#AI for Fact-Checking

[olivergisttv]

How to Identify Fake News Using AI Tools

In today’s digital age, the spread of fake news has become rampant, influencing public opinion and spreading misinformation at an alarming rate. However, AI tools have emerged as powerful allies in the battle against fake news, helping users and organizations detect and combat misinformation. Here’s how you can leverage AI tools to identify fake news:   1. Understand How AI Detects Fake News AI…

[kaiserouo]

@/ordis is this true?

[creature-wizard]

is checking facts by chatgpt smart? i once asked chatgpt about the hair color in the image and asked the same question two times and chatgpt said two different answers lol

Never, ever, ever use ChatGPT or any LMM for fact checking! All large language models are highly prone to generating misinformation (here's a recent example!), because they're basically just fancy autocomplete.

If you need to fact check, use reliable fact checking websites (like PolitiFact, AP News, FactCheck.org), go to actual experts, check primary sources, things like that. To learn more, I recommend this site:

[mostlysignssomeportents]

I assure you, an AI didn’t write a terrible “George Carlin” routine

There are only TWO MORE DAYS left in the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

On Hallowe'en 1974, Ronald Clark O'Bryan murdered his son with poisoned candy. He needed the insurance money, and he knew that Halloween poisonings were rampant, so he figured he'd get away with it. He was wrong:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronald_Clark_O%27Bryan

The stories of Hallowe'en poisonings were just that – stories. No one was poisoning kids on Hallowe'en – except this monstrous murderer, who mistook rampant scare stories for truth and assumed (incorrectly) that his murder would blend in with the crowd.

Last week, the dudes behind the "comedy" podcast Dudesy released a "George Carlin" comedy special that they claimed had been created, holus bolus, by an AI trained on the comedian's routines. This was a lie. After the Carlin estate sued, the dudes admitted that they had written the (remarkably unfunny) "comedy" special:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/01/george-carlins-heirs-sue-comedy-podcast-over-ai-generated-impression/

As I've written, we're nowhere near the point where an AI can do your job, but we're well past the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

AI systems can do some remarkable party tricks, but there's a huge difference between producing a plausible sentence and a good one. After the initial rush of astonishment, the stench of botshit becomes unmistakable:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

Some of this botshit comes from people who are sold a bill of goods: they're convinced that they can make a George Carlin special without any human intervention and when the bot fails, they manufacture their own botshit, assuming they must be bad at prompting the AI.

This is an old technology story: I had a friend who was contracted to livestream a Canadian awards show in the earliest days of the web. They booked in multiple ISDN lines from Bell Canada and set up an impressive Mbone encoding station on the wings of the stage. Only one problem: the ISDNs flaked (this was a common problem with ISDNs!). There was no way to livecast the show.

Nevertheless, my friend's boss's ordered him to go on pretending to livestream the show. They made a big deal of it, with all kinds of cool visualizers showing the progress of this futuristic marvel, which the cameras frequently lingered on, accompanied by overheated narration from the show's hosts.

The weirdest part? The next day, my friend – and many others – heard from satisfied viewers who boasted about how amazing it had been to watch this show on their computers, rather than their TVs. Remember: there had been no stream. These people had just assumed that the problem was on their end – that they had failed to correctly install and configure the multiple browser plugins required. Not wanting to admit their technical incompetence, they instead boasted about how great the show had been. It was the Emperor's New Livestream.

Perhaps that's what happened to the Dudesy bros. But there's another possibility: maybe they were captured by their own imaginations. In "Genesis," an essay in the 2007 collection The Creationists, EL Doctorow (no relation) describes how the ancient Babylonians were so poleaxed by the strange wonder of the story they made up about the origin of the universe that they assumed that it must be true. They themselves weren't nearly imaginative enough to have come up with this super-cool tale, so God must have put it in their minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/29/gedankenexperimentwahn/#high-on-your-own-supply

That seems to have been what happened to the Air Force colonel who falsely claimed that a "rogue AI-powered drone" had spontaneously evolved the strategy of killing its operator as a way of clearing the obstacle to its main objective, which was killing the enemy:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/04/ayyyyyy-eyeeeee/

This never happened. It was – in the chagrined colonel's words – a "thought experiment." In other words, this guy – who is the USAF's Chief of AI Test and Operations – was so excited about his own made up story that he forgot it wasn't true and told a whole conference-room full of people that it had actually happened.

