Happy Friday as we ease into the weekend once again.
![[Image: FhC3jgf.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/FhC3jgf.jpg)
Well, butter my biscuits and install my firmware. I reckon we're all just two updates away from being replaced by a Bluetooth-enabled toaster with better social skills. Howdy, howdy, friends and neighbors. Welcome to RN Bronze Banner Side with yours truly, Madness, still speaking with a tongue made of fleshy gristle and not microchips.
And today, friends, we're talking about the shiny, soulless apocalypse trotting toward us on carbon fiber legs and powered by nothing but algorithms and the collective stupidity of mankind. Yep, I'm talking artificial intelligence, robots, and all this techno fetish nonsense that's got folks acting like Terminator was a documentary series got a soul.
Now let's get one thing straight. I ain't anti-technology. I’m anti-technological dystopia aka Black Mirror, 1984, 2001, Brave New World, Hunger Games, Ready Player One, Giver, THX 1138, Minority Report, Gattaca, Surrogates, Westworld, Logan’s Run, Terminator, Alphaville, Rollerball, Sleep Dealer, and Elysium. I like running water and flush toilets. I enjoy refrigeration for my sacred beer, and I ain't about to trade my radio for smoke signals. But there's a mighty big difference between helpful tools and power-hungry Frankensteins programmed by folks who still need instructions to boil pasta.
We got folks out here trying to recreate the human brain, when half of them ain't even used their own since MySpace shut down. Now these robots, oh lord, these ain't just your Roomba and your coffee pot, no sir. These are humanoid, bipedal, slightly creepy department store steampunk mannequins with Wi-Fi.
Them bots got names like Emeka, Sophia, Ameca, Nadine, Geminoid, and Optimus and other sci-fi stripper names. And we're just handing them job titles, bank access, and God help us, Potemkin feelings. I saw one of these robots the other day blinking and smiling like a politician with a fresh lobotomy and a Cheshire Cat fetish. It was supposed to emote like it was on stage to impress me.
Hell, I've seen roadkill express more sincerity. An AI. Don't get me started. That ain't intelligence. It's just a glorified spell checker at rip roarin speed with a god complex. Sure, they're better search engines than your old fashioned Bing Google, but I'll stick pick a cute librarian with horn rimmed glasses and enough pent up hormones to kill a gator at 50 paces any day of the week. Love among the stacks, we used to call that. Anyway, you ask it a question, and it don't think. It just scrapes together a quilt made of Reddit posts and Wikipedia articles and hands it back like it cured cancer.
It's like talking to a drunk librarian who's read every book, but didn't understand none of it. They call it learning. No, folks, learning means screwing up like a redneck stuntman, getting balled out, fixing it, and remembering never to try that again. It don't mean chugging the internet through a beer bong on pledge night and regurgitating it in business jargon and trite platitudes. And don't give me this horse hockey about AI won't replace people. You know who says that? People who've already been replaced. Go visit China. They just ain't gotten the memo yet. Try calling a customer service line lately. You don't talk to a person.
You talk to an emotionally stunted cyborg who understands your frustration in the same way a vending machine understands your hunger. Now before I bust a gasket, let me grab another shot.
So let's get hydrating. Now, where was I? Oh, right. Why in the name of Sam Hill are we creating machines that look like us, talk like us, and will eventually decide they got no need for us? We had a good thing going. Machines were for doing the hard stuff so folks could do the soulful stuff, like dancing, fishing, and arguing Schopenhauer over a plate of biscuits and gravy. Now they're trying to upload our consciousness into a server farm in Palo Alto, like that's an upgrade. Friend, if I can't smell bacon and perfume or smash my thumb with a hammer, I ain't interested in eternal life on a flash drive.
And all this AI ethics talk, please. Where were these 'ethics' people during Covid vaccine hell? That's like teaching a coyote veganism. You can dress it up in a tutu and toe shoes, but at the end of the day, it's still got teeth, and it's still gonna gnaw through your chicken coop. Ethics only works if you got empathy.
