Sam Altman, Hellsmith
2026-07-31 18:11:20.147052+02 by Dan Lyke 0 comments
I spent the weekend going through my mom's feed with her, trying to exist in the world their daemons operate. They keep sending her stuff that makes her sad: lonely abandoned moms, no-contact kids, mournful poetry, and a lot of it is AI. And because it tugs at a silent fear, she watches them and they give her more and more of it. I was like, Mom. Look at the fingers on this steering wheel, how these two are webbed, like a duck's foot. She told me that these words were from a mother's heart.
One hesitates to "give it to them," but there is something that these machines are adept at - the manufacture of utterly bespoke hells. Sam Altman, Hellsmith.