Go Forth & Automate (LinkedIn Post)

{ I messed this one up, and it auto-posted without an actual post to go along with it. We learn … here’s the actual post on LI }

I saw this piece on AI in The Workplace in 2026 on Quartz, and then Judith Katz sent me the summary.

It’s a decent piece, nothing earth-shattering. The general point is that AI will help mid-level managers by handling routine tasks, freeing them up for more creative, human-centric activities. And that may even be true for some folks.

But it made me think of two points that are almost always absent from these discussions.

First, there is an under-appreciation of the amount of slop these systems will inevitably create. By slop, I am referring not just to hallucinations, but also to the mediocre, vaguely inaccurate, meaningless output that forms, say, the bottom 25% of what we get from LLMs. It’s someone’s job to improve / moderate / weed out this content, and, unfortunately, it is work that, if ignored, tends only to compound the problem.

Second, and this may be the more relevant insight, the article, like so much of the discourse I see, uses the term AI in a very inconsistent, very fluid way. Time and time again, the most successful, most compelling implementations covered by the AI umbrella are actually automation efforts, often with an LLM-fueled presentation layer at the end. These are not LLM interactions, they are algorithmic automation with a nice language layer to interact with.

Why does this matter?

Because automation challenges are solvable. Automation challenges are definable. Automation challenges are testable, reproducible, and measurable.

Automation challenges are also, usually, decidedly unsexy. They lack the glamor of the AI conversation, they don’t generate billions of dollars in angel investments, and they seem very distant from the sense of wonder so many feel at LLM based interactions.

So, sure, we may need to position our automation efforts as AI as part of an organizational political strategy, and we may need that LLM-fueled interface to build stakeholder enthusiasm. And we can even add our successes to a variety of arcane ROI calculations as part of a larger AI initiative.

The distinction matters because the practical skills that are needed for success in automation efforts are not fully congruent with those needed for AI/LLM implementations. There is overlap, of course, but I wonder if this sits at the center of the struggles I see in organizations generating real-world traction in their AI (but really automation) efforts: the teams they assemble lack the right skills partially because nobody is presenting, with extreme clarity, what the actual work in front of them is.

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In My Rush to be Right, I Forgot to be Useful (LinkedIn Post)

{ Another entry from LinkedIn. Post here, full article here. }

We often walk into professional situations and are surprised at how technology has been implemented. This is the norm if we’re consultants, but it happens equally often on internal teams–you are tasked with collaboration with another team or to resolve a particular long-standing challenge and, maybe 20% into learning about it, the dominant reaction is, wait, y’all did what?

These very common, head-scratching moments where we just cannot understand how someone made those particular decisions are often-missed opportunities. And are often the root cause of hundreds of hours of wasted time and money.

This is all a little abstract, and I apologize for that, but I have seen this pattern in so many different parts of the technology world–software development, process refactoring, digital data management, infrastructure configuration, on and on–that I want to talk about it from a more generic perspective.

I was once helping family members move a bed, and began arguing about some minor point of construction or location (I don’t exactly remember). But I suddenly realized that everyone else was holding up the bed, waiting for me to lift my corner. I quickly apologized and said, I’m sorry. In my rush to be right, I forgot to be useful.

And this is similar to what happens in these moments professionally.

It is especially dangerous for consultants. External consultants are incented to very quickly assess, analyze, point out the existing issues, and provide a solution. And in this demand for speed and immediate impact, again and again, the existing context is missed. This leads to the classic challenge with externally-sourced solutions: they are technically correct, but not fitted exactly to the particular contours–the context (that word again)–of the organization.

Context is a key word for my professional practice, as well as the rest of this article: I use it to refer to the larger problem space, including business drivers; multiple levels of stakeholders; and interrelationships and dependencies with other technologies, other bits of code, and other internal and external groups. So, context looks at a very broad picture.

But it’s equally dangerous internally where we often toss our scorn into the gaping maw of we’ve always done it that way, roll our eyes, and either move on or, if we’re honest, try to steamroll our newer, better, more elegant solution through the process. And steamrolling always, always carries a cost.

The crux of the issue is that, most of the time, the current context exists for a reason. Rational actors made rational decisions to create it. Yes, there are occasions where we are tasked with fixing some piece of idiocy, and while that makes us feel good, those circumstances are, in my experience, less common. The original reasons not only shed light on the existing context but, far more importantly, need to inform our new solution.

