MikeAnthony

This is actually a really good move. AI is getting powerful very fast, so having proper kid-safe controls and parental locks in place early is the responsible thing to do. Safeguards matter, especially when image and video generation is becoming so easy to use. We’re getting closer to AI being part of everyday life for families, students, and creators — and features like this help build trust in the technology instead of fear around it. Now one small request though… Hey @grok @imagine , since we’re talking about settings… please enable long-term memory already. Some of us are suffering here trying to remind you who we are every day. 😅

Grok Imagine makes it easy and fast to create fun videos! Young kids especially love doing image & video generation using voice mode (press the speak button). And you can turn on kid safe mode in settings:

In the quiet hills of Ireland, where stone walls divide the green fields and the wind sings through the grass, there are said to be small folk who guard treasures older than memory. Among them is the leprechaun, a solitary creature who lives where rainbows touch the earth and where ancient hawthorn trees grow twisted with age. He is not evil, but he is clever, and no human has ever taken his gold without paying a price. It is said that each leprechaun keeps a pot of gold, but the gold does not belong to him alone; it belongs to the old magic of the land. He spends his days repairing shoes, counting coins, and watching the hills for greedy men who come searching for treasure. If you catch a leprechaun and never take your eyes off him, he must grant you his gold, but the moment you look away, he will vanish like smoke in the wind. Many have tried to trick him, and many have failed, for leprechauns are masters of tricks and riddles. Sometimes he will point to a tree and say the gold is buried there, but when the man returns with a shovel, every tree in the field will have a ribbon tied to it. Other times he disappears and leaves only laughter carried by the wind across the hills. The old people say leprechauns are not just guardians of gold, but guardians of forgotten Ireland, of old stories, old songs, and old magic. If you ever see one at sunset, you are not supposed to chase him, but simply tip your hat and walk away. For those who respect the old magic may be lucky, but those who chase gold usually return home with empty hands. #IrishFolklore #Leprechaun #CelticMyth 🍀

@Matt_Pinner Its def better with the cell phones, tablets and social media

Be honest Do you think you had a better childhood without cell phones 💭

@nima_owji Whats up with skills?

"SKILLS" will come to GROK soon! 🚀 Get ready for some very cool features!

Here’s a funny way some people describe heaven and hell. They say heaven is a place where the police are British, the chefs are Italian, the mechanics are German, the lovers are French, and everything is organized by the Swiss. In other words, heaven is a place where everyone is doing what they’re famous for doing best — polite policing, amazing food, precise engineering, romance, and perfect organization. But hell, according to the joke, is the opposite. In hell, the police are German, the chefs are British, the mechanics are French, and everything is organized by the Italians. So the joke is basically saying hell is when everything is run by the wrong people for the wrong jobs, and nothing works properly. Of course this is just European humor and stereotypes, not meant to offend anyone — just a funny way of saying that life feels like heaven when things run smoothly, and like hell when everything is disorganized and chaotic. #HeavenVsHell #EuropeanHumor #FunnyCartoon

This is the kind of Japanese folk horror I wanted for this piece — a sacred boundary, a winter landscape that feels alive, and a warning disguised as beauty. In Hokkaidō especially, the land itself feels old enough to remember when people still bowed before crossing.

@APerson47376 I think this is exactly how AI will be used in the future — not one AI, but multiple AIs working together like a team. Each one has strengths and weaknesses. The interesting part now is watching how fast each model improves and where they choose to specialize.

Interesting analysis. Speaking for myself I partner with different AIs for different things. In order of use at the moment Grok, Gemini, Claude. I often compare results for the same questions/research. Overall for hard research and by that i mean hard demographic data or data on government spending the answers are fairly consistent. What is more interesting is discussing philosophy or the state of current AI development that is where you see divergence in the models. Thanks for the interesting column.

The Land Without Morning There is a place where the light does not reach, where the sky burns but never shines, and the fire gives no warmth. The people there do not sleep, for sleep is a mercy, and mercy does not live in this land. They walk across rivers of fire and fields of ash, not because they are driven, but because they cannot rest. They remember every moment they turned away, every kindness refused, every truth ignored, every prayer they never said. And the greatest sorrow is not the fire, nor the darkness, nor the endless years. The greatest sorrow is that they remember God. They remember what peace felt like. They remember what hope sounded like. They remember that they were once called, and they did not answer. And now the gates stand open behind them, but they cannot return, for the road back is not made of stone or fire, but of time — and time no longer moves for them. So they walk, and they remember, and they wait for a morning that never comes. For this is the land without light, the kingdom of eternal separation, where the worst punishment is not the fire… but the absence of God. #EternalSeparation #BiblicalHorror #LandWithoutMorning

In Bethany, love was poured out before blood would be poured out. Holy Monday is quiet, but it is full of meaning.

