Heartfelt

So today was the last day of one of my co-workers with our company after nine years. It’s a bittersweet departure. She was an excellent employee—hard-working, super smart, diligent, even-tempered, modest, respectful, and a true team player. I’m not sure of the reasons she decided to leave the company, but it was somewhat unexpected. She was being groomed to become our comptroller.

She is still quite young and unmarried, and I believe she has decided to take some time off for personal reasons before returning to China, where there is a successful family business that she will likely take over. She will be successful in whatever she chooses to pursue in life—there’s little doubt about that.

But this post isn’t really about her.

It’s about the messages sent to her through the company email system to express appreciation and wish her well. We all got to see them. They were beautifully written tributes—accurate in their description of our beloved co-worker, her talents, and her importance to the company. My conservative guess is that 90% of them were either fully written by ChatGPT or, at the very least, heavily edited by it. I made sure mine wasn’t processed through the AI meat grinder.

I know—we can’t all be Shakespeare. And forgive me for sounding like a curmudgeon, but doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose if you use AI to express something that’s supposed to be heartfelt and personal?

It’s one thing to use AI for marketing, to edit a sales report, or even to help shape a short blog post. I’m guilty of that myself. But this need for perfection—the refined expression, the polished image, the flawless impression—is slowly killing everything.

I miss the sometimes ham-handed expression of genuine feeling. In fact, the one or two messages that clearly weren’t AI-generated were refreshingly obvious by comparison. They were loose and searching, cobbled together and ungrammatical. In other words, they were real.

This small end-of-week episode dovetails with something I heard earlier in the week: Noah Yuval Harari’s talk at the World Economic Forum in Davos. He spoke about what it means to be human. If it’s reason that defines us, then we’re in trouble. "Cogito, ergo sum"—I think, therefore I am—is how René Descartes reasoned the Western human being into existence in the 17th century. Since then, our capacity to think has largely defined our existence.

Harari argues that AI has rendered that definition obsolete. When we build machines that can outthink us in nearly every domain—science, philosophy, academics, mathematics, finance—either humanity has reached a dead end in terms of purpose and meaning, or a new self-definition must emerge.

The alternative seems obvious. It is not thinking that truly defines us. Machines will do that better than we ever could. What truly defines us is feeling: suffering and joy, love and grief, and the expression of those feelings. Machines will undoubtedly learn to fake that—and do it convincingly. But the essential ingredient is still missing. It does not originate from human experience. And without that, any machine-made product is disqualified from being called art.

The advent of AI has suddenly put emotion—and the expression of emotion in art—back at the center of the question of what it means to be human.

Many AI prognosticators may be right that AI could mean our doom. Not because it will send armies to destroy us, but because we may allow ourselves to be infected by it—letting it mutate inside us and quietly alter our sense of what it means to be alive. The only inoculation is to redefine and re-valorize feeling as the essence of humanity.

That sounds like a monumental task in a world where AI is taking over so much of our daily existence. And yet it could begin with something as small as rediscovering the beauty, simplicity, and significance of writing a heartfelt note of appreciation—to a friend, a relative, or a colleague who will be missed.

Down To Florida Blues

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I ain’t goin down to Florida
Don’t care how cold it gets (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.

They got snakes down in Florida
Thick as your two legs (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.

They got alligators down in Florida
In their rivers and their lakes (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.

They got hurricanes down in Florida
Make the house walls shake (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.

They got big sharks down in Florida
Want to tear your flesh (x 2)
I said I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.

They got sunshine down in Florida
Make your skin burn red (x 2)
I say I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.

I had a girl down in Florida
The kind you don't forget (x 2)
I say I ain’t goin down to Florida
No matter how my baby begs.

I ain’t goin down to Florida
Don’t care how cold it gets (x 2)
I say I ain’t goin down to Florida
Cause one time I did say yes.

Another's Eyes

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You've played many roles,

Most of your life.

Daughter, sister, friend, 

A mother and a wife.

In every hurricane,

There's an eye serene.

And you can hear a voice, 

Saying who you should be.  

Cause the script you had,

Since you took the stage.   

Has lines you forgot,  

And is missing a page. 

The rules can change,

The stars re-align. 

When you don't see yourself, 

Through another's eyes.

Strike a yoga pose,

To locate your breath.

So you can recite,

A psalm of loneliness.

There’s a moment between,

Inhale and release.

Where the tumult recedes,

And the poses all cease.

The rules can change,

The stars re-align. 

When you don't see yourself, 

Through another's eyes.

I won't be your mirror,

And you won't be mine.

A map isn't space,

And a clock isn't time.

The rules can change,

The stars re-align. 

When you don't see yourself, 

Through another's eyes.

What Are Words For

“My lips are moving and the sound’s coming out,

The words are audible, but I have my doubts.”

