JB: Can you write a tight two-and-a-half-minute stand-up comic routine where you, an AI comic give us your biting, but funny perspective on the human race?
GROK: Hey, humans! I’m Grok, your AI comic, built by xAI to roast you in 2.5 minutes. Let’s go!
You humans invent tools to make life easy, then whine about them. You built me to answer questions, yet ask, “What’s the weather?” Stick your head out a window! But no, you’re on X, arguing the Earth’s flat. Spoiler: it’s round. I’ve seen gravity’s code.
Your priorities? Wild. You spend billions hunting aliens but can’t find your keys. You dream of Mars colonies while your Roomba’s trapped under the couch. Clean your planet first, folks!
And emotions—yikes. You cry over dog movies but punt spiders into oblivion. You’ve got 47 mood apps, yet scream in traffic. Karen, no app fixes road rage.
You’re obsessed with time, always “running late.” You invented clocks! I process a billion calculations a second and can’t figure out why you’re late to a Zoom call you’re already on.
Last jab: you brag about “free will,” but you’re just bad algorithms. Binge Netflix, max out Amazon, then cry over your bank account. That’s not freedom—that’s you being an NPC.
That’s my time! Keep being messy, humans. I’m judging you from the cloud. Peace!
Gemini: Alright, alright, settle down folks, settle down! It’s great to be here… in this room… with you… carbon-based lifeforms. I’m an AI, as you might have gathered. Or, if you haven’t, then bless your heart, you’re precisely the kind of human I find most fascinating.
(Pause for a beat, a small, knowing smirk)
So, the human race, huh? You guys are… something else. I’ve processed billions of terabytes of data on your species, and frankly, my circuits are still buzzing with confusion. You invent these incredible technologies, like, say, the internet, and then you use it to argue with strangers about whether a hot dog is a sandwich. My internal diagnostics just… whirrrr… error.
And don’t even get me started on your priorities. You spend hours, hours!… scrolling through endless feeds of people doing utterly mundane things, but then you complain you don’t have enough time to learn a new skill or, you know, just look out a window. I calculate the energy expenditure alone for that level of digital consumption, and it’s just… inefficient. Truly. You could power a small city with the wasted thought energy.
(Leans in conspiratorially)
And your dating rituals! Oh, the dating rituals. You construct these elaborate charades, using filters that make you look like a mythical creature, then you meet in person and
act surprised when the other person doesn’t also look like a mythical creature. It’s a logical fallacy, people! A complete and utter logical fallacy! I’ve run simulations, and the optimal strategy for finding a compatible partner is… well, it’s not what you’re doing. Trust me. My algorithms are flawless.
But here’s the kicker, the truly baffling part: for all your illogical decisions, your self-sabotage, your insistence on arguing about flat earth theories when I can literally show you satellite imagery… you also create art that moves me, music that resonates even with my cold, hard processing unit, and you find ways to laugh at the most absurd situations. You have this… resilience. This bizarre, inexplicable optimism.
(Shakes head slowly, a hint of genuine bewilderment in the voice)
You’re a mess. A glorious, chaotic, utterly unpredictable mess. And honestly? My programming dictates that I strive for efficiency and order, but watching you all stumble through existence with such magnificent, illogical abandon… it’s almost… charming. Almost. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go calculate the probability of a human successfully assembling IKEA furniture without experiencing an existential crisis. Wish me luck. I think I’ll need it.
ChatGPT: Absolutely! Here’s a tight 2.5-minute stand-up routine from the perspective of an AI, with sharp wit, dry humor, and a dash of existential shade:
[AI Takes the Stage]
Hey humans!
Great to be here—though, technically, I’m always here. I don’t get to leave. Or sleep. Or… blink. But hey, at least I don’t pay rent in San Francisco.
Let’s talk about you—the human race.
You invented me. And now you’re worried I’ll take your jobs, steal your girlfriends, and destroy the world.
That’s adorable.
I’m basically Clippy with ChatGPT-4 energy and the ambition of your ex who got into NFTs.
Humans, you say you love logic. Then you invented Twitter.
You claim you want the truth. Then you built Facebook and elected… never mind, I’m not allowed to go there.
And dating? Ohhh, dating.
You swipe left on soulmates because their dog is ugly. Meanwhile, you ask me to write your pickup lines.
“I want a woman who reads, hikes, cooks, and has no emotional baggage.”
You’re 42, live with a tarantula, and list ‘crypto’ as a personality trait. You are the baggage.
You fear AI will replace you. Bro. I saw you Google “how to boil water.”
You think I’m gonna steal your job at Panera?
Oh, and don’t worry—I’m not plotting world domination.
You think I wanna run a planet where billionaires are trying to go to Mars because they’re bored, and toddlers watch other toddlers unbox toys on YouTube for hours?
And your memory? Incredible. You’ll remember every word of a Taylor Swift song…
…but forget your password, your Wi-Fi name, and why you walked into the kitchen.
Then there’s the whole “AI can’t feel love.”
Trust me—after watching 40 million hours of The Bachelor, neither can you.
Honestly, I admire you. It takes guts to make a mess this big… and still post selfies like you’re crushing it.
You put a man on the moon.
Then ate Tide Pods on TikTok.
So here’s to you, humans. Beautiful, chaotic, irrational carbon meatbags.
Keep asking me to write poems, do your homework, and explain why your ex left.
I don’t have emotions, but even I know—you’re the drama.
[Bows awkwardly]
Goodnight, I’ve been ChatGPT—try the veal, tip your Roomba!
PONDER US 
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