Your AI copy… is wanq
It. Has. No. Pulse.
It’s bloodless.
It’s gutless.
It’s charmless.
You know it. Deep down you feel it. And people reading you feel it too.
The world and their virtual grandmother are AIing the fuck out of anything that moves.
I see it. You see it. Everybody sees it. Every day.
So stop it.
“Good enough” is a lie. It’s not.
Reject the bloodless, gutless, charmless wanq landfilling the internet by the petabyte.
Where everything feels sticky and contrived and ever so slightly weird… something you can’t even put your finger on why or how, but you can feel it - disgustingly literal, unnervingly try too hard.
Like that second cousin who’s only ever so, slightly so off. But ever so, slightly so, very off.
Sick of being force-fed the next most likely ‘thing’? If you’re not now, you will be soon. And anyway, since when was real life really about the next most likely anything? Let alone the next most likely axolotl?
Since never.
Vivre la Résistance.
If what really matters to you are the words between the words stuff, the snotty stuff, the peripheral vision, dot joining, life experience, shared experience, stupid, funny, skinned knees, the smell of new mown grass on the line stuff, then things are suddenly looking up.
My name’s Martin Williams.
You’re my next client.
We’ve work to do.