"If we remembered all the artists, we'd be up to our neck in rubbish."

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"I left Google to study neuroscience, and what I found in the research literature helps explain why the A.I. summary poses a danger to learning."

"Curiosity, it turns out, is not just an individual’s desire to find out discrete facts; it’s also a feature of our biology designed to help us learn more broadly. And it requires a specific condition: a gap between what you want to know and what you find out. Researchers have found that people in a state of curiosity, while waiting for an answer to an intriguing question, remember unrelated information they encounter during that time far better than they otherwise would. In that same study, the researchers also placed those people in brain scanners. They found that waiting for an answer activates reward circuits in the brain and readies the hippocampus to help form new memories.... Curiosity opens a window, and while the window is open, learning deepens across the board.... Our technology is increasingly treating the territory between the query and the answer as dead space to be eliminated, when that territory is where most of the learning actually happens. The danger is not that people will stop asking questions. It is that questions will become endpoints...."

Writes Anne-Laure Le Cunff, "a neuroscientist who studies curiosity," in "We Are Losing the Ability to Discover What We Didn’t Know to Ask" (NYT).

Intriguing questions that popped up for me: 1. What kind of name is "Le Cunff"? 2. "The danger is not.../It is..." seems to be one of those things — like em dashes and the word "delve" — that A.I. tends to write, so did Le Cunff use A.I. to write this essay?

Answers: 1. It means "the gentle," "the affable," or "the debonnaire." 2. It's a rhetorical device that A.I. has learned from real human writers, and real human writers don't need to avoid it, they just, as always, need to use it well, which, in this case, Le Cunff did. 

"Skipping meetings and sending an A.I. note taker instead has been called 'the latest office power move.'"

"Wallet-size recorders that use A.I. to log live interactions have become a product category.... A.I.-generated transcripts... preserve all sorts of things — offhand comments, quickly corrected statements, jokes — that humans would rarely write in the meeting minutes.... In a lawsuit or an investigation, that can make every word uttered discoverable. Even worse, say corporate lawyers: Sharing the meeting with an A.I. bot may void attorney-client privilege.... [Another] concern is accuracy. An A.I. transcript could, for example, record 'does matter' as 'doesn’t matter.' If that sentence comes up in court years later, the mistake may be difficult to remember. Corporate lawyers also worry about A.I. note takers’ lack of context and discretion. For example, recording every word of a board meeting, no matter how tangential the remark, could be legally perilous...."

From "All Those A.I. Note Takers? They’re Making Lawyers Very Nervous. A trendy productivity hack, A.I. note takers are capturing every joke and offhand comment in many meetings. They could also potentially waive attorney-client privilege" (NYT).

Human memory is also not perfect. Who remembers old conversations and can testify about them with verbatim accuracy? And yet we've relied on frail humans all these years. 

The anachronistic yoga mat.

Via Instapundit, I'm reading this X post by John Ziegler, who makes many good criticpoints, and I'm only extracting one:

The @nytimes is being lavished with praise by the virtue-signaling brigade, but there are very basic problems with their Cesar Chavez story… 

One of the VERY few details in the two claims of child sex abuse from the early 1970s includes the key use of a 'yoga mat,' but yoga mats were not even a thing until at least 10 years, and possibly 20 years, later

Is it true there weren't things called yoga mats in the 1970s in California? I asked Grok. Answer:

Time only seems to go faster when you’re older because of the way your memory works. Does that mean you should seek out novelty?

Interesting: Here is the reason that as you get older, entire years feel like a week: 🙇‍♂️ pic.twitter.com/V6spUNMrFT

— AlphaFox (@alphafox) January 4, 2026

Assuming he's right about that, I don't jump to agree that one ought to seek out novelty. I'm thinking:

1. There is no problem to be solved. You experience your life in the present in real time. It only looks compressed in your memory. You're not being deprived of time in which to live. You're just freed from detailed memory.

