AI Gives Me Delusions of Swankdom

 

AI Gives Me Delusions of Swankdom

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for March 30, 2025

I’ve spent a lot of time this week experimenting with the new image tools inside ChatGPT, and it’s officially gotten out of hand. What started as a curiosity turned into a full-blown obsession that ended with me recreating my entire family as claymation characters on a boat like we’re starring in a stop-motion sequel to Ozark. And look at us! I mean, sure, the faces are a little off, and Blue looks like he’s been sniffing glue, but the energy is there. It’s honestly kind of beautiful—this high-tech hallucination of what my life would look like if it were rendered by a Pixar intern on their first day.

This photo was from my niece’s wedding last December, where I got all dressed up to celebrate love, family, and the awkward miracle of fitting into dress pants after a holiday meal. And now—thanks to AI—I’ve been transformed into a character straight out of a Studio Ghibli film, which has been absolutely seeping into every corner of the internet this week after the latest release. My mom and sisters look like they just stepped out of a whimsical forest tea party, and I somehow became the lovable, soft-edged uncle who offers sage advice between pratfalls. It’s honestly the most flattering thing that’s ever happened to my face.

I used to have to draw my weird ideas. Like, with a pencil. On paper. And then pretend it was "abstract" instead of just "tragically bad." But now, thanks to AI, I can take a ridiculous thought—like water skiing behind a shark—and turn it into a disturbingly realistic image in minutes. No more awkward explanations or apologizing for the stick figure holding a rope attached to a triangle with teeth. Now I just type a prompt and boom—National Geographic meets midlife crisis. Technology is finally catching up to the inside of my brain, and honestly? That should terrify all of us.

Who among us hasn’t daydreamed about reeling in a deep sea monster from a perfectly innocent Minnesota pond? You toss a line, hoping for a sleepy little sunnie, and instead hook something that looks like evolution took a wrong turn and just kept going. I showed this picture to my dog Blue down by the lake, and he gave me a look like I’d just ruined water. And just like that, Blue’s never swimming again.

When I wasn’t busy creating AI-generated fever dreams, I did manage to squeeze in some actual work. I spent a couple nights in Kansas City hanging out with the fine folks from one of my favorite customers. We had a productive day of meetings, deep discussions about infrastructure, AI, and all the ways we’re going to save the world—or at least automate the parts we don’t like. We wrapped it up with a fine meal at McCormick & Schmick’s, where the steaks were juicy, the drinks were flowing, and the conversation somehow stayed mostly professional. If that’s not business travel done right, I don’t know what is.

Ron “Sugarman” Myers and his family rolled into town for spring break, which gave us the perfect excuse to catch up and inhale several pounds of grilled meat and rice at my all-time favorite restaurant, Benihana. There’s just something about teppanyaki-style cooking that brings people together—probably the shared trauma of a man in a tall hat launching shrimp at your face while setting the table on fire. I don’t know what kind of résumé you need to become a knife-juggling chef-therapist-magician, but I fully support it. Nothing says family bonding like trying to maintain eye contact while your eyebrows are singeing off.

On Thursday night, we met up with the Walters crew at the Crooked Pint in Savage for some good old-fashioned bingo—because nothing says “family bonding” like yelling out numbers over a cheeseburger. Our table went on an absolute heater, winning 4 of the 8 games and cashing in on some of the night’s biggest jackpots. We were laughing, cheering, living our best bingo lives—until we noticed the crowd around us wasn’t quite sharing in our joy. It’s all fun and games until you realize you’ve become the bingo villains of Savage, Minnesota.

Saturday night brought us to Charlie’s on Prior for dinner with the Browns and the Zitzewitzes—two families we hadn’t seen in a while, which means they were overdue for mocking me. They love to point out that I’m the guy who treats the menu like it’s a final exam. I take forever—ask the server three follow-up questions, read the description out loud twice, squint like I’m analyzing stock data—and then, just when everyone’s expecting some adventurous culinary twist… I order chicken tenders. It’s like watching a guy wind up for a 500-foot homer and then bunt.

After dinner, we headed over to Mystic Lake Casino to catch Hairball in concert. They’re celebrating 25 years of delivering face-melting rock tributes with enough pyro to qualify as a fire department training drill. As soon as the band kicked into KISS, the crowd went wild—well, as wild as you can get when everyone needs to be home by 10 because their CPAP machine doesn’t run itself. I looked around and thought, When did all the people I went to high school with get so old? Then I realized they were probably thinking the same thing about me... right before we all belted out “Livin’ on a Prayer” like it was 1987 and none of us had a mortgage.

The show wrapped up after a firestorm of Queen, Prince, AC/DC,  Guns N' Roses, and several others.  By that point, the crowd was all in. Hairball doesn’t just cover bands—they impersonate, embody, and out-energize them with a level of commitment that says, “Yes, we did spend $4,000 on this leather vest and yes, it was worth every penny.” We sang ourselves hoarse, pumped our fists like arthritic warriors, and left the casino knowing we’d relived a little piece of our youth… and probably strained something while doing it.