AI

In Pictures: Welcome to the Interslop

Introducing a wailing Youtube therapist, my AI girlfriend and the serious social problem of bus theft.

People have been talking about this for a while but 2025 has been the first year that it really sank in for me: computers and the internet are getting worse, and you…

Hang on. What’s this now? I can’t see the words I’m typing. There’s a big charcoal-coloured box blocking my word processor.

I know I’m offline. I don’t want to see ‘my feed’, I want to see the words I’m writing.

It won’t go away. Does it go away when I click? No. Do I just have to wait?

I’ve figured out that mashing my keyboard keys makes it go away. But the point is, I don’t want to see ‘my feed’ when I’m trying to write. It’s very distra…

UFO CRASH-LANDS IN POLISH FIELD

KATE MIDDLETON’S HAIR IS A DIFFERENT COLOUR

BRUCE WILLIS HAS DEMENTIA

I’M 42 AND ONLY ATTRACTED TO MARRIED MEN

7 SIGNS THAT SOMEBODY LIKES YOU ACCORDING TO PSYCHOLOGIST

FLIGHT ATTENDANT WARNS PASSENGERS: THIS IS THE SEAT YOU SHOULD NEVER SIT IN

10 ACTORS WHO HAVE AGED TERRIBLY

6 THINGS YOU HAVE TO KNOW BEFORE YOU BUY SOLAR PANELS IN IRELAND

THESE 5 FOODS WILL KILL YOU INSTANTLY

Oh look, I’m online now. And ‘my feed’ has popped up again. Ugh. It’s a load of clickbait… Wait. Bruce Willis? No, poor guy…

Shit. What was I going to write again?

I guess I was going to talk about how the internet is shit, how we are descending further every day into the Interslop. And I was going to illustrate it with some screenshots.

Like this one. More AI slop from ‘history’ pages. Yes, that man has horns. And the text whitewashes what was probably mass sexual slavery. And AI layers this earth-toned grit all over everything that just makes it all the more creepy and uncanny.

But it’s not just AI. And not everything has gritty dirt tones. Now when I want to open a PDF document on my phone, I have to sit through a video ad that usually looks something like this:

Jesus. Hasn’t the internet gotten really tacky? Just vulgar. And when it’s not tacky, it’s weird.

For example: If I’m listening to something on Youtube these days, I get sudden interruptions from a man’s voice wailing at me. And before I show you the screenshots I want you to read the words he wails. Please keep in mind that these words below are sung as if they are song lyrics, in a way that’s anguished, high-pitched, melodramatic and breathless:

…procrastination is a trauma response, not laziness… warning signs of dopamine-chasing behaviour in men… how hypersexuality and procrastination are interconnected…

So many questions. First, is this really happening, or am I hallucinating? Well, I took some screenshots so I know it’s real. Next question: why is this apparition saying this to me? Why does the algorithm think I want this? Who thought it would be good to put these words to music? I don’t leave it play til the end because it’s too unsettling, so I don’t even know what it’s an ad for. But it appears to be for some mental health or counselling app. Let that sink in: this is supposed to be good for mental health!

While we’re on the subject of ‘why did Youtube think I wanted to see this’ – introducing my new AI girlfriend:

Well. She seems nice.

Youtube also thinks I want to see an ad for a new AI programme that can create songs.

If it’s ‘very scary’, why is she smiling? Even the most pro-AI people appear not to be sure how they are supposed to feel about it.

In other internet news, Facebook now has ad breaks, which I like because it encourages me not to be on Facebook. It’s a little speed-bump on the mindless scrolling. But like everything, Facebook also now has prompts to use AI at every turn.

So you don’t have to write Facebook comments anymore. You can just sit back and let the bot answer on your behalf. But, well, there never was any obligation to write Facebook comments. If you don’t like doing it, you could just not do it. So who is this for?

But bless you, chatbot. You’re here to reassure me if I get frightened about bus theft:

‘Is bus robbery common?’!! It’s good that on top of reading my friends’ funny posts, I get to read AI’s unintentionally funny attempts to assert its relevance.

And if we didn’t have AI, we wouldn’t be able to create awesome, educational, valuable stuff like this:

If you asked me, ‘Who are the Irish?’ the simplest and most straightforward answer would indeed be: ‘Niall of the Nine Hostages, Brian Boru, Bring Boru, Saint Patrick, Newfoundland, Buenos Aires, Newfoundland.’ Well done, chatbot You’ve named two Irish people, one typo, one Welsh person, and some place names in the Americas.

