Normalize AI-shaming

And you kids stop vaping on my lawn!

Dec 01, 2025

More often than I care for, I’ll compliment something someone has—an interesting water bottle, those grippy claws you use to pick up leaves—and the person who I complimented will swell with pride, then share the source of their triumph, a half-whispered aside:

I got it on Amazon.

They always say it like they cracked some code, like they’re letting you in on a secret.

You didn’t know? You can get anything on there. Cheap!

At which point I pop their bubble.

“Oh, I don’t use Amazon,” I tell them.

Sometimes they ask me why. And I say because I think Amazon is a terrible company that hurts local businesses.

Then the person inevitably thinks I’m a smug prick and I walk away having alienated them. Another satisfied ACH customer!

I used to say nothing, for fear of offending people, for fear of coming off as condescending, finger-waggy, holier-than-thou—the type of guy who uses a bunch of synonyms in a row. I remember a physical therapist once telling me to Amazon (verb) the stretchy bands she was using to rehab my knee, so I could do the exercises at home. I nodded, then drove to a sporting goods store and bought them. I talked to a salesperson who showed me where they were. Call me old fashioned.

No really, go ahead. My friends do it all the time. It’s a running gag how antiquated I am. I get the physical newspaper. I pay my bills with checks. I still haven’t forgiven Germany, and I probably never will. As laughable as these attributes may be to some, I’m proud of them. A cup of coffee and the paper on a Sunday morning is one of life’s simple pleasures. Having fewer institutions with direct access to my bank account has made me less susceptible to data breaches. I’ve been to Munich. It sucked.

I stand by my choices.

Just as I stand by my decision to buck Amazon. Which is why I’m no longer silent. I try not to be didactic, but if comes up, I don’t hide the fact. I’m trying to show, not tell. To show that there are people out there in the world not using Amazon. And you can be one too.

And look, I get it. I’m not as pure as the driven snow. I have an iPhone. I subscribe to streamers owned by monsters. Christ, I’ve written TV pilots for Fox. Short of dropping off the grid and making your own jumpsuits out of hemp, there’s certain corporate compromises to living a modern life that are inevitable. But you do what you can when you can. You eat at the local restaurant instead of the chain. You don’t perform in Riyadh.

Duh.

I’m trying to be the change I wish to see in the world, because the world feels so hopeless all the time it’s all I have. Fossil fuels are clobbering the planet, but what, am I going to stop recycling? Yes, it’s a tiny dart in the face of a relentless onslaught, but if I stop believing in the power of a butterfly flapping its wings I’ll fall down dead on the spot.

Which is why I recently scolded a long-time friend who sent me some AI slop.

Playfully scolded, mind you, but scolded none-the-less. She was referencing an inside joke from a college friend group chat and was trying to make me laugh. And this dumb AI “artwork” showed up in my phone. You can always tell it’s AI because something’s not quite right. It feels immediately weird, like you absent-mindedly picked up someone’s drink when you were expecting your own. Oh, this tastes different. And wrong. Remember when you were a child in the supermarket and you wandered off, then looked up at a stranger thinking it was your mom, but it wasn’t your mom? That’s how AI feels. And I didn’t want anyone sending it to me thinking I was cool with it. It showed up on my phone and my first thought was, “What about me gives off the impression that I would be into this?”

So, I texted my friend back is this AI?

She texted back yep!

I thought for a minute then wrote you sending me that just took water away from a rural village.

She sent back a puke-y face emoticon.

I texted back is that your boyfriend Marc Zuckerberg?

She responded LOL.

Then we moved on. I’m sure I may have offended her slightly, but we’re good enough friends that we just dropped it. We’ve had conversations since, she didn’t bring it up; the relationship seems unaffected. But now she knows where I stand on that bullshit. And I highly doubt she sends me AI garbage anymore.

And again, I’m not untouchable here. I use the Merlin birding app. All the time. It uses AI to sort through bird calls so you can just hold your phone up and Shazam whatever birds are around you. That app rips. It is a birding game-changer, and I will use it until the day I keel over in an empty lot chasing down a migrating warbler.

I’ve used AI to caption comedy clips. There are certain corporate compromises to living a modern life that are inevitable. But you don’t have to give technology the keys to your entire world. You can scrape some of it back.

So, if you feel like I do, normalize AI-shaming. Someone sends you slop, say no thank you. Take this slop and shove it up your ass.

You want to impress me? Photoshop, home-slice. You want to really impress me? Collage that motherfucker. Cut out pictures from magazines then photocopy them into something new at your dad’s office.

NOW you’ve got my attention.

Also, stop asking ChatGPT every damn question that comes into your brain. Stop Googling everything. Try to think for thirty seconds first.

