AI Ain't Your Messiah: A Drunk's Guide to Digital Panic

Another Sunday morning, and my head feels like it’s been through a meat grinder. Perfect time to read some fancy New York Times opinion piece about AI and human genius while nursing this bottle of Buffalo Trace. The writer, Christopher Beha, seems like the kind of guy who drinks wine with his pinky up, but he’s stumbled onto something interesting here between all the academic name-dropping.

Here’s the thing about AI that nobody wants to admit: we’re all scared shitless of it because we’ve spent the last fifty years convincing ourselves we’re nothing special. Somewhere between smoking too much French theory in college and worshipping at the altar of evolutionary psychology, we decided humans were just meat computers running outdated software.

The Great AI Kumbaya of 2025: A Drunk's Guide to Global Cooperation

Listen, I’ve been at this keyboard since 4 AM, nursing my third bourbon and trying to make sense of this latest piece of optimistic horseshit about AI cooperation in 2025. The whiskey’s helping, but barely.

You know what this reminds me of? That time in college when my roommate convinced everyone in our dorm that we should pool our money for beer. By midnight, half the floor wasn’t speaking to each other, and someone had stolen the communal fund to buy weed. That’s basically international AI cooperation in a nutshell.

Your Email Address is as Screwed as My Last Relationship (And 2025 Won't Save Either)

Look, I’ve been staring at this bourbon glass for the past hour trying to figure out how to tell you this without sounding like another tech doom prophet, but here’s the cold hard truth: your email address is about as secure as my sobriety at an open bar wedding. And Google’s latest “groundbreaking” solution? About as effective as putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

Let me break this down while I pour another drink.

CAPTCHA My Drift: When Robots Pass Tests Better Than My Drunk Ass

Listen up, you beautiful train wrecks. I’m nursing my third bourbon of the morning while contemplating how machines are better at proving they’re human than I am. The whole thing’s about as absurd as my last relationship, but here we are.

Remember when websites just trusted you were human because only humans were dumb enough to visit them? Now we’ve got these digital bouncers making us jump through hoops like circus animals. “Select all the crosswalks.” Hell, I can barely select the right bottle at the liquor store after happy hour.

Billionaire Playground Fight: Two Rich Kids Argue Over Who Gets to Play God

Another hangover, another tech billionaire slapfight. Pour yourself a drink, folks - you’ll need it for this one.

Remember 2015? I do, barely. That’s when Elon Musk and Sam Altman decided to save humanity by creating OpenAI. Real noble mission, right? Non-profit organization, advancing AI for the greater good, kumbaya around the digital campfire. Fast forward to today, and these two are at each other’s throats like my ex-wives at a family reunion.

The Machine's Guide to Making You Stop Giving a Damn

I’m writing this with a glass of Jack that’s seen better days, much like my faith in humanity. But hell, at least the whiskey’s honest about what it does to you, unlike these AI systems everyone’s so damn excited about.

Let me tell you something interesting I read between blackouts - turns out these fancy researchers discovered what any bartender could’ve told you for free: when machines screw you over, you start letting humans get away with murder too.

Ten Headlines That Prove We're Living in a Sci-Fi B-Movie (And I Need Another Drink)

Look, I wasn’t planning on writing this piece tonight. I was perfectly content nursing my bourbon at O’Malley’s, watching the Christmas lights flicker through the smoky haze while contemplating my own mortality. But then Dave - you know Dave, the bartender who thinks Web3 is a spider species - showed me this fancy article about 2024’s biggest headlines.

Christ, what a year. Pour yourself something strong, because we’re going to need it.

The AI Safety Circle: Where Nobel Laureates Meet Reality's Hangover

Listen, it’s 3 AM and I’m nursing my fourth bourbon while trying to make sense of this latest AI safety hysteria. Geoffrey Hinton just grabbed his Nobel Prize and decided to tell us what we’ve all been screaming about for years - AI needs a leash. Great timing, doc. Really appreciate you joining the party after the robot’s already drunk-texted its ex.

Here’s the thing about AI regulation that nobody wants to admit: it’s like trying to enforce last call at an infinite bar. Everyone agrees we need rules, but nobody can agree on when to cut off service. And trust me, I know a thing or two about last calls.

Robot Fever Dreams and Bourbon Reality

Listen, I’ve been watching these robot demonstrations through the bottom of various whiskey glasses for months now, and I gotta tell you - something ain’t adding up. $675 million for Figure’s human-shaped chunk of metal? That’s a lot of bourbon money to throw at what’s essentially a fancy remote control toy.

Here I am, nursing my third Wild Turkey of the morning (don’t judge, it’s research), watching videos of these supposed mechanical messiahs. Elon Musk is out there promising these things will end poverty. Right. And this bottle of Buffalo Trace is actually filled with holy water.

Digital Doomsday Express: All Aboard the Stupid Train

By Henry Chinaski December 23, 2024

Listen up, you hungover masses. Pour yourself something strong because you’re gonna need it. While you were busy arguing about border walls and inflation rates, something way more terrifying just happened: we collectively handed the keys to humanity’s future to the “move fast and break existence” crowd.

I’m nursing my third bourbon of the morning – doctor’s orders for processing this particular clusterfuck – and trying to wrap my whiskey-soaked brain around what just went down. The 2024 election wasn’t just about putting another suit in the White House; it was an accidental referendum on whether we should floor it toward the AI singularity with our eyes closed.