AI politician consumes city

This is a comedy post. If you’ve seen my standup you don’t need a warning, but if you haven’t, you do.

This is NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

Proceed at your own peril.

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AI ‘clone’ of politician deemed too human-like to be believable.

Tired of attending Microsoft Teams meetings about Microsoft Teams meetings about Microsoft Teams meetings, one politician has devised a new way to avoid doing what little work he already basically didn’t do.

He is cloning himself and making his clone do it.

Raymond Hedgefund has devised a ‘new and innovative’ solution to the tricky problem of having to talk to common people sometimes for his job.

Not satisfied with 51 weeks a year paid holiday, local Labour politician Raymond Hedgefund spent your tax money on a drugged up search engine and tweaked its data nipples until this fellow came out.

“I tweaked em real good I did,” said Raymond, drooling into a shredder in some defunct council office which would be better used to house the nightmares of children.

Note: I did not use AI to ‘generate’ a picture of this man, because men already exist. What would be the point?

The search engine analysed various images of Raymond it found online, including images he thought would never go public, and sharted out some deranged robot clone of him from a digital tube. Initially he had to censor out the echoes of his past crimes, so the lower half of the digital Raymond essentially does not exist. He’s smooth down there, like a Barbie.

Unfortunately, this digital clone, made only from the surface details of what is arguably (possibly, maybe) a human being with a personality, has one critical flaw: It seems more human than the real thing.

Scholars and Poets propose that this new fake Raymond only appears human because he is missing some aspects from the original, giving the experiencer the opportunity to project a personality where there isn’t one.

Sort of like you with your ex boyfriend.

(an ability to touch guitars is not in itself a personality).

It has been supposed that the digital Raymond, like a bad poem, is empty and has become fertile psychic soil for whatever people want to think about him.

But this theory falls flat when you consider that people could have projected something more interesting into the swiss cheese holes in this digital bastard, like a fascination with antique lamps, or pigeons. Those would be interesting.

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Quandaries about the nature of human experience aside, there is a deeper issue with the digital clone.

‘DigiRaymond’ (a name which the government spent £3m on from some thinktank that’s really a nursery for manchildren with shit hair) is simply too likeable.

They’ve just completed the seventh microsoft teams call of the day, and are finally allowed a 10 minute toilet break which they’ll have to hold their breath for, as the guy in Human Resources died inside (metaphorically and literally) in 1997.

“Digiray, as we call him,” laughs Glenda Tube as if this is a clever nickname, “Is simply more fun to be around.”

Nobody likes Glenda.

“There are a lot less gropings,” one cleaner said. “Not zero, but less.”