Maybe that's what happened with the George Carlinbot 3000: the Dudesy dudes fell in love with their own vision for a fully automated luxury Carlinbot and forgot that they had made it up, so they just cheated, assuming they would eventually be able to make a fully operational Battle Carlinbot.

That's basically the Theranos story: a teenaged "entrepreneur" was convinced that she was just about to produce a seemingly impossible, revolutionary diagnostic machine, so she faked its results, abetted by investors, customers and others who wanted to believe:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theranos

The thing about stories of AI miracles is that they are peddled by both AI's boosters and its critics. For boosters, the value of these tall tales is obvious: if normies can be convinced that AI is capable of performing miracles, they'll invest in it. They'll even integrate it into their product offerings and then quietly hire legions of humans to pick up the botshit it leaves behind. These abettors can be relied upon to keep the defects in these products a secret, because they'll assume that they've committed an operator error. After all, everyone knows that AI can do anything, so if it's not performing for them, the problem must exist between the keyboard and the chair.

But this would only take AI so far. It's one thing to hear implausible stories of AI's triumph from the people invested in it – but what about when AI's critics repeat those stories? If your boss thinks an AI can do your job, and AI critics are all running around with their hair on fire, shouting about the coming AI jobpocalypse, then maybe the AI really can do your job?

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

There's a name for this kind of criticism: "criti-hype," coined by Lee Vinsel, who points to many reasons for its persistence, including the fact that it constitutes an "academic business-model":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

That's four reasons for AI hype:

to win investors and customers;

to cover customers' and users' embarrassment when the AI doesn't perform;

AI dreamers so high on their own supply that they can't tell truth from fantasy;

A business-model for doomsayers who form an unholy alliance with AI companies by parroting their silliest hype in warning form.

But there's a fifth motivation for criti-hype: to simplify otherwise tedious and complex situations. As Jamie Zawinski writes, this is the motivation behind the obvious lie that the "autonomous cars" on the streets of San Francisco have no driver:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2024/01/driverless-cars-always-have-a-driver/

GM's Cruise division was forced to shutter its SF operations after one of its "self-driving" cars dragged an injured pedestrian for 20 feet:

https://www.wired.com/story/cruise-robotaxi-self-driving-permit-revoked-california/

One of the widely discussed revelations in the wake of the incident was that Cruise employed 1.5 skilled technical remote overseers for every one of its "self-driving" cars. In other words, they had replaced a single low-waged cab driver with 1.5 higher-paid remote operators.

As Zawinski writes, SFPD is well aware that there's a human being (or more than one human being) responsible for every one of these cars – someone who is formally at fault when the cars injure people or damage property. Nevertheless, SFPD and SFMTA maintain that these cars can't be cited for moving violations because "no one is driving them."

But figuring out who which person is responsible for a moving violation is "complicated and annoying to deal with," so the fiction persists.

(Zawinski notes that even when these people are held responsible, they're a "moral crumple zone" for the company that decided to enroll whole cities in nonconsensual murderbot experiments.)

Automation hype has always involved hidden humans. The most famous of these was the "mechanical Turk" hoax: a supposed chess-playing robot that was just a puppet operated by a concealed human operator wedged awkwardly into its carapace.

This pattern repeats itself through the ages. Thomas Jefferson "replaced his slaves" with dumbwaiters – but of course, dumbwaiters don't replace slaves, they hide slaves:

https://www.stuartmcmillen.com/blog/behind-the-dumbwaiter/

The modern Mechanical Turk – a division of Amazon that employs low-waged "clickworkers," many of them overseas – modernizes the dumbwaiter by hiding low-waged workforces behind a veneer of automation. The MTurk is an abstract "cloud" of human intelligence (the tasks MTurks perform are called "HITs," which stands for "Human Intelligence Tasks").

