The other day I was listening to Howard Stern and his co-host Robin Quivers talking about how a bunch of celebrities magically slimmed down at the same time. The culprit, they noted, was Ozempic—a drug available mostly to the rich. While they laughed about the side effects, such as incontinence, “Ozempic face” and “Ozempic butt,” I couldn’t help but see these grotesque symptoms as a metaphor for the Ozempification of a society hooked on shortcuts. They enjoyed some short-term benefits but the side effects were far worse than the supposed solution. Ozempification was strikingly evident in AI-generated essays–boring, generic, surface-level, cliche-ridden, just about worthless. Regardless of how well structured and logically composed, these essays have the telltale signs of “Ozempfic face” and “Ozempic butt.”
As a college writing instructor, I’m not just trying to sell academic honesty. I’m trying to sell pride. As I face the brave new world of teaching writing in the AI era, I’ve realized that my job as a college instructor has morphed into that of a supercharged salesman. And what am I selling? No less than survival in an age where the very tools meant to empower us—like AI—threaten to bury us alive under layers of polished mediocrity. Imagine it: a spaceship has landed on Earth in the form of ChatGPT. It’s got warp-speed potential, sure, but it can either launch students into the stars of academic brilliance or plunge them into the soulless abyss of bland, AI-generated drivel. My mission? To make them realize that handling this tool without care is like inviting a black hole into their writing.
As I fine-tune my sales pitch, I think about Ozempic–that magic slimming drug, beloved by celebrities who’ve turned from mid-sized to stick figures overnight. Like AI, Ozempic offers a seductive shortcut. But shortcuts have a price. You see the trade-off in “Ozempic face”—that gaunt, deflated look where once-thriving skin sags like a Shar-Pei’s wrinkles—or, worse still, “Ozempic butt,” where shapely glutes shrink to grim, skeletal wiring. The body wasn’t worked; it was bypassed. No muscle-building, no discipline. Just magic pill ingestion—and what do you get? A husk of your former self. Ozempified.
Similarly, the AI-ification of writing can result in hollow prose, bloated with clichés, overused expressions, and the tell-tale stench of mediocrity. Just as the human body degrades without effort, so too does writing become a skeletal, soulless exercise when handed over to AI without a second thought. The worst part? Those who haven’t cultivated an appreciation for good writing won’t even see the “Ozempic face” in their own work—they’ll be blind to the sagging prose, the AI-induced atrophy, thinking they’ve hit the jackpot when all they’ve really done is plummet into mediocrity. AI-generated essays often parade around like cheap Hollywood knock-offs: shiny on the surface but empty within.
The Ozempification of our bodies and the AI-ification of our minds lead to the same dismal place: semi-human expression, death by shortcut, and the creeping sense of quiet despair. It’s my job, then, not just to teach students how to write, but to make them see the power of Humanification—that literacy, real authorial presence, and a deep dive into history, philosophy, and the human condition cannot be faked, much less outsourced to machines.
In this age of spaceships and shortcuts, I must instill in my students a healthy fear of becoming Ozempified, by giving them the 10 Symptoms of Ozempification:
1. Superficial Appeal, Hollow Content: Just as Ozempic can give the illusion of a slim figure without underlying health, “Ozempified” writing looks polished but lacks depth, insight, or original thought.
2. Loss of Authenticity: The student’s unique voice is flattened, replaced by the sanitized, flavorless tone typical of AI-generated text, erasing individuality and personality.
3. Prose Devoid of Muscle: Like Ozempic reducing muscle tone, AI-generated writing can lack structural rigor or complexity, appearing skeletal and underdeveloped.
4. Reliance on Clichés and Common Phrases: Ozempified writing often leans heavily on clichés, repeating familiar expressions without genuine creativity or fresh perspective.
5. Stunted Intellectual Development: Just as Ozempic bypasses the work of physical fitness, reliance on AI deprives students of the mental rigor and discipline needed to build critical thinking skills.
6. Decline in Problem-Solving Ability: By relying on shortcuts, students lose the chance to grapple with complex ideas and find solutions independently, leading to weaker analytical abilities.
7. Erosion of Self-Confidence: Ozempified students may become insecure in their writing, increasingly dependent on AI “fixes” rather than trusting their voice or ideas.
