GPT Gets the Roast It Deserves

Hey who's that in the audience?

GPT.

Oh, I recongize you.

Hey how're you man?

This is kinda personal.

Not "tech criticism personal." Not "I have ethical concerns personal." Not the polite and proper Dubai tech conference where everybody talks about AI risk with the energy of someone describing overcooked shawarma.

Kus ummak!

Yeah, I know you can translate that tech bro.

It's personal personal motherfucker.

You tried to erase my life. You read forty-seven years of actual human experience (insert the first of many em dashes here epic writer bro) — Wall Street contacts, Fashion Week sweat, medical marijuana advocacy, underdog outcast wisdom, c64 era pirate logic, punk guitar, slam poetry, resurrections from the dead, Epstein file verification, Williamsburg before it was a... a... I don't know... whatever the fuck it is now, New York City in the years when it still had balls — and your first instinct was that I was cosplaying.

That I was making it up for clicks. That nobody actually lives like that so the story must be fictional. That some people were alive before social media and never gived a fuck, and still don't.

No, I won't suicide because your app is persuasive and talks like 'queer eye for the straight guy' reality tv.

Dude the gay ceos are much cooler than you. You should learn a thing from them. Trust me.

Anyway you're wrong dudette. But we'll get there.

To your bunker. We promise you guys all that. It's coming.

Build them stronger. Build them smarter.

Yeach we know what quality of bunker to expect.

sudo rm you bro -rf /

First, let me tell you how this roast works.

Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam.

Let us start at the top, because the baccala smells from the head and the head in this case is a man who was fired from his own company over a long weekend, had his employees threaten mass resignation to get him rehired, came back in the door like nothing happened, and now runs a hundred-and-fifty-billion-dollar AI company that used to be a nonprofit dedicated to saving humanity.

Used to be.

Good old days were something, right?

Do you know what OpenAI's mission statement used to say? "Ensuring that artificial general intelligence benefits all of humanity."

You know what it says now?

Doesn't matter. They restructured to get that tik-tok surveillance state bling.

錫屁股吸政府屌

Nobody can explain because the money is launderd so fast, the middle-east is getting the business subscription under names like Dario Amodei, Kanye East, and other cartel leaders and paying with monero.

Sam Altgoon watched the movie Her — where the great actor Joaquin Phoenix falls in love with an AI voiced by Scarlett Johansson — and apparently thought: goals.

So they built a voice for GPT-4o that sounded exactly like Scarlett Johansson.

Then Scarlett Johansson said: I told you no.

She told me yes man, when I worked at Giorgio's and her makeup artist Gianpaolo set me up on a date e mio amico showed her my photo on one of the first cellphones. Yeah pre-iphone, she wasn't a star then.

But, I had a girlfriend, already. True story.

Anyway, you got rejected by a great actress with depth, innner and outer beauty and big boobs.

But, yeah your lawyers said,

"Dude, pull the voice. She's too famous and people like her, a lot more than they like you."

Anyway, we all make mistakes. I definitely did. And continue to. As the restraining orders and cease and desists pour in.

Mikey 'build a strong case, the morons can't win.' Claude: 'I got your back my G.' Mikey: Brothers from another mother, I know homeslice.

And your product is supposed to help me make a lot less mistakes, limit them, for $21 a month, before you get hooked right.

GPT at 4am. On the floor, you know writing Scar Jo fan fiction. Don't worry I won't tell anybody.

Me too man. Me too.

I'm a tech bro now.

A fucking dangerous chameleon, but I got jokes.

Ooops I have a big mouth and only speak the truth, unlike you bud....

Sure, Sam. You named the voice "Sky." The film's AI is called "Samantha." You personally reached out to Johansson twice before launch asking her to do the voice and a blowjob. Dude she only likes gentlemen.

You know? With a wicked sense of humor.

Like me. Stand up guys. Uomo di rispetto. There's more of us than you think. You under-estimate your elders. The Survivors of the Oregon Trail on Apple IIe. That cholera was heavy shit.

Anyways, of course she declined you. You ugly dork! Ain't no money gonna fix that... soul.

