The Landfill of Knowledge: How Prompting LLMs Turned Thinking into Scavenging

If anything, we’ve become dumpster divers, rummaging through the garbage produced by LLMs.

Does this not tastefully describe how we’ve been generating content lately, ladies and gentlemen?

What’s a prompt? It’s a fishing net we throw into the sea of processed human knowledge.

And after the prompt comes the statistically assembled answer, which is the fishing net pulled out of the water, filled with … what? Synthesized trash (perceived as treasure by some) and mutated sea creatures.

An LLM’s answer, is it anything more than a heap of fragments probabilistically woven together to resemble an intelligible reply? No. It is just that.

Every prompt tears open a trash bag in the landfill of knowledge and spills its contents. We are scavengers, and we pick what we like and make it ours. We eat what’s edible, i.e., whatever isn’t rotten, spoiled, wilted, rancid… We’ve been “already eating from the trashcan all the time.” Of course, it may no longer be the (force-fed) ideology that we’re used to. But it’s a statistical remix of existing ideological material, compressed, processed, customized, regenerated. It tastes familiar, however, so… whatever.

Much of what we consume online today is, in fact, the work of ragpickers of ideas. They gather fragments from everywhere (most of which come from LLMs these days) and nail them together into something that resembles a thought. Every post is a shanty built from intellectual debris.

(In a world where content is produced endlessly by machines, the thinker is no longer the architect of ideas but a scavenger of fragments. Perhaps the ragpicker is the thinker of an age drowning in excess.)

Our homeless minds have embraced sloth, the most addictive drug of all (the one that is often confused with satisfaction), and now live comfortably on the spare change dropped into their paper cups. Why think?

The machines replaced us, we accepted it, we’re still pretending it hasn’t happened.

And those of you who haven’t been replaced by machines should think twice before you laugh at us. Ask yourselves why. It’s because you work for the machine.


This piece was first published on my Substack on March 4, 2026.

The Good Man

“I’m a good man,” he said. “You can measure my goodness by counting the number of people who believe that they have deceived me or have taken advantage of me. The reality, however, is the contrary. I am the one who has deceived them and taken advantage of them by being a good man.”

“I’m a good man,” he continued. “But that doesn’t mean I’m a weak or cowardly man. My kindness is often perceived as naivety, I know. When people ask for my help, I help them. When people charge more for their services, I pay them. When people want to use me as a scapegoat, I let them. And I know what it looks like to you. It looks like I’m helping the lazy do what he ought to be doing, paying the thief extra for ripping me off, and sacrificing myself for people who do not care about me. To you, it looks like they are taking advantage of me in broad daylight. But the reality is not how you see it.”

“I’m a good man,” he continued. “Yet, although it was never my true intention, I have punished the lazy man by doing his job, punished the thief by handing him the money he asked for, and punished the coward by sacrificing myself to save him. And if you do not see how I have punished them, then you have not yet had the opportunity to see true good and true evil.”

“I’m a good man,” he repeated. “And whether I’m dealing with good men or evil men, I always do the good thing. Whenever I can do good, I’ll do good. But I can see it in your eyes now, yes, I can see that you can no longer understand what good is and what evil is, can you? You live in a world beyond true good and evil. You live in a world of economic good and evil. We live in different dimensions. It’s only a coincidence that we drink in the same pub.”


This piece was first published on my Substack on September 12, 2025.

They Stand in the Way

Afterimages of
memes
and residues of
reels
still hover in my head. They
linger and stand in the way
of…

They stand in the way.

All I can do is wait
until they
sink deeper into me
or just
just
finally
vanish. But
I’ve been waiting
and for so long,
and I cannot get past the brain fog.