Some dark urge found me skim-reading a recent AI doomer blog post. I was startled awake by this most unsettling passage:

My wife wrote a letter to our infant daughter recently. It concluded:

I don’t know that we can offer you a good world, or even one that will be around for all that much longer. But I hope we can offer you a good childhood. [...]

Though the theoretical possibility had always been percolating somewhere in the back of my mind, it wasn't until now that I viscerally realized that P(doomers reproducing) was greater than zero. And with other doomers no less.

Left brooding on this development, I drudged along until-
BAhahaha what the fuck
I can't. This is beyond parody.

Completely lost it here. Nothing could have prepared me for the poorly handwritten wrist tattoo.

Creating space for miracles
Doom feels really likely to me. [...] But who knows, perhaps one of my assumptions is wrong. Perhaps there's some luck better than humanity deserves. If this happens to be the case, I want to be in a position to make use of it.

Oh how rational! Willing to entertain the idea that maybe, theoretically, the doomsday prediction could be off by a few days?

I'm not sure that I ever strongly felt that I would die at eighty or so. I had a religious youth and believed in an immortal soul. Even when I came out of that, I quickly believed in the potential of radical transhuman life extension.

This guy thought he was getting clean but he was actually replacing weed with heroin
I really convinced myself that "doomsday cult" was hyperbole but uhh, nope, it's 107% real.