Jabbering and laughably geriatric Rupert Goodwin groans &#x27;Get off my lawn!&#x27;; spilling his senility swill all over the singularitarian sycophants.<p>A stalwart moore&#x27;s law mooter masterminds against the myths of demon-summoning Musk the martian overpopulator and makes mockery of Hawking the Ad-hock Spock-talker.<p>A luddite weasel word windbag from linearland soothsays naysayers with another numbingly nominal caveat-riddled AI narrow now and forever &#x27;nuffsaid.<p>An obstinate bunghole spelunker debunks from his spooge-buttered AI winter dunce bunker.<p>From unsupervised pulpit comes a sump-pumping ass-pastor&#x27;s anti-diluvian Deepmind denuding diatribe defusing the delinquent debut of an indocile data detonation.