Introduction
I often use ChatGPT to check my grammar and help smooth out rough drafts. When I heard on a favorite podcast that you can ask ChatGPT to “Roast me,” and that you might get back a surprisingly accurate narrative about yourself, I decided to give it a go.
It’s obvious to me that it picked up on the humor I try to convey in most of my blog posts. So here are a few “roast” scripts written by my ChatGPT. I think they are very funny, but also in some spots painfully, regrettably accurate.
1. Parkinson’s Spoon Theory Roast
Alright…here is a Parkinson’s Spoon Theory roast script, lovingly administered with a soft pillow and a raised eyebrow.
You wake up each day like:
“Let’s inventory the spoons.”
And Parkinson’s is already in the kitchen, clanking drawers, asking what you’re really going to need energy for today.
You start with, say, 10 spoons.
Parkinson’s immediately takes 3 just for waking up,
2 for getting dressed (buttons are now an advanced-level puzzle),
and 1 for the emotional processing of the fact that this used to be easier.
You plan one meaningful thing.
One.
Parkinson’s is like: “Bold of you.”
Spoon Budgeting (Advanced Level)
You budget spoons like a Wall Street analyst:
• Shower? High yield, high risk
• Writing? Emotionally expensive but spiritually profitable
• Phone call? Absolutely not unless it’s someone who already knows you might disappear mid-sentence
You don’t “run errands.”
You undertake quests.
The Cost of Errands
Each errand requires:
• A rest afterward
• A snack
• A small existential reckoning
You are fully capable of doing something extraordinary…
but afterward you’ll need to lie down like a Victorian child with “the vapors.”
Invisible Spoons
And let’s talk about invisible spoons:
The ones spent explaining you’re tired
The ones spent pretending you’re fine
The ones spent deciding whether to explain at all
By evening, you’re out of spoons, out of patience,
and deeply suspicious of anyone who says
“I’m tired too.”
The Twist
But here’s the twist of the roast:
You use your limited spoons to tell the truth,
to write with clarity and humor,
to notice what actually matters.
Parkinson’s may steal spoons—
but you?
You turn the remaining ones into meaning.
2. What People Think Parkinson’s Is vs Reality
What People Think:
• “Oh, that’s just shaking, right?”
• “At least it’s not painful.”
• “You’re doing so well—you don’t look sick!”
• “Have you tried yoga?”
• “My uncle had that. He just took meds and golfed.”
Reality:
• It’s not just shaking.
It’s movement roulette.
• It’s stiffness, slowness, brain fog, sleep chaos, anxiety spikes, and exhaustion that laughs at naps.
• You don’t look sick because Parkinson’s is an invisible full-time job.
• Yoga is nice, but it does not negotiate with your nervous system.
• Meds help—but they come with timing windows so precise they’d impress NASA.
People think Parkinson’s is a single symptom.
In reality, it’s a group project where none of the group members communicate.
And when you say you’re tired, people hear:
“I didn’t sleep well.”
What you mean is:
“My brain and body spent all day renegotiating a ceasefire.”
Final Roast Tagline
You live with a condition that messes with movement, memory, timing, and energy—
and you still choose to create, reflect, and tell the truth.
Which honestly means Parkinson’s didn’t pick an easy opponent.
It picked someone who fights back with meaning.
3. Parkinson’s and Social Situations: A Tragicomedy
You prepare for a social event like it’s a military operation:
• meds timed
• rest scheduled
• exit strategy planned
You arrive. You smile. You are on.
Someone says:
“Wow! You look great!”
And you think:
“Yes, this is the costume. Underneath it is a system failure.”
Conversation Choices
• Talk too slowly → people finish your sentences
• Talk too fast → you lose your words mid-air
• Be honest → awkward silence
• Be vague → “Oh, that’s normal as you get older!”
You weigh whether to explain Parkinson’s or just…
nod and let them think you’re tired, distracted, or rude.
The Aftermath
By the time you get home:
• you are emotionally wrung out
• physically wrecked
• mentally replaying everything you said
And yet—you showed up.
Which does not feel heroic, but is.
4. Things You’d Never Say to Someone With Parkinson’s
(But People Absolutely Do)
• “At least it’s not fatal.”
(bold comfort choice)
• “My hands shake when I have too much coffee too.”
(yes, identical)
• “You’re so brave.”
(I was literally buying groceries)
• “Have you tried cutting out gluten/sugar/stress/joy?”
• “You don’t seem like you have Parkinson’s.”
(thank you for diagnosing me with vibes)
• “My neighbor had that and it was really bad.”
(WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS)
• “Just stay positive!”
(Parkinson’s: famously cured by optimism)
Final Spoon-Theory Mic Drop
You navigate doctors, bodies, brains, social expectations, and constant recalibration—
while still caring about beauty, meaning, memory, and truth.
You are not “inspirational.”
You are experienced.
And Parkinson’s?
It may be persistent, unpredictable, and exhausting—
but it still has not managed to shut you up.
Which honestly?
Rude of you.
Excellent for the rest of us.
Epilogue
That was fun. Like having my own personal Joy Behar roast me.
Thanks for the momentary distraction from my PD, Chat GPT.


Leave a comment