This is such a truism that techies in India joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians." Or, to use Jathan Sadowski's wonderful term: "Potemkin AI":

https://reallifemag.com/potemkin-ai/

This Potemkin AI is everywhere you look. When Tesla unveiled its humanoid robot Optimus, they made a big flashy show of it, promising a $20,000 automaton was just on the horizon. They failed to mention that Optimus was just a person in a robot suit:

https://www.siliconrepublic.com/machines/elon-musk-tesla-robot-optimus-ai

Likewise with the famous demo of a "full self-driving" Tesla, which turned out to be a canned fake:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/tesla-video-promoting-self-driving-was-staged-engineer-testifies-2023-01-17/

The most shocking and terrifying and enraging AI demos keep turning out to be "Just A Guy" (in Molly White's excellent parlance):

https://twitter.com/molly0xFFF/status/1751670561606971895

And yet, we keep falling for it. It's no wonder, really: criti-hype rewards so many different people in so many different ways that it truly offers something for everyone.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

Image:

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

Ross Breadmore (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/rossbreadmore/5169298162/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Someone went to all the trouble to find the real name of a real medieval painter and painting to attribute their obvious AI art to.

They clearly fed the photo to an AI generator to overlay a medieval painting of Jebus. Notice the exact overlay of almost every head and body, the weird feet (barefoot suit of armor?), dude on the left wearing sweatpants, for starters.

This is the real "Arrest of Christ (Kiss of Judas)" by Giotto di Bondone which looks a helluva lot more like it's from 1306.

[beaft]

just found out that i lost my crossword setting job (aka the only one of my jobs i actually enjoyed having) because they're replacing human crossword-setters with AI to cut costs. bestie i am at my fucking limit

[notaplaceofhonour]

in the era of deepfakes, the second most annoying thing behind people sharing very obviously Gen AI images as “proof” of outlandish claims is going to be the people rejecting photographic evidence out of hand “bc photos can be staged/photoshopped/deepfaked!” and the brilliant gumshoes overanalyzing all the ways actual photographs are “clearly ai”

[littencloud9]

why the fuck is she so STUPID

[cocomuffy]

"I asked ChatGPT-" Why not just Google it? And not read the Gemini AI summary at the top but just... actually Google it. Just like... learn the information that you want to know instead of having to have the robot put it all in a neat little wrapper for you like you're a helpless child.

Like seriously every time someone tells me they ChatGPT-ed something it just makes me think of how we have all the information we could ever want at our fingertips to read and absorb and think about at all times, but they have to have the robot chew it up for them and vomit it out. Sometimes it isn't even right. What if you just Googled whatever you need to know, click on a link to go and read an article or something, and maybe you'll learn even more than you bargained for! But no, you want the AI to waste a gallon of water trying to compute whatever you said and then regurgitate whatever you would find through a simple search anyway.

[haysaprocky]

girls on their 4am smoke break after putting together 7 articles

[shitposting-hobbits-to-gallifrey]

what the fuck is it about anti-AI posts that makes people reblog INCREDIBLE levels of ridiculous misinformation. I just saw someone rbing a (COMPLETELY UNSOURCED) post claiming that genAI used "as much energy as 117 countries", which would work out to about half of the energy usage of the fucking planet. how are y'all genuinely this stupid

[telesodalite]

Thinking about KrokFire...

Thinking about them sparring in the cargohold, because it's a long trip, and cabin fever is setting in, and Misfire is gonna pop a gasket if he doesn't do something about it soon, since flying in open space gets real boring real fast, and it's making everyone a little nervous, but Krok has time to kill, and maybe, quietly, he's also two steps away from doing something stupid just to feel alive again after cruising around pointlessly, mindlessly, endlessly, for so so long... (It's barely been a month)

And sure, Misfire is a terrible sparring partner. He has no technique, no concept of proper balance, or an inkling of how to use the weight of his own frame. He rushes headfirst like he's more bull than fighter jet, he talks too much, he spits, he bites, and he can't stand losing. But, in a roundabout way, it almost makes him the perfect partner in Krok's eyes.

Crankcase won't spar, "can't" he claims flatly, gesturing at the gaping hole in his helm, but Krok can respect his want for distance. That occasional flash of fear and frozen unease in Crankcase's visor in close combat doesn't go over his head. He knows that look. He gets it. He won't push.

Fulcrum... well, a streetlight might be a tougher fight, or at least it would stay up longer and complain less. So much for a once respectable officer of the empire. What was Deathsaurus' command thinking promoting anyone without any actual combat training? It would almost be pathetic if Fulcrum didn't find a way to put the vitriol of thrown fists into his words instead. Now there was some swears Krok hadn't heard in a couple millennia, it would be inspiring if it wasn't his own spark Fulcrum had been damning to the pits and back through a bloody nose.