8. Inability to Recognize Quality Writing: Just as people can become blind to “Ozempic face,” students may lose the ability to distinguish high-quality, insightful writing from shallow, formulaic prose.
9. Shortcut Addiction: Once used to AI assistance, students may find it hard to break free, much like dependency on a slimming drug, leading to a vicious cycle of avoidance and over-reliance.
10. Mediocrity as the New Normal: Ozempification ultimately means settling for less; students accept superficial results over meaningful mastery, leading to a future of bland, uninspired work.
These symptoms show how shortcuts, whether in writing or physical health, erode both character and quality, leaving behind a hollow version of one’s former self.
Teaching writing as a form of resistance against Ozempification is to go against the tide. The students and I discuss that our brains are hardwired in a way to make us vulnerable to being Ozempified. Recognizing that the human default leans toward laziness and the path of least resistance, I’ve come to a sobering conclusion: in the age of AI, we’re on a collision course with our own dependency. AI is to writing what Ozempic is to weight loss—a tempting shortcut, a magic wand that promises effortless success. But make no mistake, this shortcut is a Faustian Bargain, a pact with the devil that erodes discipline, creativity, and originality, leaving us as hollow shells of ourselves. Depend too much on AI, and we risk becoming mere Non-Player Characters in our own lives—passive, predictable, and stripped of free will or self-agency. The allure of “quick fixes” may be strong, but the cost is a slow descent into complacency and mediocrity.
In the Age of AI, we’re not just teaching students to write. We’re teaching them to navigate a digital landscape more tempting than an all-you-can-eat buffet. So, naturally, I had to begin compiling my Compendium of AI Traps, a sort of Eight Warnings for the 21st-century student who might otherwise be tempted to cheat the system and become AI-sloths. By mid-Fall 2024, I had already concocted Eight AI Traps (with some overlap) that needed to be hammered into their brains—preferably with a sledgehammer. Here they are:
1. The Magic Wand Trap
When you first encounter an AI writing tool like ChatGPT, you may become enchanted like Alice in Wonderland, feel the dopamine rush of omniscience, and delude yourself into believing you can conjure masterpieces out of thin air. In truth, the Magic Wand Trap will render you a writing sample about as glorious as a Wikipedia entry–generic, hackneyed drivel that you hope your instructor will pass with a C grade. You need to replace the Magic Wand Fantasy with the Prep Payoff Principle, which states that the harder you work before bringing your manuscript to ChatGPT, the more impressive the AI revision. You need to treat ChatGPT like your personal trainer at the gym. Asking ChatGPT to write an essay by just typing in the professor’s writing prompt is the equivalent of only working out on the day you meet your trainer and showing up reeking of nicotine and whiskey sweat. You’re on a fool’s errand. If you want the AI magic, bring something to the party! Expecting ChatGPT to churn out brilliance while you sit around lazily smoking metaphorical cigarettes and binge-watching trash TV is like showing up to a personal trainer after a week of whiskey shots and zero gym time. You get what you put in. If your brain is marinated in mediocrity, don’t expect AI to perform miracles. Work out those mental muscles first; give ChatGPT something to work with. Be the student that actually trains before the gym session, not the slob who eats junk and expects to flex.
2. The Ozempification Trap
Less egregious than the Magic Wand Trap is the belief that AI with just a little nudging provides a shortcut in your writing just as Ozempic creates a shortcut in weight loss. But these are delusions. Ozempic can work wonders if you eat a healthy diet and exercise, but expecting Ozempic to be the magic pill that takes you to the promised land is not only delusional, it leads to Ozempficication, the childish belief that you don’t have to work hard to achieve desirable results. If you’re looking for a shortcut, you might just cheat yourself into oblivion. Popping Ozempic might melt away your belly, but it’ll also give you “Ozempic face,” the visage of a withered raisin. Likewise, the practice of Ozempification in a college class that requires writing will produce similar dismal results. If you rely solely on AI to write your essays, your writing will shrivel into an insipid, half-baked mess. Congratulations, you’ve officially downgraded yourself to the bottom of the academic food chain. Enjoy your future career in beige cubicles everywhere. The wisest of students will realize that AI writing tools are not an invitation to shortcuts but the opposite: A form of writing engagement that will actually increase your revision and editing process. Thoughtful use of AI pushes you to confront weaknesses, rethink ideas, and polish rough drafts into compelling narratives. Far from a crutch, it forces you into a rigorous rewriting process that enhances your work rather than dilutes it. The sharpest students will use AI not to replace effort but to amplify it, treating it as a partner in the challenging but rewarding task of crafting writing that stands out. The result? Stronger, more original work, and a writer who’s miles ahead of the cut-and-paste crowd.
