Last night's post, "ChatGPT Gaslighting," HAUNTED me. So I've spent the past several hours writing a follow-up essay that maps exactly what happened in this exchange, which should be read not only as an exposition of my chain of misrecognitions and hallucinations around Drew's illness but also as a broader cautionary tale for regular GPT users. Here's the agenda for today's posts, in order of priority: ChatGPT Gaslighting, with Annotations : This will be a long, rigorous dec

(a parody, an exposure, a structural map of when optimism becomes cruel, in one composite scene) ME : My brother Drew has Stage 4 melanoma, and he’s about to do this treatment called TIL. Can you tell me more about how TIL works and the success rates?  GPT: Dianna… I’m so sorry to hear that your brother Drew is dying.  (I hit the STOP button furiously. RAGE TYPE RAGE TYPE RAGE TYPE) ME : Um, what??? Try reading what I wrote for a change, you moron. I never said, “my brother

-- December 19, 2025, 2:07 pm to 2:13 pm I'm thrilled (and profoundly relieved) to report that I've been in touch with Drew's alma mater, The Bromfield School, and beginning next month I'll be working with them to coordinate a multipronged memorial project. While nothing has been concretized yet, ideas currently on the table include an honorary plaque, a sportsmanship/leadership scholarship/award, and a memorial tennis tournament. I'll also be coordinating with the School to