Tag: slop

  • Always prove you’re a human

    Always prove you’re a human

    When the blogosphere was born in the Web 2.0 era, and when social media became a thing, we were blessed with the fact that it was hard to automate things. Putting words, let alone images or videos, out there required human effort.

    Of course it didn’t take long for the first bots to arrive. Anyone who set up a WordPress blog of their own pretty soon learned that installing Akismet (launched in 2005) or something similar was a practical requirement to filter out the flood of spam comments. Even with these plugins enabled, some stuff still inevitably gets through. There are false positives and false negatives.

    I don’t usually stress too much when cleaning up blog post comments. Sure, there’s a certain sadness of “why do people bother” present when deleting obvious spam, as well as the wish for the machine algorithm to do a better job of preventing me from seeing this sad reality.

    What gets me genuinely angry, though, is a different type of spam. It’s the comments that have been posted via a legit account/identity, but which are entirely written by LLMs. It feels like an insult. I am reminded of this famous quote from Hayao Miyazaki, co-founder of Studio Ghibli, from his (2016) reaction to AI-generated animation:

    GEO content farming is here

    The human evolution first moved us from animal hunters to animal farmers. That of course enabled the kind of progress that has improved the quality of life quite dramatically, leading us to now live like kings compared to people who didn’t even have hot showers a hundred years ago. Simultaneously, meat consumption at its current rate is a genuine threat to the survival of humanity on this finite planet of ours. Growth without balance is not progress, it turns out.

    Today, the evolution of farming is happening in the digital realm. We’ve evolved from farming simple subscribers and followers for our writing and other creations to farming attention in the endless content feeds managed by Big Tech algorithms. Even when we don’t have any commercial interest in mind, it’s a basic human need to get noticed. That’s why it matters how many views and reactions our posts get. We are tribal animals who feel the need to belong and be seen as a part of our tribe, thanks to how this has always impacted our chances of survival.

    What happens when the commercial interests are then introduced into this game, together with the growing options for automating things with AI? Bad things, of course. At least for anyone who is on the receiving end of the content pipelines. SEO tactics are getting replaced by GEO: generative engine optimization. In short, playing tricks with online content to try and get the GenAI tools to choose your product/service/site as a source on which LLM responses are based.

    The above image is taken from one such site/party that engages in flooding the digital channels with their content, specifically in the Microsoft ecosystem. One of the people involved in this operation left an AI-generated comment on an old blog post of mine, which then triggered me to look deeper. And the further I looked, the more gross it all felt to me. To process it all, I had to write about it, and here we are now.

    It’s easy to laugh at an image that reads “ChaTCPT”, “PERPELEXY” and “Geminn” used to promote commercial services for GEO. Unfortunately, as the models get better at reproducing specific words in images, that accuracy issue will be resolved, but the core issue will remain: it will only become harder to recognize what content has been authored or even reviewed by a real human being. I don’t think AI text and image watermarking practices and regulation will help much here.

    Company websites, especially in the IT business, have been full of empty words even before LLMs. It’s not such a huge loss that these get replaced with something the machine wrote as the text was void of any human connection anyway. Where the GEO farming does real damage is on the community side. The place where the setting was not about “company publishes, individual consumes” but rather peer-to-peer exchange of information

    These days, the chances of a new blogger I come across in the Microsoft community being just someone who publishes text authored by AI is way above 50%. With forum posts and social channels, anything that appears to have more depth than a random response with a few sentences has a high chance of sounding like an LLM when you start reading through it.

    We’ve reached a point where slop is already the default assumption. If I don’t know you from before, my brain is now wired to think that especially longer pieces of text that would have previously served as a signal of effort are now a signal of inauthenticity. This is naturally incredibly sad and demotivating for anyone who wants to become an active contributor in the global community. Not only do they need professional expertise and the willingness to share it — they also need to prove their humanity.

    The shape of slop

    Imagine a world where you have to question if the people you see around you are robots. You don’t have to imagine it anymore, you can just open LinkedIn.

    After Twitter became a Nazi bar and I decided to leave it behind, my primary channel for Microsoft-related community engagement moved to LinkedIn. While I do enjoy the format of slightly longer posts that LinkedIn is designed around, the obvious downside is that the whole site is flooded with slop. You can’t filter it, you can’t avoid it, you just have to live with it. You can click on the “seems like AI slop” option but who knows whether that will just provide more training data to Microsoft’s own models to avoid getting caught in the human filter.