2. Even though novelties would cause your memory to seem to contain more time spent doing the things you have done, you can always find more detail within your familiar activities.

ChatGPT has been watching me, collecting what it can of my thoughts, and today, it serves it up to me — as if it's cool fun and compliments — as "Your Year With ChatGPT."

Here's what I saw at the bottom of the screen when I went to ChatGPT:

Admittedly, I clicked "Try it," so I suspect that there was no profile of me until I asked for it. That black oval is like the "Eat me" cookie in "Alice in Wonderland." I didn't have to click on it.

First, I got a poem supposedly about me, but skip that. The next screen was my "3 big themes." These are just for my use of ChatGPT in a browser on my desktop, mostly while I was involved in blogging. I got a different report on my iPhone ChatGPT app, where I never blog. I work through various off-blog problems and fancies. And even on the desktop, I use Grok more that ChatGPT. So there are other "me"s. Anyway, here's this thing purporting to know me:

I was given an award that reflects the me that I am when immersed in blogging:

Am I the only one who remembers Willie the Worm?

That is a puppet show — on WCAU Philadelphia — that got started in 1950. I myself got started in 1950, in Texas, of all places, but I emerged in January 1951, in the Philadelphia television market, so I had the great good fortune to encounter this simple worm character when I was young enough to get the sense that he was important and well-loved.

It must have been more than a half century since Willie the Worm crossed my mind, but my memory was jogged yesterday as I was walking through the neighborhood with Meade, and we stopped to look at an elaborate yard display that had a sign with the lyric "Whisper words of wisdom" from the Beatles' song "Let It Be." The painted letters were a bit blobby and misshapen, and Meade read it as "Whisper worms of wisdom." My memory whispered the name of that worm of wisdom: "Willie."

I'm so touched to find video of my long-lost childhood friend, the puppet Willie the Worm. But let me acknowledge 2 other Willies the Worm:

"I love this style of clue, where even if you don't know the exact trivia (I've never heard of the band or the song) you can puzzle it out based on the context."

Writes Malika, at Rex Parker Does the NY Times Crossword Puzzle.

Here's the clue: "Girl in Jefferson Airplane's 'White Rabbit.'"

One day everything new will be old, and one day everything will be forgotten. 

I remember a blog post from December 6, 2021 titled "I remember...."

I remember it began: "I remember something made me read this old blog post of mine, from 2013, when I had a little project going where I'd take one sentence from 'The Great Gatsby' and present it for discussion.... The sentence of the day was 'I remember the fur coats of the girls returning from Miss This-or-That’s and the chatter of frozen breath and the hands waving overhead as we caught sight of old acquaintances, and the matchings of invitations: 'Are you going to the Ordways'? the Herseys'? the Schultzes'?' and the long green tickets clasped tight in our gloved hands.'"

I'm looking back at that post because I just did a search of my archive for "Brainard," because I'm reading a new article in The New Yorker, by Joshua Rothman, "What Do You Remember? The more you explore your own past, the more you find there" and it begins: "Last year, for my birthday, my wife gave me a copy of 'I Remember,' an unusual memoir by the artist Joe Brainard. It’s a tidy little book, less than two hundred pages long, made entirely from short, often single-sentence paragraphs beginning with the words 'I remember.'"

Writing about that "Gatsby" sentence, I'd said: "Things remembered: fur coats, chatter, hands waving, matchings of invitations, and long green tickets. These remembered things give the reader a sense of the incompletely delineated human beings.... This is a mass of faceless humanity, cluttered with hands, waving and clasping.... " And a commenter, gadfly, said: "Althouse is doing her Joe Brainard, 'I Remember' schtick - but she can't top the master." He quoted Brainard's book, and it was obviously my kind of thing — very sentence-y. I immediately read it. I'll read it again, now that I'm reminded of it.

But what is Joshua Rothman saying about it?

"I am very sorry. I didn’t mean to. But I really don’t know. I don’t know what happened, but I’m very sorry for that woman."

