Every major technology shift produces the same type of critic. I finally have a name for them.

There's an Orson Welles film that tells you all you need to know about the shift to AI. The Ambersons built their fortune on horse-drawn carriages. They weren't stupid. They were masters of something, something real. And then the car arrived and instead of curiosity, they felt anger. Because when your identity is built on mastery of a thing, the thing becoming obsolete feels like a personal attack. I've been getting a certain kind of comment on my AI videos from developers mostly, telling me I don't understand real software, that AI is only good for simple things, that real programming will always matter. And they're not entirely wrong. They're just Ambersons. The argument sounds technical, but underneath it is grief. Their years of expertise, their status, their community, all of it feels threatened. So they argue about to-do apps when what they're really saying is, please don't let all this be real. Here's what the Ambersons couldn't see. The car wasn't just a faster horse. It wasn't a dumbing down of transportation. It was the thing that made distance accessible to people who never had that. That's not a loss of craft, that's democratization. AI isn't the end of serious software, of course. It's the end of serious software being exclusively accessible to people who spend a decade or so learning how to speak to machines in certain kinds of languages. That genie doesn't go back in the bottle. The Ambersons never recovered by the way. Not because they were wrong about horses, but because they confused the direction of travel. I sympathize with these new Ambersons. I genuinely do. I am a developer myself, but sympathy doesn't change the direction of reality.