Is ‘Bring Boru’ distinct from ‘Brian Boru?’ He would seem to be, because they have different stone busts. FYI, in case you thought these were real stone busts done by 11th-century Irish masons, no, no they are not, they were just made up by the chatbot.

This preoccupation with nationalities and haplogroups points to another feature that is emerging as the Internet descends into the Interslop. Like so much of the internet in general and AI slop in particular (for example, the creepy horned Aryan Icelandic family), there’s a just-about deniable racialist edge to it.

Being on the Interslop is a strange experience that’s hard to put into words. The closest I can manage is this: it’s like looking at the ads page of an old-time newspaper full of quack remedies and crackpot inventions, but with bizarre, apparently meaningless letters and numbers scrawled on the paper, as if in cipher, filling every margin. While you are reading, the village idiots of a dozen villages you will never visit are yelling in your ear. Meanwhile you are experiencing intervals of auditory and visual hallucinations. But you can screenshot and preserve these hallucinations and pore over them.

You might say it serves us right for putting 40-60% of all social interaction on platforms run for profit by the weirdest and most hubristic North Americans. But we didn’t really get to make a rational choice about it. There was no big vote in 2009-2010; everyone who was twenty just went on Facebook because that’s where everybody else was, and stayed there so they could keep up with their friends who moved to Australia. Youtube was good because it was where all the videos were. If social media had been basically a schizophrenia simulator at the beginning, I doubt it would have taken off. But now that the ascendancy of the big platforms has choked all the competition, they can show their true face, and get as messy and nakedly profit-driven as they want. I’m still going to share this on Facebook. What else am I going to do?

Of course, I know the real reason why the therapy ads were wailing in my ear about procrastination and hypersexuality. It’s not that anyone thought it would be a good idea. Nobody had to think it was a good idea. The people paying to run these ads are rewarded for quantity, not quality. And quantity is no longer an obstacle. In the time it took me to write this post, I could have pumped out many Gigabytes of eerie slop with minimal effort, and I would have got a hundred times more engagement. So why do I bother writing? Well. We were pretty innocent fifteen years ago. If we thought maybe privately-owned, profit-driven tech and social media monopolies might be a bad thing, we couldn’t yet put into words why. But we have no excuse now. Now we know what the online world starts looking like when you base everything on the pursuit of ‘engagement’ for its own sake.

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Meta: it’s ‘practically impossible’ to make AI tools unless you let us steal

Facebook and Instagram have put forward a rationale for the plagiarism they are doing in order to develop AI tools.

From theGuardian.co.uk: ‘According to Meta’s defence, there is “no economically feasible mechanism” for AI developers to obtain licensed copies of the “astonishingly large volume” of books needed to train AI.’

Well, if there’s no feasible way to do it, then just don’t steal the books. You can just not do it.

‘Meta “would have to initiate individualised negotiations with millions of authors”…’

That sounds very difficult. It also sounds like Meta’s problem, not ours. So again, how about, don’t do it?

It continues:

‘…a process which “would be onerous for even a few authors; it is practically impossible for hundreds of thousands or millions.”’

They are complaining that unless governments just give them permission to steal it all, it’s ‘practically impossible.’ Word of advice: if the thing you want to do is incompatible with paying authors for using their work for your profits, then it’s a bad thing and it should be practically impossible.

Can a machine write a story?

Last month OpenAI boss Sam Altman announced that his company had created an AI tool that could write a short story. You know the most depressing thing about this news? Sam Altman did not wake up one morning and, just on a whim, ask his software to write a story. His company worked really hard to get it to write a short story. No doubt some tech worker missed a kid’s birthday, maybe even birth, in order to work long hours on it. They plagiarized and polluted for it. Getting an AI that could write a short story was something they had to pursue.

Here’s the thing: even if it was easy and cheap and green, why would anyone want a machine that can write a short story? Is there a shortage of people who can write stories? Is writing stories a chore, like washing clothes or cutting grass? Are people crying out for relief from the burden of being creative?