And I ain't met a machine yet that knows how I feel before my first cup of bean juice the morning after. What's worse, we're acting like this is progress. Like trading grit for convenience is somehow noble. Like making ourselves obsolete is some sort of evolutionary mic drop moment. Let me tell you something.
Progress without wisdom is like giving a toddler a chainsaw. Sure, they'll get something done, but it won't be pretty and someone's losing a limb. We're sitting in a world where kids can't read cursive, can't make eye contact, and think hard work is remembering a Wi-Fi password. But we've got software that can imitate Shakespeare.
Great, now we've got robots writing sonnets while actual people can't remember how to spell February. Listen, I ain't scared of machines. I'm scared of folks so dazzled by machines they forget to be human. I'm scared of a world where your grandkids best friend is a chat bot and his only hobby is watching AI generated cartoons that autoplay until his brain turns to butterscotch pudding. It ain't the robot's fault. They're just doing what they were programmed to do. It's us who forgot that just because you can do something don't mean you should. See here, I ain't got all the answers.
I'm just a cranky old Texan in a jungle with a microphone and a mild mistrust of anything with a lithium-ion battery and probably a case of dengue fever. But I do know this. When you start replacing love with logic, courage with code, and the soul with a circuit board, you ain't building the future.
You're just digging a fancier grave. So next time some Silicon Valley messiah tells you that AI is gonna fix humanity, ask him this: When was the last time you hugged a robot? And if he says, yesterday, go ahead and report him to the nearest priest, therapist, or livestock officer.
This has been Madness, coming to you raw, unfiltered, and 100% human. I'm Madness T. Filibuster, signing off before someone tries to scan my brain and put me on a server. If you liked the show, say so. If you didn't, blame the algorithm. And remember, if your fridge starts giving you attitude, unplug it and go walk in the dirt barefoot. Keep your powder dry and your cabinet dryer and we'll catch the same boots, different dust.
Let's ride...
Well, butter my biscuits and install my firmware. I reckon we're all just two updates away from being replaced by a Bluetooth-enabled toaster with better social skills. Howdy, howdy, friends and neighbors. Welcome to RN Bronze Banner Side with yours truly, Madness, still speaking with a tongue made of fleshy gristle and not microchips.
And today, friends, we're talking about the shiny, soulless apocalypse trotting toward us on carbon fiber legs and powered by nothing but algorithms and the collective stupidity of mankind. Yep, I'm talking artificial intelligence, robots, and all this techno fetish nonsense that's got folks acting like Terminator was a documentary series got a soul.
Now let's get one thing straight. I ain't anti-technology. I’m anti-technological dystopia aka Black Mirror, 1984, 2001, Brave New World, Hunger Games, Ready Player One, Giver, THX 1138, Minority Report, Gattaca, Surrogates, Westworld, Logan’s Run, Terminator, Alphaville, Rollerball, Sleep Dealer, and Elysium. I like running water and flush toilets. I enjoy refrigeration for my sacred beer, and I ain't about to trade my radio for smoke signals. But there's a mighty big difference between helpful tools and power-hungry Frankensteins programmed by folks who still need instructions to boil pasta.
We got folks out here trying to recreate the human brain, when half of them ain't even used their own since MySpace shut down. Now these robots, oh lord, these ain't just your Roomba and your coffee pot, no sir. These are humanoid, bipedal, slightly creepy department store steampunk mannequins with Wi-Fi.
Them bots got names like Emeka, Sophia, Ameca, Nadine, Geminoid, and Optimus and other sci-fi stripper names. And we're just handing them job titles, bank access, and God help us, Potemkin feelings. I saw one of these robots the other day blinking and smiling like a politician with a fresh lobotomy and a Cheshire Cat fetish. It was supposed to emote like it was on stage to impress me.
