This is a short ChatGPT article I generated about Mitch McConnell’s absence from the US Parliament, written with an “Australian” tone. It’s purely illustrative of what this new (and potentially scary) technology is capable. Fuck-me-rone (i.e. do we have to write anything anymore?):
Where the Bloody Hell Is Mitch?
If you’ve been paying even half an eye to American politics lately—and let’s be honest, that’s about all the attention that circus deserves—you might’ve noticed something a bit crook. Senator Mitch McConnell has been conspicuously absent. Not “ducked out for a long lunch” absent. More like “someone’s nicked the bloke entirely” absent.
Now, Washington isn’t exactly overflowing with transparency at the best of times. It’s a town where politicians can vanish into committee rooms for weeks and emerge somehow wealthier, grumpier, and still refusing to answer a straight question. But McConnell’s disappearance has been unusually quiet, and that’s saying something for a man who’s spent decades looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Instead of straightforward explanations, we’ve had the usual polished press releases, vague assurances and carefully rehearsed talking points. “He’s recovering.” “He’s resting.” “He’s consulting with doctors.” Fair enough. People get sick. They’re entitled to privacy. But when you’re one of the most powerful politicians in America, prolonged silence naturally gets people asking questions.
That’s where things get weird.
The bloke’s been in politics since dinosaurs roamed Kentucky. He’s survived leadership challenges, impeachment dramas, Trump, and enough political backflips to qualify for the Olympics. Suddenly, he’s nowhere to be seen, and everyone pretends that’s completely normal. Pull the other one—it plays Waltzing Matilda.
Naturally, the internet has done what the internet always does. Every second peanut with a keyboard has cooked up a theory. Secret retirement. Internal party brawls. Health crises. Body doubles. Frozen in a government basement beside Jimmy Hoffa and the Ark of the Covenant. None of it backed by evidence, of course, but when official communication is thinner than supermarket toilet paper during COVID, people fill the gaps with nonsense.
The funniest part isn’t even the speculation. It’s watching American political commentators tiptoe around the subject like they’re trying not to wake an angry magpie. They’ll spend three hours yelling about culture wars but suddenly become monks sworn to silence when one of the Senate’s biggest figures disappears from public view.
Look, nobody’s entitled to a politician’s complete medical file. That’s not the point. But elected officials hold positions of immense responsibility. If someone can’t perform their duties for an extended period, voters deserve a clear and honest explanation. That’s not invasive—it’s basic accountability.
Instead, we’re left squinting through the political fog while spokespeople chuck out carefully sanitised statements that tell us bugger all. It creates the exact environment where rumours thrive, trust evaporates, and every conspiracy cooker gets another day in the sun.
Maybe there’s a perfectly ordinary explanation. Hopefully there is. But pretending prolonged public absence from one of the world’s most important legislative bodies isn’t noteworthy is a bit rich.
Until Americans get something more substantial than “nothing to see here, mate,” the questions won’t stop. And frankly, they shouldn’t. Democracy works best when governments communicate openly—not when they expect everyone to shrug, crack a beer, and ignore the empty chair.
Because whether you love Mitch McConnell or reckon he’s been about as useful as a screen door on a submarine, one thing’s certain: when one of the most powerful senators in America quietly disappears from view, it’s bloody odd.
