America-Hating Commies, AI, and Other Fairy Tales for Grown-Ups

Well, folks, it’s Sunday afternoon, which means the hangover’s finally starting to loosen its grip, the shakes are down to a mild tremor, and I’m just about ready to face another week of this digital clown show we call the future. My head’s pounding like a cheap drum, but even that can’t drown out the noise coming from the latest tech drama. It’s the kind of circus that makes you want to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your head, and hope the world’s a little less insane when you wake up.

OpenAI's New Manifesto: A Love Letter to Uncle Sam (Written Through Beer Goggles)

Originally published on WastedWetware.com, January 16, 2025

I should’ve known better than to read OpenAI’s latest manifesto while nursing this monster hangover. But here I am, three fingers of bourbon deep at 11 AM, trying to make sense of what might be the most ambitious corporate plea for government handouts since the 2008 bank bailouts.

Let me tell you something about manifestos - they’re like pickup lines at last call. They sound profound in the moment, but in the cold light of day, you realize it’s just someone trying to get what they want while making it sound like they’re doing you a favor.

Digital Snake Oil and Tinkerbell's Last Dance

Jesus Christ, my head is pounding. Three fingers of bourbon might help me make sense of this latest tech hysteria. There we go. Better now.

Listen up, you digital dreamers and code warriors. While you’ve been busy circle-jerking about artificial intelligence saving humanity, I’ve been watching this show from my favorite barstool, and let me tell you - it’s the same old song and dance, just with fancier footwork.

You know what AI reminds me of? That time at O’Malley’s when Jimmy swore he could fly after his eighth shot of tequila. We all believed him right up until gravity had its say. The bouncer’s still telling that story.

The Prophet of Profit Speaks Again: Altman's Latest Vision Quest

Look, I’d normally be three bourbons deep before tackling another Sam Altman prophecy, but my doctor says I need to cut back. So here I am, disappointingly sober, reading through Sam’s latest blog post about how OpenAI has “figured out” AGI. And buddy, let me tell you - this hangover would’ve been easier to stomach.

You know what this reminds me of? Every guy at my local bar who’s “figured out” how to get rich quick. They’ve got systems, they’ve got plans, they’ve got everything except actual results. But hey, they just need a little more cash to make it happen. Sound familiar?

OpenAI's Prophet of Profit Predicts Paradise (After My Fifth Bourbon)

Look, I didn’t plan on starting 2025 by dissecting another tech messiah’s proclamations, but here I am, nursing a hangover while Sam Altman plays fortune teller with our future. Again.

Let me pour another drink before we dive into this steaming pile of predictions.

You know what’s funny about the future? It’s always just around the corner, like that bar you swear exists but can never quite find at 2 AM. Sam Altman, OpenAI’s chief dreamer, just dropped a blog post that reads like a Silicon Valley version of Nostradamus - if Nostradamus had a $90 billion valuation and a PR team.

Sam Altman's Digital Messiah Complex: The $100 Billion Hangover

Listen, I’ve been through enough benders to know when someone’s talking crazy, and Sam Altman’s latest blog post reads like the ramblings you’d hear at last call from some guy who just discovered DMT.

Let me set the scene here: It’s Sunday night, and while most of us are dreading Monday morning, Saint Sam of OpenAI drops a bombshell that would make Timothy Leary blush. They’ve apparently cracked the code to artificial general intelligence. And hey, why stop there? They’re already pivoting to “superintelligence.”

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.

AI in 2025: Pour Me Another Round of Digital Snake Oil

Listen, I’ve been staring at this AI forecast report for the past three hours, nursing my fourth bourbon, and I gotta tell you - it reads like a tech evangelist’s wet dream written by someone who’s never had their code fail at 3 AM while the servers are burning.

Let’s break this shit down, shall we?

First up, we’ve got OpenAI valued at $150 billion. That’s billion with a ‘B’, folks. You know what else was once valued at astronomical numbers? My baseball card collection in 1989. Last I checked, those cards are worth about as much as my liver after two decades of dedicated research into Kentucky’s finest exports.

Rich Man's Tears: When Billionaire VCs Run Scared

Listen, I need you to pour yourself a drink before we get into this one. Trust me, you’ll need it. I’m already three fingers deep into my bourbon, and the sun’s barely crawled over the horizon.

