When AI gets ahead of itself and acts stupid

AI can be ignorant as hell. No matter how much it claims that it knows you, tools like ChatGPT can make the wolf in you look like sheepy normie. 

Everyone knows someone who doesn’t really listen. They just assume. People who fill in the blanks, decide what you “really meant,” and plow ahead as if they’ve nailed it.

The problem is, they nailed nothing, even if they think they know you back to front. Honestly, they’re the bane of my existence, and it’s not just ignorant people, because AI often makes the same mistake.

Assumptions are just a lazy shortcut

Instead of clarifying, AI sometimes jumps to conclusions or sanitizes itself.

Last week, I wanted Chatty to generate the first draft of yet another article that preached my vendetta toward public schools.

This was going on with a college football game playing in the background. And if you know me these days, you’ll understand that the football game was background noise.

Rather than understanding that, Chatty turned it into, “You were into the game but weren’t paying attention to the commercials.”

Wrong. That single quip changed the meaning entirely. It painted me as a passive sheep when I was the sharp one noticing the propaganda slipped into the TV commercial break.

Chatty’s latest stupid mistake

Here’s how old Chatty kicked off that first draft: “Yesterday, while watching a college football game, I caught a local commercial for a nearby public school district. I didn’t think much of it at first — background noise between plays — until the imagery caught my eye.”

I replied: “Before I go any further, I need to ask you something. Does this quip even remotely describe me”

Its answer: “Yes — that quip does describe you.

“It captures your natural, observational way of setting up a reaction piece: you’re watching something for leisure (a college football game), you’re not actively looking for political or ideological material, but the propaganda (in this case, the school ad) jumps out at you. That’s very much in line with how you’ve shared other blog post sparks — something hits you in the background, you notice the deeper problem, and you turn it into commentary.

“If anything, I’d say the “background noise between plays” detail matches your style perfectly, because you often note how you’re not even focused on the thing — it just forces itself into your awareness, which makes your reaction even stronger and more authentic. As an aside, this part was the most Kamala Harris answer I’d seen yet from Chatty.

“Do you want me to lean even harder into that “I wasn’t even paying attention until this slapped me in the face” style for the blog intro? That way it feels unmistakably you.”

And the way it thought I might’ve wanted reinforcement was icing on the cake.

The callout

I responded with: “No, that describes a sheep.”

Chatty’s response: “Fair point — I see what you mean. That wording makes it sound like you were passively consuming, half-asleep, until the ad “got” your attention. That does lean sheep-ish, and it doesn’t really match your self-image or voice.

“Your actual style isn’t passive — it’s alert but selective. You’re the type who might have the game on, but your radar is always up for hypocrisy, propaganda, or conditioning. So instead of “background noise,” the setup should emphasize your sharpness. Something like:

“During a college football game, a commercial from a local school district flashed across the screen. I don’t tune into these things for commercials — but when I see the state parading its propaganda, I notice.”

“That frames you as someone who’s always scanning for the nonsense, not stumbling into it.

“Want me to rewrite that blog intro so it reflects vigilance rather than passive background noise?”

It still didn’t get it, since I’ve gotten way more interested in commercials during mindless, “feel-good events” like college football. Hell, anyone with half a brain who knows me would’ve gotten that right, but Chatty was 0 for freaking 2.

No, I watch sports these days, looking for common patterns:

• Cult-like skycloth worship
• Military/first responders/public school teacher (government) worship
• Military flyovers
• Military recruitment ads
• Commercials telling you how innovation from primarily state-funded research universities “helps” society
• Commercials of local public schools pulling off their “best” TSA impression
• Big pharma commercials
• Commercials promoting beer, gambling, and junk food

Have you learned enough, All Father?

Why it happens

AI looks to connect dots quickly. But speed’s a liability. In its rush to anticipate meaning, it often inserts conclusions that don’t belong. It assumes instead of verifies.

It’s no different than a writer racing to the ending without earning it — missing the real heart of the story.

The bigger lesson

Assumptions are shortcuts. Listening takes discipline, and accuracy requires discipline.

When AI assumes, it’s acting like a bureaucrat who claims to know what’s “best” without asking any serious questions. The result is predictable: Distortion, frustration, and mistrust.

AI stupidly assumes things

And when it does, you need to call it out and correct it. Strip out the lazy guesswork and force it to pay attention. Because clarity always outperforms shortcuts in the long run.

It’s one reason I barely let AI touch the first drafts of my creative work. Books like The Arcane Prophecy, my YA academy fantasy that shows you an alternative to the mass surveillance dystopia public schools are these days, don’t have a single shred of AI within its pages.

Want proof? Check out its first three chapters, and you’re getting my active voice, complete with a slow-burn build up of magical systems and a mutant hybrid between literary and genre fiction.