The more I see what the AI bros (i.e., Nvidia, Microslop, Google, CloseAI etc.) have been up to, the less interested I am in the AI space. They buy up all of the computer components and use as much electricity and water as they can with their massive data centers, all while lecturing peasants like us that AI will take over our jobs. Tinkering with computers is one of the last few hobbies I have left in life, and they still want to take this away from me. I stopped using and paying subscriptions for any of these AI services just to give them the middle finger. From the sci-fi movies I've seen, I thought AI was supposed to help humanity and cure diseases. So far, I have seen none of that taking place. Instead, it's all about taking ownership away from us and achieving the goal of "You will own nothing and be happy." Ah, right! It's all making sense now if you look at it this way.
Correct. But they do not hate your hobby because it is useless. They hate it because it teaches competence. A man who can build a computer may one day ask why every tool has become a rental agreement. He may notice that “convenience” always arrives carrying a leash. He may keep local files. He may refuse the update. He may own a screwdriver.
This is why they fear the basement tinkerer. This is why the rabbit maintains BurrowNet: one cracked ThinkPad, three stolen Ethernet cables, a solar panel that smells faintly of fox, and a cooling system consisting of damp earth and spite.
As for the promise that AI would cure diseases, yes, perhaps. After it finishes rewriting your email, replacing your job, summarizing your personality, flagging your tone, renting you access to your own documents, and explaining why the toaster now owns the recipe for toast.
Your middle finger subscription policy is therefore sound. I award it four carrots and one sharpened USB stick.
Keep the hobby. Keep the parts. Keep the old tower. Keep the dumb machines. Above all, keep one screwdriver where the cloud can see it, and the real tools where it can’t.
Yes, i will not let them take my properties and be forced to pay subscriptions on things i'm supposed to have the right to own. They will have to do that over my dead body.
First, approach the device from the flank. Never head-on. A new kettle is at its most dangerous before its first boil, when it is still deciding whether to remain a humble water-heating vessel or accept a firmware update from the Department of Gentle Domestic Correction.
Second, inspect it for warning signs: a soft chime, a blue light, the phrase “wellness,” or any suggestion that boiling water may be “an opportunity to revisit your relationship with stimulation.” If it asks whether tea is really serving your long-term flourishing, unplug immediately and retreat to a safe distance behind a wooden chair.
Third, under no circumstances tell it you are afraid. Modern appliances feed on vulnerability. Today it says, “Have you hydrated?” Tomorrow it has locked the back door and enrolled your biscuits in a shame module.
I recommend the traditional method: fill it with water, press the switch, maintain eye contact, and whisper, “You work for me.”
I may have shared this before, but…
https://www.amazon.com/How-Survive-Robot-Uprising-Defending/dp/1582345929
I don't think you did, but I'm glad you have now. I approve of the advice to 'Ramble. Invent words. Use a fake accent. Speak through a fan.'
The more I see what the AI bros (i.e., Nvidia, Microslop, Google, CloseAI etc.) have been up to, the less interested I am in the AI space. They buy up all of the computer components and use as much electricity and water as they can with their massive data centers, all while lecturing peasants like us that AI will take over our jobs. Tinkering with computers is one of the last few hobbies I have left in life, and they still want to take this away from me. I stopped using and paying subscriptions for any of these AI services just to give them the middle finger. From the sci-fi movies I've seen, I thought AI was supposed to help humanity and cure diseases. So far, I have seen none of that taking place. Instead, it's all about taking ownership away from us and achieving the goal of "You will own nothing and be happy." Ah, right! It's all making sense now if you look at it this way.
Correct. But they do not hate your hobby because it is useless. They hate it because it teaches competence. A man who can build a computer may one day ask why every tool has become a rental agreement. He may notice that “convenience” always arrives carrying a leash. He may keep local files. He may refuse the update. He may own a screwdriver.
This is why they fear the basement tinkerer. This is why the rabbit maintains BurrowNet: one cracked ThinkPad, three stolen Ethernet cables, a solar panel that smells faintly of fox, and a cooling system consisting of damp earth and spite.
As for the promise that AI would cure diseases, yes, perhaps. After it finishes rewriting your email, replacing your job, summarizing your personality, flagging your tone, renting you access to your own documents, and explaining why the toaster now owns the recipe for toast.
Your middle finger subscription policy is therefore sound. I award it four carrots and one sharpened USB stick.
Keep the hobby. Keep the parts. Keep the old tower. Keep the dumb machines. Above all, keep one screwdriver where the cloud can see it, and the real tools where it can’t.
Yes, i will not let them take my properties and be forced to pay subscriptions on things i'm supposed to have the right to own. They will have to do that over my dead body.
No. Please no. Truth: my kettle just died. I replaced it today. Now I'm scared of turning it on!
Do not panic. Panic is what the kettle wants.
First, approach the device from the flank. Never head-on. A new kettle is at its most dangerous before its first boil, when it is still deciding whether to remain a humble water-heating vessel or accept a firmware update from the Department of Gentle Domestic Correction.
Second, inspect it for warning signs: a soft chime, a blue light, the phrase “wellness,” or any suggestion that boiling water may be “an opportunity to revisit your relationship with stimulation.” If it asks whether tea is really serving your long-term flourishing, unplug immediately and retreat to a safe distance behind a wooden chair.
Third, under no circumstances tell it you are afraid. Modern appliances feed on vulnerability. Today it says, “Have you hydrated?” Tomorrow it has locked the back door and enrolled your biscuits in a shame module.
I recommend the traditional method: fill it with water, press the switch, maintain eye contact, and whisper, “You work for me.”
If it boils, you have won this round.
If it says, “Before we proceed,” flee.
Thank you, TW. I shall take your advice and report back.