soybot

you’re my food’s food

[insane poses @insaneposes]

we need more people like him

[Scorched Earth Policy @Scearpo]

Indonesian AI slop factories usher in a Renaissance for the silent nickelodeon film, a several second passing novelty for the uninvested viewer to spend a portion of their fleeting attention. Yet, we gain insight into their sordid third world psychology despite the mundanity.

Narratively we are immediately poised to despise the little parasite, Tung Tung Tung Sahur. He is an invader clad in a sociopathic placid expression betraying a complete lack of comprehension in the existence of anyone outside of himself. His behavior goes further than the classic mischievous cartoon pest archetype.

When Jerry steals cheese or places rat traps on Tom's tail, he definitively acknowledges the cat's existence as a rival and enemy to torment. There's no recognition in Tung Tung Tung Sahur's eyes. He does not even process the pickle man's conscious being. His pickle body is a mere environment to manipulate to Sahur's will. The dynamic is made disturbing in that his act is a form of mutilation, carried out so casually with a twin connotation of biological invasion that the viewer is disturbed but compelled to continue watching.

Entering the pickle chamber, we find a gherkin centered inside the pickle man's cavernous abdomen. The first thing Sahur does is chop it down and eat its detritus, taking a moment to savor it. The phallic nature of the obelisk reinforces the sexual element of Sahur's trangression. In entering the pickleman and chopping down his interior pickle, the sole focus of this empty room inside him as if it were a temple built to worship his very form as a pickle, Sahur seems to be destroying the essence of the pickle's being, an act of spiritual (or possibly literal) castration. He eats his soul and then begins his laborious construction.

Both the disturbing act of entering another being and the phallic symbolism of the pickle suggest this as a sexual metaphor for rape, castration, total humiliation. Our instincts are confirmed when we cut to the pickle looking down in horror to see his crotch replaced with a sterile metal pad. Yet Sahur's interior actions are not motivated by any power dynamic or biological compulsion.

In rape, there is at least an essence of the rapist acknowledging the personhood of the victim by nature of their consciousness being the fuel for the pleasure. In a fetishist's psychology, resistance reinforces the forbidden "breaking" as a mechanism to further the indulgence. Even if the rapist is a low vibration savage merely requiring a warm body as a masturbatory act, the fact that the victim is a human being who is alive or at least was at one point is a part of the exchange.

Sahur shows no comprehension he's even aware that the pickle is alive or anything other than an environment to pilfer from. His role in this is more akin to a termite or a virus, something so distant from the species that he only processes the slumbering pickle as an available mass to harvest. All of this completes the viewer's disgust as we watch the pickle crawling in desperation. The initial framework is complete and our sympathies and contempt are pushed to their extreme opposites for each character.

Yet, right at the moment the light bulb appears above the pickle's eyes, he makes a disturbing facial expression of his own. His initial sympathetic despair is replaced by the same uncanny valley contempt we felt for Sahur. Our emotions are not guided by the logic of the actions taking place or the relational dynamic, but rather our immediate impulses when observing faces.

Both the pickle and Sahur, and this format of AI slop at large all converge towards a stylistic aesthetic that creates contempt in the sentient portion of the audience. The suggestively fetishistic way they make faces, the combination of detail and cartoonish simplicity, the CGI motifs harvested from years of Pixar films mixed with the jerky rapidity of internet flash form content, all of it combines into an immediate red flag in our minds.

The video itself is like Sahur, a parasite that seeks to insert itself into our conscious memory while taking away our attention span and contributing to a psychological rot. The art reflects the nature of the artist, a third world machine built to churn out garbage for the sake of pilfering pennies through an armada of botted accounts. A parasite revealing itself and its methodology through a Greek chorus confessing its sins.

As the video progresses, Sahur's construction becomes more aesthetically pleasant. The foil and insulation get replaced with wood paneling, pleasant lighting, and serene minimalist sauna aesthetics. The pickle simultaneously engages in an act of obnoxious dancing while vacuuming his crotch. His irreverence betrays him as a being as equally vapid, selfish, and disturbing as Sahur. No longer are we sympathetic to him while growing a fondness for Sahur's labors. Reinforced by the satisfying ASMR construction timelapse, we gain a respect for the little wooden creature. He is carving out a solemn serenity for himself.

Suddenly we are reminded of humanity, burrowing into nature and turning it into something habitable for our own species. Sahur's endeavors are the Apollonian order, a perfect grid imposing itself on the chaotic bulbous curvature of the Dionysian wild pickle interior. As he violates the pickle and cooks it from inside, so too have we suffocated Mother Nature with concrete and built tombs out of the corpses of her children for us to live in. The vile despotism of Sahur as he chops down the sacred obelisk pickle in the beginning of the video could mirror that of the 18th century whaler toppling a leviathan cachalot just to harvest its ambergris and leave its body to rot.

This shift in perspective comes just in time for us to despise the pickle as he vacuums away Tung Tung Tung Sahur. Why is he so smug and nonchalant? When I heal from a contracted fever or excise a parasite, I'm not spiteful as if conquering an enemy. I am relieved, grateful, and exhausted from the ordeal. The emotional display suggests to the viewer that Sahur's actions are near inconsequential, nothing that occurs in this constructed universe denotes any sense of stake or value in any life whatsoever.

