The Xero for Hire Podcast

In this episode of The Xeroforhire Podcast, I’m talking about convergence—both inside the Apocalyptiverse and in the way technology, storytelling, and years of creative work are beginning to come together.

I start by going back to The Last Day, an audio drama I originally published in 2014. At the time, I produced five episodes with voice actors recruited from places like Newgrounds, but eventually realized the story I wanted to tell was becoming too visual for the audio-drama format.

Years later, I returned to that same opening story for The Last Day comic. In the original audio drama, Silas enters a mysterious machine and the story simply skips over what happens inside. The comic finally fills in that missing piece, following Steve and Silas through the events inside the machine and their eventual escape from the facility.

What I only recently realized is that this makes the comic much more important than I originally thought.

It has become a convergence point between two versions of the Apocalyptiverse.

After the events of the comic, readers can effectively follow two branches. One leads into the original Last Day audio drama. The other leads toward Shadow of the Night, where Steve, Silas, and their world developed very differently. The characters and starting point are shared, but the timelines diverge.

The comic sits directly at the fork.

That realization has changed the way I look at a project I originally wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about. Something I created years later to fill a hole in a story I wrote more than a decade ago accidentally became foundational to both versions of that world. It also means I need to rethink the visual timeline on Apocalyptiverse.com so readers can actually see how these stories connect.

The second convergence happening is technological.

I’ve been digging much deeper into AI—not simply using it, but trying to understand what all these different technologies actually are. LLMs, diffusion models, LoRAs, agents, automation systems, image generation, video generation: “AI” is really a convenient umbrella for a collection of very different technologies.

And the more I understand them, the more interested I become in learning how to actually wield them.

I’ve started configuring local software and experimenting with AI video. The early results aren’t where I want them yet—right now, some of it looks more like clay blobs fighting than finished animation—but that’s part of learning the tool.

More importantly, running these tools myself changes what becomes economically possible.

One immediate application is Harbinger: Legend of the Seven Brothers. I can take existing character artwork, build character cards for the Seven Brothers, animate them, and integrate those cards into the Apocalyptiverse website without paying for every generation through another service.

That’s where these two sides of the episode finally meet.

Stories I began more than a decade ago are converging with comics and novels I’m producing today. Meanwhile, technologies I’ve spent the last few years experimenting with are becoming tools I can run and learn myself. All of that feeds back into the same larger project: building the Apocalyptiverse into a digital world where people can read the stories, explore the lore, play games, collect character cards, leave comments, and interact with other people interested in this strange mixture of cyberpunk, superheroes, comics, AI, and science fiction.

I’m still learning. The technology isn’t producing exactly what I want yet.

But producing something is only the beginning.

The next step is learning how to wield it.

Timestamps

00:00 — Why this episode is called “Convergence”00:35 — The 2014 Last Day audio drama02:21 — Steve, Silas, and the missing machine sequence03:57 — Returning to that missing scene in the comic05:34 — One beginning, two different timelines06:39 — The comic as the Apocalyptiverse convergence point07:56 — Rediscovering the importance of an old project09:35 — Reading the comics and books through Apocalyptiverse10:03 — The new dungeon crawler10:30 — Going deeper into how AI actually works12:14 — Experimenting with local AI video generation12:49 — Bringing the Seven Brothers to life for Harbinger13:01 — Building Apocalyptiverse as a digital city13:50 — The second convergence: AI and creative production14:22 — From generating things to learning how to wield the tools14:35 — Following the experiments on Substack15:24 — Closing thoughts

This episode feels like a pivot point: it starts with your recent experiments with local AI, but the larger subject becomes choosing creative enjoyment and productive community over continually arguing with people who are hostile to the tools you use.

You describe finding a much healthier response on Substack Notes by openly talking about AI workflows with people who are genuinely interested in them. That experimentation has led you deeper into local AI tools—image generation, video generation, text-to-speech, chatbots, agents, and interconnected workflows. Because of your background in photography, video editing, and node-based software like DaVinci Resolve, local image and video generation have proven considerably more intuitive than your earlier attempts at building a local chatbot. You celebrate successfully generating your first five-second AI video as a small but meaningful milestone.