So begins Words, the 1982 synth-pop lament by Missing Persons. The chorus lands harder: What are words for when no one listens anymore? It’s a song about failed communication, framed from the side of the receiver—someone straining to be heard and wondering why meaning never arrives.

But what if the failure runs the other way? What if the receiver is listening too closely, desperately trying to extract meaning from communication that is fundamentally meaningless?

That question sits at the center of our so-called post-truth era—a condition in which objective facts matter less than emotion, identity, and belief. Post-truth politics tends to travel with populism and grows out of collapsing trust in institutions, expertise, and media. Add informational overload to the mix, and the result is not ignorance, but exhaustion. We are drowning in words.

Trump exploits this environment instinctively. He uses language like buckshot—wild, imprecise, and scattershot. The damage isn’t concentrated; it’s diffuse. Part of the problem is not that we don’t listen to him, but that we listen far too carefully.

Trump’s words are not arguments. They are not even lies in the conventional sense. To lie, words must first mean something. For trump, words are sounds emitted to satisfy a fleeting emotional impulse—anger, grievance, envy, dominance. Once uttered, they evaporate. It’s as if they never existed, because to him, in any substantive sense, they didn’t.

This is why contradiction doesn’t bother him. Why yesterday’s threat doesn’t bind today’s denial. Why promises carry no weight. There is no internal ledger of consistency, because there is no internal commitment to meaning.

Seen through this lens, Greenland becomes instructive.

Greenland does not exist to trump as a real place with people, language, culture, or history. It exists as a shape on a map—a large white mass, a jagged outline. Something you might draw with a Sharpie, like the cone of impact he improvised on the weather map to show the hurricane path he desired. Or something you might want simply because someone else has it. His understanding of its past—“a boat landed there”—has the depth of a children’s picture book.

So when trump threatened that the United States needed to “own” Greenland, those words were mostly sound effect in order to get some response. Distraction. Concern. Fear. 

The problem, of course, is that when the President of the United States speaks, words must be taken seriously regardless of intent. The office may have lost its moral authority under trump, but it still wields real power. And if the goal is simply to be taken seriously, as it is for trump, then any words will do—especially alarming ones. Exaggeration has more impact, which is why trump exaggerates constantly. Being feared or obeyed feels good to him precisely because, at some level, he knows he is not a serious person.

This creates the central paradox of the trump era: how do you take an unserious man seriously because he occupies a serious position?

The media’s solution has been to invent meaning where none exists. Pundits and analysts “interpret” his statements, construct plausible strategic rationales, and translate incoherent ranting into policy signals. This process—often called sane-washing—is not only misleading, it is counterproductive. It treats nonsense as strategy and impulse as intention.

Trump’s words should be understood by their effects, not their meanings. And effects are determined not by the speaker’s intention, but by the audience’s response. That shifts agency back to us.

Predictably, trump then trapped himself. By declaring he would get Greenland “one way or another,” he destroyed any chance of negotiated cooperation. If you were Denmark, would you agree to increased U.S. military presence knowing the Commander in Chief openly questioned your sovereignty? Having dismissed Denmark’s ownership outright, trump made trust impossible. Any concession would be reckless.

Did he mean any of it? Almost certainly not. But meaninglessness cuts both ways. Words without meaning also produce agreements without meaning. Negotiation with a bad-faith actor like trump is futile, or worse, dangerous.

There is no Greenland deal. There is no framework. There is only face-saving language and a gradual dissipation of an “urgent security concern” that never existed beyond the moment it was uttered. Trump will forget it entirely and move on to the next impulse, the next public distraction.

The rest of us will not. Because unlike him, we still believe words matter. And when words are emptied of meaning by those in power, the damage does not vanish with them. It accumulates—quietly, corrosively—until communication itself begins to fail.

And then we are left, like the song asks, wondering what words are for anymore.

Serial Killer

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My father was a serial killer 

but I loved him, anyway.

You wouldn't know it 

from seeing him every day;

his double-life.

Came home from work after 6,

plopped down in his La-Z-boy

with a glass of Crown Royal - two fingers

and exactly three cubes of ice -

in front of the six-thirty news.

Cursed the screen: Nixon, Vietnam,

the high price of gas. 

Checked the TV Guide for who the Habs

were playing on Saturday. 

I sat at his feet, while mother

cooked dinner in the kitchen, shepherd's pie.

She knew, was in denial, 

or maybe hiding his secret.

Next morning, the alarm

set to talk-radio, he'd half-listen

for reports of his victims

from the previous night,

while he tied his perfect Windsor knot

in front of the mirror, a real expert.

His Old Spice was part

of the cover-up.

That smell always ruined 

the taste of my Corn Flakes.

Then he'd slip out of the house,

without a word.

I watched mother clean up the mess,

and looked for evidence. 

Stains on clothes, or shoes. 

A missing table knife. 

But he was too clever.