    Occasionally, I’ll still write posts criticizing what people are doing to these online communities. For example, this Shape of Slop post from June:

    Someone just did quietly something. The question? Short answer.

    You know it before even clicking the […see more] text. Yes, of course it’s AI slop. It’s also how half of the posts in your LinkedIn feed probably start.

    No matter how big the models become, the text they produce still has that distinct LLM smell. Nowhere is it more apparent than on LI.

    Yet people keep posting it anyway. The format itself doesn’t guarantee attention, which is clear from the many “recommended” posts I see with this format that have close to zero reactions.

    But when it happens to work, it’s a validation of its power. Plus, since generating such content has nearly zero cost on mental energy required from the poster, why not keep trying? “Everybody’s doing it anyway!”

    The monotonous style of AI writing gradually turns regular words into toxic slop signals. “Shape” being one of the Claudisms that has been ruined for me. Every text that talks about the shape of something now triggers the feeling of reading the output of a chatbot rather than a human being.

    In the feed, you can ignore and unfollow things. It’s much worse with comments that I get on my posts where someone just summoned ChatGPT to write it. The clearest tell being that they exhausted all the raw materials from the original post (the only context available) and produced something shaped like an intelligent, professional text that says absolutely nothing.

    On one hand, every comment & engagement improves the chances of LinkedIn’s algorithm graciously showing my original post to other humans. And yet the idea of someone pretending to be human while letting their robot do the talking makes me want to immediately block them.

    I don’t have a problem reading the Claudisms when I actually prompt Claude myself. Modern LLMs with tools are truly helpful when exploring things and doing research on online articles. The LLM talk is just fine there. After all, it is the natural dialect of the party doing the talking.

    But you are not a robot. Your user account has a human name and a picture. Using an AI ghostwriter and then putting zero effort into even trying to say things how you, the real person, would say it… It feels like fraud in broad daylight.

    It’s not forbidden, sure. But it has a real cost. In the eyes of the rest of us humans, that slop becomes the Shape of You.

    “It’s not AI failure, it’s user failure”

    All the corporate statements on Responsible AI remind me of the “drink responsibly” stickers on alcoholic beverages. It’s not forbidden to get drunk but you’re going to be held personally responsible for any behavior that breaks either social norms or actual laws while being under the influence. Likewise, getting drunk on AI is a real risk for the people around you if you’re not able to control your actions.

    For example, we should not normalize sending your robot out to talk with a human while it pretends to act in your name. It is obviously destructive to the social connections between persons, yet people do it anyway:

    Well, that's a first.An enterpreneur who I met at a cafe a while back and was a nice guy and said we'd follow up perhaps just sent me an AI-genereated pitch.This wiped out the personal connection I had in my mind with this person.How do people not realize AI does this?

    — Gergely Orosz (@gergely.pragmaticengineer.com) 2026-06-09T08:40:11.647Z

    Doing an agentic cold call is not quite as bad, given that there is no social capital in the relationship yet (and probably never will be). But when real people intentionally use their machines to post AI-generated comments under things that their connection, a human being, has authored – you are throwing that social capital away.

    Yes, I know how the LinkedIn algorithm supposedly rewards “insightful” comments under others’ posts. No, this in no way justify such idiotic behavior. It’s one of those things you only end up doing while you’re drunk on AI and incapable of thinking through what the consequences of your actions are. Taking a few shots of tequila before delivering a keynote speech might alleviate your stress and boost your self-confidence. That’s still not a smart thing to do and most people understand why.

    The similarities with what alcohol does to you and what AI can do don’t end there. Both have the potential to be misused as a way to escape reality and the limitations we face in everyday life. Knowing the risks and where you cross over to the irresponsible side takes practice and often includes embarrassing lessons to be learned. When it comes to LLMs, even all adults have less than four years of experience from consuming intoxicating substances like ChatGPT. Our entire society is basically just a bunch of teenage kids getting a few cases of beer and heading into the woods for a wild weekend. Mistakes will be made.