And you kids quit vaping on my lawn!

But, hey, while we’re at, let’s normalize paying people, actual people, for their art.

I pay friends to make posters for my shows all the time. Nothing much, fifty bucks here, a hundred bucks there, but something. Here’s one my friend made recently.

I love it. We went with a vintage baseball card theme. I love the lowercase “ach.” So old-school Padres, and White Sox. It’s not only a great poster, but now Cleveland and Cincinnati readers know they can get tickets to my shows in January! A seamless shill in the middle of an essay?! That takes real skill. Just like it does to actually make a show poster.

It’s not about the amount that I pay people for these posters, it’s that I pay them something. It shows I value their art, and I’m grateful that they’re willing to make some of it on my behalf. It’s fun for me too. We talk design, we bounce ideas off each other. We don’t just spit commands at a machine and call that creativity.

Because it isn’t.

Recently, I did a show at the Skylark, a great bar on South Broadway, in Denver, where I live. The venue designed a poster with my name on it: some colors that popped, images of geese flying overhead. I loved it. I asked them to print up some extras, and then I drove around town hanging them all over the place. I haven’t hung a show poster in years, but I thought why not? I’m sick of just posting stories on Instagram all the time.

I hung some at a coffeeshop in the neighborhood where I grew up. I hung one at the corner market down the street. Wherever I thought made sense. And the show sold out! Several people told me they saw my posters around town and bought tickets. No one said the word algorithm. I posted online about the show as well, but still, seeing actual posters around town felt cool.

But not as cool as my breakfast the day of the show.

It was the first Saturday of the Thanksgiving break, so I thought let’s take the kids out for breakfast. We went to our favorite spot, where, I had forgotten, I had also hung up a poster. I didn’t realize that I was eating there on the morning of the show I was advertising in their storefront window, but there we were.

Our waiter that morning was the same guy I had asked if it was cool to hang a poster several weeks before. He often waits on us and always treats our family great. He commented that tonight was the night of the big show, and I was like, oh yeah! Going to be fun! Small talk. I thanked again him for letting me hang the poster in the first place, and he said of course. Then, when he brought the bill, he had knocked off twenty dollars. He told me it was just a little good luck gesture for the show that night. It was so kind and thoughtful. I asked him if he wanted to go the show, and he said he and his girlfriend would love that; so I put them on the list.

Later that night, after the show, he came up and said hello. We laughed, shook hands, said our thank yous, and that was that. It was all so analog, so neighborly, so human. It felt a lot like the type of world where I want to live.

So, I’m going to shoot for more of that.

We’ll see how I do.

As AI marches it’s Terminator 2 death march into every aspect of our lives, as Jeff Bezos continues his heel-turn into Yul Brynner from Westworld—old guy movie references!—it’s going to be harder and harder to avoid this poison, but I’m going to try my damndest. I’m going to log off, shop local, talk to humans. I’m going to try to be more thoughtful about the choices I make. And I think you should too.

And if I fail miserably, if I’m bowled over by the relentless blitzkrieg of progress, well then, I suppose this post isn’t going to age well, is it? But so what? Neither am I. Just ask my lumbar vertebrae. But bad back or no, I’m not going to stop crushing it on the elliptical machine at the rec center like the old man I’m becoming, and maybe have always been. Not a chance, Jack.

You just have to do the best you can.

December Shows

Not leaving Colorado this month, but I am decamping to Fort Collins, December 19-20, for four shows at Front Range jewel, The Comedy Fort, one of my favorite comedy clubs in the country! Full stop. Love to see you there!

December 19-20 - Fort Collins, CO - The Comedy Fort - Tix

Then it’s one final 2025 Movie Night, the show where myself, Rory Scovel, and Ben Roy riff over a movie from yesteryear. These shows are so damn fun, and they usually sell out, so get tickets now!

December 30 - Denver - The Bug Theater - Tix

Oh, and Ohio! As you may remember from my earlier geriatric screed, I’m coming your way in January! Cleveland, and Cincinnati, specifically. Get tickets on my website now!

Finally, if you need a last minute holiday gift, I’ve got two albums on vinyl. I’m making my way through all the copies I printed of 20 Years In Comedy and All I Got Was This Lousy Special, and most of the the copies of my other album, put out by Saddle Creek, are almost gone. I think.

Regardless, both records can be purchased here.

The Monthly Clip

God damn, Adam. Great clip. Way to go.

Before you go, give the ole socials a follow

That’s all for this month, gang. And this year, I suppose. Really appreciate you following on me here. Have a great holiday and new year and all that stuff, and I’ll see you in 2026. Hopefully in person.