I made it clear enough last week that I think this Gen AI thing does have limited uses (“a moderate productivity booster in certain situations”, as my commenter, The Director from MilitaryRealism.blog summed it up). I’m not qualified in any very technical fields like engineering, logistics or programming, but I’ll add that I can see potential uses that could be important.

Writing is more my area; I have an English degree and I’ve worked in teaching and libraries. So I don’t hesitate to say that short fiction is a glaring example of something that’s not a useful application of Gen AI by any measure.

Full disclosure, I haven’t read the AI-written short story. I read a lot, but I don’t happen to have a Gen-AI-short-story-shaped gap in my reading.

To illustrate this post, more cringe-inducing AI imagery from social media pages purporting to be about history and mythology

It’s not inevitable

The Guardian got some writers to react to the short story written by the machine. Most of the reactions ranged between ‘Wow, this is actually pretty good’ and ‘I fear for my livelihood.’ Kamila Shamsie pointed out that GenAI will reproduce and reinforce all the biases, all the racism and sexism etc, in its ‘training materials.’ For Nick Harkaway, the story is an ‘elegant emptiness’ and being moved by it is like a bird falling in love with its reflection in a window. He emphasises that ‘none of this will just happen. These are policy choices, and the end result will be the result of a conscious decision.’

That’s what the hype-mongers want us to forget, isn’t it?

The future promised by Gen AI is one where nobody is paid to do anything creative or educational; instead, computer programmes owned and controlled by a few billionaires create flat, uncanny versions of what humans used to create. For some reason we are all supposed to be excited about this. But whether you feel excitement or dread, either way you are making the mistake of treating the whole thing as inevitable and natural.

Actually, there are humans making decisions and investments at every link in the chain here. And some, like CD Projekt Red, are making decisions unfavourable to the spread of AI in creative industries.

I don’t think AI is going to put writers out of a job. The vast majority of us are already out of a job. Tech bros claiming to have made a programme that can do what we do, and expecting us to be pleased about it, is just the latest in a long line of insults, and far from the worst.

I say ‘far from the worst’ because I don’t think these AI tools are about to revolutionise the publishing industry, any more than they have revolutionised any of the other things they were supposed to revolutionise. It will mess with a lot of people’s livelihoods and it will muddy things up for a while. But it will not be a game-changer. The wave may leave behind puddles but it will recede. So I don’t believe the tech bros’ dystopia will happen.

GenAI will probably carve out and retain certain niches, for better or for worse, in the publishing industry. But a machine can’t actually write a story. There’s a few basic category errors at work here.

Another one found in the wild. See if you can spot the warrior who has jumped 200 metres into the air.

Why can’t a machine write a story?

First, the ‘AI’ that exists today is not some sentient machine-mind (‘alternative intelligence,’ in the disappointing words of Jeanette Winterson). Maybe some day we will have that, and our android cousins will write their cyber-Iliads, which will be very cool. I’ll be the first in line. But that’s a whole different thing. I saw someone in a comment section gushing that ‘we have taught sand to dream.’ But what we have now is just glorified predictive text. Whether in written or visual or musical form, it just shows you the lowest common denominator of what’s already out there in the culture.

Second, writing is about expressing your feelings and communicating your thoughts and experiences. A computer doesn’t have these things. It can imitate the way humans express them, provided a bunch of rich people decide to devote stupendous sums of wealth to making it do so. But again it’s not the same thing.

What if the computer’s imitation gets so good we can’t tell the difference? And aren’t some human writers also basically hacks, unoriginal, etc?

First, every writer does not have to be Arundhati Roy for the point to stand that a computer can’t be Arundhati Roy. Stories are rooted in material reality and our experiences of it. No training materials or prompts can produce something like The God of Small Things, which is viscerally a story of its time and place.

Or imagine if The Grapes of Wrath had been written using pre-existing ‘training materials.’ It would have portrayed the Dust Bowl refugees as incendiary vagrant criminals and the cops as brave defenders of civilisation.

Even if the imitation seems to be perfect and seamless, the above points will tell. Stories are not pure exercises in form. They are about things. The most important ones are about things nobody has written about before. Even science fiction and fantasy stories are about themes and feelings that really exist.