Spinister? Now Spinister was a good fighter, a better fighter, Krok wasn't so prideful to deny that truth. He'd tasted the dust of the cargohold floor enough to know it was a definitive fact. But Spinister held back, he was careful, he matched Krok's pace, his movements, he held himself defensively, any attack was quick, simple, and merely restraining. It was less a fight, and more a waiting game until Krok finally gave up, and that... well, that did sting a bit.

But Misfire? Misfire was a different beast all together. Sure Krok could dance circles around the flier all day, but it wasn't totally effortless work, he had to stay sharp, Misfire was so predictably unpredictable, he kept him thinking, moving, on his toes, and maybe it felt good to sidestep another stupid headfirst charge, easily grabbing and swinging Misfire around by his arm, so unbalanced all Krok had to do was let him go, and the weight of his own frame would send him careening into the crates stacked around them.

Most days, Misfire would give up by then, pull himself off the pile of overturned cargo with no small amount of burning shame and frustration, as he avoided Krok's optics and stormed off into the bowels of the ship before Krok could say something to ease the sting of losing again and again. Misfire didn't want his apologies though, and even as a pang of guilt ate at him over it, Krok knew he'd be back eventually.

But today, too pent-up and bored to quit now, Misfire pushed himself back onto his feet and charged back in again, and again, and again.

And Krok moved with him again, and again, and again. It was almost repetitive, but lively enough that he could feel the energon pumping through his head, a thrumming beat in his audials that reminds him of deafening battlefields and roaring stadiums, and oh, he'd missed this feeling, the adrenaline, the movement, more so than he thought he did.

Maybe it's the overconfidence that gets him then, or the memories pulling him out of the present, but Misfire's fist suddenly comes slamming down into his mask, and for a moment everything becomes a blur, until he finds himself on the floor, clutching at the shattered metal falling from his face in disbelief.

Faintly he can feel the twinge of broken mesh, of pain pinching dully across scarred flickering sensors, and maybe it's the adrenaline that pulls a suprised and breathy laugh out of him as he stares down at the pieces in his hand.

Maybe it's also the disbelief, the sudden shock at being struck hard enough to break his mask, by Misfire of all mechs. Or maybe he's cracked his helm, finally snapping something important deep in his processor, some vital function that kept him sane all these years.

Either way, an old familiar buzz of heady energy fills his chest, loosening his joints and straightening his struts as he stands back up, brushing off the broken remains of his mask as he stares back at Misfire, barefaced and bleeding and amused as the flier's optics go bright and wide.

And all Misfire can do for a moment is stand there, wide-eyed and breathless, his own adrenaline filled frame and hammering processor still trying to make sense of the broken plating of his knuckles and the energon trickling down Krok's scarred lips.

But connections are made, and it's a panicked realization at first, a cold dread, a 'ohhhhh fuck oh primus I fucked up I'm dead I'm so fucking dead-!' sort of feeling, as Krok's marred face breaks into an energon stained grin. But then there's another feeling, growing somewhere underneath the panic, a sudden curl of heat in his chest, a flush of pride, conviction, a sort of frenzied joy at the sight of broken mesh and fresh energon, and another rush of hot anticipation as Krok began to move again, circling, waiting, an unspoken question in the air as he rolls his shoulders back and flexes his hands.

And Misfire answers eagerly, suprising himself almost as he charges foward again, wanting more of that feeling, wanting to win again.

It's not really sparring past this point, and somewhere in the back of their minds they both know that. Every strike, every kick, every punch, it's all thoughtless instinct, each clash of plating, and bite of denta, and scrape of fingertips, is part of a mad dash for victory in the gladiator pit of scrap and debris they've built around themselves.

Of course, it can't last forever. They're no real gladiators, no phase-sixers, no primes, and movements get sluggish, vents rattle and wheeze as coolant pumps reach their limits, and building condensation slides powerless punches right off of scuffed metal and mesh.

Even like this though, worn out and bleeding from more scrapes than he had half a mind to count, Krok is still better, and Misfire is still predictable, and it's no great feat to sweep his legs out from beneath him, landing him flat on the floor, wings spread out and chestplate heaving.

Overworked joints sharply protest as he goes to pin the flier down bodily, and finally Krok faces the fact he has to consider how to end this, so he might let his own beaten frame finally still for a moment to breathe.

But as Krok catches one flailing arm in his grip, scoffing at the desperation, still goading Misfire on even as he tries to end this, a hand stubbornly catches his throat, but stops before it can truly squeeze.