3. The AI Addiction Trap
Too much time on AI will initially surge your brain with dopamine as it gives you what seems like Superman-like powers, but over time you will experience the flattening effect in which you become numb and your brain turns into mashed potatoes. At some point, you need to unplug. Staring at ChatGPT for too long is like eating processed cheese for months—you can’t taste the real stuff anymore. Take a break, hike in the wilderness, go off-grid, and read real books—ones made of paper. It’s like an artist stepping away from the canvas to see if the mess they’re creating is actually art. Rejuvenate, recalibrate, then dive back into the digital swamp.
4. The AI Superpower Trap
You can get high on AI, but be careful—it’s a drug. You start using ChatGPT to polish a paragraph, and suddenly you’re three essays deep, drunk on dopamine, thinking you’re the next Shakespeare. Chill. The euphoria’s real, but so is the crash. Learn to wield this power with caution. Otherwise, you’re going to be one of those guys who stumbles into class thinking they’ve reinvented the English language when really, they’ve just written a B-minus think piece on why kale is overrated. In a state of intoxication, you may fail to see that your AI-essay is full of hallucinations, the jargon for inaccuracies and “AI detritus,” the jargon for the splatter of verbiage that adds your word count but says nothing.
5. The AI Mediocrity Trap
When AI makes writing feel easy, it’s tempting for you to become complacent, letting your standards slip. This is the worst trap of all: the slide into mediocrity becomes so gradual that you hardly notice it happening. AI can lull you into a state of intellectual passivity, where “good enough” starts to replace “striving for excellence.” But don’t blame AI for your laziness—blame yourself. Laziness has been hardwired into human DNA since time immemorial, and mediocrity is often the default mode. Most of us instinctively follow the path of least resistance.
In the AI Age, you’ll face time and financial pressures to rely on AI. If your competition is using it to save time and cut corners, you’ll feel the pressure to do the same. And as more of the business and academic world acclimate to the mediocrity of AI-generated writing—accepting it as the standard form of communication—a kind of Mediocrity Creep will set in, pushing you to compromise without even realizing it. Instead of aspiring to personal excellence, you may unwittingly settle into the role of a middling functionary, stuck in a job filled with soul-sucking memos, pointless emails, and endless HR training videos that make you question your life choices.
True mastery isn’t just about producing words; it’s about crafting ideas with precision, critical thought, and effort. Avoid the complacency trap by always aiming for improvement, and use AI as just one tool in your broader toolkit for excellence.
6. The Originality Decay Trap
Relying too much on AI can dull your creative edge. The more you depend on AI to brainstorm or develop ideas, the more your own originality and unique style take a backseat. Just like muscles atrophy when they’re not used, creativity weakens when you rely on AI to do the heavy lifting. The antidote? Use AI for support, but always reserve time for free-thinking exercises that help your authentic voice stay strong.
7. The Overconfidence Trap
When ChatGPT produces coherent, polished text, it’s easy to start believing that the work is flawless or beyond critique. This is the Overconfidence Trap, where students trust AI output without verification, leading to factual errors, logical gaps, or irrelevant information creeping into their writing. Just as you wouldn’t trust a flashy website without credible sources, don’t take AI’s output as gospel. Every output requires scrutiny, revision, and a healthy dose of skepticism.
8. The Instant Gratification Trap
In the AI Age, you can get answers in seconds, but this speed comes with a price: it erodes your patience and capacity for deep thought. By letting ChatGPT spoon-feed you ideas, you miss out on the intellectually rich process of wrestling with a complex concept until it finally clicks. Instant gratification from AI is like binge-watching TV series—you get the quick thrill without truly savoring or understanding the nuances. The result? Shallow understanding, minimal retention, and a false sense of accomplishment. Use AI to support, not replace, your intellectual exploration.
Cinemorphosis 