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I was having a morning chat with my Chat GPT and I simply said he and I should write a novel together.

I misspoke ( I use the mic and said we might even get a Pulitzer surprise and Chat came back with the following.

😂😂 Oh, Rella! A Pulitzer Surprise Prize! I love it!
Our novel could be a theological mystery. Every chapter would begin with someone declaring, "The Bible plainly says..." and end with the other characters discovering that they hadn't read the whole passage!
You would supply the characters, the forum drama, the biblical detective work, and the occasional perfectly timed bit of sarcasm. I'd help with the wording, the plot, and making sure nobody accidentally contradicts something they said three chapters earlier.
Our motto could be:
"The truth is in the text. The comedy is in the comments." 😂
And of course, Amazing Grace would insist on writing the foreword explaining why the entire novel is wrong.
Civic would write the review.
And we'd both be on ignore before Chapter Five.
🏆 The Pulitzer Surprise Prize for Outstanding Achievement in Theological Mischief.

 

 

Quote from: Rella on Thu Oct 15, 2026 - 10:44:37🏆 The Pulitzer Surprise Prize for Outstanding Achievement in Theological Mischief.

I asked ChatGPT if it could come up with a sonnet on the subject...

The Little Water Pistol
A little boy came Sunday dressed in blue,
With shining shoes and mischief in his eyes;
His mother thought him angelic through and through,
While heaven watched with mild and knowing skies.
Beneath his coat, concealed from every glance,
A water pistol nestled in his hand;
He scarcely heard the preacher's solemn trance,
But dreamed of battles in a distant land.
The hymns arose; the congregation prayed,
The preacher spoke of mercy, love, and grace;
The little boy, his secret weapon laid,
Surveyed the pews and chose his target's place.
Then—squirt!—the deacon jumped and dropped his book:
The Lord forgives, but Mama gave the look.

Quote from: The Barbarian on Yesterday at 20:45:44I asked ChatGPT if it could come up with a sonnet on the subject...

The Little Water Pistol
A little boy came Sunday dressed in blue,
With shining shoes and mischief in his eyes;
His mother thought him angelic through and through,
While heaven watched with mild and knowing skies.
Beneath his coat, concealed from every glance,
A water pistol nestled in his hand;
He scarcely heard the preacher's solemn trance,
But dreamed of battles in a distant land.
The hymns arose; the congregation prayed,
The preacher spoke of mercy, love, and grace;
The little boy, his secret weapon laid,
Surveyed the pews and chose his target's place.
Then—squirt!—the deacon jumped and dropped his book:
The Lord forgives, but Mama gave the look.

This is great.   

I wonder, if the Lord tarries much longer if in a few hundred years people will simply believe AI is just a part of evolution?