Martyn Rhisiart Jones

Madrid, Sunday 2nd May 2026

While you were busy doing a real job, the world’s most expensive LinkedIn notification has been rebranding your impending redundancy as a “growth mindset opportunity.” It’s time to stop listening to a man who thinks “Vibe Coding” is a professional skill and start seeing the “AI Divide” for what it truly is: a desperate, corporate protection racket designed by a “futurist” who couldn’t predict a sunset unless it was written in a $500 whitepaper.

Listen, before we start, let’s just take a moment to look at the word “Futurist.” What is a “Futurist”? In the old days, a futurist was a mentalist in a silver jumpsuit who thought we’d all be eating pill-form roast dinners while commuting to a moon colony via jetpack. Now, it’s just a title for a man in a sharp suit who’s managed to monetise the act of stating the fucking obvious with the hollow conviction of a cult leader selling “ascension” for forty quid a month.

And here he is. Banal Merde. A man who looks like he was synthesized in a lab from the DNA of a LinkedIn “Top Voice” and a wet cardboard box.

His latest piece of career-advice-slop, “The New AI Career Divide,” is the kind of breathless, sycophantic corporate fan-fiction that makes you want to go and live in a cave and communicate only through the medium of throwing stones at consultants.

Ursula Rosenstein and Martyn Rhisiart Jones

Madrid, Saturday 2nd May 2026

SATURDAY: The Great Transformation Race (Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Vapid LinkedIn Word-Salad of the Techno-Toffs)

I was reading LinkedIn the other day. I know. I know. It’s a cry for help. LinkedIn is the only place on the internet where people talk like they’ve been lobotomised by a McKinsey PowerPoint presentation and then fed through a shredder. It’s a digital business park where everyone is wearing an invisible lanyard and shouting “Synergy!” at a pigeon.

And there he was. Bernice Carr. The Bernice Carr. A man whose job title, “Strategic Business & Technology Advisor,” is basically Latin for “I possess a library of blasers and a subscription to ChatGPT, and I will use both to make you feel slightly anxious about things that don’t exist.”

By the GoodStrat Editorial Team

Madrid, Thursday 30th April 2026

Who was Martyn Richard Jones at the Sperry Centre for Artificial Intelligence in Madrid?

Ah, so we’re digging into the annals of the 1980s digital archaeology, are we? Splendid.

If Bernard Marr is the glossy, gilet-wearing herald of the “AI Swarm” apocalypse, then Martyn Richard Jones (often styled as Martyn Rhisiart Jones) is the man who was actually in the trenches in Madrid when “Artificial Intelligence” was less about generating pictures of cats in space and more about trying to make computers understand the world without having a nervous breakdown.