bah-2
Original: bah-2 on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
A woman stands at a lectern giving a presentation, gesturing throughout.
Woman: In the near future, all work will be automated.
Woman: The gains will be vast. Humans will live a life of unimaginable luxury, with the opportunity to spend life studying philosophy and poetry.
Woman: This will wreak a terrible psychological toll. Why? Because we won't actually read all that philosophy and poetry, and we will feel guilt. If robots are doing all the work and everyone is taken care of, the problems in your life are all CLEARLY YOUR FAULT.
Woman: Therefore, I propose a major innovation in automation! Instead of robot servants, we should make robot bosses. In fact, DOUCHEY ROBOT BOSSES.
[A slide/screen shows a robot at a desk with a sign reading "Work smarter AND harder."]
Woman: DRBs don't leave you enough time to do things you care about. THAT'S why you haven't read the entire Loeb classical library.
Woman: DRBs will give you contradictory notes, will demand unreasonable deadlines, then be PERSONALLY LATE on everything. This will make you so mentally taxed that you'll HAVE to watch four hours of TV every night while eating a tube of cookie dough.
Woman: Why were you mean to your spouse this week? Certainly not because you're a selfish jerk. You were overwhelmed by how condescending your DRB was.
Woman: And you can tune your boss's level of douchery to afford you just the right amount of leeway.
[A slide shows the robot boss with a sign reading "No more 3-hour lunches."]
Woman: Want to spend two hours eating cheesecake for lunch? Set your boss to "really cross the line this time."
Woman: Want a long vacation? Have your boss unreasonably fire you! You've earned a break, man!
Woman: Look, humans are broken. We can't live a life of happiness unless we can convince ourselves we've "earned it."
Woman: Automated douchey bosses will take the choice out of our hands. They will function as a "guilt thermostat," allowing us to blamelessly indulge in as much pleasure as we can stand.
[Someone in the audience speaks.]
Audience member: Couldn't we just, like, work on ourselves? Like, be more at peace with life and its vicissitudes?
Woman: Literally everyone who ever succeeded at that got poisoned, stabbed, or crucified. It's time to move on!
[The audience looks on.]
Votey:
[A framed sign reads:]
One of these years, I'm going to wear a mustache and a tophat and enter myself into competition.
Woman: In the near future, all work will be automated.
Woman: The gains will be vast. Humans will live a life of unimaginable luxury, with the opportunity to spend life studying philosophy and poetry.
Woman: This will wreak a terrible psychological toll. Why? Because we won't actually read all that philosophy and poetry, and we will feel guilt. If robots are doing all the work and everyone is taken care of, the problems in your life are all CLEARLY YOUR FAULT.
Woman: Therefore, I propose a major innovation in automation! Instead of robot servants, we should make robot bosses. In fact, DOUCHEY ROBOT BOSSES.
[A slide/screen shows a robot at a desk with a sign reading "Work smarter AND harder."]
Woman: DRBs don't leave you enough time to do things you care about. THAT'S why you haven't read the entire Loeb classical library.
Woman: DRBs will give you contradictory notes, will demand unreasonable deadlines, then be PERSONALLY LATE on everything. This will make you so mentally taxed that you'll HAVE to watch four hours of TV every night while eating a tube of cookie dough.
Woman: Why were you mean to your spouse this week? Certainly not because you're a selfish jerk. You were overwhelmed by how condescending your DRB was.
Woman: And you can tune your boss's level of douchery to afford you just the right amount of leeway.
[A slide shows the robot boss with a sign reading "No more 3-hour lunches."]
Woman: Want to spend two hours eating cheesecake for lunch? Set your boss to "really cross the line this time."
Woman: Want a long vacation? Have your boss unreasonably fire you! You've earned a break, man!
Woman: Look, humans are broken. We can't live a life of happiness unless we can convince ourselves we've "earned it."
Woman: Automated douchey bosses will take the choice out of our hands. They will function as a "guilt thermostat," allowing us to blamelessly indulge in as much pleasure as we can stand.
[Someone in the audience speaks.]
Audience member: Couldn't we just, like, work on ourselves? Like, be more at peace with life and its vicissitudes?
Woman: Literally everyone who ever succeeded at that got poisoned, stabbed, or crucified. It's time to move on!
[The audience looks on.]
Votey:
[A framed sign reads:]
One of these years, I'm going to wear a mustache and a tophat and enter myself into competition.
Alt text
A tall SMBC comic. A woman gives a presentation at a lectern, gesturing as she lays out an argument. She says that in the near future all work will be automated, giving humans a life of unimaginable luxury to study philosophy and poetry. But she warns this will take a terrible psychological toll, because we won't actually read the philosophy and poetry and will feel guilt; if robots do all the work and everyone is cared for, the problems in your life are all "clearly your fault." Her proposed innovation: instead of robot servants, build robot bosses, specifically "Douchey Robot Bosses" (DRBs). A slide shows a robot at a desk under a sign reading "Work smarter AND harder." She explains DRBs give you no time, so that's why you haven't read the classics; they give contradictory notes, unreasonable deadlines, and are personally late, leaving you so mentally taxed you HAVE to watch four hours of TV while eating a tube of cookie dough. They let you blame your bad behavior on your condescending boss rather than yourself. You can tune the boss's douchery to grant just enough leeway: set it to "really cross the line this time" to justify a two-hour cheesecake lunch, or have it unreasonably fire you to justify a vacation. Humans, she argues, can't be happy unless they feel they've "earned it," so automated douchey bosses will act as a "guilt thermostat" letting us indulge blamelessly. An audience member asks whether we could just work on ourselves and be more at peace with life; she replies that literally everyone who ever succeeded at that got poisoned, stabbed, or crucified, so "it's time to move on." The audience watches. The votey is a framed sign reading: "One of these years, I'm going to wear a mustache and a tophat and enter myself into competition."
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.