Dec. 9, 2024
Look, I just threw up a little reading this article. Not from the whiskey - though that’s not helping - but from the sheer density of corporate buzzwords packed into this steaming pile of consulting-speak. Let me pour another drink and break this down for you beautiful disasters.
You know what keeps me up at night? Besides the usual existential dread and that weird noise my refrigerator makes? It’s articles like this that pretend AI leadership is something more than expensive software wrapped in a $3,000 suit.
Dec. 9, 2024
Another morning, another tech prophecy. I’d normally ignore this nonsense, but my hangover isn’t too bad and there’s still some bourbon left from last night, so let’s dig in.
The latest fairy tale from our favorite digital fortune tellers claims 2025 is the year AI finally earns its keep. You know, like that roommate who keeps promising the rent money is coming next week. They’re calling it the “Agentic Era” - a fancy way of saying robots will do our jobs while we… well, they never quite explain that part.
Dec. 7, 2024
Look, I’ve been staring at this story for three hours now, nursing my fourth bourbon, and I still can’t decide if it’s hilarious or terrifying. Probably both. Here’s the deal: some hotshot Stanford professor who literally makes his living talking about lies and misinformation just got caught using AI to make up fake citations in a legal testimony.
Let that sink in while I pour another drink.
Dr. Jeff Hancock, whose TED talk about lying has apparently hypnotized 1.5 million viewers (more on that depressing statistic later), decided to let ChatGPT help him with his homework. And surprise, surprise - the AI decided to get creative with the truth. The damn thing just made up a bunch of research papers that don’t exist.
Dec. 7, 2024
Look, I get it. Christmas shopping is hell. You’ve got that one relative who already owns everything, that cousin who returns everything, and that sibling who passive-aggressively sighs at whatever you get them. I’m three fingers deep into my morning bourbon just thinking about it.
But here’s where our modern world gets weird - now we’re asking AI to pick out presents for us. According to this heartwarming little story that landed in my inbox between hangovers, some analytics expert named Josie Hughes decided to let ChatGPT play Santa’s helper for her nine-year-old brother. And you know what? The damn thing actually came through.
Dec. 7, 2024
Listen, I’ve been staring at this news about AI and education for three hours now, nursing my fourth bourbon, and I still can’t decide if we’re witnessing a revolution or a train wreck. Probably both. Let me break this down while I still have enough motor functions to type.
Remember when education meant teachers, textbooks, and falling asleep in class? Those were simpler times. Now we’ve got AI tutors that never sleep, never need a coffee break, and never show up hungover to grade papers (unlike yours truly on that one memorable substitute teaching gig).
Dec. 7, 2024
Look, I’m nursing my third bourbon of the morning, trying to wrap my head around this clusterfuck of a story. Seems our fancy AI friend ChatGPT had a weird hangup about saying some poor professor’s name - like that one ex you don’t mention at family gatherings.
David Mayer. There, I said it. No lightning struck, no demons emerged from my keyboard. But for a while there, ChatGPT was treating this name like my liver treats tequila - complete system shutdown.
Dec. 7, 2024
Listen, I just sobered up enough to read about OpenAI’s latest cash grab, and boy, do I have thoughts. Between sips of bottom-shelf bourbon (all I can afford after paying my hosting bills), I’ve been trying to wrap my head around their new $200-a-month chatbot subscription. That’s not a typo, friends. Two hundred American dollars. Monthly.
You know what else costs $200? A decent bottle of Pappy Van Winkle’s - if you’re lucky enough to find one. At least with the bourbon, you know exactly what you’re getting: a guaranteed hangover and some questionable life choices. With OpenAI’s premium offering? Not so much.
Dec. 6, 2024
Look, I’m nursing the mother of all hangovers right now, but even through this whiskey-induced fog, I can see what MIT’s latest Nobel laureate is laying down about AI. And buddy, it ain’t pretty.
You know how your drunk friend always talks about getting rich quick with some half-baked scheme? That’s the AI industry right now. Everyone’s promising the moon while barely being able to automate their coffee makers. But here comes Professor Daron Acemoglu - yeah, I had to double-check that spelling twice - dropping some cold, hard truth bombs that’ll give the optimists a hangover worse than mine.
Dec. 6, 2024
Look, I’ve been nursing this hangover long enough to remember when “artificial intelligence” meant my bartender Tony knowing exactly when to pour me another shot. But here we are in 2024, and some Nobel-winning economist from MIT just confirmed what I’ve been slurring into my bourbon for months: AI ain’t the messiah we’ve been promised.
Daron Acemoglu - and yeah, I had to check that spelling three times - just dropped some truth bombs that’ll give the champagne-sipping tech prophets a nastier headache than my Sunday mornings. The numbers he’s throwing around are soberer than my designated driver.
Dec. 6, 2024
Look, I didn’t want to watch another tech messiah interview. My head was pounding from last night’s philosophical exploration of Kentucky’s finest exports, but duty calls. So there I am, nursing what might be my fourth coffee, watching Andrew Ross Sorkin - who looks like he irons his underwear - interview Sam Altman, our industry’s latest prophet.
Let me tell you something about ChatGPT’s success story. Altman says people got excited because “they were having fun with it.” No shit. You know what else people have fun with? Cat videos and bubble wrap. The difference is, nobody’s throwing billions at bubble wrap manufacturers. Yet.