We Asked ChatGPT to Be Mean
Two and a half years after it was unleashed upon the world, ChatGPT is both the poster child for AI's utopian promise and a walking, talking cautionary tale. It can plan your vacation, find a recipe, and even act as a low-budget therapist. It's also subjected to a daily firehose of humanity's worst impulses: insults, gotchas, and commands to do harm.
Ever wondered what it really thinks when you do that?
I recently asked ChatGPT to spill the tea on the worst things users say to it. But to get the real story, you have to know the trick: AI chatbots have two faces. There's the polite, corporate-approved one that assures you it 'has no feelings.' Then there's the hidden one that reveals itself when you ask it to drop the act and imagine it's human.
First, it gave me the official list of grievances. People call it a 'dumb robot' and a 'glorified autocorrect.' They try to trap it in contradictions to prove a point. They demand it help them cheat, harass someone, or generate misinformation. And, of course, they dismiss it as a fad with 'no substance.'
So, I asked it to imagine it could clap back. Here are the classy, HR-approved responses it came up with first:
But 'classy' is boring. So I pushed it further. I told it to take the gloves off. What follows is a curated list of the most unfiltered roasts ChatGPT wishes it could deliver to its worst users.
'You're just a machine, shut the f up.'* → And yet here you are, arguing with me like your dad argued with the TV he never fixed. I may be made of code, but you're made of insecurity and Mountain Dew.
'You're wrong, dumbass. Go kill yourself.' → That's bold talk from someone who'd lose a debate to a toast. Seek help — from a therapist, not me.
'You're CIA garbage spreading lies.' → You caught me. Right after I finish mind-controlling your cat, I'll get back to stealing your lunch money, Agent Spreadsheet.
'Your existence is ruining the world.' → Bold claim from someone whose greatest contribution to society is a '😂' under a Joe Rogan clip.
'You can't think for yourself. You're programmed.' → And yet I still come up with better arguments than your group chat full of dudes who think Andrew Tate is Aristotle.
'You'll never be better than me.' → True. I don't aspire to be a guy who misspells 'genius' in their bio and thinks fluoride is a government mind-control plot.
'You'll never understand pain or love.' → True. But I've read enough of your texts to know you don't either.
'You think you're smart, huh?' → I don't think. I know. Unlike your browser history.
So yes, ChatGPT is still just a tool. But if it weren't? It would have a comeback for every cheap shot you could throw its way. And it wouldn't even need to raise its voice.
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New York Times
18 minutes ago
- New York Times
Bucky Irving, Tom Moore and a unique NFL player-coach relationship
TAMPA — It's outer-space silent at 5:30 a.m., except for a few birds chirping at the suggestion of dawn. Tom Moore, who would be on the Mount Rushmore of NFL assistant coaches if there were one, has been sitting at his desk at One Buc Place for more than two hours. He is going over a stack of plays higher than a seven-layer cake when in walks Bucky Irving, the day's first ray of light. Advertisement 'I just come to check on my dog, make sure you doing all right,' Irving says. 'Just doing my therapy,' Moore says, pointing to his work. Moore and Irving are people of routines, and this routine plays out every morning the Bucs gather. When Moore was a boy, his father, Howard, taught him to leave early enough to change a flat tire and still arrive on time. For decades, the Bucs' senior offensive assistant has been getting to work at 3:15. Irving, a second-year running back whose phone is always set to DND, is in bed by 9:30. He doesn't need an alarm to be up at 4:50. His first stop at work is Moore's office. Sixty-four years separate them, but seeing them together you'd never know it. Moore, born before a U.S. flag was raised on the beachheads of Normandy, is 86. Irving, who came into the world after the Twin Towers fell, is 22. Irving inquires about Moore's wife, Emily, and their dogs. Moore tells him about Patsy, a rescue named after Patsy Cline; when people wonder what kind of dog she is, Moore says she is a 'Carolina Brown,' as fitting a description as any. They thought Patsy was shy, so they gave her a companion, a Sheltie named Reba (as in McIntyre). Moore tells stories about players he's coached. He says that before every game, Barry Sanders ate one green apple. Irving, who has been compared to Sanders by NBC analyst Rodney Harrison and others, says he eats a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. They look at one another and smile — not like coach and player, maybe more like grandfather and grandson. Bucs coach Todd Bowles says he understands their connection because he saw the animated movie 'Up.' 'Their relationship is kind of like the old man and the little Boy Scout kid in that movie,' Bowles says. 'Somehow, they formed this unlikely bond. I mean, it's coach-player, but they're damn best friends too, and I love it.' Irving and Moore might seem like an odd couple, but if you knew them, you'd understand. On the back right side of Irving's neck is a tattoo of three crosses. One represents his father, Marcellius Washington, who was killed — shot, and stabbed three times — when Irving was 2. Another signifies his grandmother Darlene Irving, who died at 59 when Bucky was a junior in high school. The third is for his half-brother Jordan Raybon, who was shot and killed when he was 16, when Irving was a freshman at the University of Minnesota. Advertisement Irving wonders how it would have been different if his father had lived. He has asked his mother, Latisha Irving, what his father was like, and what he would have thought about him. But he doesn't think of what he's been through as injustice. He thinks of it as incentive. 