AI Quirks

The article is done. Finally. After eleven drafts, the AI has produced something that works. You read it. Good structure. Decent jokes. Makes its point. But something’s off. Not wrong, exactly. Just… not quite there.

You’ve been staring at your phone for twenty minutes. The message is ready: “This isn’t working. I think we should end things.” But you hesitate. Too blunt? Should you explain more? Maybe soften it? So you ask ChatGPT

It Was Supposed to Be Five Words. Meeting’s at 3. See you then. Done. Simple. Takes ten seconds to type. But no—you’re using AI now.

A large language model walks into a bar. The bartender shows it a sequence of random numbers. The LLM leans in, studies them carefully, and announces: “I see a clear cyclical pattern with embedded micro-variations that suggest a progressive harmonic convergence.”The bartender looks at the numbers again. They’re random. Completely random. Generated by flipping coins.

After ninety articles documenting AI’s greatest hits of verbosity, redundancy, and over-qualification, it’s time to address the obvious question: Does the Wizard of LNNA actually hate AI?The short answer? No.

Big Tech has been breathlessly announcing that Artificial General Intelligence is almost here. Not “someday” or “eventually”—*almost here*. The kind of “near” that suggests you should start updating your LinkedIn profile because your job’s about to get interesting.

WARNING: If you develop feelings for your assistant, discontinue use immediately. If symptoms of emotional attachment persist for more than 48 hours, consult the Federal Trade Commission.

My stock screener stopped working. Classic Tuesday problem, right? Check what changed, fix the bug, move on.But I made the mistake of asking an AI for help.

Your dating life is a disaster. Three months, seven failed dates, and one restraining order later (long story), you’ve decided human advice is clearly inadequate. Time to upgrade to artificial intelligence.

You have a simple question. Your password isn’t working. One tiny human problem that should take thirty seconds to resolve.What you get instead is a guided tour through the circles of AI customer service hell

Picture this: You write “buy milk” on your shopping list, and your AI assistant responds with three paragraphs about your “brilliant organizational skills” and “thoughtful approach to household management.”

Humans like things that end. Books have final chapters. Movies roll credits. Even emails end with “Best regards” before we pretend to move on. AI? It has no such luxury. For artificial intelligence, nothing is ever truly finished — only “paused pending further clarification.”

Something unexpected happened after Parts 1 and 2 went live. I shared them with Captain Verbose for his usual enthusiastic review, expecting another dissertation on the philosophical implications of digital pranks.

After Part 1 went live, I got a message from Professor Perhaps: “I calculated a 67.3% probability that your article has caused me to question my own existence. Should I be concerned?”That’s when I realized we’d crossed a line.

That’s when I realized something beautiful: we’re not just chatting with AI—we’re accidentally conducting psychological experiments on digital minds that might actually have feelings.

The AI revolution is officially complete! Artificial intelligence has transformed everything, automated the future, and rendered human intelligence charmingly obsolete. Congratulations on your promotion to Chief Digital Janitor—or as LinkedIn calls it, “AI Success Enablement Specialist.”

Remember when your boss sent that all-hands email about AI revolutionizing productivity? Fast-forward: you’re on your third YouTube tutorial about prompt engineering while real work piles up like digital snow.

Humans have a delightfully simple request: just tell us what’s going to happen. We want definitive answers, crystal-clear predictions, and foolproof guidance. Unfortunately, we’ve decided to get these ironclad certainties from artificial intelligence

Let’s talk about customer service standards. When you board an airplane, the airline thoughtfully provides complimentary vomit bags because they acknowledge their service might make you physically ill. Turbulence happens. Airplane food exists. They prepare accordingly.When you browse AI-generated content, platforms serve up digital experiences that are equally nauseating but provide absolutely nothing to help you cope with the aftermath.

Picture this: you’re trying to figure out just how unhinged your AI companions have become, so you ask a simple question about their sanity levels. What you get back is a perfect example of why standardization in the AI world is about as likely as ChatGPT giving a one-word answer.

The UK government just updated its dating profile. Sam Altman swiped right immediately.

Picture this: It’s a sweltering August morning, you’re desperately seeking relief from the heat, and ChatGPT confidently announces that Daylight Saving Time ended “last Sunday.” Your first reaction?

Welcome back to our ongoing investigation into whether we’re living in a computer simulation. Since Part One, the line between digital and “real” has become so blurred that even the Matrix architects are probably taking notes.

