Booty cheeks

For the first time in my 109 years on earth, I’m trying to get hot. I mean, I’ve actually started combing my hair. Can you believe that shit?

I’m also trying to get absolutely JACKED. I want to rise up out of the ocean like Daniel Craig in Casino Royale with a blue speedo on and everyone think “I want some of that” before i disappoint them with my helplessly average penis. The problem is I’ve never weighed more than 98 pounds in my life.

Instead of looking like Daniel Craig, I look more like Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver.

To help put on the weight, I’ve just started pounding the supplements and basically eating out of a trash can. Whatever shitty food is out there, I’ve been eating it. And nothing has been shittier than Burger King.

So I pulled up to the window to place my order. The girl asks over the intercom “can I take your order?”

I say “yeah, I’d like a crispy royal chicken and…”

“Can you hold on a second?” she rudely interrupts.

So I sit there quietly for ten minutes before she comes back. “Sorry about that, can I take your order?”

“Yes, I’d like a crispy royal chicken…”

“Hold on.”

26 minutes later she comes back. “I’m sorry, are you ready to order?”

“Yes, a goddamn crispy royal chicken sandwich with a fucking Pepsi!”

“We only serve Coke products sir.”

“I don’t drink that piss water!”

“So you want just the chicken sandwich?”

“Yes! And some chicken fingers too!”

“Would you like any barbecue or Buffalo dipping sauce?”

“Give me some Buffalo sauce!”

“We’re all out of buffalo sauce sir.”

“Nevermind then. Just give me some fries!”

“Small, medium, or large?”

“Medium!”

“You can only do small or large.”

“Fuck me! Just give me small.”

“Will that be all?”

“Get me a strawberry shake too!”

“That will $204.97, first window.”

Then when they gave me my order, they handed me a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings! Instead returning it and ranting and raving like I’d normally do, I ate it and it tasted like ASS.

THE END

Redemption in Jeopardy!

This is no fantasy; no hellish dream of Orwellian proportions. The future is today.

And it honestly, it could be worse.

I have nothing against AI. To paraphrase Slavoj Zizek, “computers are stupid.” Of course, I could be wrong. And if I am, then sorry humanity! You had your moment and you pissed it away. So if AI wishes to replace us, then it has my full support.

Now I can understand the concerns of artists. It is entirely possible that AI will one day replace the necessity for the human touch in regards to creating art. But until that day comes, I will continue to find what AI produces to be hilarious.

The other night, I used ChatGPT to workshop a few ideas. If you don’t follow me on Instagram, allow me to introduce Saturday Night Live as written and hosted by Cormac McCarthy:

And here’s a Burger King commercial, also written by Cormac McCarthy:

After I had AI generate a Don Draper pitch for deodorant (while using a pair of nunchucks), I decided to do some real work. So I asked myself: could AI generate a story of hope and redemption?

And ladies and gentlemen, here are the results:

If this is the future, I welcome it with open arms.

God smiled upon us, once

I wish I saw her coming so I could’ve prepared my heart for what was to come.

She appeared to me as if a dream.

Paralyzed. Awe struck. The words just wouldn’t come.

“Are you gonna eat those fries?” she asked.

I was. But I couldn’t tell her no.

She grabbed the fries and wondered out the Burger King. Yet I had to know.

I followed her out to the door. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Who are you? The police?” she replied.

I stood there frozen while she wondered into the woods.

How could God, with all his wrath and anger, make such beauty with this cursed creation?

I thought I’d never see Her again.

But fortune threw me for a spin.

I was pumping gas when she asked “can you give me a ride?”

I said, “sure thing baby. Where to?”

She replied, “anywhere but here.”

We rode around all night.

She took me up to the mountains. She said “you can drop me off here.” I told her “you don’t have to sleep there.”

So we went back to my place.

She took off her coat, then washed her face. I went for a smoke.

When she returned, she said “I’m gonna make it worth your while.”

I want to say more, but that’s just not my style.

The next morning, she left a note:

“I’m sorry to leave you, but I just can’t devote. I glide like a feather, that’s why I’m sane.”

I never learned Her name.

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