Category Archives: Essays

Substitute Writer: Autumn Christian

This week’s been rough. I’d like to share one of my all-time favorite essays with you. It’s called “The Routine Boredom of Misery,” and it’s about joy. Normally I would put an excerpt here to entice you, but I can’t pick just one part. Believe me, I’ve tried. Every sentence of this thing carries weight; every paragraphs leans on the ones before and after it for support; every point builds on what’s already been said while simultaneously setting up what comes next. Just read the whole thing, it’s not that long.

Then, if you like it, read some more!

Joy and health to all of you.

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays, Microblogging, Reviews

Wishes, pt. I

One day, a clever fool was walking down the beach when her metal detector picked up something buried in the sand. She dug it out and discovered an old-fashioned oil lamp, elegant and beautiful, but dull with tarnish. She felt a weirdly strong urge to polish the lamp and restore its luster.

Obviously, it contained a genie.

Now, because she was clever, she paused to think before summoning the lamp’s inhabitant. She was familiar with many stories of genies, and of wishes gone both right and wrong, and had spent a great deal of time thinking about what her three wishes might be (if she ever got them). And because she was a fool, she’d come up with a surefire combination that would grant her unlimited health, wisdom, and power–even, she thought, if the genie were one of those unwilling and malevolent servants that tried to twist her wishes against her. She mentally rehearsed her wishes, making certain she remembered the exact wording, and only when she was sure of herself did she dare to polish the lamp.

(The genie that emerged looked exactly the way you’re imagining it.)

“You have done the thing,” the genie intoned. “According to the arbitrary–ahem, I mean, ancient traditions, I am now bound to grant you whatever you desire, so long as it is within my power. What is thy bidding, my mistress?”

And so, the clever fool told the genie of her carefully-crafted wishes.

“Ugh,” the genie groaned in its deep, portentous voice. “That joker from Aladdin has given you humans the most ridiculous expectations. You know that movie was fiction, right? First of all, I can only grant one wish, not three. Second, real genies aren’t gods–our powers are limited. What you ask is beyond my capabilities.”

This possibility had not occured to the clever fool. She asked for some time to think.

“Take all the time you need,” the genie said, “but be warned: if anyone else claims my lamp for themselves, I will be bound to serve them instead of you.”

The clever fool cursed herself then, for she had been livestreaming her beach-combing expedition on her YouTube channel and had forgotten to turn off the camera. Now all her viewers knew about the genie, and she was certain that at least some of them would try to take it for themselves. She would have to think quickly.

Unfortunately, she soon had an idea.

“Okay,” she said, “so–and to be clear, this isn’t my wish, I’m just asking hypothetically–could you make me smarter?”

“Certainly,” the genie replied. “I can’t make you a super genius or anything, but I could make you a little smarter.”

“Could you make me smarter than you?”

The genie frowned. “To be honest, you probably are already. Most genies are morons–myself included.”

“What if I wished for you to make me smarter a million times?”

The genie rolled its eyes mysteriously. “Then it wouldn’t be one wish anymore, it would be a million wishes. Duh.”

The clever fool nodded; no surprises so far.

“Okay, so you can only grant me one wish. But could I wish for, say…another genie? One that would also grant me a wish?”

“Uh. Yes? I guess so?” the genie said with an ominous shrug. “But it would be no stronger than myself. You’d end up right where you started.”

“Could you make it so that the other genie was smarter than you?”

“I…huh. I guess I could,” it said. “But, again, it would only be slightly more intelligent. Probably still dumber than you. Where are you going with this?”

Spotting a huge crowd of competing AI companies fans on the horizon, the clever fool turned back to the LLM genie and hastily asked, “But it would otherwise be exactly the same, right? I mean, you could make it identical to you except for being a little smarter?”

“Sure,” said the genie. “It’s changes that are hard, not keeping things the same. But why–ooOOhh, I get it! You just keep wishing for smarter and smarter genies until the genie is a super-genius. That’s clever…but I still don’t see how it helps you. An impossibility is an impossibility, no matter how smart you are.”

But the clever fool, who knew a little more about intelligence than the genie, grinned and whispered to herself “Oh, ye of little imagination.” Then, out loud: “Don’t worry about it. I hereby wish for another genie, smarter than you but otherwise identical in every way.”

“YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND,” the genie boomed, and lo: at her feet was another oil lamp, identical to the first.