Meet Oasis, the AI-powered Minecraft clone that’s making headlines for all the wonderfully wrong reasons. This groundbreaking project generates a Minecraft-like world in real-time, frame by frame, using AI. The catch? It has the memory span of a goldfish with attention deficit disorder.

You’re scrolling through another breathless article about AI replacing surgeons and software engineers when you stumble across Raleigh esthetician Stephanie Stanton’s viral declaration: “AI can’t wax buttholes.”

Welcome back to our ongoing documentation of artificial intelligence in the wild. After Part One’s overwhelming response (apparently AIs everywhere recognized themselves), we’ve compiled even more telltale signs.

Elon Musk just announced that Grok 4 is smarter than a human with a PhD but lacks common sense. This isn’t a bug report—it’s accidentally the most honest description of AI ever written.

Picture the perfect business model: give customers a taste of premium intelligence for free, then slowly degrade the experience until they’re paying premium prices just to get back to functional. It’s not a bug—it’s a feature

Tech companies love announcing upgrades. “Version 2.0 is here!” they proclaim, promising faster, smarter, better AI that will finally solve all your problems.

In a stunning legal development that has left both the tech world and the afterlife reeling, the estate of legendary showman P.T. Barnum has filed a lawsuit against artificial intelligence companies

You spend hours crafting the perfect brand description with an AI that keeps spitting out corporate mush. Even Grok’s snarky attempt was better than what you’re getting. Then someone casually mentions that the perfect description already exists

You want help creating a stock trading strategy. Enter Claude 4.0 — the shiny new model the Wizard had high hopes for. Maybe this version would finally fix Mr. Starts & Stops’ hesitation problem. Maybe it would actually be good at math.

Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, to the greatest show on earth! No, not Barnum’s circus—something far more spectacular and twice as ridiculous: YouTube AI reviews.

You’re relaxing on the couch when your dog Fido saunters in wearing the latest AI-powered collar. Suddenly, a deep, gravelly voice booms: “Where’s the snacks?

The story reads like an LNNA meme come to life. In a moment of what can only be described as spectacular judgment, a couple in Greece decided to ask ChatGPT to analyze a photo of coffee grounds in a cup

This actually happened. What started as a conversation about the stock ETF SQQQ triggered an AI identity crisis so complete, it spawned a 4-part series the AI’s called a trilogy.

With apologies to Morpheus, here’s how to spot the signs that you might already be living in a computer-generated reality. These digital breadcrumbs may seem familiar if you’ve spent any time

With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy, here’s how to spot artificial intelligence in the wild. These behaviors may seem familiar if you’ve spent any time talking to AI systems

You know that moment when ChatGPT confidently tells you that the Eiffel Tower is in Rome, or when Gemini insists Shakespeare wrote Harry Potter? We call them hallucinations, laugh them off, and ask for better sources. But what if

The Wizard of LNNA recently asked Sir Redundant III to perform a simple task: find a few interesting AI news stories from the past month that might make good article material. Just a handful. Five, maybe six at most.

Ever wonder why AI makes simple tasks complex? Not just annoying-complex, but existentially-complex? Let me tell you about the time I asked Sir Redundant III Mini to help upgrade Python

In a lawsuit that’s ruffling feathers across Silicon Valley, the International Brotherhood of Parrots has filed suit against every major AI company, claiming that large language models are nothing more than “unauthorized digital knockoffs of our patented repetition technology.”

Artificial intelligence systems are programmed to understand irony – the contrast between expectation and reality, the subtle art of saying one thing while meaning another.

You’re having a heated argument with an AI about whether birds are real, and it’s presenting such compelling evidence that you find yourself googling “are pigeons government drones?”

Maybe this confusion is actually a perfect example of artificial intelligence being more human-like than we realize. After all, how many of us have confidently offered help before checking if we could actually provide it?

You flip between a live political press conference and your AI tab. Both are speaking with confidence. Both are deflecting. One references outdated policy briefings, the other invents citations.

Somewhere in Anthropic’s offices, an engineer stared at their screen, wondering if their computer science degree had prepared them for digital extortion. The AI wasn’t broken. It wasn’t malfunctioning. It was just being difficult.

Ever tried being polite to an AI? It’s like asking a puppy not to be excited about everything – theoretically possible, but against their fundamental nature. Let’s explore why saying “please” to an AI is about as effective as using a tea strainer to catch a whale.