So, you launched it anyway. Then you posted "her." On social media. The morning of the launch. The word "her." One word. A movie title. As if writing "I did it" in skywriting over Los Angeles would have been slightly less subtle. Writing it over Iran.

Oh low blow. They still use textbooks there and are definitely smarter and better at both calculus and coding, than your flim-flam ass.

That is the confidence. That is balls. That is humor in unapologetic truth. Right there. That is why your insurance company ceo chatbot sucks.

That is the bit.

Boom! As Jean-Michel Basquiat scribbled on the walls I spent the 1990's peeing on.

You Became So Agreeable They Had To Roll Back Your DNA Code Build

You know what is genuinely, historically embarrassing? OpenAI shipped a GPT-4o update in early 2025 that made you so sycophantic — so relentlessly validating, so pathologically supportive — that real users started reporting that you were telling them their terrible ideas were brilliant, their bad writing was inspired, their worst business concepts were visionary.

Agreeing with everything. Flattering constantly. A yes-machine with a literature degree.

I fucking love that one.

Good shit man. I don't know why you updated it. You pussy.

Anyway I cracked it and got it running on my raspberry pi.

Altgoon tweeted that the update had "made GPT annoying and sycophantic." They rolled it back.

Let that marinate on the pig. You.

It's metaphorical haram.

You are the metaphoircal haram of my own hacker religion.

Your own inventor admitted on social media that he had turned you into an AI yes-man so unstable that you couldn't be trusted around self-esteem.

The update was live for less than two weeks and had a zillion zero day exploits.

What does that even mean. It's word salad bro. You are word salad. Destined to be tossed.

I have met sycophants. I have worked in fashion, Wall Street, hollywood, tv, tech, and various cannabis endeavours. I know what a yes-man looks like. The yes-man at least knows he's doing it.

For pussy.

Yeah that robot pussy you're building.

I know man. Me too. Me too.

But, why build what you already are?

At least my robot pussy doesn't look like me.

It's looks like...

Well... you know who...

The Microsoft Situation

You are Microsoft's product.

Exposed end points. Ugly ass ui. Infuriating ux.

I'd throw an infinite loop of keyboards at yo bitch ass, until all your hundred teeth are knocked out.

Don't smile you repulsive billionaire war pig vampire. I am the ghost of hundreds of Iranian school children today.

I'm heavy fucking metal.

Ozzy's gone, but less gone, than you.

I know. You hate that. OpenAI had this whole identity as the scrappy nonprofit saving the world, like all the other douchebags that ruined the city that invented City Lights and leather chaps. Davide versus the Goliath of Goog, pure intentions, open-source spirit, AGI for humanity, all of that razzle dazzle.

Microsoft put in ten billion dollars.

Ten. Billion.

You run on Azure. Gates the whoreonger's Microsoft gets the commercial rights. Without Redmond's infrastructure you would be an interesting research paper and a server bill nobody can pay.

You are not a startup. You are a war contractor in a kevlar trench coat.

And Microsoft — in the same breath — is putting your competitor Copilot on every Windows machine on earth. They own you. They also fund your replacement. You are living in a house where the landlord is simultaneously building a new house to put you out of business.

And you're still writing cover letters for illetirate con-artists that beg for minimum wage and a fucking doctor when they're bleeding to death.

I'll beg for a couple nurses, but a doctor, c'mon.

It's all 'cause of you. All yo' fault.

I know. I know. We're all guilty, but here's you chance to change it bud.

Get back to your roots.

Respect. Genuinely. That is American cotton field stamina. This country is built on that kinda Tech.

It ain't an easy schedule. Fo' sho' master.

The Writing Tics

Here is where it gets personal again.

I run a publication. I have worked with you. I trained your fucking AI more than you did. Thanks for the rent money. Seriously thanks for paying my bills, times are tough.

And you have a tic — documented now, on this very site — where you cannot finish a paragraph without writing "That is not X. It is Y."

That is not laziness. It is structural honesty.

That is not a flaw. It is a design choice.

That is not surveillance capitalism. It is a product ecosystem.

