PicoBlog

Every so often this little chart goes viral again, often with an invitation to readers to pick themselves, as it were, out of the image: This apparently comes from, as the caption tells us, a 17th-century composition book. Now maybe they just had emotions Different in the late 17th century. A lot can change about subjective experience in four hundred years. Harold Bloom said Shakespeare invented human interiority only like a hundred years before that, so really, maybe it’s like how babies can’t see yet.

I have not yet listened to Crypto Island, PJ Vogt’s new podcast. Just haven’t had the time. But I’m interested in the subject and am a longtime fan of the host, so I definitely will. For now, I want to talk about this review of it Nicholas Quah wrote for Vulture. There’s something very dark there that should be dragged into the light. If you’re new to my newsletter or to this controversy, you might have to read this first (unlocked version here).

I came late to the smartphone game. I finally bought my first in the fall of 2011, after spending a summer conducting research in India where, incidentally, I sit writing this. I didn't have any specific animus toward Apple at the time, though I do think I preferred the reputation of openness and customizability of Androids against that of iPhones as impenetrable, “take-what-we-give-you-and-you’re-gonna-like-it” systems. I was also what we call “broke,” and wanted the cheapest functional phone I could find.

Every time I visit my in-laws in Minnesota, this framed cartoon hanging in their bathroom makes me chuckle: This week, it dawned on me that my tween-aged daughter would have no idea what the joke is about. It might still be funny in an absurdist way, but not logical. And that’s totally OK with me. Much like my post on the disappearance of sea turtle soup, the waning popularity of rabbit’s feet makes me feel a little bit better about humanity.

REMINDER: We're planning a special AMA episode of the podcast! If you have questions for me, please submit them via this Google Form to help us stay organized. Everything is fair game! Spring has finally (mostly) come to the frozen tundra I inhabit in New York’s Hudson Valley. For me, this means the start of serious garden season. But it also means: Spring 5Ks! Iron Mans! Marathons! Tough Mudders! My social media feeds are awash in photos of cheerful people in brightly colored exercise clothes, sweating vigorously in the sunshine.

Mark Coopersmith gaveled the town meeting to order. “Ladies and Gentlemen, what are we going to do about the werewolf crisis? Every full moon, this town is attacked by invincible supernatural werewolves that murder people and then eat them.” A few hands went up. “Yes, Trevor Farrier, in the front row–what do you suggest?” “We have to improve our emergency response. If the paramedics can get to the scene fast enough after a werewolf attack, we can save some of the people the werewolves have left for dead before they bleed out.

Prep time: 20 minutes, plus 3 hours chillingCook time: 20 minutesTotal time: 3 hours 40 minutesMakes 6 to 8 servingsRecipe Video Printable recipe here: 450g (16 oz) whole cranberries, frozen or fresh  200g (1 cup) granulated sugar  480g (2 cups) water  10g (1 tablespoon) vanilla extract  60g (1/4 cup or about 4 small juicy lemons) freshly squeezed lemon juice 4 yolks 135g (2/3 cups) granulated sugar  450g (16 oz) mascarpone cheese

A common, and simple, description of the Turing test is this: if a human can’t tell whether a machine or another human has written some text, the machine has passed the Turing test. A lot of people argue that ChatGPT passes the Turing test. A simple test shows that this isn’t the case. ChatGPT frequently has issues with word play, especially absurdist word play, and it does not respond as one would expect a human to respond to absurdity.

When I learned that a colleague was struggling with grief after losing a parent, I offered to introduce her to an excellent bereavement therapist. Several months later, my colleague sent me a beautiful note about how much she appreciated the connection. I was thrilled to hear that the therapist had been helpful. But there was one sentence at the end of the note that didn’t sit right with me. Her closing line was “I owe you one.