If you use an AI assistant (ex. ChatGPT), what do you use it for?

Writing code, explaining concepts that I’m unfamiliar with, especially in a socratic method kind of way, troubleshooting technical problems, practicing sales pitches, reverse searches where I know the concept or ideas, but can’t remember or don’t know the keyword. I also use it to help create backstories for D&D characters. I’ll explain the character concept and it’ll help me come up with names and details. I use the image generation for D&D character portrait generation, and even some prototypes for wine label ideas.

Here’s an example of a conversation I had with it trying to understand low-sulfur winemaking processes:

ME: “So when they’re bottle aging, though, and the micro-oxidation process occurs without the sulfur in the wine, does that cause a problem for aging potential?”

CHATGPT: “Yes, it can pose challenges. Without sulfites, wines are more vulnerable to oxidation and spoilage, which can affect their aging potential. However, winemakers can use alternative methods to protect the wine. These include:
1. Using Antioxidant Additives: Natural compounds like tannins and glutathione can help.
2. Using Oxygen-Impermeable Materials: Bottles with better seals and using screw caps can help minimize oxygen exposure.
3. Early Consumption: Many low-sulfur wines are made for earlier consumption to enjoy their freshness.

Ultimately, achieving a balance between low sulfites and ageability requires careful winemaking and often results in wines meant for shorter-term aging. Does that help clarify?”

ME: “It does. Can you tell me more about glutathione?”

CHATGPT: “Glutathione is a natural antioxidant found in grapes and wine. It plays a significant role in protecting wine from oxidation. Here’s how it works:
1. Preservation: Glutathione helps preserve the wine’s color, aroma, and flavor by neutralizing oxidative compounds.
2. Interaction with Sulfur: It can work in conjunction with lower levels of sulfur dioxide, providing additional protection.
3. Natural Source: It’s naturally present in grapes, especially in the skins and lees, and can be managed through careful winemaking practices.

Winemakers can optimize glutathione levels by controlling oxygen exposure during processing and by choosing specific yeast strains that can enhance glutathione production. It’s another tool winemakers use to protect wine naturally. Does that help?”

ME: “Yes, do winemakers not doing low oxygen ever add glutathione to their production process? And if so, or if not, why not?”

CHATGPT: “Winemakers who aren’t strictly focusing on low-oxygen strategies can still add glutathione to their production process. It’s often used to boost the wine’s natural antioxidant capacity and help with preservation.

However, its use can depend on the winemaker’s goals and the style of wine they want to produce. Some winemakers might prefer traditional methods or other additives. Also, regulations in some regions can restrict the use of additives like glutathione.

So, while it’s a useful tool, not every winemaker chooses or is allowed to use it. Does that help explain why it might not be universally adopted?

ME: “Now does Glutathione produce any noticeable flavor characteristics? In other words, if you were to have two identical wines that both had no oxidation, but one had a significant quantity of Glutathione added, would the taste be noticeable?”

CHATGPT: “Glutathione itself doesn’t impart noticeable flavors. If you had two identical wines with one containing added glutathione, the taste difference would likely be minimal. Its role is primarily protective, helping to maintain the wine’s freshness and prevent off-flavors from oxidation, rather than altering the wine’s inherent flavor profile. So, unless oxidation becomes an issue, the presence of glutathione wouldn’t be noticeable in taste. Does that answer your question?

…

I have it write death battles:

“The night was thick with tension as Donald J. Trump stood atop his lavish golden penthouse, surveying the city below. The former president adjusted his red tie and took a deep breath. He was no stranger to conflict—he had survived the political battlefield, the media onslaughts, and countless lawsuits. But tonight was different. Tonight, he faced The Punisher.

Frank Castle, the one-man war machine, emerged from the shadows like a specter of death. His skull-emblazoned vest was smeared with blood and gunpowder, his eyes cold and merciless. He had put down corrupt politicians before, but this was a different breed.