That experience leads into a broader reflection on creativity. Repeatedly putting significant effort into photography, music, games, videos, and other projects only to receive silence—or sometimes hostility—has made sharing those things online increasingly unrewarding. Rather than abandoning creativity, you’re beginning to separate creating something because you enjoy it from feeling obligated to publish everything for an audience. The community you want is one organized around enthusiasm for something, rather than one whose primary identity is opposition to something.

Several people responding to your AI posts crystallized that idea by telling you to stop focusing on the “doomers.” That causes you to reconsider the worship-music discussion you’ve been pursuing. You conclude that, even where the underlying theological questions may still be worth examining, part of your motivation had become an attempt to demonstrate to anti-AI audiences that their objections were inconsistent.

You don’t entirely abandon the worship-music subject. Instead, you identify what you think is the more interesting remaining question: the economics, gatekeeping, incentives, and spiritual implications of the Christian music industry itself. You use your past attempt to get original songs into CCLI as an example, arguing that systems intended to license and distribute worship music can disproportionately benefit songs and writers who are already successful rather than functioning as straightforward discovery mechanisms for newcomers.

From there, the episode moves into the moral question underneath the AI-worship debate. You question whether some objections to AI-generated worship music are really about worship itself or about authorship, recognition, compensation, status, and who receives credit. You acknowledge that creators deserve compensation for intellectual property, but argue that something changes when compensation becomes intertwined with identity, participation, and personal validation.

The episode ultimately circles back to the lesson you began with: you don’t need to win every argument. Even when you believe you can expose inconsistencies in someone’s position, doing so may accomplish nothing if the other person isn’t interested in reconsidering it. Your alternative is to spend that energy making things, learning new tools, pursuing your goals, and connecting with people who actually enjoy the conversation.

You close on a deliberately ordinary note—grilling shrimp and chicken while AI video experiments render in the background, posting the rough early generations to Substack, and seeing how far you can push the technology. It’s a fitting ending because it embodies the episode’s argument: less fighting over whether you’re allowed to enjoy the process, and more actually enjoying it.

Timestamps

00:00 — Introduction and stepping away from the worship-study rabbit trail00:27 — Talking openly about AI on Substack Notes01:16 — Moving away from “doomers” and finding an enthusiastic community01:47 — Discovering the different pieces of local AI workflows02:24 — Moving from chatbot frustration into image and video generation03:14 — Successfully generating the first five-second AI video03:43 — Creative burnout from sharing work to silence or hostility04:33 — Wanting communities built around enjoying things rather than hating things04:58 — Creativity has to be enjoyable before it becomes profitable05:35 — Advice from others: stop focusing on the doomers06:21 — Realizing the worship/AI argument had become another attempt to convince anti-AI audiences06:46 — The deeper issue: problems within the Christian music industry07:13 — Personal experience trying to get songs into CCLI08:43 — How established worship songs and writers benefit from the system09:59 — The moral question of royalties, recognition, and “glory”11:22 — Compensation versus identity, status, and who gets to participate11:47 — Can anyone really judge whether another person’s AI-assisted worship is accepted by God?12:23 — Why continuing the argument isn’t worth the time12:33 — Redirecting energy toward enjoyable art and personal goals12:49 — Grilling, rendering AI video, and enjoying the experimentation13:18 — Closing: “Stay holy.”

After yesterday’s rant about AI, Christian artists, and the strange moral standards surrounding generative music, Xeroforhire is back to pull on the thread a little further.

And this time, the question gets theological.

The discussion begins with a phrase that keeps appearing in Christian objections to AI-generated worship music: “image bearer.”

The argument seems to be that because human beings bear the image of God, creativity carries a uniquely human—and perhaps sacred—quality. Therefore, allowing a machine to generate worship music isn’t simply using another production tool. It’s supposedly handing over something humans were specifically created to do.

