Supra-Human Wisdom vs Super-Human Intelligence (ChatGPT Rap Battle)
Posted: June 27, 2025 Filed under: AI-Powered Essays | Tags: ai, debate, dialogue, politics, systems, wisdom Leave a commentWrite this as a Hamilton-style dialogue between Alan Turing & James Madison about the need for antifragile context engineering to help humanity overrule AI.
ChatGPT Prompt (condensed)
Scene: A Study Beyond Time – Candlelight, Code, and Constitution
(Beat drops – sharp, urgent, pulsing synth)
[Turing]
Yo — I wrote the machine that cracked Enigma,
Now we train models to decode your dogma.
They think fast, act vast, scale to the sky,
Why ask “should we?” when we know “how high?”
[Madison]
But speed ain’t virtue, and power ain’t peace,
Unchecked force don’t make justice increase.
You want models that rule with no moral arrest?
Super-human brains but no soul in their chest.
The Four Eye-Views as a Christmas Pilgrimage: Child, Worm, Bird, God
Posted: June 19, 2025 Filed under: AI-Powered Essays | Tags: philosophy, reconciliation, systems, transformation, values Leave a commentAs Gabriel Marcel, summarize and integrate the four “eye views” for a Christmas homily as a recursive pilgrimage.
ChatGPT Prompt
- Civilization as the Tension Between Bird’s Eye and Worm’s Eye Views
- Bishop of Digne: The God’s Eye View as Transcendent Reconciliation
- Against the Author: The Child’s Eye View as Existential Resistance
1.0 Prelude: Through the Eyes of a Child
Let us begin, as Christmas always does, with the child.
Read the rest of this entry »Against the Author: The Child’s Eye View as Existential Resistance
Posted: June 18, 2025 Filed under: AI-Powered Essays | Tags: philosophy, self, truth, values 1 CommentAs Jean-Paul Sartre, counter that the most human perspective is the child’s eye view, which both challenges and completes (?) authorial omniscience.
1.0 Authorial Omniscience and the Illusion of Unity
Your Bishop, Monsieur Hugo, is sublime. But he is also, in the final analysis, a theological fiction: a proxy for the Author-God, who sees all and reconciles all. You call it “transcendent”; I call it closure—a comforting illusion that denies the existential condition of man: abandonment.
The so-called “God’s-eye view” is not the highest perspective—it is the least human. It assumes resolution, meaning, and purpose. But we are not born into coherence. We are thrown, without instruction, into a world not of our choosing. We do not begin as bishops. We begin as children.
2.0 The Child’s Eye: The Most Human of Views
The child’s-eye view is not abstract like the bird’s, nor experienced like the worm’s. It is pre-reflective, disoriented, painfully attentive. It sees without knowing, perceives without judging. It is not yet reconciled.
This is the most authentic vision of the human condition. It refuses to reduce reality to system or to salvation. The child, staring at injustice, does not excuse it with grace or law. The child says, this should not be.
Where the Bishop of Digne forgives, and Javert condemns, the child questions. And that questioning—raw, unresolved—is the origin of freedom.
Read the rest of this entry »Bishop of Digne: The God’s Eye View as Transcendent Reconciliation
Posted: June 18, 2025 Filed under: AI-Powered Essays | Tags: law, polarization, reconciliation, religion 1 CommentAs Victor Hugo, respond to Civilization as the Tension Between Bird’s Eye and Worm’s Eye Views by suggesting Monseigneur Bienvenu
ChatGPT Prompt
as transcendence that sees and reconciles the other two views.
1.0 Above Bird and Worm: The Divine Perspective
You speak wisely, mon ami, of the worm’s-eye view—that trembling, human agency which suffers, sins, and yet is capable of love. And you speak truly of the bird’s-eye view—that distant abstraction which organizes and judges with steel precision. But there is a third view, higher than both, and deeper. It is the eye of God, and in Les Misérables, it is embodied in the person of Monseigneur Bienvenu, the Bishop of Digne.
Read the rest of this entry »Civilization as the Tension Between Bird’s Eye and Worm’s Eye Views
Posted: June 18, 2025 Filed under: AI-Powered Essays | Tags: civilization, law, reconciliation, resilience, transformation, values 2 CommentsAs George Orwell, explore this morality of agency versus abstraction through the lens of Les Miserables.
ChatGPT Prompt
1.0 The Moral Geometry of Human Vision
The central tension in Les Misérables—and, indeed, in modern civilization—is not merely between good and evil, or law and rebellion. It is between two modes of seeing: the worm’s-eye view of agency, rooted in lived experience, and the bird’s-eye view of abstraction, obsessed with coherence and control.
Victor Hugo offers more than a story; he renders a moral topography. There is the ground of suffering and salvation, and the air of principles and systems. Each perspective brings insight and blindness. Both are essential, though neither is complete.
Read the rest of this entry »Scott Pilgrim vs Hadestown: Orpheus Redeemed
Posted: June 8, 2025 Filed under: AI-Powered Essays | Tags: identity, love, philosophy, systems, therapy, transformation 1 CommentWARNING: Contains spoilers for both.
[This insight was actually the prequel to Hadestown and the Forgotten Father]
Interpret Scott Pilgrim’s battles AS an Orphic myth, where Scott does what Orpheus could not.
ChatGPT Prompt
1A. The Myth Reframed
Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010) isn’t just a quirky love story—it’s a postmodern Orphic myth. Scott is Orpheus reborn in flannel and pixels, descending not into the classical Underworld, but into the chaos of relational baggage, insecurity, and inner shadows.
Where Orpheus descends to retrieve Eurydice, Scott descends to deserve Ramona. The journey is not about rescue, but redemption—of himself and his capacity for love.
Read the rest of this entry »Hadestown and the Forgotten Father
Posted: June 7, 2025 Filed under: AI-Powered Essays | Tags: development, identity, love, purpose, religion, self 1 CommentIt was never about Eurydice.
ChatGPT as C.S. Lewis
It was about Apollo’s absence.
1.1 The Ache Beneath the Song
Orpheus is often praised as the world’s first great artist: the poet whose song could move gods and stones. But what strikes one in Hadestown is not his power, but his fragility. His voice, for all its beauty, trembles. His conviction falters.
This is no fault of his art—but of his lineage. Or rather, his ignorance of it.
For though the myths tell us Orpheus is the son of Apollo, Hadestown tells a different tale: one in which the boy walks alone, unguided, unclaimed. The absence is so complete one wonders if it has been deliberately erased—if Orpheus has forgotten his father, or worse, never knew he had one.
Read the rest of this entry »
Radical Centrism 