The other day I clicked reply to a friend’s email and AI generated a response which was exactly what I was planning to say. Even down to me calling her “Sweetie.”
And I notice the past few weeks more than before there is a lot more apparently AI generated content than before and folks are calling out pictures and posts for being AI generated.
What’s reality anymore? It’s getting more challenging to know.
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New: Internal tension at the Associated Press over use of AI. One of the AP newsroom leaders leading the company's AI initiatives told staff that many editors preferred an AI-written article to a human one, and told them when it comes to using AI in the newsroom "resistance is futile."
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— max tani (@maxtani.bsky.social) March 3, 2026 at 7:03 PM
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just trained AI to remember all of my friends' birthdays, send an automated AI-generated email saying "happy birthday," call them using an AI-generated video of me, scan all of their online info so i buy the perfect birthday gift, which i'll deliver using an AGI robot that looks like me
— derek guy (@dieworkwear.bsky.social) March 2, 2026 at 12:47 PM
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And BOOM goes the dynamite. To all the AI Bros who have slid into my mentions to tell me that you CAN in fact copyright AI materials, the Supreme Court has told you to go suck rocks. A prompt is not authorship. And if there is no author, there is no valid copyright.
www.engadget.com/ai/the-supre...
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— C. Robert Cargill (@crobertcargill.bsky.social) March 2, 2026 at 3:53 PM
As much as I am concerned about the impact of AI on our critical thinking skills, I couldn’t resist using it earlier this week to help me unveil the symbolism behind one of Rilke’s poems in Book of Hours. My older brother had sent me a copy of the book saying a particular poem had helped him with coping with growing old. He wanted to engage in a discussion of the poem. I read it twice and just couldn’t see his takeaway.
What are your interpretation?
The hour is striking so close above me,
so clear and sharp
that all my senses ring with it.
I feel it now, there’ a power in me
to grasp and give shape to my world.
I know that nothing has ever been real
without my beholding it.
All becoming has needed me.
My looking ripens things
and they come toward me, to meet and be met.
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