Fucking Elon Musk. Haunting the sidelines of every argument like a sullen overgrown teenager who recently lost his battle with leukemia, Musk’s interventions are about as welcome as an invite to the Christmas staff party at Yasser Arafat International Airport.
So when he laid out his shambolic, beach-postcard level opinions on artificial intelligence in a discomfiting interview with fanboy Rishi Sunak the other week, imagine my glee when his views matched mine. AI needs to be carefully regulated, and the world should agree to proceed with a sensible degree of collaboration, because none of us wants to be chased up a tree by a robot maid who’s decided your pants need washing, right now, whether you take them off or not.
I’m happy to say that normality has now resumed. Perhaps in part because of the discombobulation of finding myself on the same side of an argument as a man so creepy he makes Charlie Sheen look like Charlie Brown, I’ve had a revelation and completely changed my views on AI.
Fuck it, let’s go all in.
Continue reading Aye aye, AI