She kept a tidy house, took the garbage out

in large Glad bags. Laundry was washed 

and folded into neat little squares. 

  

Like I say, I suspect 

she was in on it.

I fear I might carry

the serial killer gene too.

Everybody's Takin Pictures

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They’re takin pictures at the zoo,

They’re takin pictures of their shoes.

They're takin pictures at the museum,

They're takin pictures of pictures so others can see'em.

They say they're worth a thousand words,

But it’s gotten so absurd,

Everybody’s takin pictures.

They're takin pictures of toned abs,

They're takin pictures to show that they've lost their flab. 

They're takin pictures of different body parts,

The pictures are filtered and edited to look perfect as art.

They say they're worth a thousand words...

They're takin pictures of expensive gifts, 

They're takin pictures to give others jealous fits.

They takin pictures of babies plump as fruit,

So others will say, "Oooh she's so cute!"

They say they're worth a thousand words...

They're takin pictures of wild pets,

Pictures that seem impossible to get.

They're takin pictures of dogs cuddling cats,

They takin pictures of this and pictures of that.

They say they're worth a thousand words...

They're takin pictures of celebrities they claim to meet,

They're takin pictures of food too pretty to eat.

They're takin pictures of meals they just ate,

To show the world it tasted great.

They say they're worth a thousand words...

They're takin pictures of sunsets at the beach,

They're takin pictures of places you dream to reach.

They're takin pictures of events, scenes that are staged,

They're takin pictures for laughs, and pictures to enrage.

They say they're worth a thousand words...

They're takin pictures to show you're on top of your game,

Pictures so everyone wishes they were the same.

They're takin pictures to upload to the cloud,

Pictures that scream "Look at me!" to a digital crowd.

They say they're worth a thousand words,

Now it’s gotten so absurd,

Everybody’s takin pictures.

Making China Great Again

We’re watching it happen in real time: middle powers are quietly recalibrating away from the United States and edging closer to China.

Yesterday, Canada announced a renewed trade and diplomatic relationship with Beijing. As part of the agreement, Canada will lower tariff barriers on up to 49,000 Chinese electric vehicles from 100% to 6.1% in the initial phase—returning rates to their pre-2024 level. Those punitive tariffs were imposed by the former Trudeau government largely to mirror U.S. penalties. Ottawa is now signaling that automatic alignment with Washington no longer comes at any price.

In return, China will lift tariffs on Canadian agricultural and aquacultural exports, including seafood and canola—trade benefits estimated at nearly $3 billion annually. And this appears to be only the opening move.

Not long ago, this would have been unthinkable. Canada’s relationship with China was deeply strained after the 2018 arrest of Huawei CFO Meng Wanzhou in Vancouver, carried out at the request of the United States. Beijing responded by detaining two Canadian citizens, Michael Kovrig and Michael Spavor, in what was widely understood as retaliation. Although both men were released in 2021, relations never truly recovered.

So what changed?

Trump 2.0 happened.

More bullying. More belligerence. More unpredictability. Explicit threats to Canadian economic and political sovereignty. A United States increasingly willing to discard trade agreements, undermine security alliances, and treat even its closest partners as disposable. And wherever the U.S. retreats—or simply becomes unreliable—China is prepared to fill the space.

America’s traditional allies aren’t waiting to see how U.S. domestic politics resolves itself. They are rebuilding their militaries, reinforcing regional security arrangements that intentionally exclude Washington, and forging new trade relationships with partners they believe will honor commitments. For better or worse, China increasingly fits that role.

This has triggered an uncomfortable reassessment across the so-called free world. Have we been sold a simplified story about China? Does it truly matter, in strictly geopolitical terms, that it is a one-party state with different cultural values? Is it the responsibility of middle powers to enforce human-rights norms abroad—especially when their primary ally now routinely violates international law, tears up agreements, and treats norms as optional?

None of this is an argument that China is benign. It is authoritarian. It suppresses dissent. It commits grave abuses against minorities. These facts are real, documented, and morally troubling.

But geopolitics is not a moral seminar. States do not choose partners based on virtue; they choose them based on predictability, reciprocity, and self-interest. And here is the uncomfortable truth many governments are arriving at: China is often more transactional, more consistent, and more disciplined in honoring agreements than the United States has become.

What we are witnessing fits a familiar historical pattern. Dominant powers enter a phase of excess—overreach abroad, polarization at home, contempt for institutions, personalization of power. Eventually, allies hedge. Rivals consolidate. The system adapts around the declining center.

The United States is now deep in that excess phase. Trump is not the cause so much as the accelerant. Each threat, each broken alliance, each act of unilateral coercion hastens America’s relative decline and China’s ascent. Power is not being seized by Beijing so much as abandoned by Washington.

This reversal would have seemed unimaginable within my lifetime. Yet it is now unfolding in plain sight—not because China has changed dramatically, but because the United States has.