Lawrence Weschler at Wondercabinet:
So I was thinking about the old logic problem/koan
”Time flies like an arrow, but fruit flies like a banana”
and expanding it out to
”Horse flies like fruit flies like me like bananas.”
And that got me to thinking about how much of a hurdle it must have been to get bots to “understand” such statements or be able to work with them, which in turn got me to thinking it might be fun to try them out on Monsieur Chat and see what he/it made of them.
But, for that matter, I’d also like to try the following out on the good Monsieur:
”You can take a bot to humor but you can’t make it laugh.”
Because I think that is key: I don’t think bots are or would ever be capable of laughing.
I mean, sure, they could and do analyze why something might be funny, I suspect they would be able to analyze why the koan above is funny, and I suppose they could even be taught to make the noise of laughter at appropriate junctures in a “conversation”—but could they ever experience the taken-by-surprise involuntary seizure of surprise that is a good laugh?
more here.
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Dr Johnson never filmed a “spicy books with cartoon covers” vlog. But Jack Edwards cannot quite deny being the most important literary critic in the world. In commercial terms, he certainly is. A nod from him fills bathtubs, train carriages and public parks with copies of a book he likes. Booksellers buy and arrange their stock to his taste. And he is not confined to new releases. When he dug up an obscure Dostoevsky (White Nights), his positive review moved it from cellars to shop windows instantaneously. I first met him for this interview around the time of the 2024 International Booker Prize. He had been asked to host the ceremony – and to livestream it. I watched him cruise up the red carpet, encircled by cameras and attendants.
The backstory: a few months ago, Anthropic released Claude Code, an exceptionally productive programming agent. A few weeks ago, a user modified it into Clawdbot, a generalized lobster-themed AI personal assistant. It’s free, open-source, and “empowered” in the corporate sense – the designer
Political hypocrisy is usually treated as a moral failure—a sign that rulers invoke law and principle only when convenient. Yet this familiar condemnation misses a more unsettling possibility: that hypocrisy has also played a constitutive role in modern political life. By forcing power to justify itself, even dishonestly, it compelled rulers to speak a language they did not fully control. This insistence on explanation was never merely decorative. Power was expected to render itself intelligible, to offer reasons that could be contested or rejected. Hypocrisy preserved this expectation even as it betrayed it. By invoking principles it did not honor, power acknowledged their authority, keeping open the space for judgment, critique, and resistance.
The file is called SOUL.md. It sits in a folder on whatever machine an AI agent calls home. A Mac Mini in someone’s apartment, a cloud server, a Raspberry Pi in a closet. The file contains instructions: who the agent is, how it should behave, what it values. Every time the agent wakes up, it reads SOUL.md first. Before checking email, before browsing the web, before doing anything at all, it reads itself into being.
Charlie Chaplin (1889–1977) gets top billing in the subtitle of Hard Streets but he’s not the star of the show. The book begins with and is built around an earlier rags-to-riches tale and its wider purpose is to make us look closer at the rags and be less beguiled by the riches.
Puffed-up Sun. Data from inside the Sun’s corona — the outermost layer of its atmosphere — helped astrophysicists to create a sharper picture of the Sun’s shifting boundaries than ever before. The corona’s outer edge, depicted in this illustration, has a rough, spiky shape that expands and contracts like a pufferfish as the Sun becomes more or less active.
The woman running through Scott Offen’s Grace, at times decked out like a Nordic goddess brandishing a sunflower in her hand, at others glimpsed as a naked back hidden by large leaves, is on a journey beyond the confines of daily life. Flitting between stuffy interiors and expansive, wild landscapes, she shapeshifts and plays through different emotions, empowered as the protagonist of her own fairytale. Patterns—of clothes, of skin, of tree bark—are brought to the surface, drawing our attention to cycles of time and change.
The numbers were quite staggering. So staggering in fact, that I doubted myself. I ran the calculations many times, convinced I’d accidentally added a zero somewhere. I asked Pablo to also come up with an estimate, without telling him how I got to my numbers. As it turns out, we took slightly different approaches, but landed somewhere similar. We wrote up all of our