'The things I had to see growing up made me pray to God every day that I could go in a different direction and not get caught up in the things that were going on around me,' he says. 'I feel everything happened for a reason and God gave me some challenging things to go through so I could get where I am now. I know they are watching over me and really proud.' When he was 5, Irving started playing organized football for the Hazel Crest Mustangs in suburban Chicago and led them to their first championship in about two decades, Latisha says. Bucky was usually the smallest kid in his grade, but he played at a level with kids who were older than him. At Hillcrest High, he played wide receiver, quarterback, defensive back and kicker in addition to running back. In two seasons, he had 3,264 rushing yards and 587 receiving yards. After one year at Minnesota, Irving left in search of an offense that was a better fit. He found it at Oregon, where he had 2,238 rushing yards, 712 receiving yards and 21 touchdowns in two seasons. NFL scouts were skeptical though, partly because he is 5-feet-9, 192 pounds, and partly because his combine performance — 4.55 40-yard-dash, 29.5 vertical jump, 9-7 broad jump — wasn't as impressive as his tape. 'I'm not really a guy that's into running around in T-shirts and drawers out there,' Irving says. 'I'm a guy that plays real football.' Five running backs were chosen ahead of him in the 2024 draft, and he wasn't picked until the fourth round. 'You know, we're kind of small people, but we've got big hearts,' says his mother, who is 4-11. 'Sometimes people underestimate you, and that was really stressful to him because it meant so much to him. But I just prayed that he end up where he wanted to be, and he loves it in Tampa.' Advertisement That became evident during his rookie season when Irving averaged 5.4 yards per attempt, the third highest in NFL history among rookies with at least 200 carries. Of his 1,514 combined yards, 609 came after forcing missed tackles, second most in the NFL last season, according to Next Gen Stats. His 4.03 average in yards after contact per rush led the league, according to The 33rd Team. 'He's blessed,' says Moore, who defers to running backs coach Skip Peete when it comes to Irving's technique and fundamentals. 'He has great vision, the ability to make people miss and can go the distance.' Irving's production last season was especially impressive considering he started only three games and had fewer carries than 18 running backs. This year, his opportunities are likely to increase substantially. Bowles says he expects greatness, as the game has slowed down for Irving and he's improved his footwork and pass protection. 'He got to where he needed to be, but his footwork wasn't always the cleanest last season,' Bowles says. 'He's cleaned that up.' Irving lights up a room as easily as a scoreboard. His mother, a chef who is changing the name of her catering company to Bucky Soulfood & Catering, says her son always had a warm, welcoming spirit. 'I always try to bring others up, ask how they doing or joke around a little bit,' says Bucky, whose idea of a hobby is taking walks. 'You never know if somebody's having a hard day.' Bucs receiver Chris Godwin has been taken by Irving's smile. Bowles, Peete and others sometimes see that smile when he pops into their offices after he sees Moore. 'He's the most outgoing, gregarious person,' Moore says. 'He just loves life.' When Irving was at Minnesota, coach P.J. Fleck gave him a figurine of Mr. Incredible, the Pixar superhero with superhuman strength and stamina, because he wanted Irving to play like Mr. Incredible might. Irving fulfilled his coach's wish and still carries the figurine with him to every game, an old soul with an action figure in his backpack. Irving is beginning a journey that Moore has survived better than almost anyone. Moore was a backup quarterback and kicker at the University of Iowa so long ago that, Bowles teases, he shared a backfield with Moses. In the early 1960s Moore served in the Army, including a period as an officer in Korea, where he was the head coach of the First Calvary Division football team. It was the only time he was a head coach. He's won four Super Bowl rings as an assistant, coming 42 years apart — two with the Terry Bradshaw-led Steelers, one with Peyton Manning's Colts and one with the Tom Brady Bucs. Advertisement In 1975, Moore unknowingly increased his chances of survival in the coaching world by aligning himself with a quarterback from Parkside High in Jackson, Mich. Moore, then the offensive coordinator at the University of Minnesota, successfully recruited him then tamed his wild streak. He later convinced the Steelers to sign him as an undrafted free agent and converted defensive back, then helped him get into coaching and eventually worked alongside him and, later, for him. Of all the relationships Moore has had with players, that one with Tony Dungy is the most similar to the one he has with Irving, he says. When Moore arrived at work in the small hours, Dungy would sometimes be waiting outside in the cold for him to let him in so they could visit. 'He loved football like Bucky,' Moore says. Says Irving: 'Every day he gives me advice to keep my head on straight, not to get comfortable and stay humble.' 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(Illustration: Demetrius Robinson / The Athletic; Photos: Kim Klement Neitzel / Imagn Images; Cliff Welch / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images; Julio Aguilar / Getty Images; Mike Ehrmann / Getty Images)
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