Monthly Archives: August 2024

The Myth of Artificial Intelligence


We humans find ourselves in a unique position.

We are, as far as we know, the only species capable of contemplating our own existence, of peering into the depths of space and time, and of creating tools that extend our reach far beyond our biological limitations.

Among these tools, perhaps none is more intriguing—or more misunderstood—than what we call “Artificial Intelligence.”

The term itself is a peculiar one, an apparent oxymoron that invites us to ask: Can intelligence truly be artificial? Is not all intelligence, by its very nature, a product of the natural world?

Consider the humble bird constructing its nest. With meticulous care, it weaves together twigs, leaves, and whatever materials it can find to create a home for its young. One sits between my gutter and roof over the back patio.

We do not call this an “artificial nest,” despite the bird’s use of external materials and learned techniques. No, we recognize it as a natural extension of the bird’s innate drive to survive and propagate.

In much the same way, our computers, our algorithms, our neural networks—these are not separate from nature, but rather expressions of it. They are the twigs and leaves of our own nest-building, manifestations of our deeply human desire to understand, to create, to extend our capabilities beyond the constraints of our physical forms.

The silicon chips that power our machines are fashioned from elements born in the hearts of dying stars. The electricity that animates them flows in patterns not unlike the neural impulses in our own brains.

And the logic they follow? It is our logic, our mathematics, our understanding of the universe encoded into a form that can be processed at incredible speeds.

What we call AI is not some alien intelligence, separate from and potentially antagonistic to our own.

It is, instead, a mirror—sometimes clear, sometimes distorted—reflecting back at us our own intelligence, our own creativity, our own capacity for problem-solving and pattern recognition.

In our awe at the capabilities of these machines, we must not lose sight of the truly wondrous thing: that we, products of billions of years of cosmic evolution, have found a way to imbue our understanding into circuits and code. We have, in essence, taught sand to think.

There is no “artificial” intelligence. There is only intelligence—a cosmic bloom of complexity and wonder, taking root wherever life finds fertile ground, be it in the neural networks of a human brain or the silicon pathways of a computer chip. That realization does not diminish our humanity, but an expands it, out into the stars from which we came.

Raise A Glass!

Five factslaps in honor of National Red Wine Day:

  • Red wine can contain over 1,000 different chemical compounds, contributing to its complex flavor profile and potential health benefits.
  • The oldest known winery, dating back to around 4100 BC, was discovered in a cave in Armenia.
  • Red wine gets its color from grape skins, not the juice. The skins are left to ferment with the juice, imparting color and tannins.
  • Moderate red wine consumption has been linked to potential heart health benefits due to its antioxidants, particularly resveratrol.
  • The world’s most expensive bottle of red wine ever sold was a 1945 Romanée-Conti, which fetched $558,000 at auction in 2018.

The Ephemeral Symphony


My Spotify playlists are almost 105 hours of music—more than four days of continuous rhythms, beats and chants. This vast library, once carted by moving vans, now fits in the palm of my hand.

But what have I lost?

As I wobbly navigate this new musical landscape, I can’t help but notice the fading echoes of vinyl’s crackle, the CD’s crystal clarity, and the hiss of cassette tapes. These once-cherished formats have been relegated to the realm of collectors and enthusiasts, their extinction seemingly inevitable in the face of digital convenience.

The tactile experience of thumbing through album covers, piercing a needle on a record, or rewinding a mix tape to the beginning of a favorite song—these rituals have largely disappeared.

In their place, we have instant access to virtually any song ever recorded, at any time, anywhere. It’s a music lover’s dream, but one that comes at the cost of permanence.

In this era, our relationship with music has become more fleeting. Playlists shuffle endlessly, algorithms suggest new tracks, and we skip through songs with careless abandon.

The album as an art form struggles to maintain its relevance in a world of singles and curated mixes.

Yet, amidst this digital deluge, there’s a glimmer of hope. Music, in its essence, remains as powerful and moving as ever. The medium may have changed, but the message—the raw emotion, the shared experiences, the cultural touchstones—endures.

In fact, the accessibility of streaming has democratized music creation and consumption, allowing more voices to be heard and more ears to listen than ever before. (That the industry screwe artists is a creative universal and another column.)

Moreover, just as Broadway enthusiasts keep the spirit of theater alive, a dedicated cohort of audiophiles continues to champion the cause of high-fidelity sound and immersive listening experiences.

They remind us that there’s more to music than mere convenience—that sometimes, the ritual of listening is as important as the sound itself.

Here, music takes on an almost ethereal quality. It’s everywhere and nowhere, always accessible yet never quite possessed. But perhaps this is fitting for an art form that has always been, at its core, invisible and intangible.

As we stream our way through this brave new world of music, let’s not forget to pause, listen deeply, and allow ourselves to be moved.

For in those moments, whether they last four days or four minutes, we touch something timeless—a reminder that while formats may change, the power of music to connect, inspire, and transform is eternal.