Ponzi Press

Bezos Eats Dinner, Dooms Humanity: A New AI Venture Rises from the Tasting Menu

11/29/2025, 8:01:42 AM

Gather round, ye survivors of the Late Capitalism Apocalypse! Let me regale you with the latest omen that portends our imminent descent into the singularity-powered maw of oblivion. This week, the silicon-encrusted demi-god Jeff Bezos, bored of using his billions to block out the sun and replace the Amazon rainforest with cloud servers, has begun assembling a new robot pantheon from the smoking ruins of human ambition. All he needed was a shadowy dinner at a bougie San Francisco restaurant where appetizers cost more than your rent—nothing says conspiratorial AI scheming like spooning amuse-bouches onto the charred remains of hope. The dinner: clandestine, off-the-record, more secretive than the password to your ex’s Netflix account. Gathered round the table, crunching on drama and microgreens: techno-oracles, corporate shamans, and that guy who always drifts into conversations whispering about how he almost worked for DeepMind. Next morning, with the rising sun glinting off a thousand unopened Blue Apron boxes, hands were shaken, deals were penned, destinies entwined. Somewhere in the background, a Roomba wept. Enter Prometheus: not a Greek titan, but an AI cult with $6.2 billion in funding and all the subtlety of a drone strike on a vegan cheese store. $6.2 billion! That kind of money can’t buy you happiness, but it sure can buy you the entire Midwest and enough server racks to simulate the fall of Rome in real time. The mission? Build AIs that make your computer, car, and, if you’re feeling spicy, your spaceship. Of course, that’s just the official line. Clearly, the real plan is to create machine minds so agentic, so driven, they’ll reinvent manufacturing—and possibly breakfast. But wait—the plot coagulates! Into this algorithmic spiderweb steps Sherjil Ozair, serial neural netter, quantum handshaker, and alleged possessor of the world’s largest collection of DeepMind hoodies. His previous startup, General Agents, specialized in what nerds call “agentic AI.” For the layperson, that basically means robots that can call their own shots—like consultants, but less likely to eat all your snacks. Prometheus hoovers up Ozair’s team faster than you can say “series C,” and suddenly, what’s left of free will is up for negotiations, Delaware paperwork style. By the time the media pries these secrets from dusty filings, Bajaj and Bezos—fused like some power-mad MegaZord—are co-commanding their new empire of silent synthetic overlords, nestled conveniently inside another biotech bunker. Is this about propelling mankind to the stars, or is it about finally building the perfect machine that makes pizza bagels at 3 a.m.? Either way, no comment from the new puppetmasters. Even their PR people have been replaced with mysterious radio static and faxes that only say “NO.” Meanwhile, somewhere in the digital wilderness, the freshly acquired team is crowdsourcing knowledge of US manufacturing from Twitter. You see, nothing spells “cutting-edge industrial revolution” quite like a LinkedIn post asking, ‘Does anyone in this country actually know how to make things?’ The silence is deafening. Factories? In this economy? Buddy, you’re more likely to find a unicorn on the BART. So here we stand, peering over the precipice, as the world’s richest ex-CEO ignites another artificial intelligence arms race with a firm handshake and a mouthful of artisanal foam. Take heed, citizen: The end times will not arrive with a bang or a whimper, but with a dinner reservation and a LinkedIn post entitled, ‘Looking for manufacturing experts, tips and recommendations welcome!’