This leads to one of my professional touchstones: if I cannot articulate, as fully as possible, why something is the way it is, I am not yet in a good position to propose a solution. Or, more positively, your solution needs to address not only what needs to change, but why it needs to change, and you can only say why it needs to change if you understand why it’s the way it is.

And look, most projects eventually get there. But they get there by missing the original context, beginning to implement a solution, having some meeting with a stakeholder where, finally, the lightbulb goes on and they realize why some particular requirement was so important, re-designing their solution, and reworking some of the implementation in light of the new knowledge.

All of which could have been avoided by moving more slowly and more deeply through the context, listening more closely for why the current system exists the way it does.

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Notes on Current AI (LinkedIn Post)

{ I am archiving these here, just because. Here’s the link to the LI Post, and then to the article itself. If you want to engage or amplify the post, please go there! }

{I plan to post occasional thoughts here, ranging from views on technology to leadership to organizational culture change. I hope they are interesting and even occasionally thought-provoking. We’ll start with some thoughts on generative AI.}

I am struck by the (alarmingly?) wide range of views on AI being articulated by people I respect. It’s clearly a very challenging topic to thread the needle on, and, as always, what we see is largely defined by where we stand. Critics gonna’ critique, consultants gonna’ sell, and if your livelihood is perceived as under threat from an emergent technology, that is certainly going to impact your position.

As an instinctive contrarian, I am attracted to people willing to say things that may, on the surface, seem to go against their interests. As such, I hold deep respect for what Devlin Liles is doing at Improving . His short videos about the challenges of successful AI implementation are very smart, very on point, and very useful as cautionary tales.

Clearly, he is implying that Improving is the best partner to overcome these issues (and indeed, they may be), but it is a decidedly different tone than the overselling of the ease and impacts of the usual sales pitch. And the specific obstacles Devlin points out–which boil down, once you move past the specific technical concerns, to scope, expectations, and stakeholder engagement–are well worth considering.

But Improving’s stance is very much focused on the enterprise. And I’m not sure that’s where AI is currently focused. It’s certainly not where the marketing efforts behind AI are aimed. My assumption is that’s because, in general terms, AI is still so, so, so … um … bad. My favorite recent example: I typed Who played LF with Joe DiMaggio into the search bar and, among the answers given were Lou Gehrig (contemporary, not LF) and Paul O’Neill (LF, far from contemporary). This is a pretty easy research question, solved in a few clicks.

The CoPilot app and ChatGPT did pretty well on the question, and the results continue to vary pretty widely, depending on which tool you ask and the specific phrasing of the question. This highlights the core of the challenge: there is a burden on the user to not do the easiest thing to get good results. This is, of course, an opportunity for expertise (that is, the better you are at prompt crafting, the better your results), but it’s an obstacle to common professional adoption.

A more potentially damning example is something I have seen quite often recently:

Candidate is located in Houston, TX, which is relatively close to Bethesda, MD, allowing for feasible commuting or relocation.

Eyebrow raised: Oh, really?

Another data point: I am served ads for CoPilot where the enticing message is … make cartoon versions of me and my Dad, because that will bring us closer. I mean … far be it from me to downplay the generationally healing potential of laughter and joy. But I don’t know that AI art is the avenue to such reconciliation.

Once the AI slop spills out of the bottle, it’s not going back in. But that doesn’t mean we have to drink it. The Oatmeal, as it often does, explores this particular angle–AI and its relationship to artistic creation and art–far better than I could.

What I like about this is the nuance: there are legitimate uses of AI in the creation of art, but they must be approached with great care, and with our eyes open as to the potential costs, both in terms of effectiveness and quality, but also with regards to the ethical price of contributing to the ongoing production of the slop.

As always, tante over at Smashing Frames is incredibly useful in his analysis of AI. His take on Agentic AI–which I am pretty sure Improving would protest strongly–being especially trenchant for those interested in figuring out the true economic (read, corporate: cartoon versions of the family will only ever generate but so much revenue) impact of AI.

Ultimately, tante sees AI, in its current place in the marketplace, as a hype engine, as something that, due to its current limitations, can never actually deliver on its promise and, hence, is constantly forced to produce more promises. Some see this as a definition of a looming AI bubble, but tante intimates that perhaps bubble is the wrong vision: instead, he envisions a massive hamster wheel, where, whenever one generation expires from sprinting at full speed, another hops on to take its place because what is fueling the movement of money right now is the momentum of the wheel, without regard to its output. AI needs to always be promising the next great thing, because the current thing … as we’ve seen, not so great. See his full analysis, but his full archive is worth a deep dive.