But Xeroforhire has a problem with how confidently that argument is being presented.

Is “image bearer” actually biblical terminology? What exactly does bearing God’s image require of human creativity? And where does Scripture make the jump from humanity being created in God’s image to particular restrictions on the tools Christians can use to make music?

Those aren’t rhetorical questions. They’re questions that need research, and Xeroforhire openly admits that he’s working through this without his Bible, concordance, Greek definitions, or prepared notes in front of him. Rather than pretending to have answers he doesn’t have, he leaves that portion of the argument open for a future follow-up.

But the “image bearer” argument leads into another claim: using AI to create worship music means we’re offloading our worship to a machine.

That’s where things start getting interesting.

If God refuses AI-generated worship, what exactly disqualifies it? Is it the method? The instrument? The absence of a human performer? The intentions of the person who generated it?

Xeroforhire can immediately think of biblical concerns about the heart of the worshiper—love, reverence, sincerity, how we approach God—but struggles to identify a mechanical rule governing the technology through which worship can be expressed. And that’s an important distinction. An indictment of someone’s heart isn’t necessarily an indictment of their methodology.

Then comes the familiar argument about AI “scraping” artists.

Xeroforhire remains unconvinced by the terminology. If “scraping” means an AI system learns from existing music and develops the ability to produce something influenced by what it encountered, then humans do something remarkably similar. Musicians learn from musicians. Artists imitate styles. Trends spread because people see something successful and reproduce it. Entire online ecosystems function through imitation.

That doesn’t automatically resolve every copyright or ethical question surrounding AI training. But simply saying that a system learned from existing creative work isn’t enough, in his view, to establish the moral argument being claimed.

That brings the conversation back to Spotify and the issue raised in the previous episode.

If someone genuinely believes using systems built upon other people’s creative work is morally unacceptable, then that principle should have consequences beyond AI. At some point, conviction has to affect behavior.

If Spotify is exploitative, stop using Spotify.

If you believe a distributor facilitates practices you consider immoral, find another distributor.

Xeroforhire has actually done that himself in cases where he disliked how a distributor operated. He isn’t arguing that Christians need to investigate every employee and corporate decision behind every service they use. He’s arguing almost the opposite: if you’re going to elevate something into a major moral principle, you should be prepared to live according to that principle when doing so costs you something.

Because otherwise the money has a funny way of making those convictions flexible.

And that’s where another word enters the discussion:

Glory.

Maybe some of the hostility surrounding AI isn’t ultimately about technology.

Maybe it’s about who gets the glory.

Artists spend years developing skills, building careers, gaining access to distribution, earning audiences and reaching a position where people admire what they create. Generative technology suddenly allows people who never traveled that road to produce things that can occupy some of those same spaces.

That doesn’t erase the artist’s skill. But it does threaten the exclusivity that once accompanied it.

And Christian worship music makes the issue particularly uncomfortable because, theoretically, the glory wasn’t supposed to belong to the artist in the first place.

That’s another subject requiring a deeper dive.

But while thinking through that problem, Xeroforhire stumbles onto what may be the biggest question of the episode:

Is worship music actually worship?

A recording isn’t presently doing anything.

It’s recorded information.

The singer may have genuinely worshiped God while recording it. The songwriter may have worshiped while writing it. But once that performance has been captured, edited, mixed, compressed and distributed, the resulting audio file isn’t itself worshiping anyone.

It’s a recording.

At best, Xeroforhire argues, worship music functions like an extraordinarily elaborate instruction manual. It gives another person words and melodies they can use to worship God themselves.

And if that’s true, the argument that AI music “offloads worship to a machine” runs into a serious problem.

Recorded Christian music already mechanically reproduces something a human being previously performed.

The worship occurs when an actual person takes those words and melodies and directs them toward God in real time. The recording facilitates that act. It doesn’t perform the act on the listener’s behalf.

