![]() Is a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat on his balcony. Everyone is inside theirĬartoon caption: "I want one that snows." See the GPT-3 prompt Translate the given cartoon description into a funny caption for a New Yorker cartoon:Ĭartoon description: People are walking on the sidewalk. We gave the model aįew examples to nudge it in the right direction, called The Few Shot. We worried that GPT-3 might just be writing captions and not funny captions. Our captions, ranked by votes from the New Yorker’s Cartoon Caption Contest Survey We submitted computer-generated captions for 10 different contests. The magazineĪnd its editors then choose the finalists from the ranked list. ![]() ![]() That prompts people with a caption and asks whether it is funny. We could also track how our captions ranked among the New Yorker’s thousands of entries for each It's just the magnetism of my personality.” GPT-3 then generates the following caption: Sweeping the floor around the couch, looking for metal. “A couple are sitting on a couch and surrounded by five guys who have metal detectors who are Enter some text and GPT-3 generates a response, wielding a language model that’s trained on THE ENTIRE INTERNET (if you’re curious about how predictive language models work, check out our interactive explanation here). The “playground” mode is just a text box. I'm sure it was just as pretty during the war, he said in his quiet, laconic, Southern drawl, but I didn't notice.GPT-3 is an open-to-the-public tool (just create an account here). He was bombed by German Stukas in the harbor at Algiers while unloading, and part of a convoy that lost ships to U-boats on the way to Sicily. I asked about what it was like to be at sea in peacetime, in the Mediterranean with no war going on. With my beautiful mother in law, Genelle while on a cruise among the Greek islands. That's him in the photo below, not that long after the war. It's hard to believe, sitting in my den seventy-five years later, that he was there. The noise was indescribable, he told me, the constant shelling from sea to shore, the bombers and fighters just overhead, pounding the headlands and interior, the ship's own battery firing rapidly. ![]() ![]() The officer waved to him just as a salvo from a German coastal artillery battery obliterated the bridge. When he was older he told the story of an identical Liberty ship, one with a young officer just like him on its bridge, steaming in the same circle a few hundred yards away. The shells throwing geysers of water high in the sky when they missed, and red, brown, and black explosions when they struck an unlucky target. German shells rained down on them as they circled waiting the signal to go in and offload the cans of gasoline stacked in the hold and all over the decks. Then seeing the beaches wreathed in smoke thick as fog, caused by the constant shelling from hundreds of American, British, and Canadian warships assembled offshore for the invasion: battleships, cruisers, destroyers, mine sweepers, PT boats and on and on. He described the steady roar that night of the C-47s carrying paratroopers who would start the invasion by dropping on key bridges and crossroads before the landings began at dawn. Filled to capacity with gasoline cans, sailing to Sword Beach to take part in the D-Day landings on June 6th, 1944. Seventy-nine years ago tonight, my wonderful father in law, Hayes Tate, just twenty-two, was second officer on a Liberty ship in the English Channel. ![]()
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