by Gary Borjesson
If you don’t have a plan, you’ll become part of someone else’s plan. —Terence McKenna
1. Wearables
This morning I headed outside first thing with my dog Theila for our daily short morning walk in the woods around our home, to stretch our legs, sniff around, and get some morning light. I looked at my new Garmin Forerunner 165 smartwatch, which I’d just started wearing the afternoon before. The first thing I saw was my sleep score, which was 67, and in case there was any confusion about the meaning of this, above the 67 was the word ‘Poor.’

I felt resentment at getting such harsh feedback first thing in the morning. Then I asked myself whether I agreed with its blunt assessment. Not really. I’d have given my sleep a score of 85. Was I missing something? Was the watch missing something? Whom should I trust? This tension raises a key theme of this essay. Put as a question: what authority should we give such feedback? How do we weigh it against the authority of our self-experience? A related question is whether we want to adopt its proposed terms of discourse in the first place. For example, the watch measures the charge of my “body battery.” Is this a playful nod to the Matrix, or are we encouraged to reduce our aliveness to the same terms we use for our phones?
I have come to admire the watch’s straightforward, metric-driven honesty. Even that first morning, it felt like I was being challenged in a useful way. The watch wasn’t tiptoeing around my feelings but calling it like it computes it, the way a tough-love coach might.
I soon realized, however, that I didn’t understand how the feedback was calculated, and what exactly it meant. For instance, take two key data points used in a range of assessments, V02 max and Heart Rate Variability (HRV). V02 max measures overall aerobic conditioning, while more variability is a sign of a rested, adaptable nervous system, and less signals stress or fatigue. The watch could meaningfully help me improve my health and fitness if I prepared myself by getting to know all this. It offers real-time, cumulative, data-crunched biofeedback that gets more accurate as the adaptive AI gets to know me. For example, the watch gathers data about your HRV for three weeks before determining your baseline score against which further scores are measured. The biofeedback can help us become more sensitive and attuned to ourselves, or it can become a substitute for this, depending on how we use it.
In any event, the technology is here to stay, it’s getting better fast, and it’s being widely adopted. Read more »







If you had to design the perfect neighbor to the United States, it would be hard to do better than Canada. Canadians speak the same language, subscribe to the ideals of democracy and human rights, have been good trading partners, and almost always support us on the international stage. Watching our foolish president try to destroy that relationship has been embarrassing and maddening. In case you’ve entirely tuned out the news—and I wouldn’t blame you if you have—Trump has threatened to make Canada the 51st state and took to calling Prime Minister Trudeau, Governor Trudeau.

It doesn’t take a lot of effort to be a bootlicker. Find a boss or someone with the personality of a petty tyrant, sidle up to them, subjugate yourself, and find something flattering to say. Tell them they’re handsome or pretty, strong or smart, and make sweet noises when they trot out their ideas. Literature and history are riddled with bootlickers: Thomas Cromwell, the advisor to Henry VIII, Polonius in Hamlet, Mr. Collins in Pride and Predjudice, and of course Uriah Heep in David Copperfield.
There is something repulsive about lickspittles, especially when all the licking is being done for political purposes. It’s repulsive when we see it in others and it’s repulsive when we see it in ourselves It has to do with the lack of sincerity and the self-abasement required to really butter someone up. In the animal world, it’s rolling onto your back and exposing the vulnerable stomach and throat—saying I am not a threat.



In the game of chess, some of the greats will concede their most valuable pieces for a superior position on the board. In a 1994 game against the grandmaster Vladimir Kramnik, Gary Kasparov sacrificed his queen early in the game with a move that made no sense to a middling chess player like me. But a few moves later Kasparov won control of the center board and marched his pieces into an unstoppable array. Despite some desperate work to evade Kasparov’s scheme, Kramnik’s king was isolated and then trapped into checkmate by a rook and a knight.