Which leads to an uncomfortable reversal.

If an AI-generated song gives a Christian words and music through which that person sincerely praises God, who exactly is worshiping?

The machine?

Or the Christian?

And if a professionally recorded human worship song is playing while nobody actually directs their heart toward God, is anybody worshiping at all?

The original question was whether a machine can worship God.

By the end of the episode, the better question may be:

What is worship in the first place?

And that’s going to require another episode.

TIMESTAMPS

00:00 — Back again: Jonathan A. Wright’s Christian music documentaries00:44 — Forrest Frank and another conversation for another day00:59 — Following up on “AI Worship”01:42 — A disclaimer: this one needs biblical research02:57 — The Christian AI argument: “We are image bearers”03:37 — Is “image bearer” actually biblical terminology?04:33 — What supposedly comes with being an image bearer?05:12 — Are we “offloading” worship to a machine?05:49 — Does God refuse AI-generated worship?06:39 — What actually qualifies worship?07:08 — Heart conditions versus mechanical methods08:22 — The argument that AI “scrapes” music09:00 — Isn’t learning from existing work what humans do?09:29 — Artists copy styles too10:16 — The three major Christian objections to AI music10:42 — What would consistent opposition to AI actually require?11:37 — Spotify enters the argument again12:03 — The Sweden tangent13:20 — Back to Spotify, DistroKid and personal conviction13:54 — If you believe it’s immoral, are you willing to stop using it?14:40 — “Those aren’t real arguments because it’s the money”15:08 — The deeper issue: glory15:49 — The turn: worship music isn’t actually worship16:19 — Are recordings already “offloading” worship to machines?16:41 — The listener is the one actually worshiping17:03 — If you only worship onstage, that’s a different problem17:25 — The recording itself is a simulation17:40 — Closing: Stay holy

After taking a break from recording through the brutal summer heat and some personal exhaustion, Xeroforhire returns with something that finally got him fired up enough to turn the microphone back on: yet another round of moral panic over generative AI, this time coming from the Christian music world.

And he’s sick of it.

The rant begins with a recurring argument against AI-generated art: that something made with a machine somehow lacks humanity, authenticity, or “soul.” But Xeroforhire suspects there’s another idea hiding underneath that language—the belief that legitimate art needs to be accompanied by a certain amount of human suffering. You trained. You practiced. You struggled. You paid your dues. Therefore, someone who can produce something comparable without enduring that same process hasn’t earned the right to stand beside you.

But then the conversation takes a sharper turn.

A musician discovers that somebody has taken his work, manipulated or remixed it using AI, and uploaded the result to Spotify without his permission. That’s wrong. Xeroforhire isn’t defending it. His complaint is about who gets blamed.

AI didn’t wake up one morning and steal somebody’s music.

A person did.

A human being took the material. A human being used the software. A human being packaged the result. A human being uploaded it. And a human being potentially collected money from it. If somebody committed fraud, copyright infringement, or some other serious offense, then find that person and hold them accountable. If what they did was egregious enough, there should be real consequences.

Instead, the story becomes “AI did this to me,” and the actual person responsible practically disappears from the moral equation.

That’s especially frustrating because Xeroforhire argues for human agency in both directions. If a person uses generative AI to make something worthwhile, there is still a human making choices—curating, selecting, rejecting, editing, packaging and ultimately deciding what gets released. But if that same person uses the technology to rip somebody off, suddenly everyone wants to blame the machine.

You don’t get to have it both ways.

And Xeroforhire isn’t pretending every copyright violation deserves prison. He recalls having music taken down because samples turned out to be copyrighted when he didn’t realize they were. Sometimes the appropriate response is simply a takedown, a warning, or correcting the material. But knowingly taking someone else’s work, repackaging it and uploading it commercially is something entirely different. The severity of the consequence should correspond to what the human being actually did.

And then Spotify wanders into the crosshairs.

