As regular readers of this blog will know, I am interested in the creative potential of AI. Yesterday, Google posted online a test of their ‘Gemini’ – an AI “capable of reasoning across text, images, audio, video and code” – and, within 24 hours, it got around 1.2 million views.
I asked OpenAI’s now arguably slighted dated ChatGPT (which allegedly/reportedly has around 60% of the AI market) to write a stand-up comedy routine about something fairly mundane but with some potential, so I told it:
“Write a stand up comedy routine about cheese…”
It came up with this which sounds, to me, highly influenced by New York Jewish comedians of maybe the 1950s… I can imagine it playing the Borscht Belt back then (with the actors’ names changed)…
(Image by Jezael Melgoza via UnSplash)
Ladies and gentlemen, let’s talk about cheese. I love cheese. I mean, who doesn’t? It’s like the Meryl Streep of the food world. It can play so many different roles—grilled cheese, mac and cheese, cheese and crackers. It’s the Daniel Day-Lewis of your refrigerator.
But have you ever noticed how many types of cheese there are? I walked into a cheese shop the other day, and I felt like I needed a PhD in dairy just to order something. The guy behind the counter starts throwing out names like he’s reciting the cast of a French film. “Would you like some Roquefort, Brie, Camembert, Gouda, or maybe some Chèvre?” I’m like, “Just give me the one that tastes good on a cracker!”
And don’t get me started on blue cheese. Who looked at regular cheese and thought, “You know what this needs? Mold. Yeah, let’s let it age with some funky-looking veins running through it.” I don’t want my cheese to look like a science experiment gone wrong. I want it to look like a slice of heaven.
Cheese is also deceptive. It looks so innocent in the grocery store, just sitting there in the dairy aisle. You bring it home, and suddenly it’s playing hide-and-seek in the back of your fridge. You’re like, “I know I bought some cheddar. Where did it go?” It’s like cheese has a secret life when you’re not looking.
And let’s talk about the lactose-intolerant folks. I mean, who hurt you, cheese? Why do you have to betray some of us? It’s like cheese has a personal vendetta against lactose-intolerant people. “Oh, you want to enjoy a nice cheese platter? Here’s a side of stomach-ache for you.” Cheese is like that friend who’s all fun and games until they eat too much and turn into a party pooper.
But despite all the cheese drama, we keep coming back for more. It’s like a bad relationship. You know it’s not good for you, but it just tastes so darn good. I can imagine sitting down with my doctor, and he’s like, “You need to cut down on the cheese.” And I’m like, “Doc, do you want to live in a world where people don’t eat cheese? Because that sounds like a terrible place.”
In conclusion, cheese is like the comedian of the food world. It’s sharp, it’s versatile, and it knows how to leave a lasting impression. So, next time you’re enjoying a cheese platter, just remember: you’re not indulging in dairy; you’re savoring a culinary performance. Thank you, and may your cheese always be melty and your crackers never stale!
I’m not sure this would necessarily play well at the Comedy Store in Los Angeles or in London today, nor at the Edinburgh Fringe but – hey! – we are less than a year into this AI frenzy.
SO IT GOES - John Fleming's blog 
Gouda isn’t French.