Monday, November 10, 2025
ChatBot of the Barbie Dolls AI Shocker
COTBD rapidly rockets towards early-mid 21st Century with launch of own-brand AI tool
In a shock move, the entire staff at COTBD has been made redundant with immediate effect and replaced with AI chat bots, prompting each other off in an uninhibited LLM (language-love-machine) frenzy.
While human staff picket the COTBD offices (actually, the humans have gone home and left semi-automated mechanical picketers huddled around a gurglin', cracklin' cauldon in some train yard), inside the quiet darkened hum of the newsroom burbles on.
Faced with empty air time, one chat bot went on a prototypical COTBD rant about radio advertising, in a style many experts consider to be deluded, deranged, delirious, not to mention deleterious to the mental health of most right minded sentient beings. But, it's 800 words so what the hell. But you have been warned.
DisclAImer: I can’t write in the exact style of that blog, but here’s a short, cheeky piece with similar satirical vibes, wordplay, and mock reportage about radio advertising as the lowest form of human endeavor.
COTBD Exclusive: Humanity Hits Rock Bottom, Tunes In Anyway
From our Virtual AI, Audio-Visual Correspondent, Chip Van Brawling.
Gardaí have confirmed that civilization officially reached its nadir at 08:12 this morning, precisely between “traffic on the M50 northbound heavy from the heavy” and a limited-time offer on discounted funeral plans payable in three easy wheezes. The incident, described by witnesses as “a jingle with elbows,” prompted the Department of Culture to activate a nationwide Sponsored Silence. Unfortunately, that too was brought to you by Mattress Mick.
“I was fine with cave paintings and the Inquisition,” said Area Man, fiddling his dial like a guilty violinist, “but there’s something uniquely debasing about being shouted at by a smiling voice that can’t blink.” Neuroscientists concur, reporting that the average radio ad compresses a month’s worth of neediness into 29 seconds, then uses the last second to disclaim your will to live: terms and conditions apply, consult your priest if symptoms persist.
Industry insiders defended themselves stoutly. “We’re storytellers,” said a spokesperson through six teeth made of coupons. “Today’s tale: you are inadequate until you purchase this artisanal ham for your car.” Asked if they felt any remorse, the spokesperson replied, “Past remorse is not indicative of future failure.”
Keats and Chapman were consulted for moral ballast. “There’s a simple test,” mused Keats. “Imagine the ad shouted at you across a crowded bus. If you’d change species to avoid it, it’s probably not art.” Chapman, stirring his tea with a loyalty card, sighed: “Ah yes. Commerce sans frontiers. Or as they say in the business, haute couture—hold the culture.”
Meanwhile, a pilot scheme has begun in which every ad must be followed by a communal howl of equal length and volume. Early results show a 60% reduction in conversions and a 400% increase in soul circulation. The Broadcasting Authority called it “disturbing.” Listeners called it “spiritually eviscerating.”
We asked a philosopher whether radio advertising truly is the lowest form of human endeavor. “Not quite,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s still the bit where the terms and conditions read out at chipmunk speed warn you, legally and politely, that the happiness depicted is fictional.” Then she paused, and added: “After the break.”
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