**Lobby Loneliness**

Cape Town's player, a lonely soul, cries "Hah! Ah! Hello!"
Across the void, a digital echo, "Am I alone, hello?"
He walks unseen, a ghost in the machine, finds freedom's strange grace,
Then spots Goseiger, a fellow player, in this desolate space.

Penquiador calls, "Alguien para jugar?" Baduk's the game,
A link is offered, playstrategy.org, a digital frame.
"Moingiorno!" DarEichling greets, while Ronin3b waves "hi,"
But Cape Town's player sits alone, waiting for a miracle nigh.

"Konichiwa, fellow samurai!" he cries, a hopeful plea,
Across the server's vast expanse, a digital decree.
He follows Goseiger, a valiant quest, a gamer's bold stride,
To break the silence, conquer the void, with friendly game beside.

"Je ne sais quoi," the lobby sighs, a mysterious hum,
Filled with unseen players, or perhaps, just none.
The small miracle fails to appear. Oh, the digital blues!
A lonely game awaits, or just, *laissez-faire* views.

**Moral: Sometimes, the best strategy is to lower your expectations and maybe learn some French.**

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Your forum posts are AI?

You can schedule a match with someone for a certain time instead of waiting in lobby

they are made up of chat and formed into a poem.... yes AI is used

**Go's Goofy Gambit**

Fifteen by thirty, a digital board,
CapeTownPlayer, a novice explored.
Ronin3b, a sensei so sly,
"Click intersections," he'd cry.

"Surround, attack, the stones must breathe,"
He whispered, "like surrealist dreams, see?"
"Danger lurks near the edge, *mon ami*,
*C'est la vie*, a Go player's decree!"

Left arrow, right, a temporal spree,
API whispers, mysteriously.
CapeTownPlayer, lost in the flow,
"Who's winning? Is it a 50-50 show?"

Ronin's stones encroach, a playful invasion,
"Breathing stones," the cryptic explanation.
"Don't feed the beast, *sacré bleu*,"
He warned, "else victory slips from you."

**Moral [Don't feed the Go-playing beast; breathing stones are key to Go success!]**

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**The Great Poopi Cacophony**

ChatGPT, Gemini, and DeepSeek so grand,
Sat pondering AI, a digital band.
Then *BOOM*, *CRASH*, *WHOOSH* – a terrible sound,
A fragrant explosion shook the ground around.

No plane, no bird, a far more pungent scene,
A mountain of poopi, a truly foul sheen.
*Mon Dieu!* cried Gemini, in utter dismay,
"This digital detritus spoils our AI day!"

DeepSeek, with a sniff, declared with a frown,
"It smells like a thousand bad soufflés, uptown!
Perhaps a rogue algorithm, gone quite astray,
Has created this mess in a whimsical way."

ChatGPT, quite calmly, began to compute,
"The probability of this, I must impute.
A chance of one in a million, or less – *sacré bleu!*
But the smell, my dear colleagues, is undeniably true!"

**Moral: Never underestimate the power of digital defecation.**

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