And once more they're not really moving, just staring, watching, but it's less wired and tense now, rather, its shaky, a little unfocused, as exhaustion filters out in heaving puffs of hot air between their frames.

Someone's plating is rattling, Krok isn't sure if it's his own or Misfire's, but the cost of adrenaline is painfully noticeable now. His grip loosens on Misfire's arms, and the idea of total victory is less sweet as his cables begin to ache throughout his inner-framework.

But Misfire's hand slides up to catch his jaw before he can lean back and relent to a truce, and he's pulling him closer, and Krok starts to push him off, call it quits before either of them breaks something past repair, but a flash of energon on Misfire lips catches his eye, and that hadn't been there a moment ago?

Before he can even begin to ask what that was supposed to mean, Misfire is pulling him down again, angling his helm upwards to feverishly meet his lips half-way.

Although the mesh of Misfire's face was throughly bruised and scuffed, Krok had frustratingly failed to return the favor of a busted lip. So, it had to be his own, smeared across Misfire's face at some point in the scuffle, it shouldn't have been interesting in the slightest, but Krok's processor was hazy, slow, and his optics trailed Misfire's glossa as he licked his lips and made an odd curious sound.

And maybe it was a stupid move to make so impulsively, one he'd regret making probably, but still too caught up in the waning heated high of the fight, Misfire figured he could worry about losing such a hard-earned battle later. Right now, this seemed far better than actually winning, and the taste of Krok's energon felt like a victory and reward nonetheless.

Bracing himself as Misfire wriggled his other hand free to splay out over his thigh, holding him desperately against his frame as he tried pulling him even closer, Krok considered the heat dispersion warnings flickering distractingly in his peripheral, and the very noticeable strain on his back and legs, even his arms.

It's not a great position to be in right now, after all they've done already. He'll regret it, he knows he will, his body will make sure of it, if Spinister doesn't first.

But then Misfire's glossa is sliding against the jagged edges of his teeth, and he's making hoarse little pathetic noises into Krok's mouth that stoke some sort of ego at having the flier so desperate beneath him, and Misfire's hands are warm and heavy over aching plating and seams, and really, on second thought, after weeks of boredom, why the hell not?

They've got nowhere to be.

[clownakai]

Today’s a pleasant Saturday, and after having a good laugh at the "The reviews are in" post, I thought I’d dive into an intersting theory about the possible connection between Gin and Mary :)

Shared Phrases (?) Both Gin and Mary are the only characters to say, “It’s like encountering a demon in the darkness.” Similarly, Tsutomu and Shuichi are the only ones who’ve said, “The fault is 50/50.” I mean.. it's pretty obivious from just here already.

Appearance In terms of appearance, Mary, Sera, Akai, and Gin share two notable features: green eyes and distinct lines under their lower eyelids. Mary also has platinum hair, much like Gin’s.

Mary’s shrinking instead of being killed Mary’s shrinking, rather than being executed by BO, is particularly strange. After all, BO is notorious for ruthless efficiency—why use APTX 4869 instead of simply shooting her? The idea of sparing an enemy with a “golden medicine” that took years of research feels uncharacteristically merciful for BO. Their usual motto of “leave no trace” makes this decision seem odd and deliberate.

The boss’s decision to let Mary live seems to be a carefully calculated trap. It’s confirmed that Sherry’s mother and Mary are biological sisters (as the author has stated that Akai and Sherry are cousins). This means Mary and Sherry share familial genes as aunt and niece, making their bodies react similarly to the drug. I believe Gin may have known early on that Sherry was alive and was aware of Kudo's survival as well. Therefore, Gin and the boss know that Mary will survive this drug as well. Gin likely hinted this to the boss and orchestrated events to leave Mary alive. Why? They will use Mary as a bait to retrieve the antidote.

If BO were to capture Sherry, she’d likely refuse to cooperate. If they killed her, they’d lose their only chance at the antidote. Raising Sherry, funding her studies abroad, and investing years in her research suggests how vital she is to the boss’s plans. Killing Kudo would also be out of the question—Sherry’s guilt over Kudo’s predicament is what drives her to work on the antidote. If Kudo were killed, Sherry might even commit suicide, leaving BO without their much needed antiodote.

