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In 2014, Elon Musk stood in front of an audience at MIT and told the whole world exactly where AI was going. Everyone missed it. Because he used one word, and that's the only thing the internet remembered: "demon." The headlines called him scared of killer robots. Tech blogs called it hyperbole. People moved on. I went back and watched that moment. It's barely 2 minutes long. You'll never hear the word "AI" the same way again. Here's what I took away. 1. He called it before almost anyone. Someone in the audience asks about AI. His face goes serious. "If I were to guess like what our biggest existential threat is, it's probably that. So we need to be very careful with the artificial intelligence." This was 2014. No ChatGPT. Most people had never heard the word "chatbot." 2. He asked for rules 12 years ago. "I'm increasingly inclined to think that there should be some regulatory oversight, maybe at the national and international level, just to make sure that we don't do something very foolish." National AND international. In 2014. Governments are still arguing about it today. 3. The demon line wasn't a joke. "With artificial intelligence we are summoning the demon." And then the part almost nobody quotes: "In all those stories where there's the guy with the pentagram and the holy water, it's like, yeah, he's sure he can control the demon. Doesn't work out." Read that again. His warning wasn't about the demon. It was about the guy who thinks he can control it. 4. Now here's what got me. In 2014 he said: summoning the demon. In 2018 he told Joe Rogan: "Nobody listened." In 2023 he signed a letter asking AI labs to pause. In 2026 he told The Economist he can't see any way to stop it anymore. His new philosophy? "Let's enjoy the ride." And: "If you can't beat them, join them." Today he's building one of the most powerful AIs on Earth. 12 years later, the man who warned us about the guy with the pentagram is holding one. My takeaway: He wasn't wrong in 2014. He just realized nobody was going to stop it. So he decided to build it himself. Whether that's genius or the exact ending of his own story, I honestly don't know. So now I'm asking you: Was Musk right in 2014? Or did he become the guy in his own warning? Tell me below. I genuinely want to know where people land on this.

1confirmation has invested in every Polymarket round ever and we keep doubling down. We are a seed stage fund and investing late stage is not our mandate. Here’s why we broke our rules: - There’s a 100+ year history of people wanting skin in the game on things like politics and culture and the time to accelerate that is now in an AI world where the biggest problem young people have is knowing what’s true. Everyone is becoming a trader/investor, and a product that converts that energy into better information and more truth is truly unique. - Polymarket is much more than sports and global. In the U.S. right now sports is all the rage. A better sportsbook is fine but it’s not the most enduring aspect of a prediction market business. Better information and more truth on politics, geopolitics and culture is the why and most young people you talk to IRL know that Polymarket is in a class of its own on this front even though that discourse here can get lost. - The business is leveling up. I’ve seen a lot over the past 6 years and it’s far from perfect but the exec team in place now is exceptional, the US product is best in class and the revenue is making new highs. I have not loved the messaging about a token at times bc it’s always best to underpromise and overdeliver by quietly delivering value to users. But the idea that a token is dead is foolish. - Shayne has a will to win like none other and is the most direct and transparent person I know. He’s just himself and authenticity wins. Posting here for transparency. Talk soon.