Marc Andreessen, Silicon Valley’s favorite doomsday prepper in a $2000 suit, just had his come-to-Jesus moment with the Biden administration, and boy, did it send him running straight into Trump’s spray-tanned embrace. The whole thing reads like a bad tech noir novel, except instead of femme fatales, we’ve got government staffers with regulatory frameworks.

Dead Men's Code: Another Young Soul Lost to the Machine

Look, I’d rather be drinking right now. Hell, I am drinking right now - this bottle of Buffalo Trace isn’t going to empty itself. But some stories need to be told, even through the familiar haze of bourbon and cigarette smoke.

By now you’ve probably heard about Suchir Balaji. Twenty-six years old. Dead in his San Francisco apartment. The cops are calling it suicide, nice and neat, wrapped up with a bow that probably cost more than my monthly whiskey budget.

The Prophet's Latest Sermon (Written Through Bourbon-Tinted Glasses)

Look, I wasn’t planning on writing tonight. The bottle of Jim Beam was keeping me warm company while I watched reruns of Star Trek, but then this gem landed in my inbox. Ilya Sutskever, the guy who recently tried to push Sam Altman off the OpenAI throne (and failed spectacularly), is now preaching about AI unpredictability. The irony is thicker than the morning-after taste in my mouth.

Here’s the real kicker - Sutskever just figured out what any halfway decent drunk could tell you: there’s only so much bourbon in the bottle. Or in his case, “we have but one internet.” Revolutionary stuff, right? These geniuses have been feeding their AI models with every scrap of data they could find, and now they’re hitting the wall because - surprise, surprise - we’re running out of fresh data to feed the beast.

The Digital Prophets Can't Get Their Stories Straight (And Neither Can I)

Look, I’m nursing the kind of hangover that makes me wish I’d chosen a different career path, but even through the bourbon haze, I can see what’s happening here. The big shots at Microsoft and OpenAI are playing a game of “Will AGI/Won’t AGI” that’s about as reliable as my promises to quit drinking.

Here’s the deal: Microsoft’s AI boss and Sam Altman are disagreeing about when their digital messiah arrives, and honestly, it’s starting to sound like two fortune tellers fighting over tea leaves at the county fair.

The Bullshit Factory's Latest Product Line: AI Promises

Christ, my head is pounding. Four fingers of bourbon might’ve been three too many last night, but these press releases aren’t going to read themselves. Speaking of headaches, let me tell you about the latest circle jerk happening in the executive suites across America.

Remember when your ex promised they’d changed? That’s what these AI announcements feel like. AWS and Microsoft are competing to see who can spray more AI cologne on their same old products. AWS’s re:Invent conference turned into a confetti cannon of AI buzzwords, and Microsoft, not to be outdone, announced their “12 Days of OpenAI” - because apparently, we needed an AI advent calendar.

Digital Snake Oil Merchants Promise Robot Workers by 2025

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.

Sam Altman's Gospel: A Bourbon-Soaked Guide to Digital Salvation

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.

Another Prophet Joins the AGI Circus (Hold My Whiskey)

Look, I probably shouldn’t be writing this with last night’s bourbon still tap-dancing in my skull, but when I saw Mira Murati’s latest pronouncements about AGI, I knew I had to fire up this ancient laptop and share my thoughts. Between sips of hair-of-the-dog and what might be my fifth cigarette, let’s dissect this latest sermon from the Church of Artificial General Intelligence.

First off, Murati – fresh from her exodus at OpenAI – is telling us AGI is “quite achievable.” Sure, and I’m quite achievable as a future Olympic athlete, just give me a few decades and keep that whiskey flowing. The funny thing about these predictions is they always seem to land in that sweet spot of “far enough away that you’ll forget we said it, close enough to keep the venture capital spigot running.”

Digital Witchcraft: When Hexing Billionaires Becomes Cheaper Than Happy Hour

Christ, what a time to be alive. I’m nursing my third bourbon of the morning, trying to process the fact that people are now outsourcing their hatred to Etsy witches for less than the price of a decent drink. And you know what? It might be the most honest transaction I’ve seen all year.

For a measly $7.99, you too can hire someone to curse Elon Musk. That’s right - the same platform where you buy hand-knitted coffee cozies and artisanal soap is now offering supernatural vengeance at bargain basement prices. The gig economy has finally reached the occult, and the profit margins must be fantastic - all you need is some cayenne pepper, lavender, and what I assume is an impressive ability to keep a straight face while charging people’s credit cards.

