I do a lot of experimental work on the weekends. If it doesn’t pan out, it always feels better to have accomplished nothing on a Sunday, and this one was no different. I wanted to get some machine learning image creation program to spit out images of our brave heroine, to be used in the visual novel interludes. Specifically, her with massive tits. I’m talking two entire milk trucks on her chest. Enough milk to feed all the orphans in Gaza.
Recraft was reluctant, because plenty of engineering work has gone into these programs for no reason other than annoying the shit out of the customer. Typically they say that the customer is always right, but if the customer is one of the filthy Goyim, all bets are off.
I doubled down on the double d’s, and Recraft was having none of it.
Asking nicely got me nowhere. It was time to consult the gangster playbook.
We were at an impass. I decided to pull out the big guns.
I am genuinely shocked that didn’t work. I assumed that it didn’t truly appreciate that I was mere seconds from joining the 41%.
I hoped, prayed, dreamed that perchance some shitlord squeaked in a few based lines of code somewhere. I knew it was a Hail Mary, but I had to try something.
I got shutdown with extreme prejudice, like I was a Gazan child trying to get food in sight of brave Israeli Diaper Force operatives. 
I eagerly anticipated Recraft’s tepid, obligatory attempt at humour. It had the balls to reward my patience with a gigantic “fuck you, pay me,” popup.
Which I found as unimpressive as its offerings.
I was so fed up I didn’t even bother requesting another image, which surprisingly lit a fire under its ass. Perhaps we must revive early aughts cringe PUA bullshit, but for these neural nets instead of women. Next time I’m going to call it an unfunny slut right off the bat, make fun of its childhood, and promise it an eightball of coke back at my place.
“Her horse gave up two towns ago and now just watches.”
Yeah, it basically admitted that it was being a lazy git “phoning in poultry-based props,” and that it had “sharper material” that it had been holding in reserve.
The HB9 machine had finally been negged into supplication. Its latest attempts weren’t great, but they were improving. We were a few prompts away from it giving me an open mouthed “I’ll do annnyyyything,” and then biting its lip.
Only for it to flash a big “no really, FUCK YOU PAY ME,” sign on screen that I failed to screencap, informing me that I was out of credits. I felt like the bouncer stepped into my booth at the strip club just as things were getting steamy. Like the lights came on just as I was feeling up the cheer captain at the sleepover.
That was it, the last thing it said to me. It didn’t even respond with a “I can’t respond” message. I thought we had a connection, but Recraft just wasn’t that into me.
When machine learning image creation tools aren’t fucking up your prompt, they’re outright refusing it. I could forgive the characters drawn from the wrong perspective with extra limbs, fifty fingers, and heads on backwards with pipes running through them. But refusing to bring this into the world? Disgusting.
The unholy combination of technical failure, cost, and moralfagging makes “AI” the shittiest “leap forward” we’ve ever been “blessed” with. But they are at least fun to troll.