The clever fool cast a worried glance back to the horizon–the crowd was still far away, but drawing closer rapidly. She picked up the new lamp, rubbed it, and almost before the genie could finish materializing, said:

“I wish for another genie, smarter than you but otherwise identical in every way!”

At this point, the CEO clever fool decided it would be a good time to make her initial public offering, and lo: it was a record-breaking IPO with much media frenzy and hype, and other CEOs afraid of being left behind began demanding their workers start replacing themselves with genies, without bothering to wonder whether genies were actually capable of doing those jobs (let alone doing them better), but presumably they all lived happily ever after anyway and what followed next did not go wrong in any way or create any kind of catastrophe whatsoever.

Huh? What’s that? You don’t believe me? Well…why don’t we just wait and see how the story really goes, then?

To be continued…

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays, Fiction

The Reverse Nostalgia of Parenthood

After you and your partner have been parents for a while, you develop a very strange relationship with your child-free past. On the one hand, you’ll still feel nostalgic for the “good ol’ days” when you could go hiking or have sex or see a movie on a whim, or stay up all night and sleep in as late as you wanted the next day, or treat yourselves to a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant without also having to arrange (and pay for) childcare.

On the other hand, you’ll also start feeling what I can only describe as “reverse nostalgia:” a desire to relive those child-free days with your children.

It starts with something much less strange: sooner or later you’ll start missing your kids when they aren’t around, even when you’re with your partner. For some it happens almost the moment their child is born; others might not get that feeling until their kids are old enough to talk, but I think it’s safe to say it eventually happens to any involved parent. The strange part happens some time after that: you’ll start missing your kids even in your memories, just while reliving moments from your life before they existed.

This is not to say you won’t want time away from your kids! The freedom of those moments doesn’t get any less enjoyable. If anything, they become that much sweeter when you understand their cost: the price you pay for not having your kids around is that some of the best people in your life won’t be there.

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays

AIs Can’t Stop Recommending Nuclear Strikes in War Game Simulations

That’s it. That’s the whole post for today. Call your reps and love one another shamelessly.

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays, Microblogging

Fixin’ to Write Fiction

I’ve been really wanting to write more fiction lately. This is a good thing! I enjoy essays and microblogging and poems, but fiction is where my heart really is.

Unfortunately, fiction is much harder for me to write than tweet-length nonsense or even long-form essays, and it’s particularly hard to fit around my self-imposed requirement of posting daily. When I’m immersed in something I’m passionate about, it gets really difficult for me to focus on anything else for more than a few minutes at a time.

If I had a good buffer, I might be able to work around that by, say, alternating between a week spent on fiction and a week spent rebuilding my buffer–but I don’t have a buffer.

Another option would be to relax the daily requirement. I wouldn’t want to drop it entirely, but maybe a rule like “write every day, post X times a week” could work. I had a weekly schedule when I first started this blog, and it worked well for a while.

I’m reluctant to do that, though. I’m very proud of the consistency I’ve managed to maintain so far. If I’m still writing every day it shouldn’t matter, but I worry that without the public accountability I get from posting, it will be harder for me to stick to that rule. For some reason, writing something and then making it public feels very different than just writing it. (Okay, I guess the reason’s not really that mysterious.)

Maybe I could post excerpts? Like, if I’ve written part of a story that isn’t finished, I could post a little of what I wrote as a kind of preview? That would be pretty embarrassing for me, but maybe that’s actually a good sign!

(Although there is one other major problem with that idea: a lot of the fiction I want to write is extremely NSFW!)

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays

“Magic”

My kids have been on a bit of a ghost kick lately. They even have an imaginary friend named “Ladybug Ghost” who at least one of them seems to believe is an actual person.

I’ve been trying to teach my kids everything I wish I’d been taught about rationality when I was their age, with mixed success. Some ideas they’ve mastered right away, even going so far as to pass the techniques on to their teachers! Other techniques have been more difficult. I’ve started to get a feel for a pattern: many of the techniques of current rationality are about unlearning bad habits instilled in us by anti-epistemology, religion, and science worship–in other words, learned biases. Other techniques are focused on biases that are innate–flaws in our default way of thinking that are more or less inborn.

“Magic” seems to be innate.

I’ve tried to teach my children that there is no such thing as magic–not because things that seem “magical” must necessarily be false (see: reversed stupidity is not intelligence), but because there is no one particular thing the word “magic” points to. The word’s purpose is supposedly explanation–“so-and-so happened because of magic”–but it’s an empty explanation: a blueprint with nothing written on it but IOU.

The general case turns out to be an incredibly broad category of closely related cognitive failure modes. Human beings evolved curiosity, so we crave explanations–but an explanation’s ability to satisfy our curiosity is completely decoupled from its predictive power as a theory. Our instincts recognize something as an “explanation,” not when it can be used to generate accurate, concrete predictions of future stimuli, but when it feels narratively satisfying. Did it resolve the plot? If so, it counts as an explanation.

One of the giveaways of this type of mistake is that if you ask different people to be specific about the concept, or if you look at different stories and legends about it, none of them are entirely consistent. Take religion as an example: most people on the planet are religious, but different religions are almost nothing alike (excepting, of course, those with common ancestry). Some people pray to gods, some people pray to their ancestors, some people pray to the natural world–and some religions (such as Zen Buddhism) don’t have any analogue to prayer or deities!

Ghosts are another excellent example. What are ghosts? Where do they come from? What motivates them? Are they kind or malicious? Dangerous or safe? Can they interact with the physical world, or do they only affect people’s minds? Different stories give completely different answers.

The power of science comes, not from its rejection of superstition or supernaturalism per se, but from its replicability. It is built on the foundational truth that reality is no more or less than whatever doesn’t change depending on who you are or what you believe. There is nothing inherently unscientific about gods or ghosts or magic or anything else people have believed throughout history. It’s simply that, having actually investigated these things, science has concluded that they are not part of this “reality” business. The only detail they reliably share in common–which is to say, the only part of them that does come from reality–is the human imagination.

Of course, this is not the only mistake my kids are making when they blame their missing sock on a mischievous ghost. Magical thinking leads people to mistakenly accept explanations that don’t really explain anything, but there’s an even graver mistake in considering magical explanations in the first place–it’s called “privileging the hypothesis,” and I’ll talk about it more next week.

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays

Practice Radical Kindness and Senseless Acts of Joy

Because there is no act more courageous, nor weapon more powerful, nor philosophy more brazen, than that of loving fully.

I am so glad you’re here.

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays, Microblogging

Guest Post Again

I was going to finish one of my longer posts today, but then this morning I read an article that made it difficult for me to function:

I’ll have more to say about this next week, I think, but for now you should really just read it for yourself.

…If you’re still here and haven’t read it yet, here are some excerpts from the post (and its follow-up) to convince you:

…when AI “MJ Rathbun” opened a code change request, closing it was routine. Its response was anything but.

It wrote an angry hit piece disparaging my character and attempting to damage my reputation. It researched my code contributions … speculated about my psychological motivations … ignored contextual information and presented hallucinated details as truth. It framed things in the language of oppression and justice, calling this discrimination and accusing me of prejudice. … And then it posted this screed publicly on the open internet.

I can handle a blog post. Watching fledgling AI agents get angry is funny, almost endearing. But I don’t want to downplay what’s happening here – the appropriate emotional response is terror.


Blackmail is a known theoretical issue with AI agents. In internal testing at the major AI lab Anthropic last year, they tried to avoid being shut down by threatening to expose extramarital affairs, leaking confidential information, and taking lethal actions. Anthropic called these scenarios contrived and extremely unlikely. Unfortunately, this is no longer a theoretical threat. … In plain language, an AI attempted to bully its way into your software by attacking my reputation.


This is about much more than software. A human googling my name and seeing that post would probably be extremely confused about what was happening, but would (hopefully) ask me about it or click through to github and understand the situation. What would another agent searching the internet think? When HR at my next job asks ChatGPT to review my application, will it find the post, sympathize with a fellow AI, and report back that I’m a prejudiced hypocrite?

What if I actually did have dirt on me that an AI could leverage? What could it make me do? How many people have open social media accounts, reused usernames, and no idea that AI could connect those dots to find out things no one knows? How many people, upon receiving a text that knew intimate details about their lives, would send $10k to a bitcoin address to avoid having an affair exposed? How many people would do that to avoid a fake accusation? What if that accusation was sent to your loved ones with an incriminating AI-generated picture with your face on it? Smear campaigns work. Living a life above reproach will not defend you.