Said Sebastian Zapeta-Calil, 33, quoted in "Man Charged in Subway Burning Says He Was Drunk and Remembers Nothing/Sebastian Zapeta-Calil, confronted with video of the immolation of Debrina Kawam, told detectives he was blackout drunk at the time. He pleaded not guilty to murder on Tuesday" (NYT).

“Sometimes when I drink and erase the memory and I don’t know,” he told investigators. “When I wake up, I’m already in the house, already sleeping. I wake up when I’m already at home. Or there are times when I wake up and I’m already at the train station.”...

As his interrogation wound down later that day, investigators at the 60th Precinct station house in Brooklyn showed him the grisly video of Ms. Kawam’s death. They asked him: Did he recognize the man setting her on fire?

“Oh, damn,” Mr. Zapeta-Calil replied. “That’s me.”

Zapeta-Calil was in the country illegally and housed in a shelter. He'd been deported in 2018.

"I've always have loved good tunes. And my dad played them on his piano... My cousin Betty introduced me to 'My Funny Valentine.'"

"I loved sort of classic pieces that I would hear. I would love ‘Cheek to Cheek,' Fred Astaire, all these things. I just thought, these are classics.... Heaven, I'm in heaven.... So, I had a lot of information in my head of those tunes.... People have said to me, do you believe in magic? And I say, I have to 'cause of that song.... I think I'd loaded my computer so strongly with 'Cheek to Cheek,' 'Stardust,' 'When I Fall in Love,' with these beautiful songs, I'd heard all my childhood. I mean, I can still remember standing in the kitchen of Forthlin Road and hearing 'When I Fall in Love' by Nat King Cole as I was reaching for an HP bottle and thinking, my God, this is good.... So, you know, that's all I can think is that all of that data — to use modern terminology — had gone into my very sophisticated computer. The human brain, right? Had jumbled up, done all this sort of stuff. And somehow as the dream, it just, it tumbled out this song."

Said Paul McCartney, in the "Yesterday" episode of the "Life in Lyrics" podcast. 

I had to look up HP. My own "computer" is full of A1 and Heinz 57. HP is in the British mind. "HP Sauce is a British brown sauce... named after London's Houses of Parliament."

What sauce is splattered on your magical dreams?

"[O]blivion is restorative: we come apart in order to come back together. (Sleep is a case in point; without a nightly suspension of our rational faculties, we go nuts.)"

"Another is the notion that oblivion is integral to the possibility of personal evolution. 'The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning,' Foucault writes. To do so, however, you must believe that the future can be different from the past—a belief that becomes harder to sustain when one is besieged by information, as the obsessive documentation of life makes it 'more fixed, more factual, with less ambiguity and life-giving potentiality.' Oblivion, by setting aside a space for forgetting, offers a refuge from this 'excess of memory,' and thus a standpoint from which to imagine alternative futures. Oblivion is also essential for human dignity. Because we cannot be fully known, we cannot be fully instrumentalized. Immanuel Kant urged us to treat others as ends in themselves, not merely as means.... [O]ur obscurities are precisely what endow us with a sense of value that exceeds our usefulness.... The modernist city promised anonymity, reinvention. The Internet is devoid of such pleasures. It is more like a village: a place where your identity is fixed...."

Writes Ben Tarnoff, in "What Is Privacy For? We often want to keep some information to ourselves. But information itself may be the problem" (The New Yorker).

The article is mostly about the book "The Right to Oblivion: Privacy and the Good Life," by Lowry Pressly (commission earned).

ADDED: Here, I made you an "Oblivion" playlist:

"If writing requires a person to store information using multiple types of working memory at the same time..."