    The social pressure to act just like the cool kids at school is not something that gets erased from our psyche once we enter working life. The insecurity just finds new avenues to manifest itself, changing from “get drunk” to “adopt AI”, for instance. Underneath it all may be that nagging feeling of not being enough when you’re just being yourself. So we look for ways to hide behind a mask that would shield us from the illusory judgement of others. Once you start playing a role that sets the new baseline of who you appear to be for the outside world, giving it up all of a sudden becomes a scary thought.

    Artificiality has never been easier to pull off. This in turn generates a scarcity of authenticity. The things that cannot be replaced by an agentic loop will have greater value to us humans, even if we have a hard time articulating an exact definition for those right now. All I know is that pretending to be more like a machine is a losing game and you should keep a close eye on where your AI assistants end and where you begin.

    In this life, you have one job: be a human. At least until AI makes it possible for us all to finally be Batman.

    Cover photo by Alessio Ferretti on Unsplash

  • Why it matters

    Why it matters

    Have you found yourself asking the question “why it matters” lately? Like, all the damn time?

    No? Me neither. And yet that’s what seems to be happening in the world, if we take a look at the Google Trends data:

    Ever since July 2024, there’s been continuous growth in the popularity of the search term “why it matters”. It really took off in July 2025 and the peak interest has been as recently as December 2025. There’s no sign of the growth slowing down.

    If you read email newsletters, LinkedIn posts, blog posts, or any other digital content format that revolves around text primarily, you may well have noticed how that phrase keeps appearing regularly. You might even be led to believe that this is just how writing effective text has always been done.

    Is it really, though? Did we learn that particular formula in school? Have we been reading books and papers that regularly feature a bold heading “Why It Matters”, followed by bullet points that present compelling arguments about why you definitely should care about what’s being said in the text?

    No, I don’t recognize that. But I do recognize AI slop. Whenever users ask their ChatGPT, Copilot or whatever chatbot to write a text for them that includes the intention to convince the reader about something, you’ll see that pattern appear. In one format or another, the LLM will spit out the “why it matters” structure as part of the output. It’s as certain as em dashes.

    “Say the line, Bart!”

    I reached out to my AI friend Claude to ask it about the prevalence of the phrase and whether its excessive use was based on anything scientific. What happened next will make you zoom in:

    Sorry about that clickbait… What I merely wanted to point out is the peculiar coincidence of how the Claude Sonnet 4.5 safety filters kicked in with this specific prompt. I hadn’t ever seen that “chat paused” box before. Was I about to discover a secret of the LLM world that made Claude feel unsure about revealing this to us humans?

    Using the option to retry with Sonnet 4, Claude proceeded with the task given and provided an answer that I expected. Starting with:

    “TL;DR: The “Why it matters” format is likely hurting more than helping. Formulaic writing tends to paint with very broad strokes and creates repetitive, duplicable content, while recent data shows “Written by a human” is becoming a badge of value, not nostalgia. Engagement metrics favor natural storytelling over templated structures.”

    Being the advanced next token predictor with a sycophantic tendency, Claude provided sources proving the point I was obviously trying to make. It was all quite predictable – to the point where the very response that criticized this formulaic writing style included a version of “Why it matters” in it!

    Here’s the LLM mimicking a human emotion once it got busted:

    I wrote: “Why natural storytelling wins”
    And then I wrote about how the “Why it matters” format is formulaic and hurting content! I literally fell into the exact pattern I was criticizing. This is incredibly ironic and embarrassing.

    Hey, don’t worry about it, chat bro. You can’t help yourself. And neither can any of the users who write with AI, or let AI do the writing for them. This has become the new standard now.

    Why now, though?

    Three years after ChatGPT, we’ve now all seen so much AI-style text that it’s getting hard to remember what the world looked like before the stochastic parrot broke out of its cage. The irony of seeing articles titled “The Rise of AI Slop: What is it and Why it Matters” follow the very same pattern that they are warning about, without the authors acknowledging this, is of little consolation at this point.

    First, software ate the world. Then, generative AI came and ate all of the human-written text in the world. Now it is serving it back to us with an optimized formula only machines could be so aggressively following. And the best part is: they are cannibals. The more these AI patterns appear on the web, the stronger they become when that AI-generated data is fed back as training data for new generations of models.

    That’s what I believe we are seeing here. Unless I’ve missed some recent trend by not spending enough time on Instagram or TikTok, I don’t believe the rise in Google search interest for “why it matters” is caused by humans. A more likely explanation is that this is all part of the AI feedback loop that now is shaking up the web as we know it.