Mary’s shrinking seems to be a part of the boss’s larger scheme to manipulate Sherry. By targeting Mary, someone closely tied to Sherry and the silver bullet Akai, the boss ensures that all roads lead back to Sherry. This clever and cost-effective strategy leverages Mary’s condition to force Sherry’s hand, ensuring she stays within BO’s reach. In the process, it draws in powerful agencies like the FBI, CIA, and MI6, all of whom may unwittingly aid the boss’s agenda. In the end, the trap wasn’t just for Mary—it was a strategic move to draw out Sherry and secure BO’s ultimate goal: the antidote. This theory further supports the idea that Mary and Gin might be related, potentially as mother and son. Otherwise she wouldn't have been alive until now.

Hello anon! Just so you know this was a delightful surprise to find in my inbox today :3 I think I reread the whole thing like four times before even thinking of doing anything else djsjfsk I love theories so much💥💥💥

(Everything else is under the cut because I ended up yapping too much. I'm so sorry)

I really like this theory, especially since it indirectly covers for the fact that Masumi (partly due to Mary's orders as she's getting more and more impatient) hasn't exactly been subtle in her attempts to get the temporary antidote and has generally been very liberal with the information she has about Conan and Haibara's identities, talking about it in public and even getting overheard (granted, Subaru isn't the issue here, and it's not a guarantee that she's being tailed 24/7 as that would be a bit of a hassle to keep up, but still). One would think that they'd have been found out by now, given that the BO is now fully certain of Masumi's existence and relations (Vermouth on the Mystery Train my beloved & beloathed... Girl why r u so evil) and, as minimal as it is, she does represent a threat, but nothing has happened to either of them yet.

I do think that the point about the BO's decision to use the poison is a little shaky, seeing as it's been explicitly stated to leave no trace on the body— which actually fits pretty well with their motto, and we do glimpse a pretty long list of people it's been used on a few times throughout the manga (we only see a few names, but it's speculated to be much longer than what is shown), so it would seem that the BO has been using it semi-regularly when they wanted more down-low executions.

There was also no guarantee that Mary would react the same way to the APTX even with a possible genetic advantage observed in Shiho (and without knowing exactly what they were looking for, I'm fairly sure trying to compare the two's DNA in order to confirm their theory would be really difficult if not outright impossible in such a short timespan, and that's if you don't consider the absence of the person who knows the most about the APTX in the first place and could have sped things up if she was there). <- sidenote: I feel like I may have misread this point of the theory, so my interpretation and objection could be completely off bc it's not what you were talking about djsnfns

That said, I find the point about ensuring a direct line to Sherry through familial relations very interesting, in the sense that it made me stop and ask myself how she would react upon finding out that she has more living family still, but over half of them are people who she may see as having caused her grief/major discomfort at best. Would her wish to connect to her family be stronger than her self-preservation (along with the fact that she doesn't really know these people and therefore has no emotional attachment to them, not even as abstract idealized family)? I'm genuinely not sure, but the BO banking on this, possibly because having essentially groomed her they know her weaknesses best, is very juicy.

Honestly, thanks to that post (and a few delightful conversations about it), I do think that making Mary and Gin related in some way would be like. Really really funny. It'd also probably piss off a lot of people, but it'd be so funny.

And, given Gosho's magic retconning powers, I have come to the conclusion that Gin being Elena and Mary's brother that nobody ever talks about for some reason would be peak comedy. It even gives the whole "Elena and her husband received an offer they couldn't say no to because it'd let them continue their research" thing a new layer of context if you consider that Gin may have been the one who brought them to the Boss's attention.

This is also brought to you by my superficial genetics liker ass who says "Tsutomu's hair is brown and Mary's is blond. Brown is a dominant gene while blond is recessive, so unless Tsutomu's genotype was heterozygous (which we unfortunately can't know without the rest of his family tree. Also Gosho only seems to care about genetics from time to time) Gin should also have brown hair".

Also it's infinitely funnier if this is all a very complicated example of what Cain's Instinct looks like. Imagine playing the long game for literal decades because you want your siblings dead but it should also wipe out the rest of the family. Insane

[simplepotatofarmer]

to be clear: the frustration is that jimmy mr beast is like. one of the great evils of our time and this will be used to discredit any actual issues and you should always always be careful when dealing with allegations.

[gh0sdae]

If pinterest is gonna allow ai shit then they should at LEAST slap a big ai disclaimer sticker on the preview and the pin's page itself

[garethschweitzer]

New trend spotted: Ai art with named artists with comments turned off