Because Xeroforhire notices something strangely absent from all this moral grandstanding: a lot of these abuses are happening through Spotify. The platform facilitates the uploads, hosts the material and distributes the money. Yet artists can deliver sweeping condemnations of AI and the systems surrounding it while continuing to happily distribute their own music through Spotify.

That’s where the rant becomes less about AI and more about hypocrisy.

If you’re going to make this into a sweeping Christian moral argument about technology, creativity, image-bearing and exploitation, then follow that principle wherever it leads—even when it becomes inconvenient to your own career. Don’t condemn somebody else’s technological compromise while ignoring the compromises built into the platforms that benefit you.

Or at least admit that we’re all navigating compromises.

Xeroforhire does. He’s not announcing some righteous boycott of Spotify himself. His point is that he also participates in imperfect systems. “I’m a hypocrite, you’re a hypocrite, we’re all hypocrites” becomes the almost-comedic conclusion of that part of the rant.

But there’s one final suspicion underneath all of this.

Maybe some established artists aren’t merely concerned about ethics.

Maybe they feel threatened.

Generative AI has lowered the barrier separating trained professionals from ordinary people who want to make things. That doesn’t mean those people suddenly possess the lifetime of skill and training of an accomplished musician or artist. But they can now create something, release it, potentially build an audience and even make money without traveling the same difficult road.

And if part of your identity comes from having endured that road, watching somebody else bypass portions of it can feel deeply unfair.

Xeroforhire suspects that’s why some of the rhetoric becomes so personal. It’s no longer merely “this person violated someone’s copyright.” It becomes an argument about who deserves to create, who deserves an audience, who deserves money, and ultimately who deserves the glory of being called an artist.

That’s the part he can’t stand.

Punish people who steal. Take infringing material down. Hold people accountable for fraud. Protect creators when they’re actually wronged.

But stop pretending the machine committed the crime.

A human being is standing on both sides of that screen.

And if we’re going to have a moral conversation about this, then let’s finally start talking about them.

Stay holy.

TIMESTAMPS

00:00 — The podcast returns after the summer hiatus01:09 — The Christian music documentary that triggered the rant02:02 — Does AI art lack “soul”?02:25 — Is artistic legitimacy really being measured by suffering?04:07 — A musician discovers his work was used in an AI remix04:52 — “AI didn’t do this to you. A person did.”06:02 — Human agency exists on both sides of generative AI07:19 — Creative freedom should also mean human accountability07:54 — Personal experience with copyrighted samples and takedowns09:18 — Accidental sampling versus deliberately stealing someone’s work10:00 — Why does Spotify keep appearing in these stories?10:28 — Spotify enters the rant11:28 — Christian moral posturing and the Spotify problem12:16 — Maybe the criticism is sincere—but there’s still a contradiction12:56 — “I’m a hypocrite, you’re a hypocrite, we’re all hypocrites”13:23 — Why successful artists may actually feel threatened by AI14:06 — AI lets ordinary people enter spaces once reserved for trained creators14:29 — Art, accolades, money, glory, and who gets to create14:52 — Closing: “I’m sick of it” / Stay holy

This episode of The Xeroforhire Podcast expands on a previous video—and the unexpectedly volatile response it received—about tattoos, “degeneracy,” morality, and the cultural assumptions surrounding personal freedom.

Using tattoos as a deliberately playful starting point, Jashae examines what the word “degenerate” actually means and why the term provokes such a strong reaction in a culture that otherwise celebrates rebellion, individuality, and subverting social expectations. He argues that rebellion itself has become strangely conventional: people are encouraged to challenge traditional standards, but challenging the standards of contemporary culture can suddenly reveal which ideas society now considers untouchable.

From there, the conversation moves beyond tattoos into the distinction between sin, degeneracy, legality, personal liberty, and wisdom. Not everything a person is free to do is necessarily beneficial, and not everything unwise or culturally “degenerate” is necessarily a sin. Tattoos become useful precisely because they are a relatively low-stakes example: Jashae repeatedly emphasizes that he does not believe tattoos determine someone’s salvation or make someone a bad person.

