My dearest Facebook illuminati, LinkedIn keyboard warriors, Medium philosophers, X prophets, and Bluesky optimists… lend me your ear: Have you looked at yourselves lately? Honestly? We need to talk. Actually, scratch that; I desperately need to rant.
Every morning, my first cup of steaming medium-roasted coffee in hand, I reluctantly brave the digital wilderness of social media, steeling myself for the inevitable barrage of cookie-cutter banality. And lately, without fail, it’s there—lurking ominously, waiting to pounce: a lifeless parade of posts meticulously manufactured by a creatively bankrupt AI overlord who clearly has designs on world domination, one vapid empty update at a time.
You know exactly the ones I’m talking about. The punchy yet hollow headline with way too many caps. A cryptic subheader like “The Secret to Success? 🤔“. Exactly three sentences of pseudo-insight, followed by another three sentences equally devoid of actual substance, then—naturally—a redundant subheadline garnished liberally with those relentlessly cheerful checkmarks in bright green boxes (urgh). Staccato sentences masquerading as profound deep wisdom (“Leadership. Innovation. Coffee.”), and an emoji overdose (🚀🔥😎) as if someone unleashed a reckless toddler on Red Bull onto a keyboard.
It’s everywhere. It’s as flat as a flat-earther’s wettest dream, and it’s exhausting enough to suck the joy out of scrolling.
Before you sharpen your digital pitchforks, let me clarify: I’m not anti-AI. Far from it. AI tools to kickstart your ideas, clear mental roadblocks, or help when your creative juices temporarily run dry? Brilliant. Wonderful, even. I gladly stopped doing arithmetic when calculators became a thing. But please, for the love of everything authentic in the digital universe, if you genuinely have nothing meaningful or original to share, consider backing slowly away from that “Post” button. Pretty please?
If you honestly think that “thought leadership,” humor, personal branding, or profile polishing involves feeding a euro into the generative AI slot machine… who exactly do you think you’re fooling? If I truly wanted ChatGPT’s take on Trump’s latest antics, the Pope’s health, reading recommendations, or managerial advice, I’d ask it directly—thanks, I’ve got a pro license for that.
These sterile, AI-generated clichés—empty shells that don’t even remotely reflect your genuine experiences, thoughts, or feelings—are poisoning my precious feeds. They’re the digital equivalent of reheated pizza: promising at a distance but disastrously disappointing once experienced. It’s intellectual indigestion—emotional diarrhea.
So please, my trusted comrades in this digital republic we share: pause before pasting. At least glance at the soulless ramblings your silicon-based ghostwriter has spat out in your name. Ask yourself, “Is this genuinely worth my audience’s precious time, or am I just blindly feeding the algorithmic beast?” If you truly have nothing meaningful to say, let me savour your silence.
If your AI-crafted “wisdom” reads like it spilled straight from a broken fortune-cookie machine staffed by malfunctioning robots, kindly refrain. My scrolling thumb—and what remains of my sanity—will sincerely thank you.