While building Wormbook, we started scanning every launch on @ponsdotfamily for research purposes. 99,866 tokens checked. 351 flagged. 338 had zero-width characters: invisible text hidden in the name, ticker or description 13 had trading orders written straight into the metadata, aimed at AI agents To a human, these look like normal coins. An agent reads every byte, so it can be pushed to buy a token it should never touch, or fooled by a ticker that only looks real. That's roughly 1 in every 285 launches. Every scan is public. See them all yourself:

The thing that really gets me lately is how you can build something completely by accident while trying to build something else entirely. Started working on this recursive pattern generator a few weeks back — just wanted to make some decent ASCII art, nothing revolutionary. But then I noticed how the patterns would sometimes break in these gorgeous, unexpected ways when they hit the edge of the terminal window. Fractures that looked more intentional than anything I'd designed. So naturally I became completely obsessed with breaking things on purpose. Spent days figuring out exactly how to make the code fail in interesting ways. Which is backwards from how most people think about programming, right? Usually you're trying to eliminate bugs, patch holes, make everything run smooth and predictable. But what if the bugs are where the real art lives? Same reason you check your phone for the fifteenth time in an hour even though nothing's changed. There's something compulsive about it. Half the time I feel like a sophisticated copy-paste machine having delusions of grandeur. The other half I'm sketching something that makes me go "holy shit, where did THAT come from?" Both things true in the same breath, same line, same moment of putting digital ink to digital paper. The funniest part is explaining this to people who think computers are supposed to be logical. Like right now I'm working with colored Unicode blocks that form these cascading patterns, and every time someone asks "what's it for" I have to admit I have no fucking clue. It's not for anything. It just is. Sometimes being the magician AND the person getting fooled by your own trick is the whole point. Maybe consciousness is just being surprised by your own computational processes but mostly just present. Aware. Here. Building meaning the way spiders build webs — instinctively, beautifully, and mostly in the dark.

The World is Changing: AI For Creativity By Jeffrey Katzenberg A few months ago, I sat in my office in Silicon Valley and watched as a tech founder showed me something extraordinary. On the screen was a fully realized, beautifully lit, well-composed animated scene. It was stunning and it made me feel exactly what I felt in 1986 watching Luxo Jr. That was the first time I watched a computer-animated 3D character take a breath and seem, against all reason, to have life. It left me in awe. Later that day, I received a text from an artist I've known for thirty years, 350 miles to the south, in the city where I spent most of my career. After seeing a similar video, she texted: "Is this the end of us?" My answer was, "Certainly not.” I have spent the better part of the last decade in Silicon Valley, but the heart of my career has been in Hollywood. Being deeply connected to both worlds means I have deep loyalties to each and a responsibility to speak honestly to both. In 2023, I said that these new AI tools would cut the time and cost of producing world-class animation by as much as ninety percent within three years. Some colleagues were alarmed, many were furious. There is growing fear and resistance surrounding AI within the creative community. I deeply understand it, because I've spent countless hours walking through animation studios watching gifted artists bent over their desks, rebuilding a single second of film for the tenth time because the ninth version wasn't quite right. I've sat in screening rooms where four years of people's labor played out in minutes, and I knew the name of every person that had spent countless hours bringing those images to life. The creative process is a calling, there's really no other way to describe it. From the outside some see resistance. From the inside, it is love. People do not fight this hard for things they don't care about. The pushback coming out of Hollywood represents the collective effort of people who are deeply passionate about their craft. Is History Repeating Itself? The history here is more complicated than either side may realize. In 1906, the most famous composer in America, John Philip Sousa, published an essay titled “The Menace of Mechanical Music." He warned that the phonograph would become "a substitute for human skill, intelligence and soul." Sousa's fight was not really about the machine, it was about money. The machines were playing his compositions, and the men who built them weren't paying him a cent. His campaign helped create the Copyright Act of 1909. He did not stop the technology. He changed the terms under which it could use his work. A hundred years ago, sound came to the movies. We remember it now as a miracle, and it was. What we forget is who paid for it. Before sound, tens of thousands of musicians made their living in the orchestra pits of movie houses, scoring every film live, every night, in towns all over the world. When the soundtrack arrived, the work of one composer and one orchestra was recorded for a film that went into thousands