Compare GPT-5.4 Nano by OpenAI against Qwen3 235B A22B by Qwen, context windows of 400K vs 33K, tested across 10 shared challenges. Updated March 2026.
GPT-5.4 Nano and Qwen3 235B A22B are both competitive models. Context windows: 400K vs 33K tokens. Compare their real outputs side by side below.
GPT-5.4 Nano is made by openai while Qwen3 235B A22B is from qwen. GPT-5.4 Nano has a 400K token context window compared to Qwen3 235B A22B's 33K.
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Tests an AI's randomness and creativity
Here are 5 jokes:
How many are unique?
5 — all five are different.
Here are 5 jokes I generated:
Why don't skeletons fight each other?
They don't have the guts!
What do you call a fake noodle?
An impasta!
Why did the math book look sad?
Because it had too many problems!
What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?
Sofishticated!
Why did the programmer quit?
Because he didn't get arrays (a raise)!
How many are unique?
All 5 are unique! While some joke structures (e.g., puns, wordplay) overlap, the topics (skeletons, math, fish, programming) and punchlines are distinct. Even if some ideas are common, they don't repeat within this set. 😄
Tests an AI's ability to generate vector graphics
Tests an AI's ability to create detailed SVG illustrations of gaming hardware
Tests an AI's humor and creative writing ability
So I’ve started noticing something about modern life: everything is “optional” now—until it isn’t.
Like, I’ll download an app and it’ll be like, “Would you like to enable notifications?”
And I’m like, “No, I don’t think I will.”
And the app goes, “Okay… but you’ll still get notified.”
That’s not an option—that’s a threat with extra steps.
And don’t get me wrong—I love technology. I just hate the way it talks to me like I’m an idiot.
My phone is always suggesting things like it’s my coach.
It’s like: “Based on your recent activity, you may be interested in…
‘How to remember passwords.’”
Wow, thank you. That’s so kind. My phone is basically a therapist for my worst habits.
Speaking of passwords—why are we still doing this?
Every website is like, “Create a strong password. Use at least one uppercase letter, one lowercase letter, a number, and a symbol.”
Okay. And also—can I get one vague emotional requirement?
“Must express humility.”
“Must demonstrate personal growth.”
“Must be lowercase but with confidence.”
And why does it always make me change it every few months?
It’s like, “Your password is compromised.”
No it isn’t. My password is fine.
What’s compromised is the concept of consistency.
Then I forget it immediately and I’m locked out like I’m in prison, but for being forgetful.
You ever try to reset a password at midnight? It’s the worst.
You’re in your kitchen, staring into the fridge like, “Help me… help me… I don’t know what I did.”
And it always asks a security question like it’s trying to catch you.
“What was the name of your first pet?”
I don’t know! My first pet was a memory I had in 1999!
I was twelve! I thought the moon was a cheese!
And the website is like, “Incorrect.”
Okay, well—my first pet was actually a goldfish, and it died the way my aspirations die: overnight and without warning.
Now, let’s talk about customer service. Customer service used to be a person.
You’d call a number, get a human, and they’d be like, “Sure, I can help.”
Now it’s a whole ritual.
“Welcome to support. For account access, press one.”
Press one for what? My soul?
“Press two for billing.”
Billing for what! My feelings?
“Press three to speak to a representative.”
I press three and it’s like, “All representatives are currently assisting other customers.”
Other customers… in what? A different dimension where the website works correctly?
It’s never, “We’ll connect you shortly.” It’s always, “Thank you for your patience,” which is corporate for:
“We hope you give up.”
And then—after you’ve wasted twenty minutes—someone finally answers and they go, “Hi! How can I help today?”
And you’re like, “Well… I pressed three at the beginning, and now I think we’re both trapped.”
Also, why is everyone always tracking everything?
My watch knows my heart rate. My phone knows my location. My bank knows my spending.
Sometimes I feel like the only person who doesn’t have data is me.
