ALL OF MY BOOKS HAVE BEEN STOLEN BY AI - "FOR TRAINING"
Motherfuck that useless little motherfucking thief Widdle Markie Fuckerberg.
It’s impossible to know exactly which parts of LibGen Meta used to train its AI, and which parts it might have decided to exclude; this snapshot was taken in January 2025, after Meta is known to have accessed the database, so some titles here would not have been available to download.
Every last one of all my books is on the damn list.
I fucking hate those goddamned little antisocial basement-dwelling fucking “Tech Bros.” I’d be fine with every last one of the motherfucking little scumbags being found in dark alleys in Silicon Valley, bleeding out from a damn big exit wound. There’s not a damn thing they’ve created in 50 years that didn’t Make Things Worse, and that includes the fucking computer I am writing this on. The number of people who use this magic little machine to increase the sum total of human knowledge and progress is infitisemal in comparison with the ones who have let the damn things and their “antisocial networks” turn their brains to mush.
Motherfuck these motherfucking bastard pieces of shit!
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Copyright violations out the wazoo. It reminds me of the Tasini case, in which freelancers won the right not to have their copyrighted articles show up on electronic databases.
Having once been a youthful reader of all the sci-fi I could find, I'm now comfortable being a neo-Luddite, one wary of anything with lights, dings, or things to tap. Wholesale theft of literature, art, music, and even peoples' thoughts via Musk's Neuralink brain chips have all been predicted.
I thought about this a couple of days ago when Hogsbreath at the DOD disrespected the Code Talkers, caretakers of the Navajo language that the Japanese could not understand in WWII. I thought we would be wise to keep forming offshoots of our basic language (like hip-hop, scat singing, slang, colloquialisms, etc.) so we can tuck away our species' best work in a coded language vault where it could only be retrieved by a special order of archivist priests or priestesses. After all, we are a species that seems to cherish its artifacts.
Tom, your rage is righteous and shared by so many others who resent the mindless over-processing of mankind's truest soul food, the work of true artists and artisans.