These days, with entertainment sometimes so blatant in its messaging, about as subtle as a brick to the face, I find the 1982 song Goodnight Saigon by Billy Joel beautifully refreshing. The song describes the experiences of American soldiers in the Vietnam War without making an overtly political statement.
We had no home front
We had no soft soap
They sent us Playboy
They gave us Bob Hope
We dug in deep
And shot on sight
And prayed to Jesus Christ
With all of our might
Rolling Stone music critic Dave Marsh once wrote that the song is “obscene” because it “refuses to take sides.” I dare say he's missing the point. I have an opinion about the Vietnam War, too, but I don't need to hear that opinion parroted back to me. Yes, validation can be immensely gratifying, but no man's land is much more interesting.
As a rule of thumb, I try not to get worked up about people I haven't met in real life. “Supporters of Political Candidate Want Toast Banned,” a headline might read. Well, I've never met anyone in the real world who wants toast banned. Until I do, I'm not going to worry about it.
Of course it's important to notice and criticize bad ideas before they take hold. At the same time, with social media and the lazy, clickbait journalism it fuels, every bad idea now has a moment in the reactionary spotlight, and most will never affect much. Let's focus on the big problems of the day, the ones we'd notice with or without sensationalism.
A film’s need to entertain has obscured the reality about change. Montages set an expectation that personal transformations are practically microwaveable; just find the right mentor, find the right program, make the perfect plan, do it a few times, and you’ll reach your goal. I call this the montage fallacy.
[…]
The truth to personal transformation is much more boring—and ugly—than a montage will let on. You show up every day. You mostly make small gains, and experience the occasional leap—and persevere through setbacks. You have to choose the things you prioritize, which means you’ll decide to give up things you want to do.
Certainty is impossible. Show me someone who's certain, and I'll show you someone who's underinformed.
Am I guilty of overconfidence in my views? Of course. I think many people are. It's something I'd like to continually, imperfectly correct for, however.
I created some chatbots which pretend to be historical figures. They respond to messages based on the knowledge, values, and personality of the people they represent. To use one, simply click its link and follow the on-screen instructions. None of the money currently goes to me.
I'm sure there will be hiccups, as there always are, but I'm proud of them. I think they'll be especially useful in education. What better way to learn than by talking to the topic of one's studies?
The GPTs are built on top of ChatGPT and will launch with the GPT Store some time this week. To use them, one must sign up for ChatGPT Plus, which currently costs $20/mo. None of that money goes to me, and there's currently no way for me to charge an additional fee to use one of my GPTs. OpenAI may adopt a revenue-sharing model in the future, but it hasn't been rolled out yet. I have opinions on that (“Let's make the marketplace less like the App Store and more like Spotify!”” —No publisher ever), but there isn't much I can do about it right now. If I become annoyed enough by the enshittification, I'll consider removing my GPTs in protest. Besides, I don't honestly expect I'll make much money (or any money) doing this. It's just fun.
I have to share credit with my dad, who expressed an interest in chatting with an AI version of Abraham Lincoln. Now it's possible! I'm sure I'll add more historical figures in the future, so keep an eye out. When the GPT store launches, perhaps you'll be able to search my name or otherwise search for GPTs made by me.
edit (2025-12-15): I could move these personalities to character.ai, but given what I've heard about the platform, and given its fairly negative reputation overall, I don't want to support them.
“You can't connect the dots looking forward, you can only connect them looking backwards… Believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart even when it leads you off the well-worn path, and that will make all the difference.””
“If you take on a role that’s beyond your capabilities, you not only disgrace yourself in that one, but you’ve also passed up the role that you were capable of performing well.”
—The Enchiridion of Epictetus, as newly translated by Robin Waterfield in The Complete Works