I’m getting emails telling me how great my books are. Happily, I know better.
This is the real Ari Shapiro, who spent many years with National Public Radio before leaving in September 2025. Unfortunately, the one who “wrote” to me recently should have dropped the R from the first name to become “AI Shapiro.”
“You have given me comfort and have spoken kindly to your servant—though I do not have the standing of one of your servant girls.” —Ruth 2:13
Among the many horrible things artificial intelligence is doing to our world, one especially bothers me: AI-based scams targeting struggling authors.
Earlier this year, I started receiving email invitations to participate in discussion groups related to one of my published books. I love talking with people about my books, especially since no one has shown much interest in my books for a long time.
(Actually, the rise of Christian nationalism has led to renewed interest in my 1992 book on dominion theology, but the query was about my 1987 work, The Health and Wealth Gospel.)
When I engaged with one of the email authors and asked the right questions, eventually I learned that I would have to pay an up-front marketing fee, which didn’t hold much value since the book has been out of print for 35 years.
Last month, I received an especially interesting invitation. It claimed to be from Ari Shapiro, host of a well-known radio news program. The email explained in depth why Shapiro would love to interview me about The Health and Wealth Gospel.
There were just three problems. First, the explanation of why Shapiro liked my book was ridiculously long, and the content suggested to me that it was AI-generated from prior reviews of the book. Second, the email address was not associated with the radio network. Third, Shapiro left the radio program staff last year. So the message was obviously fake.
Since I like to have some fun with scammers in my free time, I responded as follows:
Ari:
This would be a really attractive invitation, except that it’s my understanding that you left National Public Radio a year ago. Moreover, this email does not come from an NPR email address. If you can have someone from NPR contact me and confirm that this is a legitimate request, I would be excited to work with you.
I was about to learn that AI has no sense of shame. Here’s part of the reply:
You are correct to question the use of Ari Shapiro’s name and email in this communication. I want to be transparent with you: the person responsible for sending outreach to prospective featured authors has been using Ari Shapiro’s email for these invitations, and this was not appropriate. I sincerely apologize for the misconduct and for any impression that this was an official communication from NPR.
The email went on to continue recruiting me. It was signed by “Alisa.” The next day I received another invitation, from “Alisa Chang” of the same radio news program, with an equally fake email address. Chang is indeed still with the program, but her first name is Ailsa, not Alisa. I guess AI is still learning to spell.
At least AI was honest enough to admit, in its third message, that the production cost for me to enter into this conversation would be $310.
I hope you’ve enjoyed a few laughs from this tale, but there are some serious lessons for all of us:
We can never again assume that a communication we receive was generated by the person listed as the author, or even by a person at all.
We should expect all marketers, including AI, to play to our vanity. Pride goes before a fall.
In an increasingly AI-dominated world, we can stand out by deeply and sincerely caring about people, showing the heartfelt sensitivity that AI can only mimic—as Ruth did toward her mother-in-law (Ruth 1:16-17) and Ruth and Boaz did toward each other (Ruth 2:11-13) in one of the classic biblical stories of human kindness.