million daily active users. Interestingly we are starting to see a leveling off of usage, suggesting the initial hype cycle is dying down. Monthly visits to the ChatGPT website ramped steadily from 0 in November to 1.6 billion in March but only ticked up to 1.7 billion in April (data from similarweb).

Why hasn’t the entire world used it already? Well, this is just the natural technology adoption curve playing out. The timeframe is faster than anything we’ve seen before, but it still takes time. There are real economic costs to overcome. The model is too general for most use cases. Many people have yet to be exposed. Some are scared off by very real privacy and security concerns. Many simply are happy with their current way of exploring, analyzing, and interpreting knowledge.

Even though ChatGPT has been called “The fastest growing product in history”, the point is, more than 97% of the world has never used it.?

You know some of those people. Find one. Make them laugh with generative AI. You will be mutually enriched. And it’s a safe way to build necessary #generativeai skills as a knowledge professional while mitigating the risk.

I’ll give you an example.

Recently, we were coming home from a Sunday out at my father-in-law's house. Bob and I have a running joke where he annually adds tomato seedlings to planters near the pool, and they slowly struggle to bear fruit throughout the summer. Just when the tomatoes threaten to turn a ripe red, the local chipmunks run out and help themselves. By the end of the season, he is left with bare vines, and all winter to contemplate if it’s all worth it or not.

We also have taken to talking about AI. He’s one of the many people who are interested but have not directly dipped their toe in the pool yet, so to speak. And Bob is in good company. Compared to ChatGPT’s ~2 billion monthly visits, Facebook rakes in 17, YouTube 33, and Google 80!

When we returned home, I had a few minutes to myself in the driveway, as my son had fallen asleep during the car ride. I pulled out my phone, opened ChatGPT, and wrote:

“Write a poem in the style of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" about a chipmunk that steals cherry tomatoes from a backyard in Framingham, Massachusetts.

The poem should have the following plot points...

1. Chipmunk discovers cherry tomato plants by a backyard pool

2. Chipmunk steals cherry tomatoes

3. Chipmunk stores a cache of cherry tomatoes?

4. Chipmunk sells the cherry tomatoes in a local farmers' market

5. Chipmunk gets rich from selling the cherry tomatoes

6. Chipmunk gets caught, tried, convicted, and thrown in jail”

Its response is below, for those interested.

I also opened Midjourney and had it create a few images: “a chipmunk staring at cherry tomato plants near a pool”, “a chipmunk as a defendant in court”, simple stuff. You get the idea.

I sent it along to Bob on our Telegram thread. His response:

“Cass, this is amazing! Was this text generated by an AI app or by you?”

In a lightweight way, we were able to further our conversation about AI, shared a laugh, and learned a thing or two about prompting in the process.

Next time you have a few minutes to spare, try sharing the joy and adventure of AI with someone you know in “the 97%.” You’ll be glad you did.

Listen my children and you shall hear,

Of a little chipmunk, both bold and clear.

He spotted a glimmer in the garden fair,

A splatter of red, in the open air,

By the side of a sparkling pool so cool,

Stood cherry tomatoes, like glistening jewels.

One by one, with cheeks so wide,

He snatched them up, no place to hide.

Under moonlight, stars above,

He went about his labor of love.

He gathered his bounty, for the season anew,

Cherry tomatoes, of every hue.

In a hole beneath an ancient oak,

He stashed them away from the local folk.

Then under the morn's early light, he'd awake,

And to the farmer's market, his journey he'd make.

The tomatoes were sold, each and every one,

As the villagers came with the rising sun.

With each passing week, the coin would flow,

The little chipmunk's riches began to grow.

From cherries so sweet, he'd built a hoard,

With each shiny coin, his wealth soared.

But alas, my children, his fame spread wide,

From Boston to Lowell, the countryside.

The whispers grew of a thief so small,

Who sold the sweetest tomatoes of all.

The sheriff, a bulldog, sniffed out the truth,

Determined, relentless, uncouth.

He followed the trail, to the ancient oak,

The evidence there, clear as a yolk.

So, in Framingham court, he stood so small,

Before the judge, in the great town hall.

Guilty, they cried, of theft so vile,

A sentence, they said, would take a while.

He was led away, under lock and key,

This little chipmunk, so spry and free.

In the Framingham jail, he serves his time,

For a crime of passion, so sublime.

So through the night, when tomatoes gleam,

Remember the tale, as if in a dream,

Of a chipmunk bold, whose fate was sealed,

In the gardens of Framingham, the truth revealed.