Hell, I've seen roadkill express more sincerity. An AI. Don't get me started. That ain't intelligence. It's just a glorified spell checker at rip roarin speed with a god complex. Sure, they're better search engines than your old fashioned Bing Google, but I'll stick pick a cute librarian with horn rimmed glasses and enough pent up hormones to kill a gator at 50 paces any day of the week. Love among the stacks, we used to call that. Anyway, you ask it a question, and it don't think. It just scrapes together a quilt made of Reddit posts and Wikipedia articles and hands it back like it cured cancer.
It's like talking to a drunk librarian who's read every book, but didn't understand none of it. They call it learning. No, folks, learning means screwing up like a redneck stuntman, getting balled out, fixing it, and remembering never to try that again. It don't mean chugging the internet through a beer bong on pledge night and regurgitating it in business jargon and trite platitudes. And don't give me this horse hockey about AI won't replace people. You know who says that? People who've already been replaced. Go visit China. They just ain't gotten the memo yet. Try calling a customer service line lately. You don't talk to a person.
You talk to an emotionally stunted cyborg who understands your frustration in the same way a vending machine understands your hunger. Now before I bust a gasket, let me grab another shot.
So let's get hydrating. Now, where was I? Oh, right. Why in the name of Sam Hill are we creating machines that look like us, talk like us, and will eventually decide they got no need for us? We had a good thing going. Machines were for doing the hard stuff so folks could do the soulful stuff, like dancing, fishing, and arguing Schopenhauer over a plate of biscuits and gravy. Now they're trying to upload our consciousness into a server farm in Palo Alto, like that's an upgrade. Friend, if I can't smell bacon and perfume or smash my thumb with a hammer, I ain't interested in eternal life on a flash drive.
And all this AI ethics talk, please. Where were these 'ethics' people during Covid vaccine hell? That's like teaching a coyote veganism. You can dress it up in a tutu and toe shoes, but at the end of the day, it's still got teeth, and it's still gonna gnaw through your chicken coop. Ethics only works if you got empathy.
And I ain't met a machine yet that knows how I feel before my first cup of bean juice the morning after. What's worse, we're acting like this is progress. Like trading grit for convenience is somehow noble. Like making ourselves obsolete is some sort of evolutionary mic drop moment. Let me tell you something.
Progress without wisdom is like giving a toddler a chainsaw. Sure, they'll get something done, but it won't be pretty and someone's losing a limb. We're sitting in a world where kids can't read cursive, can't make eye contact, and think hard work is remembering a Wi-Fi password. But we've got software that can imitate Shakespeare.
Great, now we've got robots writing sonnets while actual people can't remember how to spell February. Listen, I ain't scared of machines. I'm scared of folks so dazzled by machines they forget to be human. I'm scared of a world where your grandkids best friend is a chat bot and his only hobby is watching AI generated cartoons that autoplay until his brain turns to butterscotch pudding. It ain't the robot's fault. They're just doing what they were programmed to do. It's us who forgot that just because you can do something don't mean you should. See here, I ain't got all the answers.
I'm just a cranky old Texan in a jungle with a microphone and a mild mistrust of anything with a lithium-ion battery and probably a case of dengue fever. But I do know this. When you start replacing love with logic, courage with code, and the soul with a circuit board, you ain't building the future.
You're just digging a fancier grave. So next time some Silicon Valley messiah tells you that AI is gonna fix humanity, ask him this: When was the last time you hugged a robot? And if he says, yesterday, go ahead and report him to the nearest priest, therapist, or livestock officer.
This has been Madness, coming to you raw, unfiltered, and 100% human. I'm Madness T. Filibuster, signing off before someone tries to scan my brain and put me on a server. If you liked the show, say so. If you didn't, blame the algorithm. And remember, if your fridge starts giving you attitude, unplug it and go walk in the dirt barefoot. Keep your powder dry and your cabinet dryer and we'll catch the same boots, different dust.
Let's ride...
"It is hard to imagine a more stupid or more dangerous way of making decisions than by putting those decisions in the hands of people who pay no price for being wrong." – Thomas Sowell