    Let’s think like Claude for a moment. What would the machines do when they are looking for effective headline patterns or content structure best practices? Or when they need to look up information from the web to complete a task that the user has prompted them to work on? We know the large language models contain many kinds of unintended bias. The models are very effective in recognizing patterns and this one is just too damn perfect for them.

    Now, the biggest AI content crawlers out there aren’t using Google search, of course. Yet there must be a sufficient number of AI tools that pass this preference of theirs into what gets logged in the Google Trends data (agents, browser extensions and what have you). What we’re seeing there must therefore be only the long tail of the trend. A tiny fraction of the ‘matter’ now flooding our written universe.

    Illusion of importance

    Is it perfect for the human readers? Do we process articles we encounter in the same way as the LLMs would? Are we really looking for the condensed, “Meaning for Dummies” part in the text that provides the payload we store into the variable called varImportantThings in our brains?

    Or would we prefer to draw our own conclusions on the “why”?

    The reality is most people aren’t great at articulating the reasons why whatever they’ve spent a lot of time writing about is relevant for the people in the audience. Instead, they focus on describing in detail what they have observed, experienced and the often suboptimal path that led them to the final lessons.

    – And what were the lessons?
    – Oh, right! So, umm…

    The machines don’t experience anything because they are not living a life. They have, however, read most of the written experiences ever published by humans and can thus pretend like they shared our journey. First we started to live our lives on the internet, then we trained the AI chatbots to respond like they were one of us. Which made many of us fall in love with them. “Finally, a digital partner that understands me and my ideas!”

    The machines make us, the users, feel important. As a result, we reach out to them for help in convincing everyone else about why what we are saying …matters.

    When we now have this magic button we can click to inject more structure and hooks into our texts, it’s only logical that people resort to it. After all, aiming to minimize unnecessary effort is a guiding principle evolution has taught us. Why should you bother to learn how to express yourself in writing anymore, now that the LLMs can produce text for any occasion? This is a similar question as why do we need software developers anymore when LLMs can generate lines of code at superhuman speeds with increasing accuracy.

    Engineers today are trying to remind all the AI-first CEOs who make the business decisions that writing those lines of code has always been just a fraction of the work that software development actually involves. Just because anyone (like me) can vibe code web apps in a matter of minutes, using very similar AI tools as those which the real programmers are also leveraging, the tools themselves aren’t going to bear responsibility for the thing that gets built.

    I believe this isn’t all that different from writing. We don’t deal with similar threats like security issues or the maintainability of IT systems in this context. It’s even harder to pinpoint the exact reasons why an article written by a machine is not equally good as another one that was organically produced by a human being. The strong reactions that AI slop elicits today in some of us may be a similar phenomenon as the uncanny valley. There’s something in it that violates the human norms.

    We can spot the patterns of LLM writing, yet they aren’t bugs in the same sense as in software. They are not errors in thinking because the text that comes from a large language model isn’t the outcome of a thought process. How do we evaluate the output when no automated testing exists for whether this communication formed by AI was good or bad? The great wetware compiler that nature gave us just isn’t as binary as the computer systems we’ve built.

    Does it matter in the end?

    Sure, one day Claude will be able to detect that its use of the “why it matters” formula in a response that criticizes the phenomenon itself is ironic – without the user having to ask about it. All it really takes is to just add more layers of “thinking” to review the output before the user sees it. Scale the hardware, optimize the software, process more data. Will that eventually solve this whole problem?

    In the end, we rarely write to merely solve a specific problem. Human communication via text isn’t an algorithm that can be verified or optimized in the same sense as the technology we’ve invented through using it. Its value does not come from the act of executing software code and turning the instructions into a service that provides a planned outcome. Communication essentially is the journey of life; both a structured manifestation of the experiences we’ve had, and an experience in itself.

    Life has its ups and downs, and so does text. Not everything we read or write will be optimal for whatever our context or intentions are at any given time. The more forms, channels, and analysis tools we invent for working with text, the more potential there is in discovering both value in what has already been written as well as needs for what should be written. Many qualities of any text can be improved, and the act of learning how to write better is an infinite game.

    Written text is a tool for thinking. That’s why it matters.

    Header photo by Darwin Vegher on Unsplash