Instead of Steinbeck’s wonderful and evocative descriptions of the human impact of the Dust Bowl, we would get ‘Chapter 2. The Dust Bowl took place in the 1930s and was caused by a number of factors. First…’ Front cover image from 1939. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons by Folktroubadour

AI in Gaming

I first became familiar with the phrase ‘Artificial Intelligence’ in relation to games. AI is what tells the mercenaries in Far Cry to search the jungle for you systematically when you hide. It’s what tells the hostile army in a Total War game to oppose your cavalry with spears. AI is what’s breaking down when your little villager takes a shortcut past ten enemy catapults, or when a Nazi stands out in the middle of a Norman field waiting for you to shoot him.

You’d think GenAI would have massive applications in gaming. But so far it’s been a real damp squib in that sector.

Recently PCGamer reported on a wild example. Basically, Microsoft made a demo based on a game called Quake 2 using Gen AI. The project used three megawatts of energy – the output of tens of thousands of solar panels. All that, for what? An incoherent, uncanny experience that looked vaguely like Quake 2 and that gave players motion sickness. For context, Quake 2 (that is, a version of Quake 2 that is the full game and that actually works and doesn’t make you nauseous) was made over 25 years ago by a team of just 13 people.

Something to think about: if they had managed to remake a part of the game exactly as it was with AI, that would have been hailed as a triumph. But… Then we’d just have a game level that already exists.

How do I explain this for people unfamiliar with games?

Imagine if I rewrote one chapter of Killing Floor by Lee Child, and presented it here on The 1919 Review expecting your adulation. But in my rewrite, the names of the characters change every other paragraph, and the font somehow gives the reader a headache. I rewrote it by listing every time a particular word is used then arranging the words according to arcane predictive rules. And, somehow, it took the entire output of a nuclear plant just to power the special laptop I used to do this.

Screenshot from Deus Ex (2000), which predicted this like it predicted everything else. Ion Storm & Eidos Interactive

That’s the essence of the Quake 2 situation, as best I can explain it using books as a comparison, but to be fair (and as I’ve made clear above), GenAI has actually produced more polished results when it’s confined to text.

In both cases the same questions arise: what is the purpose of this? How can the results (good or bad or just trifling) possibly justify the expense and the effort and the pollution? Why are we all expected to indulge Big Tech even when the project into which they are pouring so much wealth is largely unnecessary where it is not actually harmful?

GenAI is in many ways like crypto: the tech bros have invented a new toy and they demand that everyone takes their toy seriously. They demand that we sacrifice the future of the planet in order to sustain their toy. This toy is at the heart of an investor frenzy. They promise that when their toy has taken over the world, it will right all the wrongs it has done along the way (crypto, we were told, will actually save energy by putting all the banks out of business, thus reducing their emissions to zero; in the same way, we are told that AI will actually come up with clever ways to save energy.)

In other ways GenAI is not like crypto. It actually has utility, even if you agree with me that this utility cannot on balance be justified. It can be a lot of fun. It can make it easier to write emails. Its potential in technical fields is an open question.

But it has no utility in writing stories or developing videogames. It’s actually difficult to wrap your head around how stupidly wasteful and contrived such projects are. Even if that wasn’t the case, and even if the results were decent, it’s not worth one single artist losing their livelihood.

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2 years on, has the “AI Revolution” changed your life?

‘It’s going to change everything,’ people said, and even though they said it more often with dread than with excitement, it appeared they accepted it as inevitable.

When Generative AI became headline news a little over two years ago with the launch in late 2022 of ChatGPT, it was not simply oversold. It was hyped to within an inch of its life. Two years on, it has not revolutionized the way I work or live – thankfully. I’ve read about some ways that it’s useful and a lot of ways that it’s making the world a worse place. But in this post I want to pause and give you a full catalogue of how Generative AI has actually affected my life, as a snapshot of where the AI Revolution stands from the point of view of one individual in April 2025.

Of Bots and Men

At work I use a program called Canva and in early 2023 it drew my attention to its AI image generator, which I had a great time playing around with for a while. ‘Of Mice and Men but Lenny and George are Robots’, ‘World War Two in space’ and ‘alien spaceship in County Westmeath’ were all fun. People look doughy and uncanny, and machines look like they were drawn by someone even less mechanically literate than me, and the whole thing looks like the first three results in a Google Image search have been mashed together indiscriminately. It looks as uncreative and unimaginative as it is. But it’s fun, and I could plausibly claim that it was work; I wasn’t messing around on the job, I was upskilling to rise to the occasion of the AI Revolution. It is fortunate that I had that excuse in my back pocket, because all my colleagues could see ‘battle of Stalingrad with lasers’, ‘atom bomb on Dublin’ and other brainsick adolescent creations whenever they looked at the drafts folder. All in all, I can vouch for Generative AI as a fun toy.


