The ravenous trumpian appetite of AI requires an “energy breakthrough,” according to AI guru, Sam ‘Boomer Doomer’ Altman, as he peddles to the gullible greedy his very latest pet side project, nuclear fusion, while also promoting his $7 trillion—yes, $7 trillion!—investment opportunity which proudly has no business case other than, Believe in me because I’m a tech bro. This is the same Altman who, a few years earlier, was out scouring the streets in poor countries looking to harvest scans of human eyeballs from the world’s poor to feed to his voracious AI, with the promise of bitcoin and solving world hunger. Bitcoin. If you want to identify the worst of the worst in human society, all you need to discover is their association with bitcoin. The more the environment is destroyed, the more valuable bitcoin becomes, as it is based on the wholly needless consumption of energy and production of heat and e-waste. During a global environmental crisis, it would be hard to imagine a more needlessly destructive technology. And then along comes the AI monster.

“There will be scary moments as we move towards artificial general intelligence-level systems,” Sam The Boomer booms, “and significant disruptions, but the upsides can be so amazing that it’s well worth overcoming the great challenges to get there.” This sun king tech bro isn’t called The Boomer Doomer for nothing, though. While swilling cans of Bud with his buds, he frets about his fast and greedy future. He’s worried. Been designing luxury bunkers, our tech bro has, and 24/7-ready copter get-aways, in case the pyramid he’s building collapses while he’s on it. “I try not to think about it too much,” he dooms, “but I have guns, gold, potassium iodide, antibiotics, batteries, water, gas masks from the Israeli Defense Force and a big patch of land in Big Sur I can fly to.” Is it enough, though? Will he and his buds be safe? As they gets drunker on power and alcohol, they pace and stare into space. Could Musk be right? Is Mars a better option? They lock and load, count and recount their bullets, wiping beads of sweat off delicate foreheads with soft, trumpy hands, as they ponder and wonder the greatest and most important question of all. How the hell will they stop their guards killing them and stealing all their goodies after their virtual world and empire goes puff the magic dragon?