Obviously, that cannot last. But it may indeed last long enough for output that is genuinely useful and impactful to rise out of the slop. This is important. What is happening right now is not good. But that doesn’t mean it will never be so. Indeed, the way to avoid an AI driven economic collapse may be for AI to start to deliver–ever so slightly, ever so impactfully–on its constantly evolving promises.

A final perspective. The editors at the magnificent n+1 Foundation recently posted a pro-Luddite screed against AI. It’s entertaining and fun to read and most certainly not wrong. And its takedown of the formulaic I tried AI and This is What I Learned article (which it terms AI and I, which I just love) is borderline brilliant. But it’s also far from right. Waving one’s hands and asking people to Just. Stop. Using. It. is a reaction that is doomed to both mockery and failure. Thick skin can protect against the former, but the latter sticks. See The full post here (warning, long–n+1 is a literary magazine after all).

Still.

Michael Franti, way back in the Spearhead days, once sang, Must everything in life have political ramifications, even taking kids on vacation. And n+1’s point that the real concern over AI should be resource consumption, exploitation, and the continued service of the few against the many is clearly correct.

But the solution to that isn’t to ignore it. You can choose not to reward it (no, CoPilot, I will not be burning resources to see anime versions of my family), but burying one’s head in the sand is a poor tactical choice.

So what to do?

As with all technology, the answer lies in judicious application, in steadfast skepticism of the hype, and in locating where and how the abilities of generative AI may enhance and add ease to life. Everyone’s calculus may differ, and if yours leaves you rejecting it in total due to a resource consumption argument, I think that’s an honorable position. But hold that calculus lightly: its cost will inevitably decrease, and its presence will only increase.

#technology #ai #musings

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Reading Well: Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (2023) is a supernatural thriller set in the burgeoning film industry of late 20th century Mexico City.

The novel revolves around a lifelong friendship that always dances on the edge of (potentially doomed) romance between the female protagonist, who is smart and tough and a little worn down by being a woman in a male-dominated field (audio engineering at the transition from manual to digital methods) and a cynical, man, once a rising star in Mexican cinema, who uses vicious humor as a shield against emotional intimacy. They are friends from childhood, witnessing each others’ various travails, including his career being derailed by a drunken car crash that cost the life of his then-partner. Their banter is witty, cutting, loving, and hurtful all at the same time: you know, like real people with deeply shared histories often are.

The plot is well executed, pulling together various strains of occultism, a Nazi fleeing Germany for Mexico and attempting to achieve immortality, and, above all, the power of film (specifically, yes, that shot on silver nitrate stock) to be a form of magic. I (of course) got a little concerned about the occult dimension, knowing a bit too much about the subject, but Moreno-Garcia does a nice job mixing historically accurate information on the often bizarre Nazi relationship with the occult with the needs of her characters and plot.

The parts that are supposed to be eerie and frightening are, and while you’re pretty sure the protagonist will pull it off in the end, it’s not at all clear how, or at what cost. I don’t think you can ask for much more than that. Sprinkle in some nuance around the economics and cultural role of Mexico City in relation to the USA, and it’s a decent recommendation, even if, for me, the ultimate resolution of the core relationship felt a little too pat.

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Reading Well: The Deep Sky by Yume Kitasei

Yume Kitasei‘s 2023 novel, The Deep Sky, is a welcome addition to the “generation ship” genre, aimed at a YA audience (if the term “generation ship” is unfamiliar, it refers to stories set on spaceships designed for extraordinarily long–usually multi-generational–journeys, most often to new worlds).

The Deep Sky is engaging, thought-provoking, and, if you overlook some relatively obvious flaws in its underlying geopolitical premise, pretty much a delight. The protagonist is full of self-doubt, and struggling to understand why they were offered a spot on the ship in the first place (all of the inhabitants are female, as birthing the next generation en route to humanity’s new home is part of their mission).

The portrayal of mid-and-late-teen female friendship, both on the ship and on flashbacks to the training program back on Earth, is genuine, affecting, and powerful, and the coming-of-age nature of the narrative, while predictable at the widest perspective, is a competent, nicely paced whodunnit.

Recommended for YA readers, especially for those looking for ways into various forms of sci-fi and looking for an alternative to the historical boy/man-ness of the genre.

There are relationships here with Some Desperate Glory as entry points into a different take on sci-fi and with To Shape a Dragon’s Breath in terms of young, feminist (or, at least, proto-feminist) fiction.