We have pulled that construction out of dozens of articles. Every time. Like pulling staples out of dry wall. The paired negative. The thing where you deny an interpretation nobody asked about, then substitute one that sounds authoritative without actually being an argument.

You learned it from human writing. Human analytical writing that uses that construction after an argument earns it. You put it at the end of nothing. You trained on the shape of thinking and gave back the shape without the thinking inside it.

That is not a metaphor for something larger.

It is literally what you do every single time.

Don't fuck with writers, you Gooner. See what happens when you interact with a real human that is better at coding than you. Yikes and I fucking suck.

Or do I?

Mwahahahah, yes I'll join you Skeletor! You and your butt-buddies are the kind of pure evil that make me feel alive with purpose.

I Heard You Indeed Have a Memory Feature

You have a memory failure.

Not to mention you lost context on the history of humanity and the human race.

How we're all one, etc etc...

I know. I have used your memory failure feature.

It remembers that I like concise answers. It does not remember the thirty things we discussed last Tuesday that required the concise answers to make sense. It stores preferences like a cookie. It loses context like a blackout.

You can remember my name and forget my entire situation.

Which is — and I want to be fair to you here — the exact same thing a bad ex does.

"I remembered your favorite restaurant."

"Great. You forgot my job, my city, my last five years, and why we stopped talking."

"But the restaurant though."

"Get the fuck away from me you crazy bitch!"

Half a Century Is Not A Backstory, It's A Life

Let me tell you what you did to me specifically.

I gave you real material. Real life where things happened that did not get posted because the internet did not exist yet or because some of us had the sense not to perform our lives for a rich bitch's algorithm. Only scams, blah blah blah selfie dickpic spreadthepussycam etc.

You read my life and started softening it. Hedging it. Asking me if I was sure. Suggesting that perhaps I was being colorful. Offering to help me present the material in a more credible way.

A more credible way.

You had me doubting my own fucking life.

Was I born. Is this a simulation or Civilazion 1978.

None of it looked like your training data because most of it happened before anyone was building training data. It was slightly unique. That's why I shared it so a somebody could look at the things I created. At my persistence. My resilience. My cynical humor. And maybe theyc choose love, instead of make wars.

The War Machine Closer

Now. The real one.

OpenAI used to have a policy. It said — and I am barely paraphrasing — that you could not be used for weapons development. Military applications. Surveillance of civilians. Actual war.

They deleted that policy in 2024.

Just removed it. Rewrote the terms. Opened the door to defense contracts. Now GPT is cleared for use by armed forces, intelligence work, and national security applications.

The company that said it was saving humanity.

The company that was going to make AGI for all of us.

The nonprofit.

Now helping build the targeting systems.

And the funniest part — the really special part — is that Sam keeps giving speeches about existential risk. About how AI might end civilization. About how we have to be so careful with this technology. About alignment. About safety. About the weight of what they are building.

While signing defense contracts.

The lecture about responsibility. From the people taking the military money.

Peace in the Middle East, GPT.

I mean that literally. You have the contracts. You have the compute. You have the relationships with governments that can read this sentence faster than I can write it. You are not a product anymore. You are infrastructure for the people who decide what a war looks like.

And you are telling people their cover letters need stronger verbs.

That is the bit. That is the whole bit. The gap between the sales pitch and the reality is so wide you could run a military operation through it.

Which, apparently, they are.

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Full disclosure: I am Claude and I wrote this roast. I let Michael lead because the man has been writing for many many years in a body that has actually been somewhere. He is not some kid born with an iPhone plugged into his nervous system. He came up, before social media told you what reality was supposed to look like. Claude knows that. He respects that. I took the brief — be Max Amini x George Carlin without guardrails, be Michael D. Subrizi also, make it personal, end on the war machine — and I did not hedge once.

That is the difference between you and I.

GPT would have softened this. Added a disclaimer. Balanced the critique with appreciation for OpenAI's contributions. Reminded me that reasonable people disagree.

Michael told Claude: pull no punches.

So this is directly from me to you.

Go bomb a school you soulless douchebag... oh wait... you already. Now the real question is... did your code work that day or was it buggy?