What was your last AI prompt?

[Boner_18]

I feel like the google thread has passed its prime.

Ill go first.


Write me an approx. 500 word essay on why I should follow and root for the Habs in the NHL playoffs. I'm familiar with hockey, the rules, some NHL history but have not really been more than slightly interested in the sport for a while. Feel free to editorialize or sensationalize aspects if it would convince me to become interested. However, no lies or over the top pandering.

 

[Matty]

ChatGPT - Carb Issues After Storage

Shared via ChatGPT

chatgpt.com

 

[Blitty]

If you are looking for an exciting reason to jump back into hockey, the Montreal Canadiens—affectionately known as the "Habs"—offer the perfect blend of rich, dynastic history, a vibrant underdog narrative, and some of the most electrifying young playmakers in the game today. [1, 2]
Rooting for the Montreal Canadiens in the playoffs connects you to the soul of hockey itself. As the oldest continuously operating professional hockey franchise on the planet, the Habs are hockey royalty, holding an unmatched 24 Stanley Cup championships. To follow this team is to participate in a living tradition where excellence isn't just a hope; it's practically written into the franchise's DNA. When you cheer for Montreal, you are aligning yourself with a legacy built by legends like Maurice "Rocket" Richard, Jean Béliveau, and Guy Lafleur—players whose style and grace fundamentally shaped how the modern game is played. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]
But you don’t need to rely on history alone to get invested. Today’s Canadiens are one of the most thrilling and culturally significant teams in the NHL. The Habs have transformed into a relentless, high-paced squad centered around brilliant offensive dynamos like Nick Suzuki and dynamic skaters like Lane Hutson, whose on-ice spatial intelligence and stickhandling routinely stir a sense of wonder. Following this team gives you a front-row seat to an inspiring, carefully constructed rebuild that transforms these electric, raw talents into postseason warriors. [1, 2, 3]
Furthermore, the atmosphere surrounding a Montreal playoff run is entirely unmatched in professional sports. The city, and its incredibly passionate fanbase, famously treat the playoffs with a level of cultural reverence, uniting together and feeding the team a supernatural energy. If you are a fan of sports narratives, nothing beats the electricity of the Canadiens going on a deep playoff run, defying expectations, and making a mockery of accepted predictions. [1, 2, 3, 4]
Following the Habs in the postseason is more than just passingly rooting for a team; it is an invitation to experience the absolute highest stakes of the sport. You get the perfect storm of a storied, prestigious past and a young, unpredictable present. Whether it's the beauty of a brilliantly executed overtime goal or the sheer intensity of a rivalry, Montreal’s playoff pushes are designed to make you fall in love with the fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat drama of hockey all over again. [1]

• TIL Why the Montreal Canadiens were always so good. Because NHL ...
  Dec 1, 2011 — So yeah, while Montreal didn't use this rule, they were able to draw a lot of their players from being in Quebec and Montreal sign...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Reddit
  
  
  
• Canadiens playoff atmosphere proves why Montreal hits ...
  Apr 25, 2026 — It is when the city comes alive and unites around one glorious cause, our beloved Habs. Guy Lafleur statue outside The Bell Centre...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A Winning Habit
  
  
  
• the cultural heft of the Montreal Canadiens' playoff run
  Jul 9, 2021 — The Habs can be extremely proud of their journey. It was unexpected and, for the most part, unimaginable. The accepted version of ...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Guardian

 

[Boner_18]

Write me a quick page or two summarizing a hypothetical next A24 suspense/thriller/horror.




Here's a treatment-style synopsis in the vein of an ambitious A24 thriller/horror film—psychological, unsettling, character-driven, and a little difficult to categorize.

HOLLOW OAK​

Genre: Psychological Thriller / Folk Horror

Logline:
After inheriting a remote property in the Catskill Mountains from a grandmother she barely knew, a struggling architect discovers a hidden network of underground rooms that appear to change shape—and may be preserving the memories of people who disappeared decades ago.

---

Thirty-four-year-old Maya Klein is exhausted. Her Manhattan architecture firm is collapsing, her marriage has quietly disintegrated, and she has become obsessed with a recurring dream: a hallway lined with doors she cannot open.

When her estranged grandmother dies, Maya unexpectedly inherits a neglected 200-acre property in the Catskills. The estate consists of a crumbling farmhouse, a barn, and a vast stand of ancient oak trees. Hoping to sell it quickly, she drives upstate to survey the land.

The locals are polite but uneasy when they learn whose granddaughter she is. Several older residents abruptly end conversations when her grandmother's name comes up. One man simply tells her, "Don't dig."

During a routine inspection, Maya discovers evidence that portions of the farmhouse blueprints don't match the structure itself. Measurements are wrong. Rooms appear larger inside than they should be. Windows don't align with exterior walls.

Assuming she has found signs of amateur renovations, she begins mapping the house.

The inconsistencies grow.

One night she uncovers a sealed trapdoor beneath a pantry floor. Beneath it lies a staircase descending into darkness. At the bottom is a concrete corridor that should not physically fit beneath the property.

The corridor branches into dozens of rooms.

Each room appears abandoned, yet strangely personal. A child's bedroom from the 1970s. A dentist's waiting room. A church office. A motel room. Every space contains evidence of a single occupant who vanished abruptly, leaving meals unfinished and possessions untouched.

Maya slowly realizes that each room belonged to a missing person from the surrounding region.

Some disappeared fifty years ago.

Some vanished last year.

And one room appears to belong to her.

As she explores deeper, she begins experiencing vivid memories that are not her own. She witnesses fragments of strangers' lives: arguments, first kisses, accidents, moments of grief. The experiences feel more real than her waking life.

The underground structure is growing.

Each morning, new hallways appear.

New rooms emerge.

Meanwhile, townspeople begin disappearing again.

A retired sheriff reveals the region's darkest secret: for over a century, unexplained disappearances have clustered around the Hollow Oak property. Every investigation ended the same way—people simply stopped asking questions.

Maya becomes convinced that the structure beneath the land is not a building but a living archive. It feeds on human attention, collecting people the way a museum collects artifacts. The rooms are exhibits. Memories are preserved. Lives are stored.

The deeper she ventures, the more the place learns about her.

Rooms begin reconstructing events she has never told anyone.

Doors open onto moments from her childhood.

At the center of the labyrinth she discovers an impossible chamber containing a massive oak tree whose roots merge with walls, ceilings, and floors. Embedded within the roots are thousands of objects: watches, photographs, wedding rings, keys.

The accumulated remains of generations.

The tree does not kill people.

It remembers them.

And memory, Maya realizes, is contagious.

In the climax, she discovers her grandmother's role. Decades earlier, the old woman became the structure's caretaker after realizing that destroying it only caused it to spread elsewhere. Instead, she spent her life limiting its growth and preventing others from finding it.

Now the responsibility belongs to Maya.

Faced with a choice between escaping and allowing the phenomenon to expand into the modern world, or remaining behind to contain it, she chooses to stay.

Months later, the property sits abandoned.

Developers arrive to evaluate the land.

Inside the farmhouse, a young surveyor notices a discrepancy in the floor plan.

A trapdoor that wasn't there yesterday.

Cut to black.

---

The final shot reveals a newly formed room deep underground.

It is Maya's apartment in Manhattan.

The lights are still on.

It has the kind of A24 DNA you'd expect: a small cast, grief and identity themes beneath the horror, an ambiguous supernatural mechanism, and an ending that's unsettling rather than fully explanatory.