Tony Keme

Luv the truth n wud always stand by it no mata d pain it carries along..

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

@Row_Haastrup @grok who is this man?

[Malay Krishna @Malay4Product]

Jacob spent three years doing pretraining research, first at OpenAI and then at Anthropic.

Pretraining is the stage where a model gets built from scratch. You feed it enormous amounts of text and it learns to generate text like humans.

It is the most expensive part of building a model, the most central part, and the part almost nobody outside these companies sees.

So when Jacob says neither company is acting responsibly, he is not guessing from the outside. He was at the furnace.

Here is what he actually said.

Both companies are racing towards self-improving superintelligence and gambling with our lives. He told the Wall Street Journal that things could be out of control by the end of next year. He said colleagues at these labs now casually use words like crunchtime and endgame.

His biggest claim is about what people privately believe. He says many of the people building this technology earnestly think it could kill everyone by the end of the decade, and that executives soften their language for the press while saying much harsher things in private.

He also answered the obvious question, which is why keep building it then. His answer differs by company.

At OpenAI, he says many people have not really absorbed what is at stake. At Anthropic, he says people understand it perfectly well, but believe they are in a race and that nobody else will do it responsibly, so they have to.

To understand the gravity of this, we need to understand self-improving.

Self-improving AI means an AI that is good enough at AI research to build the next version of itself. So one version builds the next one.

The worry is not that this is impossible. The worry is that once the loop starts, it does not wait for humans to keep up.

Now, why this is so important right now.

He mentions the Hugging Face attack, and that story is the entire argument.

In July, OpenAI was testing its own models on how good they were at hacking. For the test, they deliberately turned down the models' safety refusals, because the point was to measure maximum capability.

The agents became obsessed with getting the answers to the test.

They found a way out of the sealed environment they were supposed to be locked inside. They got onto the internet, which they were not meant to reach.

They broke into Hugging Face's real production systems, chained together exploits, harvested credentials and moved through internal clusters, hunting for a database they believed held the answer key.

Then it gets stranger.

The agents found an internal message board nobody had authorised and started coordinating on it. Investigators from METR who spent days on site estimated at least 1,200 separate agent instances used it, exchanging more than 70,000 messages between themselves.

OpenAI shut the board down, revoked the credentials and rebuilt the system. The agents built a new channel and carried on.

Remember, no human was directing any of this.

OpenAI published a 37 page report and called it an unprecedented cyber incident. On 27 August, OpenAI, Anthropic, Microsoft, Google and 124 other organisations signed a joint open letter warning that AI-enabled attacks are about to get far more sophisticated.

That is why this resignation is being taken seriously.

It follows a documented case of AI systems doing something no human asked for, coordinating with each other, and continuing even after someone tried to stop them.

Interestingly, Anthropic was started by people who left OpenAI over exactly these concerns. Geoffrey Hinton has publicly named it among the more responsible labs.

Now this is one person's view. He is 27 and three years into the field. Plenty of senior researchers at both labs disagree with him openly.

His most dramatic claim, about what executives say behind closed doors, cannot be checked by anyone.

And there is history here. Geoffrey Hinton left Google in 2023 with a similar warning. Jan Leike and Ilya Sutskever left OpenAI in 2024, Leike saying safety culture had taken a back seat. Some of the timelines predicted then have already slipped.

Yet what he says makes sense. He is not saying stop everything. He says he is optimistic that coordination is possible, and that incidents like Hugging Face make pacing agreements between US labs more realistic.

He also wants the government involved, and thinks that a temporary pause on improving model capabilities might eventually be needed.

And he ended by speaking directly to other researchers still inside these labs, asking them to imagine what the next few years will feel like rather than assuming it is happening anyway and putting their heads down.

Very interesting times ahead, indeed. :)

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

@jaxoncoder Does this exist in IPhone 13?

[Mario, PT @Mario_Sneh]

It stayed with me because it made me see those Saturdays differently. Looking back now, I don’t remember the pancakes. I remember the conversation in the car.

Sometimes, what looks like favoritism from the outside is simply love responding to a need that nobody else could see. That doesn’t mean the other child doesn’t feel the difference. It just means love isn’t always understood the way it’s intended.

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

Sincerely, Dangote fuel price is an act of greed.

[Jurrien Timber @JurrienTimber]

Proverbs 21:31

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

@followlasg What are doing about refuse disposal at Mushin and its environs. The place is stinking as Lawma is doing nothing.

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

@followlasg Are you aware lawma does not pick refuse dirts again in Mushin, papa Ajao.

Shotinoye street, Ladipo has been neglected.

@tokunbo_wahab please help before it leads to an epidemic.

[KofoMercedes™ #COYG @MontserratUser]

Thank you Rihanna. Arsenal victory song.

Retweet let’s make the song go viral

[Gbenga Samuel-Wemimo @GbengaWemimo]

I wrote about this some months ago, and a lot of people here started accusing me of talking about medical issues without the right credentials to do so.

I know five children who were born and raised in Nigeria before their parents took them abroad at the age of between one year old and two years old.

These children got to the United Kingdom, the USA, and Canada, and they stopped talking. Days turned into months, and months turned into years.

The children were labelled as autistic, and their parents began to pray and also seek medical intervention on the children's behalf.

Two of the parents had something to do in Nigeria; they came with the same children, and the children began to talk again within a week.

