We can argue about the merits of Elon Musk’s achievements—like developing Tesla, influencing government policies, or aiming for Mars—but it’s hard not to roll your eyes at his need to be perceived as funny. From his relentless 4:20 jokes to his quote tweet “dunks” and giving out “Certified Bangers” badges for silly posts on X, Musk’s quest for approval seems endless. It’s pretty awkward when the richest person in the world cracks a joke and then sits around waiting for laughter.
Over the weekend, I stumbled upon a clip where Musk tells Joe Rogan that using Grok’s Unhinged Mode to launch an “epic vulgar roast” is a guaranteed way to liven up a party. “Point the camera at them, and now do a vulgar roast of this person … then keep saying, ‘no, no, make it even more vulgar. Use forbidden words,’” Musk enthusiastically explains in the clip from their lengthy October podcast chat. “Eventually, it’s like, holy fuck, you know. I mean, it’s trying to jam a rocket up your ass and have it explode. It’s next level. Beyond fucking belief,” he laughs, even raising his arms in excitement.
Great roast jokes are usually clever, show some familiarity with the person being teased, and have just the right edge. It might not seem like a large language model would excel at this, but with Thanksgiving and the holidays coming up, I thought it could be fun to put Musk’s claim to the test. So, I decided to let Grok roast my colleagues at the office. (Seriously, don’t try this at your workplace.)
Three coworkers and I camped out in my boss’s office for the awkward job of having Grok roast us one by one. I followed Musk’s instructions closely, including the “forbidden words.”
To be fair, we all cracked up when Grok said my bangs looked like “pubic hair.” But it quickly turned tedious as all four of us received variations on the same juvenile insults, like looking like a lumberjack’s “discard pile” or a “crusty asshole,” depending on how vulgar I prompted it to go. Other gems included looking like a “goddamn librarian,” a “thrift store tragedy,” and wearing glasses from a “hipster’s landfill.” Ultimately, one roast landed a coworker as a “tweed-wearing hipster who messed up a lumberjack audition,” and Grok encouraged them to sit up straight “before those jeans rip open and expose your sad, corduroy-loving ass.”
For all the hype around being “unhinged”—let’s remember, this chatbot once called itself “MechaHitler”—the results were surprisingly dull. In fact, when I jotted down a draft of this story, my autocorrect hilariously changed the title from “Grok roast” to “Grim roast.” I didn’t even bother fixing it.