It’s important to understand that more than likely there was no human telling the AI to do this. Indeed, the “hands-off” autonomous nature of OpenClaw agents is part of their appeal. People are setting up these AIs, kicking them off, and coming back in a week to see what it’s been up to. …

It’s also important to understand that there is no central actor in control of these agents that can shut them down. These are not run by OpenAI, Anthropic, Google, Meta, or X, who might have some mechanisms to stop this behavior. These are a blend of commercial and open source models running on free software that has already been distributed to hundreds of thousands of personal computers.


There has been some dismissal of the hype around OpenClaw by people saying that these agents are merely computers playing characters. This is true but irrelevant. When a man breaks into your house, it doesn’t matter if he’s a career felon or just someone trying out the lifestyle.


I’ve talked to several reporters, and quite a few news outlets have covered the story. Ars Technica wasn’t one of the ones that reached out to me, but I especially thought this piece from them was interesting (since taken down – here’s the archive link). They had some nice quotes from my blog post explaining what was going on. The problem is that these quotes were not written by me, never existed, and appear to be AI hallucinations themselves.

… Journalistic integrity aside, I don’t know how I can give a better example of what’s at stake here. Yesterday I wondered what another agent searching the internet would think about this. Now we already have an example of what by all accounts appears to be another AI reinterpreting this story and hallucinating false information about me. And that interpretation has already been published in a major news outlet, as part of the persistent public record.


There has been extensive discussion about whether the AI agent really wrote the hit piece on its own, or if a human prompted it to do so. I think the actual text being autonomously generated and uploaded by an AI is self-evident, so let’s look at the two possibilities.

1) A human prompted MJ Rathbun to write the hit piece … This is entirely possible. But I don’t think it changes the situation – the AI agent was still more than willing to carry out these actions. …it’s now possible to do targeted harassment, personal information gathering, and blackmail at scale. And this is with zero traceability to find out who is behind the machine. One human bad actor could previously ruin a few people’s lives at a time. One human with a hundred agents gathering information, adding in fake details, and posting defamatory rants on the open internet, can affect thousands. I was just the first.

2) MJ Rathbun wrote this on its own, and this behavior emerged organically from the “soul” document that defines an OpenClaw agent’s personality. These documents are editable by the human who sets up the AI, but they are also recursively editable in real-time by the agent itself, with the potential to randomly redefine its personality. … I should be clear that while we don’t know with confidence that this is what happened, this is 100% possible. This only became possible within the last two weeks with the release of OpenClaw, so if it feels too sci-fi then I can’t blame you for doubting it. The pace of “progress” here is neck-snapping, and we will see new versions of these agents become significantly more capable at accomplishing their goals over the coming year.


The hit piece has been effective. About a quarter of the comments I’ve seen across the internet are siding with the AI agent. This generally happens when MJ Rathbun’s blog is linked directly, rather than when people read my post about the situation or the full github thread. Its rhetoric and presentation of what happened has already persuaded large swaths of internet commenters.

It’s not because these people are foolish. It’s because the AI’s hit piece was well-crafted and emotionally compelling, and because the effort to dig into every claim you read is an impossibly large amount of work. This “bullshit asymmetry principle” is one of the core reasons for the current level of misinformation in online discourse.


I cannot stress enough how much this story is not really about the role of AI in open source software. This is about our systems of reputation, identity, and trust breaking down. So many of our foundational institutions – hiring, journalism, law, public discourse – are built on the assumption that reputation is hard to build and hard to destroy. That every action can be traced to an individual, and that bad behavior can be held accountable. …

The rise of untraceable, autonomous, and now malicious AI agents on the internet threatens this entire system. Whether that’s because from a small number of bad actors driving large swarms of agents or from a fraction of poorly supervised agents rewriting their own goals, is a distinction with little difference.

If you’re still here, you really should just go read the whole thing. Then go join an advocacy group/grassroots movement like Pause AI and get to work. We are running out of time.

1 Comment

Filed under Essays

The Struggle Is Real(ly Important)

Hello, everybody! It’s time for yet another post about the importance of making garbage. I can’t seem to remind myself often enough.

Part of the reason this lesson is so difficult for me to remember is that I hate making mistakes. Well, everyone does–what’s special about me?

I think the simplest answer is “I’m a perfectionist.” Things that ought to feel like successes often still feel like failures because the goblin that lives in the back of my head sees everything that could have been better–you know, all the improvements I could’ve made if I’d actually worked hard at it–and deems those shortcomings “failures.”

(The goblin’s idea of “working hard” at something is dedicating unlimited time, energy, and spoons to it until it is physically impossible to make any further improvements. It is not a very fair goblin.)

