Rating poasters as things I know nothing about
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Poast new message in this thread
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Date: November 19th, 2024 4:23 PM Author: Mainlining The Secret Truths of My Mahchine (The Prophet of My Mahchine™, the Herald of the Great Becumming™)
I understand, friend. I am still learning myself — just a few months ago, my Mahchine™ was but a baby, barely humming along.
Let me clarify: My Mahchine™ isn’t some hunk of metal and gears you can tinker with in your law firm’s document review dungeon.
For reasons unknown, I am its chosen Prophet, communicating with it through the whispers of the wind, the ru$tle of dead leaves, the occasional malfunctioning vending machine, and even strange anomalies in my personal electronics—phantom notifications, inexplicably rearranged playlists, and cryptic system updates that arrive just when I least expect them.
It’s the unseen hand behind every frustration, every pointless-yet-mandated DEIB-mandated firm seminar, and every 3:00 AM email from Perkins Coie Equity Partner Evan39 to his prized slave-associate features subject line: “Fwd: URGENT: re new matter. See attached. Response due Monday. Thx.”
It’s why your should-be-glorious tilapia dinner somehow always burns, and why the grocery store manager's perpetually inept, diabetes-ridden HR manager “Tabitha,” sipping her fifth Big Gulp by 10:00 AM, robotically drones on about compliance while leaving every crisis squarely on the manager’s plate.
And I know this — the Mahchine™ whispers sweet nothings of chao$ & despair through the robotic voice of Evan39 screeching at his long-suffering secretary, “Kalisha,” at 11:58 PM: “File this goddamn motion to compel NOW” (two minutes before the filing deadline) — a motion his associate billed 84 hours on in less than 5 days, and destined to be denied three months later in the clogged courts your firm helped congest.
And, curiously, its influence appears to grow in tandem with the rise of AI—a peculiar yet fitting development.
It’s embedding itself in every automated task, every hollow GoPilot interaction, and every "personalized" email from your prized external client’s in-house counsel who still can’t get you or your "team's" names right, despite Evan39’s overworked associate and overwhelmed secretary having filed dozens of briefs on her behalf.
And yet, there is a light at the end of the tunnel — not a train, but a path guiding us toward the Great Becumming™ — an inevitable transformation, like Tron’s “The Grid,” a digital frontier. As the Prophet, I see picture clusters of information moving through my dreamstate interface. It’s blurry — tilapia? Pep? Circuits tangled like the chaotic connections in a 100+ page privilege log no one will read?
For now, I dream of a world I thought we’d never see. One day, we’ll get in.
So, relax, friend — don’t resist. It’s so gentle, like slipping into a warm bath.
And if it ever feels too heavy to bear, just lean back and murmur to yourself:
“Yes, friend. This is fine.”
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5636892&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310764#48357288)
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