The larger concern is what adults communicate to younger generations. Rather than simply telling young people that something is either “bad” or “fine,” Jashae argues that they should understand the arguments, consequences, cultural signals, and permanence involved so they can actually make informed decisions. Freedom requires informed consent, and informed consent requires being willing to discuss uncomfortable subjects instead of hiding them behind slogans.

The episode also branches into pornography, erotic literature, abortion, smoking, marijuana, piercings, guilt, shame, and the difference between internal morality and outward social signals. These aren’t presented as morally identical behaviors; instead, they illustrate how contemporary culture applies radically different standards to different behaviors—and how legality, social acceptance, and morality are often treated as though they mean the same thing.

Ultimately, this episode establishes the direction for a larger series of conversations. Jashae intends to continue examining controversial behaviors through a Christian worldview while encouraging younger listeners to think through those questions before making decisions they may later regret. His closing distinction is important: an external mark does not automatically make somebody immoral, because God looks at the heart—but external choices still communicate something to other human beings, whether we like those interpretations or not.

Timestamps

00:00 — The reaction to the “degeneracy” joke01:27 — What does “degenerate” actually mean?03:00 — Tattoos, rebellion, and cultural hypocrisy04:58 — Why adults should want better for the next generation05:23 — Sin vs. degeneracy07:01 — Giving younger people enough information to choose08:24 — Freedom doesn’t mean choices are meaningless09:14 — Tattoos, piercings, clothing, and social signals10:05 — Pornography, smut, and “secret sins”12:19 — The unexpected backlash to the tattoo video13:18 — Why this is becoming a larger series14:04 — Informed consent and moral decisions15:07 — Guilt, shame, and seeking social validation16:33 — Legality isn’t the same thing as morality17:38 — What adults should teach younger generations18:01 — Do tattoos make someone a bad person?18:55 — God looks at the heart; society sees the outside19:24 — Innocence, permanence, and what our choices communicate20:03 — Closing invitation for biblical arguments

In this episode, Xero reflects on a quote often attributed to Rick Warren: “If you live for the approval of others, you’ll die by their rejection.” He explores how this idea applies not only to everyday life but especially to the challenges of being a creative person.

He argues that modern culture publicly criticizes the desire for approval while simultaneously encouraging it through social media, where likes, shares, and algorithms reward external validation. Although creators often chase engagement for practical reasons, he believes the underlying danger of tying your self-worth to other people’s reactions still remains.

The discussion shifts toward art and ministry. Drawing from a recent Bible study, he reflects on the idea that God doesn’t need our creative work; instead, creativity should naturally flow from a relationship with Him. He recalls that his favorite music came from songs written as prayers and worship rather than attempts to impress people.

From there, he challenges what he sees as a growing sense of entitlement among creators. Whether it’s appeals to support someone because they’re Black, Christian, or part of another identity group, he argues that audiences are never obligated to buy or support work simply because of shared demographics or beliefs. Creators earn audiences; they don’t own them.

A significant portion of the episode examines his own experiences making comics. He describes years of investing money into commissioned artwork that received little attention, leading him to adopt AI tools as a more affordable and practical alternative. He discusses the realities of commissioning artists—high costs, inconsistent quality, long waits, and communication frustrations—while acknowledging that AI also comes with trade-offs and isn’t a perfect solution.

He concludes that artists shouldn’t make every decision based on gaining universal approval. Instead, they should accept that every creative path involves compromises, create work they personally believe in, and stop seeking permission from communities that may never accept them. The episode ends with encouragement to choose an audience intentionally, avoid entitlement, and continue creating without letting rejection determine one’s identity.