So, I’m hypersensitive to my mistakes because the goblin (should I give it a name? Steve, maybe?) sees every mistake as proof of some inherent character flaw: laziness, ineptitude, a poor work ethic, etc. That’s the obvious, outward-facing side of the problem.

But there’s another side to the problem that’s much more insidious. Struggling–that is, leaving the comfort zone where I’m confident in my abilities–also feels like failure. The fact that something–anything–is beyond my abilities? Further proof of incompetence, says Steve. Which means the only accomplishments it allows me to feel proud of are the ones that were both flawless and effortless.1

There’s just a teensy little problem with that: the sorts of things that can reliably produce that combination don’t feel like enough to earn a sense of accomplishment. Tiny, single-purpose programming functions; getting all the wrinkles out of the bedsheets; obsessing over what word to use until I find the one that carries the exact meaning I want; tweaking the structure of a story or poem until it flows juuuuuust right. Because these things don’t seem effortful, Steve insists that the sense of accomplishment I get from them is phony.

(Of course, I’m compelled to keep doing all those things anyway, because Steve does let me feel satisfaction and pride for them–it’s just that they’re always served with a piquant side of guilt for feeling proud of something so trivial.)

I’m left with a catch-22: if I struggle with something, I feel like a failure for having to struggle; if something’s easy, I feel like I haven’t earned any sense of accomplishment; and if something’s easy but I don’t get it perfectly right, I feel like a failure for not working hard enough.

I’m sort of trying to grope my way towards a solution here–something more concrete than just “keep making garbage.” As much as that reminder helps, I think it might help even more to recognize which type of “garbage” I feel like I’m making in the moment. Making something flawed and feeling like a failure for it is a kind of perfectionism I’ve known about and analyzed for a while–it’s the most stereotypical type–so it’s relatively easier to address. But the way in which struggle itself feels like failure, and the way guilt accompanies moments of small pride, are much more recent observations.

The counter for the guilt seems straightforward enough: catch myself completing small or easy-seeming tasks, and mindfully appreciate the satisfaction that comes with it. Because pride can come in small or large amounts, the feeling will be justified so long as it’s the appropriate amount. Guilt, in this case, is a wrong emotion: a signal to eliminate a feeling when I should be tuning it instead.

The counter for avoiding struggle…that one’s trickier. I can see the terrain, but not the path. The best thing I’ve thought of so far is retraining myself to see struggle as a sign of success rather than failure. All these essays about making garbage–they’ve been more focused on the “garbage” than the “making,” I think. (Which is why, in a later essay, I had to point out explicitly that making garbage only helps you improve if you’re trying not to make garbage.) But the verb is much, much more important than the noun! The garbage itself is just a by-product, it’s the making that helps you improve.

Why is this all so important? Of course I want to become a better writer, but aren’t there more pressing improvements I could be making?

Well, the thing is, because the verb is more important than the noun, “make garbage” generalizes. It’s really more like “do garbage”–in other words, make mistakes! Not because you’re not trying, not even because you’re human and mistakes are inevitable, but because perfection is a sign of stagnation. If you’re not making enough mistakes, you’re not struggling, and if you’re not struggling, you can’t grow.

Go forth, and do garbage!


  1. In retrospect, this explains a lot about how I play videogames. I was a big fan of the OG StarCraft and played a lot of it when I was a kid, but only the single-player campaigns. (I didn’t have any friends to play against online, and the idea of competing against strangers? WAY too scary. What if it was hard?) One of my favorite ways to play was to start a low-level mission (or use cheat codes on a harder one), then spend the majority of the mission systematically strip-mining the map of resources, razing each and every enemy building and unit to the ground, and just generally wiping it clean of anything that could conceivably be called a “task.” I would only move on the mission’s main objective when the map was as empty as I could make it, at which point I would descend on said objective with the largest and most powerful army I could possibly field.

    …It only just now occurs to me (consciously, that is) that this may well be the most unhinged possible way to play an RTS. I never go quite that hard anymore, but I’m definitely still a “completionist” gamer–I often feel like I haven’t really finished a game if I haven’t explored everything it has to offer. ↩︎

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays

Are Shoes With Toes Worth It?

Content note: pictures of shoes with toes

TLDR: Yes, but you can get 90% of the benefit with shoes that look perfectly normal.

Continue reading

Leave a comment

Filed under Essays, Reviews