It’s less than I think!

If you are a Facebook user, have you noticed and interacted with Meta AI, the virtual assistant that occasionally pops up in your Facebook feed, summarizing or explaining posts? Most days, I ignore it—I would rather read actual comments than have my device explain them to me. But on Wednesday, Meta’s little rainbow circle symbol on my post caught my attention.

“More about the author’s work,” read the flag.

“OK,” I thought. “I’m game for that. Let’s see what Facebook and Meta AI have to say about me.”

I imagined the link would whisk me away to a glowing summary of my hundreds of blog posts. I envisioned a detailed review of my family, my career, civic service, and my travels, and how it all came together in my prose. I was even hoping there might be mention of my two favorite quotes, Alec Trebeck’s “wrong again, Les,” and my golfing buddy’s “nice shot, Les.”

Simply put, I anticipated that Meta AI would create the equivalent of a Wikipedia page, all about me, something that has long been missing from the digital world. I understood that, as with all AI products, there might be some hallucinations—it might brag about my major league baseball career or my lunar landing—but those were minor errors I was willing to accept.

I clicked the link, eager for a big payoff. I didn’t get it. Rather than a Wikipedia page, I got the equivalent of a book jacket review:

From this post, we can infer that Les Raff’s writing style is personal, reflective, and humorous. He shares his personal experiences, such as his encounters with COVID-19 and vaccinations, in a lighthearted and relatable way.

It’s not what I expected, and yes, I felt let down by the skimpy AI analysis. But I shouldn’t complain too much. The remarks do capture what I try to do most of the time when I sit down at my desktop and chat with you (only my Trump rants are not quite so light-hearted).

So I’ll get over my disappointment and keep writing. Maybe someday a real human will write my Wikipedia page in the future, and I will be overjoyed—even if it skips centerfield and doesn’t fly me to the moon!