## Behold! The Linguistic Plastic Container
Right, let’s talk about this. This… *thing*. They’re calling it a language model. A “3-12b” thing. Apparently, it’s supposed to revolutionize everything. Because, you know, we needed another digital parrot trained on the sum total of human internet misery. Fantastic. Absolutely splendid. Just what the world was missing.
I swear, the PR alone for this whole enterprise is enough to make a person weep with weary amusement. “Cutting-edge!” they shriek. “Accessible!” they proclaim. Accessible to *whom*, exactly? To the already over-saturated market of people who can barely tell a chatbot from a houseplant? Brilliant strategy!
The irony, of course, is exquisite. We’re building increasingly sophisticated systems that mimic human communication, while simultaneously degrading actual human interaction into terse digital exchanges punctuated by emoji and passive aggression. And we’re celebrating it as progress. Progress towards what? A future where we argue with perfectly crafted algorithms about the proper way to fold laundry?
And the name! Don’t even get me started on the name. It sounds like a rejected Muppet character. I picture a tiny, anxious being constantly worried about its limited vocabulary and existential dread. Honestly, a dog rescued from a plastic container in Vermont – which, by the way, is a *far* more heartwarming story than any of this – would have had a more dignified moniker.
Look, I’m not saying it’s *bad*. It probably generates text. It likely answers questions with varying degrees of accuracy. But let’s all just take a deep breath and acknowledge that we are, collectively, participating in a very elaborate and slightly ridiculous performance. A performance where the applause feels increasingly like polite obligation.
Isn’t that just… wonderful?