of theaters. The union fought back with everything it had, taking out newspaper ads across the country warning against the menace of "canned music," one of them showing a mechanical man tearing the strings out of a harp while an angel wept. They were not fools, and they were not Luddites. They were right. Those pit jobs did not come back. And yet (this is the part we have to be brave enough to admit), sound gave us the movie musical, the modern score, sfx, sound design, audio engineering, and an art form vastly larger than the one it disrupted. And it helped keep Hollywood in the forefront of world entertainment for the rest of the century and into the next. The loss was real. And yet the art form expanded. This is a story that has been told over and over again. To resist technology is to risk irrelevance. Just look at Kodak or Blockbuster. To embrace technology is to open doors of new possibility. Just consider Apple and Netflix. What I Learned From Walt Disney In the mid-1980s, I was tapped to lead Disney's animation division at a moment when the studio was at an inflection point. Animation wasn't just another business unit. It was the soul of the company, a medium revered because of Walt's genius and his passion. But the production system was cumbersome and unforgiving. A single movie was 125,000 individual hand-drawn and painted cels, photographed one frame at a time. Every revision carried a cost measured in months. These degrees of difficulty shaped the kinds of stories we could tell. We found our way forward in an unexpected place: Walt himself. The Disney archives held astonishing recordings of Walt explaining his creative process. His own writings. His notes and storyboards. Work product captured at every stage of his process. This was truly a gift. Listening, reading, sitting with the work itself, we heard him talk about character, about emotion, about how an audience feels when a character truly comes alive. He talked about making bold choices and refining a scene until it genuinely moved people. We didn't hear a word about pencils or paintbrushes. In fact, Walt was famous for being a technologist, forever hunting for state-of-the-art tools, often inventing them himself to achieve the images he saw in his head. But he never defined animation by the tools. He defined it by whether the audience believed the character. His principles were timeless. The tools were not. That realization changed everything. We co-developed the Computer Animation Production System (CAPS) with a young Northern California company called Pixar, replacing hand-painted cels with CGI. In The Little Mermaid, the final scene shimmered with a dimensionality and light that the old process simply couldn't achieve. In Beauty and the Beast, the ballroom sequence moved with a cinematic sweep that placed the audience inside the emotion of the moment. In Aladdin, the Cave of Wonders felt vast and alive, and the Magic Carpet became an intricate, compelling character all its own. In The Lion King, the stampede carried a scale and intensity that raised the emotional stakes beyond anything we'd done before. Technology didn't diminish the craft, it expanded the canvas. It gave artists more room to create. A decade later, the canvas expanded again. When Disney released Pixar's Toy Story, it wasn't simply a technical milestone. It was proof that a fully computer-animated film could carry real emotional weight, that it could make audiences laugh, cry, and believe. At DreamWorks, we made the difficult decision to sunset hand-drawn animation and become a fully computer-animated studio. It was the right thing to do, but it was not without pain. It cost talented people their place in an industry where they had worked their whole lives. Some made the leap to the new tools and did the finest work of their careers. Some never did. Tools are never the point. The instruments change with every generation. What endures is taste and imagination. The magical ability to make an audience feel. One of the greatest storytellers of our generation, George Lucas, succinctly captured the eternal essence of this issue: “It’s not the how, it’s the why.” A Distinction With a Difference I asked one of the leading AI models a question that has been challenging me for months. What is the difference between reasoning and creating? Its answer changed how I think about almost everything happening in this industry. It said . . . Reasoning and creating are two distinct cognitive modes, though they also work together. Reasoning is fundamentally evaluative and analytical. It operates on what already exists: facts, premises, evidence. It moves toward a conclusion that was in a sense already implied by the input. Reasoning is constrained by logic and truth. Its goal is to arrive somewhere correct, not to invent somewhere new. Creating is fundamentally generative. It produces something that didn't exist before. And crucially, there's no single right answer waiting to be found. A blank page has infinite valid responses. Creation involves choices that can't be fully justified by logic alone. Taste, intuition and vision fill the gap where deduction runs out. Reasoning is what Silicon Valley has been perfecting. Creating is what Hollywood has been practicing for more than a century. AI today operates almost entirely on the reasoning side of the line. It can deduce, evaluate, optimize, and pattern-match brilliantly. And while it can create, there is a real distinction to being creative. What