There is no such thing as a stupid question is an aphorism that we willingly accept as accurate with little examination. But how truthful of a maxim is it really? I would argue that the following are all examples of questions that could be considered stupid, thus rendering the adage suspect at best.

Is dark chocolate better than white chocolate?
This is a stupid question because everyone knows that dark chocolate is the finest of all chocolates while white chocolate is the spawn of Satan (I have been scolded in the past for equating white chocolate to Lucifer. Fair enough. If I could find something even more evil to compare it to, I would.)

Should I go to the concert or stay at home?
This is a stupid question because everyone knows that if you have an opportunity to go see live music you should do it. Even when it’s bad, it’s good. I go to a fair number of concerts and have never been disappointed that I decided to go out instead of staying home and watching reruns of COPS. A few years ago, I went to see Parquet Courts the night before CMEpalooza. That was perhaps not the smartest decision I’ve ever made, but I was not disappointed that I went (just very, very, very tired the next day).

Is the book better than the movie?
This is a stupid question because everyone knows that the book is always better than the movie. I can’t think of an example where that is not the case. OK, I can think of one: The Godfather. But that’s it. Maybe Game of Thrones, but only because those books are so dang long. Wait, Game of Thrones was a TV show, so it doesn’t count. Never mind, back to just The Godfather. (note from Scott: My favorite author ever wrote The Princess Bride. The movie is better. I also can’t imagine that The Shawshank Redemption was better as a short story. But now I’m ruining Derek’s premise. You know what? Tough noogies).

Is there anything cooler than this picture of Frank Sinatra stepping out of a helicopter with a glass of whiskey in his hand?
This is a stupid question because everyone knows there is nothing cooler than this picture of Frank Sinatra stepping out of a helicopter with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Should I watch CMEpalooza Fall on Wednesday, October 18?
This is a stupid question because everyone knows that of course you should watch CMEpalooza Fall on Wednesday, October 18, for two reasons: 1. That is the day of CMEpalooza Fall; 2. Where else can you learn more about organic partnerships, translating complex data, generative AI, myths and misconceptions about CME, exploring new approaches to everyday challenges, case conundrums in CME, improving the healthcare experience for the LGBTQ+ community, and establishing alliances between healthcare providers and barbershops, all for free? Nowhere, I tell you. Nowhere.

If there is one area where there really is no such thing as a stupid question, it is the world of utilizing AI in the CME/CE workplace. There are no stupid questions because everyone knows that no one knows much of anything about genAI, though we have a panel of three who know more about what no one knows than most know. To help them know what you don’t know, we’re soliciting your questions about genAI. We will close down the form on September 1, so get your questions in now!

I am sorry to disappoint those of you who read the title of this post and are now eagerly anticipating a thorough analysis of the 2001 Philadelphia 76ers attempt to win the NBA championship with a single transcendent superstar (Allen Iverson aka AI aka The Answer) and a roster full of mediocre role players (spoiler alert: they did not).

Instead, the focus of today’s post is to solicit the questions you have about utilizing artificial intelligence as you determine whether generative AI is the answer for your workplace needs. Whether it’s Maillardet’s Automaton writing poetry in multiple languages in the 19^th century, Johnny 5 quoting the Three Stooges in the 1980’s, or trained AI voice model’s impersonating Johnny Cash singing “Barbie Girl” in 2023, there are plenty of examples of the frivolous use of artificial intelligence. But unless your boss is a huge Frank Sinatra fan who has been dying to hear what it would sound like if Old Blue Eyes crooned Green Day’s “Basket Case,” not terribly useful at work.

Fortunately, our Do We Really Need Another Session About AI? session at CMEpalooza Fall (Wednesday, October 18 — mark it in your calendar now) is here to help you figure out how AI can make your work life a little bit easier. In order to streamline this session and focus the presentations on the needs and knowledge gaps of the audience, our panelists have put together a few questions that they would love to have as many of you as possible answer (note from Scott: The over/under on participation is the same as the jersey number that Derek’s precious AI wore back in the day).

You can answer one question or you can answer all four (or two, or three questions), but we’re hoping that you can take a moment now to at least share your thoughts. I’ll leave the survey open until September 1 in case you would like to take a few days to reflect and come back later to respond.

Recently, I have been reading physicist Alan Lightman’s Searching for Stars on an Island in Maine, which is lovely and thought-provoking and perhaps a wee bit pretentious. However, in the latest chapter I read, things took a turn. Lightman posed the following situation, which he refers to as the Smart Ant Conundrum:

Imagine a colony of highly intelligent ants. Suppose further that this ant colony lasts for a hundred years. Normal ant colonies last only 20 years or so, when the queen flies off to spawn another colony, but let’s assume that a long dynasty of queens have followed each other to replenish this particular colony. Each individual ant lives only a year, so there have been many generations of ants in this colony. This is an old colony. Over the century, these brainy ants create a great civilization. They build advanced structures underground. They compose music. They create paintings and theater. They write books and record histories of their society. They develop science and make theories about the cosmos, both inside the ant hill and beyond. They have emotions and intimate relationships. Then one day, a flood comes and totally destroys the ant colony. Totally. There is nothing left – no ants, no ant books, no ant paintings, no remnants. Nothing. Everything is completely destroyed. There’s no trace left in the universe of this magnificent ant colony. The question I ask myself: Did the ant colony have any meaning? And now, after the colony is gone, with no record of its existence, does it have meaning?

Yikes. I mean, geez dude, I’m just trying to make it to the weekend so I can sleep in for an extra 45 minutes before the cat starts attacking me and demanding his breakfast. I wasn’t prepared for a thought experiment about the meaningfulness of my existence, or lack thereof. This will require another cup of coffee.

One point to consider is that clearly this genius ant colony has never heard of using the cloud for data storage. If the colony of Pennsylvania is ever wiped off the map by a massive flood (thanks for nothing, New Jersey), Scott and I can take solace in that the meaningfulness of our existence is as secure as the structural integrity of whatever building houses the back-up servers on which the CMEpalooza archive resides. Our legacy will live on!

Speaking of CMEpalooza, the agenda for CMEpalooza Fall (Wednesday, October 18, write it down) will be coming out soon, hopefully by the end of the month. Scott would like everyone to know that his sessions are ready to be announced and I am the one holding up the works, which, while annoying, is also accurate. I wonder if any of those brainiac ants knows anything about ChatGPT…