!atheists

After almost a decade, I have made the decision to leave OpenAI.  The company’s trajectory has been nothing short of miraculous, and I’m confident that OpenAI will build AGI that is both safe and beneficial under the leadership of @sama, @gdb, @miramurati and now, under the…

— Ilya Sutskever (@ilyasut) May 14, 2024

🔥🚨DEVELOPING: Bay Area Thieves have begun cutting Tesla cables at their charging stations for the copper inside of them. California is going mad. pic.twitter.com/fLfTzSxQf7

— Dom Lucre | Breaker of Narratives (@dom_lucre) May 14, 2024

I on there side solely because it fricks over the teachers and admins

https://twitter.com/ProfBillMcGuire/status/1789692038033645891

https://medium.com/@matt.ryanallen/23-me-sells-all-dna-assets-to-chinese-government-in-10-billion-dollar-deal-030db9e4e1e8

sneed

https://twitter.com/Rothmus/status/1790408907828957254

NPR talked about it

https://www.npr.org/2024/05/14/1250912188/honor-levy-my-first-book-short-stories-review

Here's a choice excerpt I randomly scrolled to in the epub

He felt like he was dying, smothered by xenoestrogenic alienation, forced domestication, a lowering of testosterone, depopulation, doom, the sun setting for the last time ever, a great ugliness, the end of history flashing before his eyes. Withered Wojak. Pink Wojak with bleeding eyes. </3. Cope or rope. He felt western civilization falling and bile rising in his throat, a microwaved McFlurry of remorse and half-digested animal proteins. He felt himself falling out of love. Falling to his knees in a Walmart. A poison arrow in his chest. MRNA mode. Blood of the Lernaean Hydra mode. Ow. Wow. Passions inflamed the middle layer of his heart's wall. Myocarditis. Oneitis. It's So Over, said his sinking swollen heart. The drywall called out to his fists. He punched the keyboard instead, kjbvkdesvdsbjvjkwbdvb jkldesblkdf. . . . Why would you ask that??? Ur a dumb slut . . . Just another whore. . . . . . . . . No. . . . . . No. . . . . . I said I wanted a tradwife not a tard wife . . . roastie . . . whore . . . I hate you . . . I hate you I hate you. Just before he hit send, it hit him, something sent from the beyond, a burning white light, a growing echo of music, the opening notes of MGMT's “Little Dark Age.” And then it began: images flashing, hyperspeed through his mind, the Intertwined Lovers of Valdaro skeletons in their Neolithic tomb, huddled face-to-face with their arms and legs intertwined in an eternal embrace, Orpheus and Eurydice in the underworld, every pair of lovers ever intertwined in eternal embrace, Odysseus and Penelope, Eloise and Abelard, Adam and Eve, Bella and Edward. At ever-accelerating nightcore speed, he saw nights and days, battles and births, blood, so much blood, beating hearts, cells dividing, code being written, oceans rising, blooming flowers, dying crops, the great flood, continental drift, the universe expanding, poetry, pain, the big bang, empires rising and falling, the birth of his ancestors, the death of his great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren, all of the ends and the beginnings beginning and ending and beginning and ending and beginning and ending infinitely. He saw what Life is, and what Death signifies, and why Love is stronger than both. He saw a loop, a shining circle. He saw the way forward as he looked back. He hit the backspace button as he RETVRNed from this infinite space to his body, to his bedroom, to now. He understood now. No no i want you, he replied. Sorry for the late reply I was away from my keyboard. It wasn't a lie. He had been somewhere else. He wanted to reach through the black glass, through all the 0s and 1s, through the mess of wires under the ocean, through the cloud, to grab her, take her in his big gym arms and hold her, be one. He wanted her now as she was: messy and pure, bone of his bones, flesh of his flesh, this thing to be called woman. He'd reach through the wall before she hit it. He had to. It was a love story, it all was, everything is, and always has been.