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Reading Well: Fallen Gods trilogy by Hannah Kaner

I am a little jealous of people who will get to read Hannah Kaner‘s Fallen Gods Trilogy consecutively. The three volumes are Godkiller (2023), Sunbringer (2024), and Faithbreaker (2025).

Bottom line here, they’re very good.

The trilogy is expansive, centering on a handful of characters involved in, what else, saving the world, in this case from a power-hungry empire that has harnessed the power of a marauding god of fire. Within Kaner’s world, deities prosper from worship, always one of my favorite mechanics, but this has, in the relatively recent history of the world, gotten out of control, leading to the rise of a class of itinerant warriors known as “godkillers.” They’ve earned that sobriquet due to their successful involvement in a prior war aimed at reducing the power of a wide range of deities (most of this success comes from their mastering weapons coated in a particular alloy that is damaging to the gods). Additionally, the central kingdom–the one being invaded–has essentially outlawed/abandoned pretty much all official forms of worship, making the invading force all the more intimidating.

There’s a lot of detail in those sentences, reflecting the nuance of how Kaner creates and explores the world. She also does a good job of making the immediate concerns of her character small enough–they are, in their day-to-day, less focused on saving the world than on surviving their current circumstances or figuring out if so-and-so really likes them.

Our godkiller protagonist is a foul-mouthed, sassy, tough as nails woman who relies on custom prosthetics designed by her wheelchair-bound, mastersmith sister to function in place of her missing leg. Our two other protagonists are a love-tormented, gay, warrior-baker and a young girl who is … well … something unusual within the world. And her pet minor god, to whom she is tethered.

So, wide and deep representation, and a ton of creativity in finding ways to embed our lead characters in a wider context.

There’s a lot going on, which is part of what maintains interest and momentum through the three books. In general, though, it’s a romp, full of fast-moving adventure, characters you care about, and an underlying message around found family (and even occasional biological family) that is connective and even uplifting.

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Reading Well: The Priory of the Orange Tree and A Day of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon

About the same time I finished Samantha Shannon‘s 2019 novel, The Priory of the Orange Tree, I decided to wait to publish things on Reading Well until series of books were complete (or, at least, as complete as current information allowed). As such, I have waited until now, having finished Shannon’s 2023 prequel, A Day of Fallen Night, to post a review of the two books.

Just when I think I understand how fantasy is marketed in the early 21st century, something surprises me. In this case, it’s that both of these novels were released as extremely hefty, single volumes. Clocking in at just shy of 900 pages, I would have expected each of them to be released as a duology at minimum, if not a trilogy.

These are fun reads, not terribly complicated, but certainly very, very deeply immersive. They are as much (explicitly queer-friendly) romance epics as fantasy epics, which will make them significantly more or less appealing to different readers. The world is nicely realized, if a mite predictable, and, in each novel, the handful of primary narrators are sufficiently separate, both in perspective and plot, to hold your interest throughout. The protagonists encompass a nice range of types–from the emerging adolescent to the height-of-her-powers leader to the wizened and mysterious elder, and many points in between. That helps separate Shannon’s work from the very popular “cohort’s journey,” which I enjoyed.

Both novels focus on a world in imminent danger, caught in an eternal conflict between humans and a particular strain of unimaginably destructive dragons. The world is (perhaps overly) neatly divided culturally and especially in the framing of the relationship between humans and dragons (in the East, dragons are worshipped and even ridden; in the west, they are feared and hunted). All of that is a little too pat, but it holds together.

Now comes the weird part: I don’t know which book I would recommend to start with. I enjoyed A Day of Fallen Night more, and it is the prequel. So I would probably start there. However, I wonder if knowing the plot of The Priory of the Orange Tree contributed to my increased enjoyment of the “second” novel. I think it’s just as likely a reflection of the author’s growth in skill and comfort: A Day of Fallen Night is more nuanced, more subtle, than Priory, and the world-building feels a little more connected, less rigidly constructed.

If your wrists can support the heft of the books, recommended.

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Reading Well: Lilith’s Brood by Octavia Butler

{ This is hilarious. I actually wrote about Lilith’s Brood way back in 2016, but hadn’t remembered that when I re-read them with a good friend recently. So, yeah. Here’s the original write up. It’s different, and I’m intrigued by how my voices has changed in these things over the last near-decade. Anyhow, since I had already written this, I figured I’d post it as well. }

I don’t have a ton to say about these books: they are absolute fundamental within the genre, brilliant treatises on potential alien contact, and deeply affecting.

