WYANDOTTE, MI — Every time has its own kind of person who decides, for one reason or another, to take on a big problem alone. Years ago, it might have been someone writing letters to the editor about mistakes in the newspaper. Today, the problem looks different—and a lot stranger.
Jason Pruitt has decided to take on the internet.
He is 38 and lives in Wyandotte, a small city along the Detroit River. It’s a place where life still feels real and familiar—local bars, quiet streets, the same people you’ve known for years. But most of Pruitt’s attention is focused somewhere else: his phone.
“It’s not just fake,” he said. “It’s made to feel real enough that people don’t question it.”
What he’s talking about is what many people now call “AI slop.” These are the posts you see all over Facebook and other apps—emotional stories, dramatic photos, or heartwarming moments that never actually happened. A soldier coming home to a dog. A child saving an animal. A giant fruit found somewhere in the Midwest.
At first glance, they seem real. But if you look closer, something is off.
The hands don’t look right. The shadows don’t match. The words in the background don’t make sense.
Pruitt didn’t always notice these things. Like most people, he scrolled past them without thinking. But over time, he started to see patterns.
“There was one with a soldier and a dog,” he said. “Everyone in the comments was emotional about it. But the uniform didn’t make sense. The dog’s paws looked weird. It wasn’t real—but people were reacting like it was.”
That bothered him more than he expected.
So he started doing something about it.
At first, it was just a few comments here and there. He would point out what looked wrong or say the image was AI-generated. But over time, it became something closer to a routine.
Now, he actively looks for these posts.
He scrolls with a purpose, not just for entertainment. When he sees something that looks fake, he calls it out.
“Once you see it, you can’t unsee it,” he said. “The hands are always a giveaway. And the lighting. It just doesn’t behave like real life.”
His comments are usually simple.
“AI,” he might write.
“Look at the hands.”
“Check the shadows.”
To him, it’s not about being negative. It’s about making people stop for a second and think.
“I just want people to notice,” he said.
Not everyone appreciates that.
Some people thank him. Others argue with him. Many tell him to relax and let people enjoy things.
His friends say the whole thing has changed how he uses the internet.
“He doesn’t just scroll anymore,” one friend said. “Everything is under a microscope now.”
That might sound extreme. But it also points to a bigger shift happening online.
It used to be that people argued about whether something was true. Now, the question is often simpler—and stranger: did this even happen at all?
For a lot of people, that question doesn’t matter as much as it used to. If something is interesting or emotional, they’re happy to accept it.
“I mean, if it makes you feel something, who cares?” one local woman said when shown an example of an AI-generated post.
Pruitt does care.
“That’s the problem,” he said. “If you don’t care what’s real, then anything can pass.”
To him, it’s not just about fake pictures. It’s about getting used to a world where nothing needs to be real to be believed.
“Today it’s fake stories about dogs,” he said. “Tomorrow it could be anything.”
Still, he knows he’s not going to fix the problem by himself. There are too many posts. Too many accounts. Too many people sharing without thinking. But that hasn’t stopped him.
On a recent post showing a bald eagle lifting a child out of floodwater—a dramatic, movie-like image—Pruitt did what he always does.
He looked closely.
The wings didn’t quite line up. The scene didn’t follow basic physics. The details were just slightly off. He left a comment.
“AI,” it said. “Look at the wings.”
The replies came quickly. Some people agreed. Others told him he was overthinking it. A few said he was ruining something that was supposed to be fun. He read them all.
“It’s not about ruining it,” he said. “It’s about paying attention.”
That may be what sets him apart—not just what he believes, but how he looks at things.
In a world built for fast scrolling and quick reactions, Pruitt has chosen to slow down. To question. To point out what others might miss. It’s not a big movement. It’s not even very noticeable. But it’s consistent.
And in a space where more and more things only look real, there is something quietly important about someone willing to say, out loud:
This isn’t.