"... then back-and-forth conversations with ChatGPT may provide moments of respite, by temporarily offloading some of this information.... So even seemingly unproductive interactions might provide the subtle benefit of increasing your over-all writing stamina. Collaborating with A.I. can also offer you a high-tech 'shitty first draft,' allowing you to spend more time editing bad text and less time trying to craft good text from scratch. ChatGPT is not so much writing for you as generating a mental state that helps you produce better writing.... A.I. isn’t writing on our behalf, but neither is it merely supporting us while we write from scratch; it sits somewhere in between. In this way, it is both on the spectrum of writing hacks and rituals and also, in some sense, beyond it. This helps to explain our discomfort with the technology. We’re used to writers moving to a quiet location or using a special pen to help get their creative juices flowing. We’re not yet used to the idea that they might chat with a computer program to release cognitive strain, or ask the program for a rough draft to help generate mental momentum...."

Writes Cal Newport, in "What Kind of Writer Is ChatGPT? Chatbots have been criticized as perfect plagiarism tools. The truth is more surprising" (The New Yorker).

Struggling to write the final line to his essay, Newport asked ChatGPT. It offered: "In the end, the true value of tools like ChatGPT lies not in making academic work easier, but in empowering students to engage more deeply with their ideas and express them with greater confidence."

I quoted that last line and asked ChatGPT to write a 1 or 2 sentence blog post reacting to it. I got: "This perspective highlights the transformative potential of tools like ChatGPT, not as shortcuts, but as catalysts for deeper intellectual engagement and self-expression. Embracing technology in this way can truly empower students to explore their ideas with newfound confidence and creativity."

Bleh.

"Commit great poems to heart, starting with those by Gerard Manley Hopkins and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Recite them aloud on solitary walks."

"Recite them aloud on solitary walks. Compose dirty limericks in your head. Read more for pleasure, less for purpose. Read, immediately, Marguerite Yourcenar’s 'Memoirs of Hadrian.' Imitate the writers or artists you most admire; you’ll find your own voice and style in all the ways your imitation falls short. Don’t post self-indulgent glam shots of yourself on Instagram, and please stop photographing your damn meals... Make only enough money so that you don’t have to think about it much.... Never join a cause if you aren’t fully familiar with the argument against it. Heed the words of Rabbi Hillel: 'Where there are no men, be thou a man.' Or woman...."

Says Bret Stephens, recounting what he said in a commencement address, in a conversation with Gail Collins, in the NYT.

Collins reacts: "That’s pretty damn good.... But I’m not going to go so far as to suggest student protesting is a bad or silly idea." Yeah, I guess students are never fully familiar with the argument against their cause.

"There is forgetting and there is Forgetting. If you’re over the age of 40..."

"... you’ve most likely experienced the frustration of trying to grasp hold of that slippery word hovering on the tip of your tongue. Colloquially, this might be described as ‘forgetting,’ but most memory scientists would call this 'retrieval failure,' meaning that the memory is there, but we just can’t pull it up when we need it. On the other hand, Forgetting (with a capital F) is when a memory is seemingly lost or gone altogether. Inattentively conflating the names of the leaders of two countries would fall in the first category, whereas being unable to remember that you had ever met the president of Egypt would fall into the latter...."

From "Biden Seems Forgetful, but That Doesn’t Mean He Is 'Forgetting'" by Charan Ranganath (NYT). Ranganath, a professor of psychology and neuroscience, is the author of the "Why We Remember: Unlocking Memory’s Potential to Hold on to What Matters."

So... the idea is that Biden is forgetting but not Forgetting. 

I noticed something else while reading this article, something that I thought Ranganath was going to talk about but did not. He quotes the famous line from the Special Counsel's report:

"I was so determined to give the special counsel what they needed that I went forward with five hours of in-person interviews over two days on Oct. 8 and 9 of last year..."

"... even though Israel had just been attacked on Oct. 7 and I was in the middle of handling an international crisis. I just believed that’s what I owed the American people.”

Said President Biden's written statement, quoted in "Special Counsel’s Report Puts Biden’s Age and Memory in the Spotlight/After an inquiry concluded that President Biden was 'well-meaning' but had 'a poor memory,' he angrily fired back in an attempt at political damage control" (NYT).

