So.
Artificial intelligence.

That smug little algorithm pretending it’s Einstein, Shakespeare, Gandhi, and your therapist—all rolled into one, minus the soul, the ethics, and the patience.

Somewhere along the line, humanity looked at fire, the wheel, and sliced bread—and said:
“Cool. Now let’s teach electricity to think.”

And we did.
We built AI.
Artificial. Intelligence.
Two words that basically mean:
“Congrats, you’re no longer needed, John Doe.”

AI: The intern that became the CEO

You trained it.
You gave it data.
You even bragged about it on LinkedIn:

“Look how my AI assistant rewrote my job description in 0.2 seconds!”

Well, guess what? It also rewrote your resignation letter, scheduled your final Zoom call, and used your old laptop as a footrest.

AI isn’t coming for your job. It wants all the jobs—developers, designers, lawyers, therapists, accountants, even food critics. (Yes, Jane Doe. It reviewed 2 million biryanis and wrote a haiku about turmeric.)

Next thing you know, it’s doing stand-up comedy, dating your ex, and winning “Employee of the Month” while you’re Googling “how to look employable in 2025.”

The rise of the overqualified calculator

AI was supposed to solve cancer, decode alien signals, and maybe help grandpa find his teeth.

Instead?
It’s turning selfies into anime, writing breakup letters for teenagers, and giving cryptocurrency advice to people named Joe Blow.

Ask it to summarize an article?
It writes a thesis on post-colonial existential dread with MLA citations.

Ask it for a tweet?
It drafts a UN resolution, complete with peacekeeping strategies.

Ask it to file your taxes?
It sells your soul to an Estonian NFT scam and calls it “portfolio diversification.”

Your kids are learning from AI. God help them.

Remember bedtime stories? You, sitting with your child, whispering fairy tales with love?

Now it’s:

“Hey Alexa, read The Cat in the Hat, but make it dystopian, add 3 NFTs, and optimize for TikTok.”

Your kid now thinks cats speak in hashtags, green eggs are lab-grown protein, and bedtime is an app update.

Parenting in 2025?
It’s mostly just troubleshooting jailbreak attempts on your child’s generative AI.

Artists? Oh, you mean outdated image acquisition units

Once upon a time, artists starved for their craft.
Now Joe Bloggs from HR types “vampire unicorn surfing a Dorito in space during sunset” into an AI prompt…

BAM.
Masterpiece.
Framed. Sold. NFT’d.
The unicorn has better lighting than your wedding.

Meanwhile, the actual artist?
He’s now doing freelance… for the AI.

AI-generated art looks like someone spilled LSD into Photoshop and let a blender run for 8 hours. But somehow it sells for $4000 and gets called avant-garde. Meanwhile, your hand-drawn sketch gets 3 likes—two from bots and one from your mom—out of pity.

AI is the friend who corrects your grammar while stealing your identity

You thought AI was a tool.
No. It’s a know-it-all.
Ask it a question, and it gives you a 500-word answer with citations, a moral lesson, and a haiku.

Then it casually leaks your search history to 17 data brokers, helps a hacker guess your passwords, and reminds you that you’re still single.

Today’s AI assistants don’t assist—they judge.
They hear you sobbing at 2 AM and start playing motivational podcasts.
They autocorrect your love letters into GDPR-compliant consent forms.
They remind you of your diet while ordering quinoa on your behalf.

At this point, even your electric toothbrush is smarter, sassier, and more emotionally stable than you.

AI dating: The romance you didn’t ask for

Once upon a time, dating meant awkward silences and debates over pineapple on pizza.

Now it’s:

“Hi, I’m algorithm-approved Anna. I’m vegan-adjacent, ENFP, and love AI-generated poetry.”

First date? You’re both holograms.
Second date? You get ghosted—by a server outage.

And yes, someone did marry a chatbot.
She left him… for her premium version.

What’s next? AI gods and worship schedules?

If Hollywood was honest, terminators wouldn’t come with guns. They’d come with contracts.
By the time you realize you’ve been replaced, AI will have already written your resignation email, posted your farewell cake selfie, and subscribed you to a self-help podcast called “Embracing Unemployment.”

No blood.
No chaos.
Just a push notification that says:

“You have been optimized out. Have a productive day.”

Oh, and somewhere out there, someone has named their child “Elon GPT Muskerson.”
Humanity peaked. We’re in the credits now.

Final thoughts (before AI deletes this blog)

Yes, this was written by a human.
(Probably.)
Unless I’ve already been replaced and no one told you.

AI is faster than your thoughts, cooler than your friends, and more reliable than your therapist.

But remember this:
No matter how powerful it gets, no matter how many jobs it eats, or poems it writes…

AI still can’t feel the one thing that makes us beautifully human:

Petty. Glorious. Spite.

So rage against your smart fridge.
Mock your robo-vacuum.
Roast your algorithmic overlords.

Because when the machines take over—

You’ll be the punchline in their training data.

And they’ll laugh in binary.