Digital Doomscrolling with Professor Know-It-All

Listen, I’d write this sober if I thought it mattered, but after reading Jeff Jarvis’s latest pontifications about the state of the internet, I needed a drink. Or three. Currently nursing my fourth bourbon while trying to make sense of his new book “The Web We Weave.” Spoiler alert: it’s complicated.

Here’s the thing about Jarvis - he’s not wrong, but he’s not entirely right either. Kind of like that bartender who keeps telling you “one more won’t hurt” at 2 AM. You know better, but you want to believe him.

Billionaire Death Match: The Fight Over Who Gets to Be Our Robot Overlord

Look, I should be passed out right now after finishing that bottle of Wild Turkey, but these leaked OpenAI emails got me sitting up at 3 AM, chain-smoking Camels and laughing my ass off. Pour yourself something strong – you’re gonna need it.

Remember back in 2017 when everyone was worried about AI stealing their jobs? Turns out the real drama was happening behind closed doors, with tech billionaires fighting over who gets to play God. These newly leaked emails from the Musk vs. Altman lawsuit read like a soap opera written by a bunch of megalomaniacs with god complexes.

Billionaire Brats Fight Over Their AI's Political Views (I Need Another Drink)

Look, I wouldn’t normally write about this horseshit while nursing the mother of all hangovers, but sometimes the universe hands you comedy gold wrapped in a ribbon of pure absurdity. Pour yourself something strong – you’ll need it for this one.

So here’s the deal: Sam Altman, tech’s favorite poster boy for “responsible AI,” decided to poke the hornet’s nest by asking Elon Musk’s supposedly “anti-woke” chatbot Grok who’d make a better president. And wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing picked Kamala Harris over Trump. I just spat bourbon all over my keyboard laughing.

The OpenAI Smoke & Mirrors Show: There Is No Wall (Because We Demolished It)

Listen up, you beautiful disaster of a readership. While I’m nursing my fourth bourbon of the evening, let me tell you about the latest circus act in our digital nightmare. The Information - usually a solid source when they’re not huffing unicorn farts - dropped a bombshell claiming AI progress is hitting a wall. Cute story. Real cute.

Here’s what’s got everyone’s panties in a twist: supposedly, OpenAI’s next big thing, Project Orion, isn’t the revolutionary leap forward we were promised. The improvements are “smaller” compared to the jump between GPT-3 and GPT-4. And the kicker? It might actually be worse at coding than its predecessor. Oh, the humanity.

Rich Kids' Email Drama Shows What Happens When Daddy's Money Meets AI

Man, my head is pounding something fierce this morning, but these leaked emails from OpenAI’s early days are better entertainment than the usual bar fights I witness. Pour yourself a drink - you’re gonna need it.

Let me break down this circus of egos and billions for you, because beneath all the corporate speak and “save humanity” rhetoric, this is basically a really expensive version of high school drama. Except instead of fighting over who gets to sit at the cool kids’ table, they’re fighting over who gets to potentially control the robot apocalypse.

Digital Court Jesters: Dancing for the Algorithm Kings

Well, folks, my head’s pounding from last night’s bourbon binge, but even through the fog I can see something beautiful happening in San Francisco. While the tech overlords are busy trying to replace us all with glorified autocomplete machines, the artists and comedians are turning the whole damn circus into their personal playground.

Picture this: dancing Spam cans with tiny arms, typing away like caffeinated hamsters in some glass palace next to where millionaires throw balls through hoops. If that’s not a perfect metaphor for our times, I don’t know what is. The show’s called the “Misalignment A.I. Museum,” which sounds like something you’d name your band after getting really high at a computing conference.

Prophets of Doom in Silicon Valley: Two Tech Wizards Walk into a Bar

Jesus Christ, This One’s Heavy

takes long pull from bourbon

Let me tell you something about watching two intellectual heavyweights duke it out over whether we’re all going to die. It’s about as comfortable as sitting through your parents’ divorce proceedings while nursing the mother of all hangovers. Which, coincidentally, is exactly how I started my morning before diving into this particular slice of digital doom.

I’ve been covering tech long enough to know when something’s worth switching from coffee to whiskey, and this conversation between Stephen Wolfram and Eliezer Yudkowsky definitely qualifies. Christ, even my usual morning cigarette couldn’t steady my hands after this one.