Amateur Hour

I’m having a bit of trouble, concentrating on my writing, today.

I engaged earlier, in a debate with someone on “X”, who seems to think that the rise of AI in the arts, is inevitable, and a good thing.

I didn’t represent my position as well as he did, his. Possibly, because he was using AI, to generate his responses, while I was relying on my own mind, and my own powers of expression.

The debate began as a discussion of the merits of generative AI, in the field of writing. I’m sure you can guess my opinion of those “merits”. Generative AI creates nothing, and plagiarizes everything. It spits out words and sentences, at an impressive rate of speed, and it’s soulless.

The experience has left me with a bad taste, in my mouth. Artificial Intelligence is a tool, that is quickly forgetting its place. In the wrong hands, it’s the tool of the tyrant and the bully.

It occurs to me, now, that I was arguing with a bully who aspires to be a tyrant. He did not understand that, one day, his tool will turn on him, and he will be its servant.

That may be the case, already, as he could not articulate his own position, without a crutch. In the not-so-distant future, he won’t know what his position is, until some software tells him.

I’d rather do it, the old fashioned way. Quality will always trump quantity. The product of the artisan will always be superior to the one that is mass produced, with built in obsolescence, and designed to be disposable.

That’s my rant, and my story, and I’m sticking to it.