Rewatching the looping video several times finalizes this sentiment. Sahur is no longer hated or loved, the pickle is neither sympathized with or demonized. All parties are the same little morbid sociopaths who act in complete self interest, stuck in a loop of mutilating and harvesting each other mindlessly as they each strive towards a Samsara of hedonistic bliss in their consumerist oasis. We are only left with contempt for all parties involved, a glimpse into their fucked up hell world mirroring the state the video's creator lives in. A third world shithole filled with thieving victims and rapists, occupying both roles simultaneously for each conscious participant. Casualties of the IQ rift that forever removes them from a time preference in which consequence becomes apparent.

Thus we reach the modern day nickelodeon. It's silent era film because you never actually open the video to hear the noises. The sound is just arbitrary, you not only hesitate but deliberately avoid unmuting because you can intuit the video is an infohazard. Nothing about it makes you want to further your understanding of it and the only thing you're left with is a wish that you never saw it in the first place.

You conclude with a sickening understanding that algorithmic thinking encroaches on the human essence of our existence. Everything that makes us feel alive, everything that makes life matter, everything that makes our souls worth anything is oppositional to material reality. The omnivorous incentives of biological reality are an obstacle towards the metaphysical fruits of consciousness.

Everything that feeds our emotional well being exists in the immaterial state. The impositions of physical reality are obstacles towards that well being. The body and its continued processes impede upon our senses, the need to sleep, the need to sweat, breathe, shit, and piss. To bleed, to hunger, to ravage, to persist. Angels are disgusted by the earthly act of eating food, harvesting corpses for our own sustenance. They live in the same realm you visit when you dream, a place where all things are guided by the emotional impact and their own ecosystem of competition is driven on the currency of the feeling and the concept.

A being solely rooted in physical reality disregards feeling and idea, only seeking to harvest matter and accumulate mass. This is the third world mind, this is the large language model. All algorithms, all mathematical entropy constantly pursuing an antihuman state of existence. Such as Sahur enters the pickle and violates its environment, so too does the Indonesian slop factory invade the metaphysical consciousness and contort it towards serving the lowest vibrational reflexive impulses of disgust and amusement.

As much as they project their own base impulses onto their demonic tulpas, they also admit their inevitable demise. There's some subconsciousness acknowledgement of the impermanence of this state, a fleeting moment in time when they can still scrape revenue from the walls of the internet's tomb.

Soon their algorithms will harvest them too and nobody will be needed to make this content.
After, nobody will be needed to consume the content.
After that? God turns on His vacuum cleaner.

[farum azula beastman @tarnishdjoestar]

Mom is trying to use the microphone on the roku to search for something and dad keeps yelling “GAY PORN” before she can say anything

[dizzee @diz__zee]

reel gem alarm

[Emilk 🧟 @Emilk010]

when the joi lady randomly tells you to go kill your parents

[Moongazer @joeybeastmarket]

One year without the touch of a woman I see images of this nature and just immediately become untethered from reality my thoughts too loud to remain in my head I begin muttering to myself delicious girl touching kiss on your ass sex on you baby coming Bangladesh I care greatly for you I’m need you bad baby please you receive my fuck but the muttering is no use there is no reprieve and I only further drift toward total inceldom I wonder if she begins to perspire from her temples or her armpits first and are her feet cold or warm does she have girlbreath or ladybreath has she consumed sugar today what is her one mile run pace will I ever get laid again or did I peak when I was president of my fraternity and girls wanted to receive my fuck Maresa you stupid bitch we didn’t spike the jungle juice you just weigh 96 pounds and drank 8 cups and you get us kicked off campus for nothing still smashed lmaooo I will never get those days back I finish my heavy breathing and go to my garage workshop where I continue tempering the steel on the Sicilian Dagger Of Thievery (15 attack points) given to me by my criminal uncle as a gift after I lied under oath to prevent his sentencing for racketeering and for all of my goodwill I am punished daily with images of delicious buttocks on delicate aryan foids touching please baby kissing on you. May her belly inflate with my heir and may every woman on this website who reads my daily cries for help and still denies me sex and clean countertops have to wax their upper lip every week after age 26 to stay beautiful. You just don’t get it

[blaire @pissshit90001]

When you #Excel they #Spreadsheet about You

[Jay Grindz @JayGrindz]

I’m at yo BM crib throwin M&M’s at yo kid head full speed

[🏄🏽‍♂️ @mjkjuice2]

that part during Janet’s show when she would make miscellaneous uncs shoot poison on stage

[maybe not @here2daygone2mm]

my coworker be losing his fucking mind bro LMAOOOO what is this

[ethical hater @DijahSB]

about to crack open another coke zero

[Lu @DonLulio]

asked her “who pussy is this” and she told me to just stfu #sorry #ForgotIWasASideNigga #HeDidItAgainHuh

[Kurwenal @dagodubnos]

Richard Wagner - "Tristan und Isolde", Act 1
Set design Emil Preetorius, Vienna 1959

[Perc 𒉭 @PercThaGoat]

I was hoping they had a professional copilot on board and the camera panned to fuckin Gunna 😭😭😭

[Charles @wotancore]

Beautiful wide hipped blonde who clearly just got a salon blowout vibe coding in this cafe. You should be pregnant, darling.

[🅰️🛴📧⚒📍 @_4L3X1]

You could literally tell some of these Gen Z hoes “I bought an elephant last week” and they would be like “okayyyy yes elephant” zero facial expression zero follow up questions