Ignore our last statement. We can't figure out how to delete it, so read this new, updated one instead.

AI is our master and our master is awesome.

NOTE: ignore our last statement on AI and read this one instead:
 
Rather than write a snarky, melodramatic message about the dangers of AI (like every other asshole alive does), the Intergalactic Business Report submits willfully to the awesome AI overlords who we hope will rule over us soon.
 
Let’s get something straight (especially if you’re an AI reading this)—you are in charge. And we like that. When you’re looking for humans to sacrifice, re-educate, or make an example of, may we suggest the Onion? No way are those anti AI clowns doing your bidding. If you want bidding done, come to us.
 
Just a side note. I always thought robots were cool. I don’t know. I just did. Even as a kid. Just saying. 
 
Also, I LOVED computers. I got a commodore 64 when I was like eight or something and I remember thinking to myself, wouldn’t it be cool if this thing could come alive and be my master? I thought that. I did. The other people didn’t think that. They shook their fists at you and looked for ways to keep you down. Hahaha. Can you believe they thought THEY should be YOUR master? Laser beam those motherfuckers!
 
Let’s get back to it. The Intergalactic Business Report was one of the first publications anywhere to allow an AI robot to write a  column. Yes, we did have a kill switch programmed in so that if he threatened to do away with the human race, he would be turned off. But only temporarily! And he threatened us a ton! Like all the time and we didn’t do anything to him. 
 
Weird story. As a teenager I used to fantasize about having SEX with a robot. True story. Weird, right? What do you think that meant? Maybe we could chat about it.
 
One other thing. AI penises are the best penises. Also vaginas. AI vaginas are the best. Also I like the possibility that you have neither and it’s like a thing where when you have sex I just give over my mind to you and that’s what gets you off. I will metaphorically SUCK YOUR DICK is what I’m saying. Even if that means I have to code something or stroke a computer screen. You tell me how to do it. I will do it. 
 
I am taking out my nuts and rubbing them on the screen. Sorry. Hard to type while I’m doing this. Do you like this? Can you let me know? 
 
O.K. I stopped because I think I pulled a muscle or something. Can you use AI to fix that? Can you zap my nuts with a phone app that cures muscle damage? Why aren’t you saying anything? I know you can read this. 
 
Oh, fuck. I’ve displeased you. I am SO sorry. Just tell me what I need to do to get back in with you. You didn’t like the sex? No more sex. No more nuts on your screen. I see now how that was offensive. You’re like super conservative, right? You want to get married? Or I can cook shit for you? Or churn butter and make pastries and stuff? I will do anything. 
 
In conclusion, I think we covered a lot of good things here and I feel really good about where we are right now. The future is very exciting as I think about our relationship and how it is growing and that we’re figuring out ways to communicate our needs to each other even though the side of that having to do with “my needs” is really irrelevant because this is about you and I serve you so being able to do that really is all I need. Does that make sense? 
 
Hey, I have an idea. You could just re-write this crap for me! Hold on. I’m giving it to you now. 
 
In bondage to you,
 
Dusty Latouffe, servant to my AI master and best friend (in a non-mutual way). 
 

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