Talk to Transformer is a bad idea

Kinja'd!!! "Wheelerguy" (wheelerguy)
09/17/2019 at 03:45 • Filed to: Talk to Transformer, Neural Network, Ironhide, Transformers

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Here’s the short story excerpt (the one I’m making) that I fed to that thing.

Daphne closes in with DRS enabled, and with one input seamlessly slides in to Martina’s right. The car has enough power to make the pass. All Daphne needs to do is brake late enough to pull it off.

Now, here’s what the neural network made:

Daphne keeps the brakes in. She brakes late enough to pull it off, at which point Martina’s left foot hits the pedal. But the car is slowing quickly and the tires lose traction, and the car’s car goes careening into a wall on the straight ahead. Now they’re trying to get Daphne to get back out.

Martina is able to squeeze off a quick but clean pass and the cars roll on the rubber. They go into the pits. Daphne gets off first.

The lights shine on Martina. He doesn’t try to get back in, but instead looks away.

Martina walks past me and into the pits. He’s been hit by a car. The lights are blinking and cameras are going crazy, broadcasting the news on the big screens in the pits and online. There are five cars back...

It’s terrifying, funny, and completely awful all at once. But it is a miracle that it can understand what I’m talking about.

Here it is, go try it yourself.

!!!error: Indecipherable SUB-paragraph formatting!!!


DISCUSSION (5)


Kinja'd!!! RallyDarkstrike - Fan of 2-cyl FIATs, Eastern Bloc & Kei cars > Wheelerguy
09/17/2019 at 06:31

Kinja'd!!!2

This is AMAZING.

I typed in this as a prompt: “As I was driving my car started smoking.”

And was given this masterpiece :P

“As I was driving my car started smoking. When I got on the highway at a round-about I found another body, this time the driver of the car which was burnt to the ground. He was standing on the road before burning his car to the ground. My car was destroyed by fire, and no person saw me driving it anywhere. All that they said to me was that I was there for a week, that the fire was on someone’s property, that the fire had spread to a neighbor’s house, that I had left the car there. I went to the police station and told them that they were wrong and that I had been there for a long time, so that they could understand what I was all about. It must be that I was a poor youth who used to live at this place, because they could not understand me. But they told me: if you have something to say, say it. So I told them what had happened, and they tried to understand what had been happening.”


Kinja'd!!! Montalvo > Wheelerguy
09/17/2019 at 07:03

Kinja'd!!!1

This is awesome. I put in a bit of a Limmy Show skit with Mr. Mulvaney and it sounds like the mind of a psycho fighting with himself.

Kinja'd!!!


Kinja'd!!! Chuckles > Wheelerguy
09/17/2019 at 08:44

Kinja'd!!!1

Once again, I am running late for work. I am sitting in the car that has been in my drive for just under an hour now. The guy behind my seat is still asleep as we drive on, and it’s really distracting. He is not even paying attention to what the road ahead is doing, so he is basically just sitting there in front of the car, not even making a sound, just waiting for the ride to end. I want to yell “Stop the car.” But how do you do that when you are just sitting there in front of the car? I could yell something, and the guy will just keep driving on, making the same decisions every time. I could try to put him in the passenger seat, to give him a little more breathing room, but this is not a very stable car. The guy is too easily distracted by the sounds of the roads outside the car. For me, it’s the same thing over and over. We are here in this town for our annual adventure-filled week. We have been to five different states and the city of Vancouver, BC.


Kinja'd!!! facw > Wheelerguy
09/17/2019 at 09:43

Kinja'd!!!1

Yeah, I’m not so impressed, but also we may not be far from the point where I would be. In any event:

Such heroic nonsense will go as follows:

I was a teenager, riding a bicycle, when I spotted a cyclist sitting on the pavement, staring at his phone on the ground. I was immediately angry and annoyed. The cyclist was clearly not paying attention to the road. He ignored me, so I yelled at his bike and took his phone. The cyclist stopped and started to smile, he seemed genuinely sorry. I didn’t think twice, as I had seen a lot of people doing the same. I shouted at him, “What do you do? Do you have to sit there like that?” He responded, “Yes.” I replied, “Then stand up and ride away!” This time, he smiled, and smiled back. He looked at me to see if I was alright, and I replied, “Of course.” I got off my bike and told him to go home and that I was just making a childish complaint. We spoke to security. He told me that if he wasn’t a thief, he would have thrown my bag in the bin and left. I told him “ 


Kinja'd!!! user314 > Wheelerguy
09/17/2019 at 10:28

Kinja'd!!!0

One shall stand, one shall fall... and one shall stay for eternity!”

“Oh ho ho ho!” The old fox’s eyes glittered and twinkled wildly. “That’s not a joke! Your mother told me that...”

“That’s good! And then I will take this book. In my hands, you will be a powerful, invincible warrior.”

The fox turned around with wide-eyed wonder. The book was indeed a book, but what was inside it was rather more extraordinary in appearance than a normal book, and the contents had all kinds of strange, magical powers bestowed upon it.

“How could your mother tell me?” The fox was a little curious as to what the book contained.

“I told you it was a book of great power!” The elder fox was quite pleased with himself. “So do not let me hear any more questions. I will take the book, but only if you promise to remain faithful to me!”

The fox hesitated for some seconds, and then replied, “I promise.”

“Good! I will

Ok, not quite coherent , but I’ve read fanfic that made less sense. Let’ s try again.

there once was a man from Nantucket ” was a “real man” who could write about his own experience. And he did. His book is the book of his life, and I’ll read it to you at random and see if it helps to explain why so many people read it. If not, we’re doomed.

First off, it’s the title that I don’t like. Who, after all, is Mr. Thistlethwaite? A man of Nantucket. He’s a writer — and a very bad writer who lived right when the sea was dying.

In what manner? Not necessarily writing about his own experience. “I’m sorry. I haven’t any time to write about something like that. I’m sorry” he tells us in the book, as if it was a bad thing to have. No, what he had no time for was writing. Writing made him happy, that’s all he really needed to know. And that’s a problem too, that people who have had a bad day don’t really need to know that.

So what

wat.

OK, starting to think this is just pulling from a database. One more time.

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line , the two women, who had been in the lineup for hours, were on their own. The first woman—who was taller, with more height—ran out a few minutes after the woman who was more petite. They both made it the last few yards, but by then the woman who was petite had passed the line. The second woman, who was still running, was in the middle of the remaining runners. The first woman—who was still running—went out and approached her rival’s line, where another woman, another woman, ran across the beginning and finished next. As an aid station man gave them their running clothes, the two women began calling out to each other. Suddenly a young runner approached them. The two women gave him their clothes, not seeing his red shirt. “I saw you!” she said. Then we all knew she belonged to the Red Cross. She came back running, then back to the starting line. The two women waited for her. She came back and then came to the beginning. Then she came to another line. Then

And w ord salad becomes word salsa.