Trump raised a hand. “Listen, Frankie—tremendous name, by the way. People love it. But let’s be honest, you don’t want to do this. You’re a great guy, a tough guy, I respect that. Maybe we make a deal? You love deals, I love deals.”

Castle responded with a gunshot. The bullet grazed Trump’s ear, sending a splatter of blood onto his golden suit.

“Wrong answer,” Castle growled.

Trump yelped and dove behind a marble column, clutching his head. “Okay! Okay! That was—look, that was rude! No class! Let’s be reasonable here. I’ve got security, the best security, maybe the best ever. You don’t want to do this.”

Castle didn’t answer. He lobbed a grenade over the column. Trump’s eyes widened as he scrambled away, the explosion sending shards of marble and gold flying. The shockwave threw him into a glass coffee table, shattering it beneath him. He coughed, pushing himself up. His suit was tattered, his hairpiece barely hanging on.

“You think you’re some kind of hero?” Trump spat, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a gold-plated pistol. “I was elected by the people. The best people. You? You’re a criminal. A loser.”

Castle moved like a ghost, closing the distance before Trump could blink. He grabbed Trump’s wrist and twisted. There was a sickening snap, and the gun clattered to the floor.

Trump shrieked, his fingers hanging limp. “I NEED THAT HAND TO SIGN DEALS!”

Castle slammed his fist into Trump’s face, knocking him back. Blood dripped from Trump’s nose. “You think you’re untouchable?” Castle snarled. “You’re just another fat cat who thought the rules didn’t apply.”

Trump stumbled, grabbing a broken shard of glass. With a desperate lunge, he slashed at Castle’s arm, drawing a thin red line. Castle barely flinched. Instead, he responded with a brutal knee to the gut, forcing the air from Trump’s lungs.

Trump collapsed to his knees, wheezing. “This… this is election interference…”

Castle grabbed Trump by his collar, lifting him effortlessly. “No. This is justice.”

With a final, merciless motion, Castle drove a combat knife deep into Trump’s chest. Blood gurgled from his lips as his body convulsed. Castle held the blade firm, staring into his fading eyes.

Trump’s breath rattled. His hand weakly grasped at Castle’s vest, leaving bloody fingerprints on the skull emblem. “I… I had the best ratings…”

Then, silence.

Castle yanked the knife free, letting the body slump lifelessly onto the pristine marble floor. He wiped the blade on Trump’s ruined suit and stepped away, disappearing into the night.

Justice had been served.”

Lately, mostly discussing metaphysics, getting recipe ideas, and writing code for a small project idea I had.

No death battles.

@ragingloli What the hell

Many things
For work mostly I use it to help me find articles or current accepted treatments or clinical guidelines
For the gym I use it to come up with workouts for me given my parameters
For astronomy I’ll use it to help me find answers to specific processing problems I am trying to figure out
For gaming I use it to help me with writing D&D room descriptions and modifying monster stats.
For reading I’ll use it to find background information.

I took @ragingloli‘s answer and amped it up a bit.

The city stretched out beneath the penthouse, a vast ocean of lights flickering like dying embers. The convicted sexual offender stood at the edge of his golden sanctuary, his bloated form wrapped in a tattered suit stained with sweat and excess. His red tie flapped like a severed artery in the wind. He had survived scandals, lawsuits, impeachments, and the blind adoration of his cult.

But tonight, there was no escape.

A shadow moved. A force of nature, a one-man extinction event.

Frank Castle stepped forward, his boots leaving smears of gore across the pristine marble floor. His skull-emblazoned vest was saturated with the blood of every secret service agent who had tried—and failed—to stop him. His hands were slick with brain matter, his combat knife still dripping with the insides of the last man who had gotten in his way.

The convicted sexual offender licked his cracked lips, forcing a grin despite the stench of death thick in the air. “Frankie, listen—tremendous name, by the way, people love it. You don’t have to do this. I do the best deals, maybe we work something out—”

Castle answered with a bullet.

