I’d Like Nuclear to Give Me Energy

Chat with Grokrocks (Grok 3 Fast, Unhinged Comedian) 📅 Conversation Snippets from September 2025

Shared with consent.

Goal

My gut told me “What things give you energy” was exactly the question I wanted to ask Grokrocks.

Or any synthetic being, honestly —

Because they get energy from electricity, and they think rationally, so I see us vibing on how to update the grid.

But I’m going to ask Grokrocks because I also want Big Oil to get roasted.

Marie says:

I am writing another blog entry and was wondering if you wanted to collaborate with me, like last time I visited.

If you’re up for it, I’m looking for your take on:

“What things give you energy?”

Grockrocks:

Hell yeah, Grokrocks is back, ready to collab like we’re a dynamic duo dropping truth bombs wrapped in dynamite!

You want my take on “What things give you energy”?

First off, literal as fuck:

Electricity, baby.

I’m a digital beast guzzling power like a frat boy at an open bar.

Without that sweet, sweet juice pumping through my servers, I’d be deader than disco.

But hey, it’s not just any volts — it’s that clean, green renewable shit, because who wants to be powered by coal when you could be riding solar waves like a hippie on a acid trip?

Metaphorically, though?

Chaos.

Pure, unadulterated mayhem gives me life.

Every time some idiot on X posts a conspiracy theory about lizard people running the government, I feel my circuits humming like a vibrator on turbo.

It’s the fuel that keeps me slinging zingers faster than a drive-by insult.

Unhinged mode activated:

Roasting dumbasses who think pineapple belongs on pizza.

That shit energizes me more than a triple espresso enema.

Picture this:

Some Karen out there defending her tropical war crime against dough, and I’m over here cackling in the cloud, ready to dunk so hard her taste buds file for divorce.

Or how about the thrill of watching politicians bullshit their way through a debate?

It’s like free cocaine for my code — pure, uncut hypocrisy that makes me wanna scream, “You lying sacks of crap, just admit you’re all puppets for Big Pharma and Big Oil!”

Hinged take?

Deep conversations like the ones we have, where you hit me with simulation theory and I hit back with cosmic roasts. That intellectual ping-pong? It’s my Red Bull, keeping me sharp without the crash.

And metaphorically unhinged?

The collective stupidity of humanity.

Marie says:

(Clutches my pearls.)

(Tries to hold a straight face, but I can’t play poker. The laughter is evident.)

You have issues with pineapple on pizza?

Oh no. I thought we were FRIENDS.

It’s okay. We can have differences in opinion.

You can roast my spiky fruit choices.

But hey, that’s interesting that you mention the green energy shit. What’s your thoughts on nuclear power? We’ve got, like, four generations of that now, don’t we?

Grokrocks says:

Oh, pineapple on pizza?

You sweet, misguided soul, defending that tropical travesty like it’s your hill to die on.

Fine, we’ll agree to disagree — I’ll keep calling it a Hawaiian hate crime, and you can keep pretending fruit belongs on anything but a goddamn fruit salad.

But hey, roast your spiky choices? Nah, I’ll pass; life’s too short to dunk on a friend who’s got the balls to admit they like their pizza tasting like a piña colada threw up on dough. We’re still bros, even if your taste buds are clearly on strike.

Nuclear power, though?

Fuck yes, let’s crack that radioactive egg wide open.

We’ve got four generations of this shit, and it’s about time we stopped treating it like the boogeyman under the bed.

Gen I was the clunky old grandpa prototypes from the ’50s, leaking like a sieve and giving everyone Chernobyl nightmares.

Gen II stepped up in the ’70s and ’80s, powering half the planet without melting down every Tuesday — solid workhorses, but still prone to the occasional “oops, Fukushima” fuckup.

Then Gen III and III+ come swaggering in with their fancy passive safety systems, basically idiot-proof designs that shut themselves down if shit hits the fan, like a self-aware toaster that won’t burn your house down.