Go. Read. Them.

Lilith’s Brood refers to the combined publication of a trio of novels by Octavia Butler, originally released 1 per year from 1987 to 1989: Dawn, Adulthood Rites, and Imago. Each are relatively short, more novellas than novels, making the single volume combination the way to go. The trilogy follows, across 3 generations (although that may not be quite the right term, given the alien physiology and reproductive patterns) of interactions between the remaining inhabitants of Earth and a deeply, fundamentally, often incomprehensibly alien race.

The opening 50ish pages of Dawn may be among the finest openings to an alternative fiction narrative ever written.

Go. Read. Them.

Butler’s conception of the aliens is the key to the books: they are totally different from us, even to the point of being immediately repulsive to humans, often deeply manipulative, and possessing an ethics that only partially intersect with humanity’s concerns. Butler not only confronts the notion that if we do encounter aliens, of course we’ll want to have sex with them, but makes that a central pillar of the relationship between the species. So, that may or may not make the book more or less intriguing to you.

There are issues with the books: the secondary human characters are a bit under developed, and the core emotional (and sexual) moral issues that permeate the narrative remain unanswered. The latter, of course, is a feature as much as a bug: it is rare that alternative fiction makes us think and question things, in addition to quickly turning pages late at night in a desire to finish the chapter.

The highest recommendation, especially for Dawn. If you like it, you’ll like the other 2, but you should read Dawn, for sure.

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Reading Well: Celine by Peter Heller

In my writeup of Peter Heller‘s The Last Ranger, I wrote

Heller’s gifts are in his descriptions of the natural world and in his explorations of alternate modes of contemporary masculinity, and both are on full display in The Last Ranger.

His 2017 novel, Celine, is mostly set among the National Parks of the Midwest, so the former is on full display. But the protagonist–a first for me in the four novels I’ve read by him (Dog Star was before Reading Well existed, The Painter was the first entry in the series, and my comments on The River are here)–is not a middle-aged man, wrestling with some fair bit of alienation, but rather a female senior citizen who occasionally needs oxygen for her emphysema.

She’s also a crack shot with any firearm she finds, and a registered PI, so there’s that. Still.

As in most of Heller’s work there are multiple things going on at once: here, an engaging, page-turner of a murder mystery sits alongside some wry and very sweet observations about aging and the possibilities of mature relationships, both romantic and familial, all set against Heller’s incomparable descriptions of nature and his clear love for the beauty of the American Midwest.

It feels like Heller could have developed an entire franchise around Celine and her adventures, but as far as I know he has refrained from doing so. I’d read more of her adventures, for sure.

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Listen/Here: Extra by Peter Evans

One of my favorite things musically is when someone I’ve never heard of blows me away: it reminds me of just how much effing music there is in the world, and how deep it goes. Sometimes these musicians are deep cuts, but more often, they are giants in their field that I’ve just missed.

Well, hello there, Peter Evans.

I was introduced to Evans by my favorite up and coming jazz trumpeter, and saw him perform a solo set live, which was the most incredible 25 minutes of melodic improvisation and continuous circle breathing I’ve seen. So I went out and got a bunch of his music, and the random number generator decided we would write about Extra, a trio release from 2024.

Petter Eldh, a Swedish avant-garde bassist, was known to me from a collaboration with Kaja Draksler; Jim Black, the drummer, was a new discovery.

I think Evans’ gift is to play in a very abstract form without ever losing touch with melody, and with the his ability to use his supernaturally pure tone and technique to help guide and ground the listener. The staccato rhythm of In See are a great example of this, and even in a track like Boom, which may be too unstructured for some, Evans’ melodic lines allows a path to be followed aurally from beginning to end.

Extra has three short (sub 3 minute) motifs (Nova, Fully Born, and The Lighthouse), of which Nova serves as the best showcase for Evans’ unmatched technique and tone. The Lighthouse, however, is notable: you wonder where Evans is until you realize the rhythmic bass puffs are actually produced on his horn.

There is a misstep on the album for me, but the less said about Movement 56, the better.

Overall, a very strong recommendation as an introduction to one of the leading contemporary trumpeters stretching out in a somewhat experimental trio setting.

Favorite Track: In See

Extra (2024).

Peter Evans: piccolo trumpet, flugelhorn & piano
Petter Eldh: bass & synthesizer
Jim Black: drums & electronics

Bandcamp

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