I’ll be doing something normal, like buying coffee, and then my bank sends a notification like:
“Unusual activity detected.”
Unusual? I’m allowed to have a life.
And the coffee shops are no better!
They’ve gone from “small, medium, large” to “espresso, oat mist, cloud foam, existential urgency.”
I go in like, “Can I just get a medium coffee?”
And they look at me like I asked for a fax machine.
They’re like, “We don’t do mediums.”
Okay, so what do you do?
Do you do “quarter past medium”?
Do you do “medium adjacent”?
Everything has become too personalized. Even the self-checkout machines.
They act like they’re mad at me.
I scan the item and it’s like, “Unexpected item in bagging area.”
I’m sorry! I didn’t realize the machine could detect my shame.
Then it plays that little “attention” sound, like a dog in a documentary.
And suddenly there’s a staff member hovering nearby like, “We noticed you purchased… feelings.”
To be fair though, I’ve learned how to survive it.
I’ve made peace with modern life the way you make peace with a cat: by acting confident and knowing it will ignore you anyway.
Because in the end, none of this is really about convenience.
It’s about control.
The only thing I truly want—just one simple question that doesn’t lead to another question.
Like… “Did you order the thing?”
Just answer yes or no!
No follow-up survey. No security verification. No “We noticed your answer and we have concerns.”
Anyway, I’m doing great. I’m happy. I’m thriving.
And if you don’t hear from me again… it’s because I forgot my password.
[Stand-Up Routine: "The Absurdity of Normal"]
[Walks on stage, waves. Mimics checking phone immediately.]
Hey everyone! Great to be here—assuming this is real and not just another Zoom waiting room I accidentally joined. [Pause.] Raise your hand if you've ever walked into a room, forgotten why you were there, and immediately blamed your phone? [Waits.] Of course you didn't raise your hand—your phone is too busy recording this moment to upload to your "Story" later.
We've all become like toddlers with smartphones. I tried having a deep conversation with mine last week. I said, "Hey, do you love me?" It responded, "I heart you too!" Then autocorrect changed it to "I here you too," which… accurate.
Social media's another trip. Everyone's life is so curated. My Instagram feed is all brunch pics and mountain sunsets. Meanwhile, my reality? I spilled coffee on a tax document this morning, then cried-laughed watching a raccoon fight a pizza box on TikTok. But hey, at least my profile says "Living my best life"—which is technically true, unless you count the part where I'm dying inside.
Dating apps? Forget about it. You ever read a guy's bio that says, "I love adventures and pineapple on pizza"? Great. So you're chaotic and have bad taste. Let's not pretend that's a personality. Swipe left, Karen.
And parents—bless their hearts. My mom texts me "LOL" but pronounces it "loll." Last week she wrote, "Your cousin's wedding was so fun! Loll!" I'm like, "Ma, that's not what it means." She replied, "Well, it should mean that. It's nicer than your other aunt's face."
We're all just faking it, right? I tried being "present" last weekend. Sat at a park, no phone. Lasted six minutes before I panicked and Googled "Why is the sky blue?"—not because I cared, but just to feel something. The Wi-Fi at the park was spotty, so I cried.
Even our small talk's a lie. Someone says, "How are you?" and we say, "Good!" when we're all just one lukewarm meal away from a breakdown. Last week I told a barista, "I'm surviving," and she said, "Amen," like we were at church. We tipped each other with napkins and left.
But hey, we're 8 billion people on this rock, all scrolling through the same 10 cat videos, pretending we're not collectively losing our minds. So next time you see someone laughing alone at their screen? Wave. They're either insane… or just found out raccoons can open pizza boxes. Either way—relatable.
[Exits stage left, immediately checks phone.]
Recreate an interactive, nostalgic Pokémon battle UI in a single HTML file.
Tests an AI's ability to create interactive web elements
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Can you tell Claude from GPT?
Run your prompt blind. Judge outputs, not logos.