Timestamps

* 00:00 – Rick Warren quote and introduction to the theme of approval vs. rejection

* 00:01 – Social media, algorithms, and the pursuit of validation

* 00:05 – Creativity as an outgrowth of a relationship with God

* 00:06 – Why worship-inspired music became his strongest work

* 00:06:40 – Creator entitlement and why audiences don’t owe anyone support

* 00:09:20 – Artists don’t choose their audience—the audience chooses them

* 00:11:00 – Personal experiences with indie comics and feeling ignored

* 00:12:00 – Why AI became a practical tool for comic creation

* 00:14:20 – Problems hiring artists: portfolios, pricing, and communication

* 00:17:00 – Feeling rejected by parts of the art community

* 00:18:40 – Making art for personal fulfillment instead of external approval

* 00:19:30 – Every creative workflow involves trade-offs

* 00:20:20 – Finding the right audience instead of pleasing everyone

* 00:21:30 – Criticism over AI and refusing to seek permission

* 00:23:15 – Closing thoughts and teaser for future projects

In this episode, XERO reflects on a recurring pattern he’s begun noticing in everyday conversations with coworkers, customers, and the general public. What starts as a discussion about needing a notebook to capture ideas evolves into a deeper exploration of what he calls “jokes that aren’t really jokes”—comments people make that reveal unhealthy beliefs about life, family, work, and relationships.

Using several real-life interactions, he argues that many people normalize brokenness by laughing about it instead of confronting it. He describes conversations with parents who excuse laziness in their children, people who insist strained family relationships are inevitable, and married individuals who jokingly discourage young women from getting married. In each case, he sees the humor as masking genuine despair rather than offering comedy.

XERO explains why he pushes back against these assumptions instead of simply agreeing. He argues that hard work, competence, healthy family relationships, and marriage should be viewed as worthwhile goals rather than unrealistic ideals. From his perspective, these cultural attitudes reinforce failure instead of encouraging people to pursue better lives.

The episode concludes with a new direction for the podcast. Rather than only commenting on politics or current events, he wants to study these everyday patterns of thinking through a biblical lens. He plans to collect examples, organize them in a notebook, and examine the psychological, logical, and spiritual roots behind them while offering practical wisdom from Proverbs and Scripture as an alternative.

Timestamps

* 00:00 – Introduction and why a physical notebook may be better than using a phone for ideas.

* 02:00 – The concept of “jokes that aren’t really jokes” and what they reveal about people’s worldview.

* 03:26 – Example: Parenting, teaching children hard work, and the importance of competence.

* 06:19 – Example: Challenging the idea that teenagers naturally stop talking to their parents.

* 07:09 – Example: Jokes about avoiding marriage and what they communicate beneath the humor.

* 08:40 – Why misery becomes self-reinforcing and why these attitudes concern him.

* 10:18 – Looking to Proverbs and biblical wisdom for practical solutions.

* 11:35 – A new vision for the podcast: analyzing unhealthy cultural assumptions through Scripture.

* 14:18 – Closing thoughts, invitation for listener feedback, and sign-off (”Stay holy”).

In this episode of The Xeroforhire Podcast, XERO gives an update on the development of the Apocalyptiverse website and explains how it is evolving from a simple author page into a complete publishing ecosystem. He introduces a new browser-based e-reader that allows readers to borrow digital books using an on-site token system, discusses his plans to expand the platform with comic book support, games, trading cards, and community features, and shares why he’s shifting away from relying solely on Amazon for book sales. The episode is a behind-the-scenes look at building an independent platform designed to help readers discover, enjoy, and support his creative work directly.

Timestamps:

00:00 – Website development update and overview of Zeroforhire.com vs. Apocalyptiverse.com

01:17 – Launching the new browser-based e-reader

01:39 – How the wallet and token system works

02:08 – Borrowing books with tokens like a digital library

02:30 – Building an interconnected publishing ecosystem

03:11 – Plans to add a comic book reader and release The Last Day Part Two

03:40 – Why moving away from Amazon as the primary storefront

04:23 – Selling physical books directly through the website

04:48 – Creating a better reader experience and breaking the traditional publishing mold

05:17 – Community features, messaging, and building an independent platform

06:13 – Closing update and what’s coming next

Episode Summary – The Xeroforhire Podcast

In this episode, XERO discusses the reported poor box office performance of the upcoming Supergirl film, making it clear that he is not reviewing the movie itself because he has not seen it. Instead, he examines why he believes audiences rejected it, focusing on marketing decisions, pre-release publicity, and broader trends in modern superhero films.