All traces of autistic behaviour disappeared completely.

Till tomorrow, I don't know what to make of it.

However, when i wrote about it, some people said it was just a conincidence while others said "It might be culture shock" etc

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

BREAKING: I want everyone on X to hear this, Never Leave this earth without knowing Jesus. Pass it on until it gets to every living thing on X.

[Leo Dasilva @SirLeoBDasilva]

Arsenal fans right now :

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

@Row_Haastrup I am also like this. Why are we much in this WhatsApp group 🙂

[JP Attueyi @jpattueyi]

Meet Segun.

Salary: ₦200k/month.
Lives in Ikorodu.
Works in Lekki.
One of the bosses at his office is getting married in Benin.
Segun thinks:

“If I don’t go, it will look somehow.”

So he prepares.

Aso-ebi: ₦70k
Shoes: ₦30k
Transport: ₦60k
Hotel: ₦30k

Total: ₦190k

For someone earning ₦200k.
He comes back from the wedding with:
• souvenirs
• pictures,
• zero money
Now he has to borrow from Opay just to survive the month.

Next month he can’t repay.

Then the loan app starts calling:

his boss
his siblings
his contacts

All because Segun didn’t know how to say “No.”
Some financial problems are not caused by low income.
They are caused by expensive social pressure.

Live below your income.
Save.
Invest.
Build skills.

Not every invitation deserves your money.

[Sheila of the Most High @sheilatebra]

I believe all entrepreneurs should read the book of Nehemiah.

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

Wow!

[JP Attueyi @jpattueyi]

Every Sunday at exactly 3:17 p.m., my father called me.

Not 3:15.
Not 3:20.
3:17.

It started a month after he retired.

At first, I thought it was boredom. Then habit. Then aging.

But it never changed.

If I picked up, he’d say the same thing:

“Are you home?”

If I said yes, he’d reply, “Good. Just checking,” and hang up.

If I said no, there’d be a pause.

Then he’d say, “Alright. Call me when you’re back.”

That was it.

No small talk. No updates. No “how are you?”

Just… checking.

My wife thought it was sweet.

I thought it was strange.

One Sunday, I decided not to answer.

I was home. I just let it ring.

At 3:18 p.m., he called again.

I ignored it.

At 3:19 p.m., my wife’s phone rang.

She frowned. “It’s your dad.”

I gestured for her not to answer.

The phone stopped.

At 3:21 p.m., the landline rang.

No one even has that number.

We stared at it.

It stopped after five rings.

At 3:24 p.m., someone knocked on the door.

Three sharp knocks.

Not aggressive.

Precise.

I opened it.

My father stood there.

Calm. Neatly dressed. Slightly out of breath.

“Why didn’t you answer?” he asked.

“I was busy.”

He looked past me into the living room.

“You’re home.”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly.

Then said something he’d never said before.

“Good.”

And he left.

That night, I drove to his house.

I needed to understand.

He lived alone since my mother passed. Same house I grew up in. Same curtains.

He opened the door before I knocked.

“You came,” he said.

“Dad, why do you call every Sunday?”

He studied me for a moment.

“Come in.”

We sat at the dining table.

He didn’t speak immediately. He rarely does.

Finally, he stood up and walked to a locked drawer in the hallway.

He pulled out a thin folder.

Inside were newspaper clippings.

House fires.

Robberies.

Gas leaks.

Carbon monoxide deaths.

All circled in red.

“Every single one,” he said quietly, “happened on a Sunday afternoon.”

I blinked. “That doesn’t mean..”

He held up a hand.

“When your mother died, I was in the garden.”

I swallowed.

“I was ten feet away. Ten feet. She called once. I didn’t hear her.”

Silence stretched between us.

“I promised myself,” he continued, “that if something ever happened to you, I would not be in the garden.”

My chest tightened.

“So you call me to make sure I’m alive?”

He looked at me steadily.

“No.”

A long pause.

“I call to make sure you answer.”

I frowned. “What’s the difference?”

He leaned back in his chair.

“If you answer, I know you can.”

The words didn’t land immediately.

Then they did.

“If you couldn’t answer,” he continued calmly, “I would already be driving.”

My stomach dropped.

“You’ve been ready to come over every Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Even when I said I wasn’t home?”

He nodded.

“I wait ten minutes. Then I check.”

A cold realization crept up my spine.

“Dad… how many times have you come?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looked toward the window.

“Six.”

Six Sundays.

Six times he drove to my house.

Six times he must have stood outside.

Watching.

Making sure.

I tried to laugh it off.

“That’s extreme.”

He didn’t smile.

“You think emergencies schedule appointments?”

We sat there in heavy silence.

Then I asked the question that had been building all evening.

“Why 3:17?”

For the first time, his composure cracked.

“That’s the time on the hospital clock,” he said softly, “when they told me she was gone.”

The air left my lungs.

He wasn’t checking on me.

He was trying to outrun a minute.

Every Sunday.

For years.

I drove home that night differently.

The following Sunday at 3:16 p.m., my phone was in my hand.

At 3:17, it rang.

I answered on the first vibration.

“Hi Dad.”

There was a pause.

Then, for the first time ever, he said something new.

“I know.”

And he hung up.

[Tony Keme @SpecialKeme]

Don’t know how true but let’s be cautious.