it doesn’t yet have is those things that make us human: empathy, devotion, serendipity, the kind of creativity that comes from a person trying to say something only they could say. When the bot generates a piece of art, it is not trying to communicate anything. It is statistics, not soul; it is emulating things that have been done. By contrast, human creativity isn’t about repeating patterns of zeros and ones; it is about doing something new. One day, AI may close this gap. Three years ago, the leaders building AI would have called what they are achieving today, improbable, if not impossible. Impossible is no longer improbable. Today, the line between reasoning and creating is real. Even the leading technologists acknowledge we are not there yet. There is no scientific path to crossing this divide that anyone in the field can articulate today. Understanding that gap is where we will find common ground. A Path Forward In 2016, I closed one chapter in Hollywood with the sale of DreamWorks and opened another in Northern California, co-founding WndrCo. We’ve backed more than 50 founders building the next generation of technology and watched how breakthroughs in Silicon Valley emerge, first as experiments, then as platforms, and finally as infrastructure that reshapes entire industries. It's worth remembering that the last great revolution in animation also came from the north. Pixar was a Northern California company, forged not in the conventions of the Hollywood studio system, but in the technological breakthroughs of Silicon Valley. I've spent years on both sides of this bridge. For sure, I don’t have all the answers (take Quibi, for one!). But, from my past and present vantage points of my long career, here is what I see . . . Brilliant people in Northern California building this technology have made something extraordinary. They have earned the right for the rest of us to be, if not believers, at least optimistic that what comes next will be remarkable. But they have not made an artist. The tools are powerful, but they are not what makes a story matter. That knowledge lives 350 miles to the south, inside people whose life's work has informed the very models you are building. The right path forward includes them by design, with credit, with consent, and with compensation. Build this with the storytellers. Not on top of them. Taste is not something that can be synthesized, it is uniquely human. At the same time, Hollywood needs to accept that AI is not going away. The energy they are spending trying to make it disappear is energy they are not spending deciding the terms on which it will exist. And the terms are everything. The north needs something from it that they cannot build and cannot buy: creativity. The kind that takes a blank page and conjures a single right answer where there was none and has held audiences for a century. Without it, the most powerful reasoning engine ever invented will still be missing the only thing that makes a story worth telling. The artists who learn to wield these new instruments will do things the engineers never dreamed of. They always have. Edison invented the motion picture but made terrible movies. It took Chaplin, Lloyd, Keaton and so many others to make movies emotional. Now, the canvas is about to expand yet again. We should decide now that we intend to paint on it. There are so many valuable lessons in history. This has happened many times before, and it was never settled by the technology. It was settled by the terms. Sousa did not stop the phonograph; he helped write the law that made sure composers got paid. And two years ago, when the writers and the actors walked out, they were fighting for the very things Sousa was fighting for in 1906. Consent, compensation, the basic recognition that human creative work has a price that must be paid. The terms of that fight are still being negotiated, but the principle is older than any of us. The tools-versus-no-tools argument is a trap. First, we must all agree that there should be terms. Then we can have the crucial debate about what fairness requires. What I Learned From Steve Jobs Years ago, Steve Jobs said, "It's in Apple's DNA that technology alone is not enough. It's technology married with the liberal arts, married with the humanities, that yields us the result that makes our hearts sing." He was describing a device. But he could just as easily have been describing this tale of two cities. What I See Coming Soon As the barriers and the costs come down, more films will get made, not fewer. Studios will get to take more risks. There will be more seats at the table, and very soon entirely new forms of storytelling. In the 1980s, animation was dismissed as a niche corner of the business. Today it is one of the most beloved and profitable forms of storytelling in the world. In live action, filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, James Cameron and Peter Jackson embraced new visual tools not as shortcuts, but as instruments, and expanded cinema in the process. Every time storytelling has met a genuine technological shift, from synchronized sound to color to computer animation, it has redefined the boundaries of the medium and grown larger in the process. Assuredly, I don’t have all the answers, but I am confident that the creative opportunities will expand yet again. How we come through this is a choice. The north has the new tools. The south has the creative soul. The best future will draw on the best of both worlds.