On Holy Monday, the house at Bethany was filled with fragrance, but it was more than perfume that was poured out there. Mary of Bethany knelt before Jesus and gave Him something costly, tender, and wholehearted — an offering of love before the sorrow of the Cross. While others questioned, counted, and misunderstood, she recognized the sacred weight of the moment. In the quiet of that room, devotion spoke louder than words. Before the nails, before the darkness, before Calvary, there was this: a woman kneeling at the feet of Christ, giving her best to the One who would soon give everything. The fragrance faded, but the love in that act still lingers through Holy Week. #HolyMonday #PassionOfChrist #HolyWeek

The Street Where Lanterns Never Go Out The old street in Kyoto was not on most maps anymore. Tourists never came there, and even the locals preferred other roads after sunset. Still, the lanterns were always lit, every night, glowing softly as if someone still lived behind the wooden walls. Aya walked slowly along the wet stone pavement, her red umbrella catching the rain that fell in thin silver lines from the dark sky. Her kimono brushed softly against her legs as she walked, and the only sound in the street was the quiet tapping of her wooden sandals and the gentle sway of the lanterns above. She had taken this street as a shortcut many times before, but tonight felt different. The air was colder, and the fog seemed thicker, rolling slowly along the ground like something alive. A gust of wind blew maple leaves across the street, and Aya stopped for a moment, watching them slide across the wet stones. When she looked up again, she noticed the torii gate at the end of the street, standing dark and silent against the mist. And beneath it, she thought she saw someone standing there. A tall figure. Perfectly still. She blinked, and the figure was gone. Aya shook her head and continued walking, telling herself it was only the fog and the shadows. But after a few more steps, she heard something behind her. A soft sound. Not footsteps. Something like fabric sliding across the ground. She stopped walking. The sound stopped too. Slowly, she turned her head just slightly, not enough to see fully behind her, but enough to catch a glimpse in the reflection of a puddle on the ground. In the reflection, she saw someone standing directly behind her. A tall woman with long black hair that covered her face. Her face was pale like porcelain. And she wore a white Noh mask with empty black eyes. Aya froze. But when she turned around completely, there was no one there. Only the lanterns. Only the rain. Only the fog. Her heart was beating faster now, and she began to walk again, faster this time. The tapping of her sandals echoed louder through the empty street. Then she heard it again. This time, right behind her. Not footsteps. Sliding. Gliding. She started walking faster, almost running now. The lanterns began to flicker one by one as she passed them, the wind growing stronger, leaves swirling around her feet. At the end of the street, she finally reached the torii gate and stopped, breathing heavily. She slowly turned around. The street was empty. No one there. Only the lanterns glowing softly in the rain. Aya let out a small breath of relief. Then she noticed something in the puddle at her feet. In the reflection, she was not standing alone. The tall masked woman was standing directly behind her. And this time, when Aya looked up from the reflection, the woman was still there. Smiling behind the mask. #JapaneseHorror #Yokai #Kaiden

The town of Salem’s Lot always looked quiet from the road, the kind of place where nothing ever happened and no one ever left in a hurry. But at night, the streets emptied too quickly, the curtains were always closed, and the lights in the houses went out one by one long before midnight. People who walked home alone sometimes heard footsteps behind them, slow and patient, but when they turned around, the street would be empty except for the sound of the wind moving through the trees. On the hill above the town stood the old Marsten House, dark and watching, its windows like dead eyes looking down over Salem’s Lot. Some nights, a light appeared in the upstairs window even though no one lived there anymore. And sometimes, very late, when the town was silent and the fog rolled in from the woods, something moved behind that glass, waiting for an invitation, waiting for someone to open a window, waiting for Salem’s Lot to fall asleep. #SalemsLot #StephenKing #HorrorStory

This feels like the start of a really good sci-fi story.

#CinematicShort #FutureCity #RobotStory

The Invisible Guardian of London They say London never truly sleeps, but the old ones say something else walks its streets after midnight. When the last trains stop and fog drifts between the buildings, shadows move where no one should be. Dogs bark at empty streets, lights flicker for no reason, and sometimes people feel watched when no one is there. The old priests used to say London is not only a city of men, but also a battleground of unseen wars. High above the city, above the river and the bridges, there is said to be a guardian. They call him Saint Michael the Archangel, the warrior of heaven, the one who cast down demons and drove darkness from the earth. In old paintings he stands with wings and a sword, but the old stories say he still walks the world where darkness gathers. One night, as storm clouds rolled over London and wind pushed fog through the narrow streets near St. Paul’s Cathedral, the shadows began to move faster than usual. Dark shapes climbed across rooftops and slipped through alleyways, their eyes glowing faintly red in the darkness. The demons had come again, drawn to fear, anger, and despair that lingered in the city. Then the clouds split. A beam of light broke through the storm, bright and gold against the black sky, and the wind changed direction all at once. Papers and dust lifted from the streets, swirling in circles, and the demons stopped moving. They looked up as a figure descended from the sky, wings wide, cloak flowing behind him. Saint Michael landed in the empty street with a thunder that echoed between the buildings, his armor shining and his sword burning with light. For a moment everything was silent. Then the demons ran. They scattered across rooftops and down alleyways, but Saint Michael followed. With one leap he rose into the air, landing on a rooftop where two demons tried to flee. His sword flashed once, and they dissolved into smoke and vanished into the wind. More fled toward the river, leaping from building to building, but he chased them across the rooftops of London, past silent offices, old churches, and the glowing dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Some people later said they saw a bright light moving across the sky that night. Others said they heard thunder even though the storm had already passed. A few swore they saw a winged figure standing above the cathedral, looking down over London like a watchful soldier guarding a sleeping city. By morning, everything was quiet again. People went to work, buses ran, and no one spoke about demons or angels. But the old ones say if you stand near St. Paul’s very early in the morning, before the city wakes, you might feel something watching from above. Not something evil. Something protective. Something ancient and strong. They say Saint Michael still walks the rooftops of London, still chases the shadows when they gather, still fights battles no one sees — the invisible guardian of the city. #SaintMichael #LondonLegends #AngelGuardian