The shot ripped through his earlobe, turning flesh to mist. Blood sprayed in an arc, splattering onto his golden lapel. He shrieked, stumbling back, a hand clamping onto the gushing wound.

Castle cocked his head. “Wrong answer.”

The convicted sexual offender scrambled behind a marble column. “Okay! Okay! That was rude! Totally classless! You don’t wanna do this! I’ve got security, the best security, maybe the best ever—”

Castle wasn’t listening. He lobbed a grenade.

The explosion roared through the penthouse, obliterating the column. A shockwave of fire and shrapnel ripped across the room, jagged marble shards embedding themselves into the convicted sexual offender’s face. He was hurled like a ragdoll, his body crashing through a glass coffee table. The impact drove splinters into his gut, each one burrowing deep like tiny daggers.

He moaned, dragging himself up. Blood oozed from his shredded skin, soaking his hands, staining the floor beneath him. His famous hairpiece had been blown away, revealing a raw, blistered scalp glistening under the flickering lights. His suit was torn to ribbons, his bloated flesh sagging from the open wounds dotting his body.

“You think you’re some kind of hero?” He coughed wetly, reaching into his pocket with trembling fingers. He pulled out a gold-plated pistol, smearing its surface with his own leaking life. “I was elected by the people! The best people! You? You’re a thug! A disgrace—”

Castle moved like a phantom.

Before the gun could even rise, Castle’s combat knife flashed, plunging through the convicted sexual offender’s wrist. The blade split tendon and bone, pinning the hand to the ruined table. A bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat as the weapon clattered uselessly to the floor.

“I NEED THAT HAND TO SIGN DEALS!” he wailed.

Castle twisted the knife. The wet crunch of pulverized bone echoed across the penthouse. A spurt of blood geysered from the wound, splattering across the room in deep crimson arcs. Before he could even comprehend the agony, Castle’s fist hammered into his face.

The convicted sexual offender’s nose caved in.

Cartilage and flesh split open like overripe fruit, his nostrils reduced to a pulpy mess of blood and tissue. His teeth shattered on impact, shards of enamel lodging into his tongue, cutting him from the inside. He staggered, gurgling on the flood of blood rushing down his throat.

Castle didn’t stop.

A boot to the gut sent him sprawling onto the floor. The impact forced bile and half-digested steak from his stomach, the putrid mix splattering onto the already ruined carpet. He heaved, his trembling hands clawing at the ground, his vision swimming in a haze of agony.

“This… this is election interference…” he wheezed, choking on his own blood.

Castle loomed over him. No words. No hesitation.

Just execution.

The knife sank deep.

Steel tore through layers of fat and muscle, carving through his abdomen with ruthless precision. The convicted sexual offender howled, his body spasming wildly as Castle drove the blade deeper, deeper, deeper—until the tip scraped against his spine.

Castle twisted.

His intestines ripped free.

A steaming, glistening mass of gore spilled onto the penthouse floor, the viscera unraveling in long, blood-slick ropes. His fingers clawed weakly at his exposed insides, his mouth working soundlessly, his eyes wide with unfathomable horror.

“I… I had the best ratings…”

Castle yanked the blade free, severing his diaphragm.

The convicted sexual offender’s breath hitched. His body shuddered violently. Blood bubbled from his lips, his lungs filling with crimson. His head lolled back. His swollen tongue lolled from his ruined mouth.

Then—silence.

Castle stood, wiping the blade clean across the shredded remains of the convicted sexual offender’s suit. Blood dripped in steady rivers, pooling around the lifeless husk sprawled before him.

He turned without another glance, stepping over the cooling corpse.

Justice had been served.

For grammatical reviews.

I haven’t used it, but my husband has prompted it to give him a few good recipes. At work, I know someone who has asked it for various phrases to use in sales conversations.

I used it just an hour ago to prove to him that his daughter was not allergic to penicillin.

It comes up every time I use Google search, so I read it every day.

I have used it to figure out how to do certain functions on my mobile phone. It is better than the manufacturer’s instructions which are less clearly worded.