No offence to the machine, but it’ll never write like me.

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Because I’m unpredictable in a good way. Original, always. My lines come from life, sunshine and laughter. My influences root deep and run wild.

 

From hip-hop to stand-up. Real talk on bus tops. Beat poetry. The Blues. Only literal facts and lyrical fictions fuel me. No. Fake. News.

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Big Algo eats different – not for taste or for pleasure – in amounts we can’t humanly stomach or measure. But I eat better. Chew harder. Super-sized scrapes of big data won’t satiate this writer.

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I’m not anti-AI, just wary (like any pro would be) of half-baked, low-fact, hallucinated upchucks from Google-knows-where. And scary-slick “bot takes” that don’t stick but run through you. If I served this shit up, you'd sue me.

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For the record, Your Honour: I’m just an honest prose vendor. All caps TOV. Verbal ID defender. I give you my words. I sell you no lies. Swiping IP ain’t my modus operandi. NB: I can’t vouch for the other guy...

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If you trust me on that, you can hold me to this: a promise that all proceeds go to clarity. No filler. No flat lines. My killer thoughts don't link to kill chains. Just good morals and taste beyond binary.

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Spicy, by all means. Peppered with meaning. I remix fresh sources from scratch. My signature serve? Slow-grown, organic, hand-picked, small-batch. I mean, how else could I tempt picky eyeballs to eat this?

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These words are my owned thoughts, measured in spark, not speed. Hard to lose in the herd. Made to nourish, not just to feed. All flourishes 100% free range guaranteed.

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Now, fast words be nimble. And they sure be quick. But they do Jack for real tone – the true magic-beans bit. Those seeds between lines and deep in the furrow where big ideas grow and slow copy hits... they miss.

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No hate to the data scraper, but it’ll never plate words like these. This is taste you can’t copy and paste, mon ami. 💅