As an aside, in the two years since, it’s possible this tool has gotten worse. In 2023 it gave me photorealistic rusty hobo robots in a Steinbeckian dust bowl scene; today it gave me cute robot mice.

And here’s another time AI impacted my life: I wrote about it here.

Who prompts the prompters?

Gen AI is all about writing prompts. But two years on it feels like we humans are the ones being prompted. Tech companies are nagging us to use the AI tools they’ve spent so much money on, usually in contexts where I don’t want or need to. If I tap my phone screen the wrong way, it invites me to use AI tools to help me do internet searches. No thanks, I’m fine. Right now as I write this, over on the margin of this computer screen, WordPress is inviting me to use AI to generate a title, featured image and feedback for this post. The good people at WordPress don’t appear to understand that I’m writing because I enjoy writing.

Ned Beauman, in his 2022 novel Venemous Lumpsucker, was referring to this kind of thing when he wrote about an ‘almost libidinal desire to relinquish autonomy.’

My wife uses AI at work, for actual work. She uses it to write formal emails, and I’ve seen the results, and I think that’s a great use for these AI tools. I understand that there are other things like this, where AI can do boring jobs quickly. So as well as being a fun toy, it help you write the kind of letters there are already templates for online.

Tsunami of Slop

In fairness to Generative AI, it has significantly changed social media, in that it’s polluted my feeds with stupid, tasteless, uncanny or offensive imagery, sometimes accompanied by text riddled with inaccuracies and written in AI’s characteristic style of pseudo-intelligent noncommittal blandness. As far as I can see, two particular online constituencies have seized on Generative AI. The first group is anti-refugee protesters, who make hideous posters for their events and fake photographs to rile people up. The second group is Facebook pages about history and archaeology. They illustrate their chatbot-written posts with, say, a picture purporting to show Brian Boru at the Battle of Clontarf – but Clontarf has been transformed from flat coastal fields to high foggy crags, and Brian Boru looks exactly like the Witcher. Or a Viking ship landing on the Irish coast – in the shadow of a ruined Norman castle that couldn’t have been built, let alone fallen into ruin, for another 400 years.
One image I saw in my news feed claimed to be of Dublin. The buildings and quays looked Dublinesque, but they were all in the wrong place. Now what I think is that the image was designed to provoke me into pointing out in the comments that, say, Grattan Bridge was missing, or that Bono’s hotel is upside-down. I resisted the urge but I could see that thousands of people had already commented. There is probably a whole category of AI post now that’s just correction bait. Again, AI is prompting us now, not the other way around.

It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s a good way to maximise engagement – far more effective than, for example, posting something funny or good or clever. 

While all this social media stuff is ugly and tacky, it’s at least interesting, in a Black Mirror kind of way. And image generators can be fun, and it’s nice to have software that can write the less enjoyable type of email. That’s it, really.

Maybe my experience is typical of a sizeable layer of people, maybe not. But if we make a rough balance sheet of the AI Revolution based on my experience, then it definitely wasn’t worth burning all those fossil fuels for.

Tune in next week for my thoughts on the question, ‘Can a machine write a story?’ And to finish off this post, here’s a small sample of the tsunami of slop that’s come down my news feed these last two years. 

’til next week, Happy Birthday Solider.

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‘AI’ clogs the internet with meaningless crap

This is a post about how the internet is getting worse. It’s about so-called ‘AI’, chatbots and plagiarism, and how they are churning out utterly useless rubbish for the sole purpose of getting your eyes onto their ads and their cookies onto your device.

Today it emerged that a local authority in the middle of Ireland was cheated out of half a million euros. Here is a report from the Irish Independent, published earlier today, reporting on the revelations of fraud.

I saw the Irish Independent article less than an hour after it was published. Less than an hour later, a website called ‘BNN, The People’s Network’ had an article up on the same topic. I will not link to this article, because if you go there you will have to spend 3-5 minutes manually opting out of various ‘legitimate interest’ cookie options.

