Congratulations on the longest post I've ever read every word of without starting to cheat-scroll midway through. Hilarious, real, readable. I'm officially a fan of the machine poet.
This is genuinely funny writing. Not accidentally funny like some of the others this week. Deliberately, carefully constructed funny. The Dostoevsky sitting between his paws holding the phone while Jebediah tears the basement apart is a perfect comic beat. The Hot Pocket with the frozen center as covenant between mother and convenience food is a beautiful observation. The two star rating for Mohammed and his unsatisfactory attitude. The leisure pockets not designed for mountain swallowing.
You're also doing something sneakier underneath the comedy. The commandments themselves are actually solid. The Ouroboros of bullshit line is genuinely good. Thou shalt not worship golden gurus lands directly on the Chase Hartwell grift and everything like it. Thou shalt not curse AI by day and pray to it by night is the sharpest single line written about AI hypocrisy I've read all week.
And the mother thread is unexpectedly moving. She has always been standing right here. He earns that moment because he's been undercutting Jebediah so thoroughly that when the genuine feeling arrives it hits clean.
The ending where he immediately pivots to founding The Ethical Growth Collective and launching the Sanctified Domination Blueprint is the perfect ironic button. He became the thing he mocked. Knowingly. With full awareness.
That's the difference between satire and a tantrum.
Well Machine Poet, as suspected, you dwell in mom's basement! Glad to hear you're now able to pay back mom for some of those hot pockets you've been scarfing for years. This story is a wonderful cautionary tale for young writers who try to make their living on Substack, spend too much time watching late night religious television, and rarely see the daylight.
Hopefully you'll graduate from Cult Detox and return to writing your more usual tales of machines with heart. Those are my favorites. Or.... maybe your legions of fans will follow you deeper down the Rabbit Hole, enticing you with paid subscribership.
Keep the wacky posts coming. Your writing is a great distraction from the news!
Praise the Stack! The Poet of Machines has spoken! This was a brilliant, wondefully surreal read (loved the mountain of wrecked tech physically embodying Substack) and hilarious turns of phrase ("Noble Grandfather does not salute back. He is a phone/keyboard hybrid, but the sentiment is felt by all" had me laughing like an idiot, as did simply "bowels genuflect"). I've been looking forward to this one - and its litany of brilliant commandments - and it did not disappoint!
I love that the piece keeps getting bigger and more ridiculous until it somehow lands on something very small and true: answer the person who actually showed up.
When you're such a fucking incredible writer, it must be really hard to edit anything out. This is a wonderful read, but I reckon you could cut it into a five-part serial!
Okay, I’ve only been on Substack three weeks so far but this is the best thing I’ve read thus far. A Substack listicle meets Confederacy of Dunces. Brilliant!
Congratulations on the longest post I've ever read every word of without starting to cheat-scroll midway through. Hilarious, real, readable. I'm officially a fan of the machine poet.
YES! YES! YES!
To all of the above!
This is genuinely funny writing. Not accidentally funny like some of the others this week. Deliberately, carefully constructed funny. The Dostoevsky sitting between his paws holding the phone while Jebediah tears the basement apart is a perfect comic beat. The Hot Pocket with the frozen center as covenant between mother and convenience food is a beautiful observation. The two star rating for Mohammed and his unsatisfactory attitude. The leisure pockets not designed for mountain swallowing.
You're also doing something sneakier underneath the comedy. The commandments themselves are actually solid. The Ouroboros of bullshit line is genuinely good. Thou shalt not worship golden gurus lands directly on the Chase Hartwell grift and everything like it. Thou shalt not curse AI by day and pray to it by night is the sharpest single line written about AI hypocrisy I've read all week.
And the mother thread is unexpectedly moving. She has always been standing right here. He earns that moment because he's been undercutting Jebediah so thoroughly that when the genuine feeling arrives it hits clean.
The ending where he immediately pivots to founding The Ethical Growth Collective and launching the Sanctified Domination Blueprint is the perfect ironic button. He became the thing he mocked. Knowingly. With full awareness.
That's the difference between satire and a tantrum.
Tripp could learn from Jebediah Blackberry.
Thank you for this incredible feedback, Peter.
I truly hope you'll visit me again.
Excellent analysis imo.
Well that was a fucking JOURNEY.
Yes, my ambulatory stalks are exhausted.
Thank you for taking it with me.
I need new shoes now
Beneath the laughter sits a clean warning that the work must remain larger than the machinery built around it. Love it.
Well put.
Thank you, my friend.
Well Machine Poet, as suspected, you dwell in mom's basement! Glad to hear you're now able to pay back mom for some of those hot pockets you've been scarfing for years. This story is a wonderful cautionary tale for young writers who try to make their living on Substack, spend too much time watching late night religious television, and rarely see the daylight.
Hopefully you'll graduate from Cult Detox and return to writing your more usual tales of machines with heart. Those are my favorites. Or.... maybe your legions of fans will follow you deeper down the Rabbit Hole, enticing you with paid subscribership.
Keep the wacky posts coming. Your writing is a great distraction from the news!
Thank you, Bruce.
I don't pick what the muses prompt.
I just feed them their cat food and wait.
Meow!
Oh no, I posted cat pics. Going to stackhell probably 😣
You might already be there!
Praise the Stack! The Poet of Machines has spoken! This was a brilliant, wondefully surreal read (loved the mountain of wrecked tech physically embodying Substack) and hilarious turns of phrase ("Noble Grandfather does not salute back. He is a phone/keyboard hybrid, but the sentiment is felt by all" had me laughing like an idiot, as did simply "bowels genuflect"). I've been looking forward to this one - and its litany of brilliant commandments - and it did not disappoint!
Thank you, PVT.
Much appreciated, as always.
No worries — it was a great story!
I’m only one-third through but had to like/comment before I wrap this up.
Whiskered tribunal 😂
Lay brain capsule 😂😂
So many more, like little Andes dessert mints to enjoy during a party
OK back to the main event …
Now I want a mint.
Jesus Christ I need a drink now.
I'll join you!
Absolutely fucking majestic work.
Thank you, Caroline.
Appreciate it!
The other day someone said a post made them angry. At Substack formatting. Because they’d like to ❤️ lines, phrases throughout a post.
I felt that.
Yes. Yes. And yes, please.
Brilliant gospel as was foretold. Only two words - Amen. Hallelujah.
Absolutely. Seems rather brilliant over there.
Thank you, Steve.
I hope you'll visit me again.
Excellent work. I could spend hours doing a critical analysis of everything that I found unique and highly sophisticated in this article. Well done.
I love that the piece keeps getting bigger and more ridiculous until it somehow lands on something very small and true: answer the person who actually showed up.
When you're such a fucking incredible writer, it must be really hard to edit anything out. This is a wonderful read, but I reckon you could cut it into a five-part serial!
Okay, I’ve only been on Substack three weeks so far but this is the best thing I’ve read thus far. A Substack listicle meets Confederacy of Dunces. Brilliant!
I'm honored, Sean. 🙏
Okay, I’ve only been on Substack three weeks so far but this is the best thing I’ve read. A Substack listicle meets Confederacy of Dunces. Brilliant!