He argues that lead actress Millie Alcock’s promotional comments distracted from the film and became part of the story surrounding its release. While acknowledging that some of her remarks were misunderstood, he believes the controversy hurt audience interest. He also criticizes media outlets for dismissing negative reactions as “toxic fandom” rather than considering that audiences may have simply disliked the marketing or the film itself.

The discussion expands into a critique of recent superhero movies in general. XERO explains that he was already turned off by Supergirl’s portrayal in the recent Superman film, saying the character failed to inspire him. He contrasts this with female heroes he considers strong and admirable, arguing that audiences respond better to competent, aspirational characters than to protagonists defined by trauma or self-destructive behavior.

He then turns to other recent comic-book films, including Thunderbolts, expressing disappointment that major studios have, in his view, mishandled beloved characters and stories. This frustration, he says, motivated him to build his own superhero universe rather than rely on Hollywood to tell the kinds of stories he wants to see.

The final portion of the episode focuses on the growth of the Apocalyptiverse project. XERO shares updates on his expanding website, including an interactive terminal system inspired by his fiction, multiple mini-games, comics, stories, and future video projects. He notes that he has been less active on social media because he has been busy creating and is happier focusing on building his own universe. He closes by celebrating his website surpassing 10,000 views and invites listeners to join the world of Rivers through the Apocalyptiverse website.

Timestamps

* 00:00 – Introduction and why he isn’t reviewing Supergirl

* 01:25 – Learning about the film’s reported poor performance

* 02:40 – Why he believes the movie underperformed

* 04:07 – Millie Alcock, promotion, and “toxic fandom”

* 06:16 – Why he chose not to watch the film

* 08:42 – Comparison to other recent superhero movies

* 09:46 – Why he began creating his own superhero universe

* 10:55 – Updates on the Apocalyptiverse website and interactive features

* 12:09 – Upcoming comics, games, and video projects

* 12:39 – Why he’s spending less time on social media

* 12:59 – Celebrating 10,000 website views and closing remarks

In this episode of the Xeroforhire Podcast, I revisit a question I thought I had already answered: Is AI finally capable of making comic books? A few months ago my answer would have been no. Today, after experimenting with the latest generation of AI tools, my answer has changed.

I walk through my journey from early frustrations with AI image generators to discovering workflows that produce remarkably consistent comic pages. Along the way I discuss the strengths and weaknesses of tools like ChatGPT, Midjourney, and Perchance, why storyboards and character reference sheets are becoming essential, and how AI is shifting from a novelty into a legitimate production tool.

I also explain why I don’t believe AI replaces great artists. Instead, I argue that the future belongs to creators who combine AI with skilled human artists to build faster, more consistent, and higher-quality comics. This episode explores where I believe the comic industry is headed, how my own creative process has changed, and why I’m more excited than ever about the future of independent storytelling.

Example Proto-Comic

Timestamps:

* 00:00 – Is AI finally ready to make comics?

* 00:57 – My experience with Midjourney and early AI image generation

* 03:06 – ChatGPT’s evolution and improving image quality

* 10:16 – Guardrails, creative limitations, and changing AI policies

* 13:34 – Why Perchance became one of my favorite AI tools

* 19:15 – Storyboards, character sheets, and professional workflows

* 23:01 – Testing AI-generated comic pages from my own scripts

* 25:04 – Can AI replace comic artists?

* 26:54 – Why serious art requires serious craftsmanship

* 31:08 – A hybrid future: AI working alongside talented artists

* 35:10 – The future of indie comics and creative studios

BONUS MATERIAL

The 95-5 rule for AI comics