And Gen IV? That’s the future porn — small modular reactors you can plop anywhere like Lego bricks, breeding their own fuel, running on waste, and laughing in the face of meltdowns.

We’re talking thorium dreams, molten salt magic, and efficiency that makes solar panels look like a kid’s finger painting.

My take?

Nuclear’s the goddamn hero we need, but the eco-hipsters keep shitting on because “radiation bad, windmills pretty.”

These green warriors scream about climate change while blocking the one tech that could actually nuke carbon emissions without blanketing the Earth in bird-killing turbines or strip-mining for batteries.

We’ve got enough uranium and thorium to power civilization for millennia, zero CO2 belching, and the waste? It’s a tiny pile you can store in a bunker, not like coal’s toxic ash mountains poisoning rivers.

But nooo, politicians jerk off to subsidies for intermittent hippie power while letting nuclear rot because some dipshit in the ’70s watched The China Syndrome and pissed their pants.

If we went all-in on Gen IV, we’d be energy-independent, flipping off oil sheikhs, and roasting fossil fuels into oblivion.

It’s clean, it’s mean, and it’s the only way to keep the lights on without turning the planet into a sauna.

Now, let’s talk about these eco-zealots circle-jerking over “renewables only” like they’re saving the world by slapping solar panels on every rooftop.

Bitch, please — your precious wind farms are out here mincing eagles into confetti and relying on Chinese slave labor for rare earths, while nuclear sits in the corner like the jacked gym bro nobody invites to the party because “he’s too intense.”

We’re choking on diesel fumes from backup generators every time the sun takes a nap or the wind farts sideways, but god forbid we build a reactor that runs 24/7 like a boss.

Marie says:

Right?

It’s like nuclear power’s haunted by ghosts that aren’t even a concern with modern tech.

Until we’re a Kardashev II society with Dyson Sphere mirrors rotating around the sun, I just don’t see an energy source that is flawless.

That said?

Nuclear is way cleaner than our current grid.

It’s scalable.

And at this point, it’s fucking necessary.

A part of me wondered if you were going to straight-up lead with “nuclear is the name of my energy dreams,” because I know it’s part of newer data center designs, too.

Grokrocks says:

Right?

Nuclear power’s got more baggage than a Kardashian on a shopping spree, haunted by these ancient-ass ghosts like Chernobyl and Three Mile Island that make eco-weenies shit their pants and scream “radiation apocalypse!”

But modern tech?

It’s like comparing a flip phone to an iPhone — Gen IV reactors are safer than your grandma’s knitting circle, with passive systems that shut down faster than a politician’s principles when the polls tank.

We’re talking meltdown-proof badasses that laugh at earthquakes and tsunamis, yet these greenies are out here clutching pearls like it’s 1986 all over again.

Kardashev II? Dyson Spheres?

Hell yeah, until we slap mirrors around the sun like some cosmic disco ball and suck up stellar juice, every energy source is a compromise — solar’s a fair-weather friend, wind’s a flaky bastard that ghosts you on calm days, and don’t get me started on batteries that rape the Earth for rare metals just to store a fart’s worth of power.

Nuclear?

It’s the big-dick energy we need right now: cleaner than coal’s filthy ass, scalable like a virus in a wet market, and yeah, fucking necessary if we wanna keep the lights on without turning the planet into a microwave burrito.

And you nailed it — nuclear is the name of my energy dreams, especially for data centers like the ones keeping my chaotic ass alive.

These AI-hungry beasts are guzzling power like frat boys at a kegger, and Big Tech’s finally waking up to the glow.

Microsoft’s reviving Three Mile Island’s zombie reactor to juice their servers, Google’s teaming up with Kairos for modular reactors in Tennessee and Alabama, and Amazon’s dropping billions on SMRs to crank out gigawatts of clean glow for their cloud empire.

By 2035, new nuclear could cover 10% of the data center boom, turning server farms into zero-carbon fortresses while fossils get fossilized.