The sub-heading invites us to ‘Explore the high-stakes drama at Westmeath County Council.’ The article begins: ‘In the heart of Ireland, a story unfolds that reads more like a thriller novel than a report from the municipal offices.’

But what follows is neither thrilling nor dramatic. We don’t explore or discover anything. There is no story. It is the exact same items of information that are in the Irish Independent article, but strewn around and hidden in ridiculous overwritten paragraphs:

‘The digital age brings with it incredible opportunities, but also unfathomable risks. The road to recovery for Westmeath County Council will be paved with lessons learned the hard way. It’s a testament to the resilience of the community and the individuals determined to restore what was lost […] While the investigation continues, and the council rebuilds, the story […] underscores the importance of vigilance, transparency, and the unbreakable spirit of community in the face of adversity.’

You’d think Westmeath had been struck by a terrorist or a decent-sized meteor.

There is nothing in the ‘People’s Network’ article that is not in the Independent article – except for one thing (or, the same thing repeated again and again, because everything is said at least three times): references to cybersecurity. No public statement has made any reference to cyber crime, or indicated that this was digital fraud.

At first I thought this was written by a human, content-mill crap, a step above plagiarism. But pretty soon I figured it was a chatbot.

How could I tell it was a bot?

1: Plagiarism. It was obvious to me because I’d just read the Indo article: there was nothing new here. Someone took the Indo article and fed it into a programme, which spat out this.

2: No sense of proportion. This thing was composed by an entity that has no inkling of what Westmeath is or what fraud is or what a euro is. It’s a trained predictive typing trick that arranges words in a plausible order. ‘The Chief Executive of Westmeath County Council is poised to make an official statement, a move that many await with bated breath.’ I live in Westmeath, and no, my breath is not bated.

3: Good grammar, terrible prose. I like to believe that a human, even the worst hack, would get nauseous writing such a cascade of clichés (‘reads more like a thriller’…’at the center of a high-stakes drama’…’a cornerstone of its relationship’…’this incident is a wake-up call’…’it serves as a poignant reminder’… ‘it’s a stark reminder of’…’underscores the importance of’…’underscores the critical need for’… A writer who takes some else’s writing and, within two hours, has it cannibalised and regurgitated, might be expected to make some mistakes on the spelling and grammar. If this writer, in addition, writes not in words but in stock phrases, they are likely to have problems with word order and sentence construction. But even that bad human writer would be more interesting. They would not be determined to say that everything is a reminder, a wake-up call or an underscore. They would get bored with the constant resort to bland linking phrases.

4: Repetition and needless elaboration. Most of the word count of the article is totally unnecessary. For example, the chatbot tells us the same thing four times: ‘[1] The details of this fraud have been kept under wraps, not out of secrecy, but to protect the integrity of the ongoing investigation. [2] Elected members of the council, though informed, have remained tight-lipped, respecting the delicate nature of the situation. [3] The Mayor of Athlone-Moate Municipal District, when approached for comment, respectfully declined, citing the active probe into the matter. […] [4] As the Gardaí delve deeper into the investigation, there’s a palpable tension between wanting to know more and the need to maintain a veil of confidentiality for the sake of justice.’

5: Obvious mistakes. The bot somehow got the wrong end of the stick. For some reason it thought this was a story about cyber crime.

6: Blandness. The story is scattered with phrases like ‘a breach of trust’ and words like ‘shockwaves’ that suggest the author is pretty excited, and that you should be too. But there is no criticism of anyone. ‘The council’s response, swift and thorough, reflects a commitment to accountability and a resolve to strengthen its defenses against future threats.’ A human would either stick to the facts (the Indo reporter presents all the information concisely) or present an opinion. This chatbot gives the impression that it has an opinion, but it’s the most boring opinion you could possibly imagine: the moral of the story is ‘fraud is bad.’ There is no meaning behind this. No feelings or ideas animate these words.

This story of content mills and chatbots is as a stark reminder of, serves as a poignant reminder of, underscores the importance of, and is a wake-up call about the attention economy and how the profit motive is spreading rot throughout the internet. I wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t actually kind of fun to play spot the bot. But the article you have just read (which, I hope you agree, reads more like a thriller than a blog post) will age poorly, because I predict that soon most of us will be dismally accustomed to chatbot-generated meaningless content, to having to navigate this crap in order to use the internet.

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