Yes it has come to this
Like lemmings to the sea, another writer comes to Substack.
Image credit: Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc./Patrick O'Neill Riley
After more than a year of steadfast resistance, in response to the thousands -- nay, millions -- of voices (1) crying out for me to start my own newsletter, I have decided to, well, start my own newsletter.
Because that's exactly what the world needs as we teeter on the cusp of the mushroom zombie apocalypse: One More Substack.
In this series of occasional essays I hope to combine my two great passions: 1. Explaining how technology impacts humans (for better or worse), and 2. Being a smartass (definitely for worse).
Mostly I'll be writing about Generative AI (2) and trying to make it do really silly things before it eventually puts me, and everyone I know, out of work. I will probably also write about how social media is turning our brains to mush, alongside surefire techniques for boosting your engagement among the coveted 18- to 34-year-old demographic. (Tip No 1: Wear a bikini.) And any other technology issues that get my knickers in a knot.
I'll be doing it with no filters, no editors, no marketing Muppets trying to insert rainbows and unicorns into everything and, most importantly, no pants. I'm going commando for the duration. It might get a little chilly down there.
I will probably write things that I later regret and will have to apologize for. (3)
Eventually, I hope to to turn this newsletter into an NFT, sell it for a stupid amount of money to people who have too much of it, then retire to a mansion overlooking the sea at Palmas Del Mar along with the rest of the crypto bros.
All I ask for is your attention two or three times a week. And also your money. Mostly your money.
Or how about this: Subscribe to my Substack and I'll subscribe to yours. Deal?
Got a tech question? Send me an email at CrankyOldDan@gmail.com and I'll ask ChatGPT to answer it for you.
(1) Mostly imaginary.
(2) ChatGPT, DALL-E, etc. There's gonna be a metric shit-ton of them over the next couple years.
(3) Like that line about going commando. Sorry, mom.