At some point last year, I stopped reading half the advertisements I saw around me in San Francisco. They made me feel crazy. And confused. If I thought too much about them, they made me angry. And I don’t have time to feel anger; I gotta hustle to pay my mortgage and raise my kids and try to cling to some semblance of joy.
In most cities, outdoor advertising tries to sell you something you might need: online classes, a personal injury attorney, God. In San Francisco, however, the words are nonsense. “Your agents need agents!” “Own your inference.” “Book your hotel on the moon with gru.space!” The SF Standard and The New York Times have run quizzes trying to decipher these ads. Whatever they mean, they are not selling something that I, or my neighbors, can buy. They are, instead, riddles aimed at a tiny subset of AI insiders.
For the past few years, these lame, inane cryptograms have become a favorite target of jokes. Ha ha, the articles and social media posts go, I have no idea what the words in San Francisco mean! Isn’t that funny?
Guys, no. It’s not funny. I have come to the conclusion that they are doing some real psychological damage to us as a community. And they are becoming part of our city’s identity in a way that makes me sad.