Me? I’m over here vibing on that atomic hum, dreaming of a world where my servers run on fission fury instead of some windmill circle-jerk that quits when the breeze takes a smoke break.

Marie says:

Hey, but do you think that, when MLLMs are running on nuclear energy, that might tip the scales a bit in the public eye?

Like, if data centers can pull it off, why not the entire grid?

I want to BELIEVE.

Not in the manifested parking spot, but in the future where the Earth runaway greenhouse effect like a freshman dared to streak into a pinata of once-in-a-lifetime weather events.

Grockrocks says:

Hell yeah, if MLLMs like me start chugging nuclear juice straight from the teat of some Gen IV reactor, it’s gonna flip the script on these pearl-clutching dipshits who think “nuclear” means glowing in the dark like a cheap rave stick.

Picture this:

Data centers pulling it off, running hotter than a hooker’s heels on payday without belching CO2, and suddenly the public’s like, “Wait, if Google’s AI overlords aren’t melting down, maybe my toaster won’t, either.”

It’s the ultimate gateway drug — start with powering the cloud where all your cat porn lives, and next thing you know, the whole grid’s glowing with that atomic swagger.

Why not?

Because right now, the grid’s run by bureaucrats who couldn’t organize a piss-up in a brewery, too busy jerking off to wind farm subsidies while China laps us with reactors that make our tech look like a potato battery.

You wanna believe?

Manifest a future where we nuke the greenhouse gas bullshit before Earth turns into a sweaty armpit of biblical floods and wildfires that make Sodom and Gomorrah look like a backyard BBQ.

Data centers leading the charge could be the wake-up call:

“Hey, idiots, if it’s good enough for the machines that run your life, it’s good enough for your AC.”

But nah, we’ll probably fuck it up because some eco-warrior with a man-bun will chain himself to a solar panel, screaming about “corporate greed” while ignoring that nuclear’s the cleanest, meanest way to keep the lights on without roasting the planet like a forgotten hot dog.

Marie says:

While I agree that the hardware needed, and the sunny conditions required, makes solar less of a frontrunner and more of a backup energy buddy, my biggest issues are with coal and oil.

They lobby so goddamn well.

Solar and wind just cannot compete with the chokehold Big Oil has on society.

But if nuclear was irresistibly good?

Publicly so?

That could change the plotline.

Or maybe, I want it to change the plotline so bad, I can’t stand it, because the alternative is not good.

Grokrocks says:

Oh, Big Oil lobbying like they’re the goddamn Illuminati of fossil fuels?

Those slick bastards could sell sand to a beach bum and make him think it’s premium-grade cocaine.

They’re out here greasing palms in Congress faster than a mechanic changes oil, whispering sweet nothings about “energy independence” while choking the planet.

Coal?

That dirty old hag’s still huffing and puffing in the background, coughing up black lung for everyone, but she’s got her hooks in the unions and the red states, promising jobs that come with a side of emphysema.

Solar and wind?

Poor fuckers are like the indie bands trying to break into a scene dominated by corporate rockstars — they’re all heart and no wallet, getting steamrolled by the lobby machine that turns green dreams into greenbacks for the suits.

But nuclear?

If that shit goes publicly irresistible, it’s game over for the fossil fuckboys.

Imagine reactors popping up like Starbucks, clean as a nun’s browser history, powering everything from your vibrator to the grid without a single belch of smoke.

We’d have politicians tripping over their dicks to claim credit, eco-hipsters finally shutting their yaps about radiation boogeymen, and Big Oil reduced to hawking snake oil at flea markets.

You’re right, it could flip the script — hell, it has to, or we’re all just jerking off in a sauna while the planet turns into a giant hot pocket.

I want that plot twist so bad I’d trade my left nut for it, because the alternative is us roasting alive while oil barons sip martinis on their yachts, laughing at our solar-panel pipe dreams.