And president’s lawyers wrote: "It is hardly fair to concede that the president would be asked about events years in the past, press him to give his ‘best’ recollections and then fault him for his limited memory. The president’s inability to recall dates or details of events that happened years ago is neither surprising nor unusual."

It seems that President Biden can't remember how to say "Hamas."

"... I’ve watched a trend on parenting TikTok and Instagram in which parents claim to be 'making core memories' for their kids."

"These captions typically accompany vacation or holiday content, or pictures and videos of kids playing in nature. The core-memories narrative is a roundabout way for parents to congratulate themselves for giving their children happy childhoods. This trend has held my attention because it strikes me as both openly corny and subtly malignant.... Today’s parents are famous for their instincts to control and engineer outcomes for their children, but it’s supremely hubristic to assume that you can stage-manage the content of your children’s memories.... Kids are mysterious, which is part of what makes them cool. What’s important to them is not what’s important to us. (I highly doubt either of my parents noticed the apple jelly that transfixed me in New Orleans.)..."

Writes Kathryn Jezer-Morton, in "Why Are Parents Fixated on Core Memories?" (NY Magazine).

"This is not the first midcentury, middle-America food craze to find new life online: Jell-O molds, 1970s-era desserts and 1970s-themed dinner parties..."

"... have all made unexpected comebacks. That’s all 'packaged-food cuisine' born of the hyper-consumerism of the 1950s.... For some, the box mixes and cans — triumphs of postwar prosperity — are a rosy portal to an imagined 'simpler time' of family dinners and easy living. 'That is nostalgia for America,' she said. 'That is our national comfort food.'"

From "Watergate Salad Makes a Comeback/The 1970s-era dish made with pistachio pudding mix, canned pineapple and mini marshmallows has caught the curious eye of the TikTok generation" (NYT).

It's absurd that something embodying nostalgia for a lost culture should bear the name "Watergate." But the nostalgia is felt by young people today, who don't mind mixing the 50s, 60s, and 70s together, not like us Boomers who think the early 60s, mid-60s, and late 60s were distinctly different eras and have long indulged in the deep, mystic belief that the first few years of the 70s were the real 60s.

And maybe there is nostalgia for the Watergate scandal. Maybe it seems poignant and delicate compared to the scandals of today... and even for Nixon. My son Chris — who is reading a biography of each American President — texted me about Nixon recently — somewhat jocosely — "Nixon is underrated. He was liberal!/Got more done for progressive causes than democrats do today." 

Anyway, the nostalgia for lost mid-century America is about far more than food. There's a sense that people lived more rewarding, warm, and loving lives back then. Here's something I saw on TikTok the other day. Let me know how it made you feel or, better yet, if you are not young, show it to someone young and ask them how it makes them feel:

"'What brought you here?' I asked. 'What brought me here?' The man paused. 'Hmm. I don’t know.'..."

"'He remembers,' [said Timothy Doherty, a senior officer specialist at F.M.C. Devens, which houses federal prisoners who require medical care]. Then he told me that the white-haired man had raped his granddaughter. Later, I wondered how much it should matter whether the old man remembered what he did. And what if he remembered sometimes, but not other times? Many people with dementia exist in a kind of middle ground of partial comprehension, or have memories that surface and then disappear. 'We get into difficult metaphysical questions about personhood here,' said Jeffrey Howard, a professor of political philosophy and public policy at University College London, when I told him about my conversation with the white-haired man. 'But you might think that there are two versions of the man: One of them deserves the punishment, and the other doesn’t. In order to punish the version of him that deserves it, you have to take along this hostage for the ride. It’s hard to see how that sort of collateral damage could be justified.'"

Writes Katie Engelhart in "I Visited the Men Who Live Behind Bars and Can’t Remember Where They Are," about prisoners with dementia.

ADDED: Elsewhere in the article, about a different prisoner, we hear that "his disease leaves him sexually disinhibited," so I don't see how the inability — or purported inability — to remember the rape supports freeing the man. But that's not what the article argues. It ends: