The Gateway Pundit, a right-wing website with a history of spreading lies about election fraud, recently posted something out of the ordinary. It took a break from its coverage of the 2024 presidential election (sample headlines: “KAMALA IS KOLLAPSING,” “KAMALA FUNDS NAZIS”) to post a three-sentence note from the site’s founder and editor, Jim Hoft, offering some factual information about the previous presidential election.
Muah.AI is a website where people can make AI girlfriends—chatbots that will talk via text or voice and send images of themselves by request. Nearly 2 million users have registered for the service, which describes its technology as “uncensored.” And, judging by data purportedly lifted from the site, people may be using its tools in their attempts to create child-sexual-abuse material, or CSAM.
Today, Snap, the parent company of Snapchat, one of the most popular social-media apps for teenage users, is announcing a new computer that you wear directly on your face. The latest in its Spectacles line of smart glasses, which the company has been working on for about a decade, shows you interactive imagery through its lenses, placing plants or imaginary pets or even a golf-putting range into the real world around you.
On a recent Wednesday night in Los Angeles, I was ready to buy a hot dog with my face.
I was at the Intuit Dome, a $2 billion entertainment complex that opened earlier this month. Soon, it will be the home of the L.A. Clippers, but I was there to watch Olivia Rodrigo, queen of teen angst, perform a sold-out show. The arena was filled with people wearing purple cowboy hats and the same silver sequin miniskirt, all of us ready to scream-sing for two hours straight. But first, we needed food.
Since the start of the AI boom, the attention on this technology has focused on not just its world-changing potential, but also fears of how it could go wrong. A set of so-called AI doomers have suggested that artificial intelligence could grow powerful enough to spur nuclear war or enable large-scale cyberattacks. Even top leaders in the AI industry have said that the technology is so dangerous, it needs to be heavily regulated.
A high-profile bill in California is now attempting to do that.
This week, X launched an AI-image generator, allowing paying subscribers of Elon Musk’s social platform to make their own art. So—naturally—some users appear to have immediately made images of Donald Trump flying a plane toward the World Trade Center; Mickey Mouse wielding an assault rifle, and another of him enjoying a cigarette and some beer on the beach; and so on. Some of the images that people have created using the tool are deeply unsettling; others are just strange, or even kind of funny.
Susie Lawing moved to Cohasset, a small community located in the forested canyons above the city of Chico, California, in the 1970s. After she and her husband divorced, Lawing stayed, presiding over 26 acres of lush family compound. Loved ones built homes of their own on the property, and they began hosting weddings and retreats. Lawing started to grow her own food.
All of that is now gone, she told me. Two weeks ago, the Park Fire ripped through the property. Lawing, now 81, lost everything.
One Saturday last month, I had a perfect day. I woke early, drove up the California coastline, and surfed for a couple of hours with friends. Then I met up with another friend nearby, went kayaking, and ate a late lunch. After that—sun-worn and salty—I drove home, washed off my gear, walked the dog, and ate pizza on my couch.
A big part of what made the day so perfect was all the time spent outside—away from work deadlines, chores, and screens.
Google is running a new commercial during the Olympics. It’s about a cute little girl—she’s a runner, and she loves Team USA’s Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone, a world-record-holding track star who won two Olympic gold medals in 2021. The little girl wants to write her a letter. So Dad fires up an AI chatbot.
“Help my daughter write a letter telling Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone how inspiring she is,” he asks Google’s Gemini.
For two years, the fire gods cut California a break. The winter rains came down heavy, and brought the state’s yearslong drought to an end. Plants started growing again. Grasses were green. The poppies bloomed larger than normal. For awhile, living here meant seeing the place’s better nature—going outside and exploring the mountains and lakes and vineyards, without thinking of breathing in toxic smoke plumes.
Many teens and adults use the word addictive when describing social-media sites, as if the apps themselves are laced with nicotine. The U.S. surgeon general, Vivek Murthy, wants to drive that point home as glaringly as possible: In an op-ed published by The New York Times yesterday, he writes that the country should start labeling such sites as if they’re cigarettes.
This spring, the Los Angeles Unified School District—the second-largest public school district in the United States—introduced students and parents to a new “educational friend” named Ed. A learning platform that includes a chatbot represented by a small illustration of a smiling sun, Ed is being tested in 100 schools within the district and is accessible at all hours through a website.
Donald Trump has officially joined TikTok. His first video, posted on Saturday night—his only post so far—is a montage showing the former president making the rounds at a UFC fight in New Jersey. He waves to fans and takes pictures with them while Kid Rock’s “American Bad Ass” plays in the background.
Trump—who has appeared on WrestleMania, perfected his image on reality television, and commanded the world’s attention through a demagogic Twitter account—is made for this.
Doctors often have a piece of advice for the rest of us: Don’t Google it. The search giant tends to be the first stop for people hoping to answer every health-related question: Why is my scab oozing? What is this pink bump on my arm? Search for symptoms, and you might click through to WebMD and other sites that can provide an overwhelming possibility of reasons for what’s ailing you.
In 2017, Rihanna posted a photo of herself on Instagram in which she appeared to have an extra thumb. It was, in retrospect, the thumb-shaped canary in the coal mine. Although far from the first celebrity “Photoshop fail,” it just so happened to predict the era of faux-finger drama we now live in: AI image generators are universally, horrifically bad at rendering human hands. Today, an extra finger is a telltale sign of digital manipulation.
Flaws aside, faking it has never been easier.
This story was supposed to have a different beginning. You were supposed to hear about how, earlier this week, I attended a splashy launch party for a new AI gadget—the Rabbit R1—in New York City, and then, standing on a windy curb outside the venue, pressed a button on the device to summon an Uber home. Instead, after maybe an hour of getting it set up and fidgeting with it, the connection failed.
The R1 is a bright-orange chunk of a device, with a camera, a mic, and a small screen.
In 2006, Oprah Winfrey couldn’t stop talking about The Secret. She devoted multiple episodes of her talk show to the franchise, which started as a kind of DVD seminar and later became a best-selling book. Its author, Rhonda Byrne, claimed to have stumbled upon an ancient principle, one that can teach anyone to manifest anything they want: money, health, better relationships.
As a little girl, I often found myself in my family’s basement, doing battle with a dragon. I wasn’t gaming or playing pretend: My dragon was a piece of enterprise voice-dictation software called Dragon Naturally Speaking, launched in 1997 (and purchased by my dad, an early adopter).
As a kid, I was enchanted by the idea of a computer that could type for you. The premise was simple: Wear a headset, pull up the software, and speak.
In the decade I have lived in California, I’ve learned to be on edge for “The Big One”—an earthquake so powerful, it can bring down houses. The roughly 10 or so tremors I have actually experienced haven’t been like that. Mostly, the shakes are big enough to jolt me upright but small enough to leave me doubting: Was that what I thought it was?
Today, tens of millions of East Coasters got to experience that feeling firsthand when a magnitude 4.
Lucchese is not the world’s cutest dog. Picked up as a stray somewhere in Texas, he is scruffy and, as one person aptly observed online, looks a little like Steve Buscemi. (It’s the eyes.)
Isabel Klee, a professional influencer in New York City, had agreed to keep Lucchese, or Luc, until he found a forever home. Fosters such as Klee help move dogs out of loud and stressful shelters so they can relax and socialize before moving into a forever home.
In January, Donald Trump laid out in stark terms what consequences await America if charges against him for conspiring to overturn the 2020 election wind up interfering with his presidential victory in 2024. “It’ll be bedlam in the country,” he told reporters after an appeals-court hearing. Just before a reporter began asking if he would rule out violence from his supporters, Trump walked away.
When the Universal Music Group decided to pull its songs from TikTok last month in the midst of a protracted rights dispute, some called the move the “nuclear option.” UMG handles major artists including Taylor Swift and Bad Bunny, and isn’t music the lifeblood of the social app? Billboard has a separate chart for the most popular songs on TikTok; artists such as Lil Nas X effectively owe their career to the platform.
A perfect day in Los Angeles starts with a stroll along the Venice Beach boardwalk. Then a ride on the Ferris wheel in neighboring Santa Monica. Then visit the Getty Museum, some nine miles away by car. After that, Beverly Hills, then Hollywood to see the Walk of Fame, then Griffith Park for a hike, then Chinatown for dim sum, then downtown, perhaps to catch an evening show at the Walt Disney Concert Hall.
Or at least, that’s what a chatbot thinks a “perfect day” is.
Updated at 9:40 p.m. ET on February 1, 2024
A little monster lives on my wrist, and every day, I wake up prepared to do battle with it. Most days, I lose.
That gremlin is an Apple Watch, which, like all fitness trackers, is designed to nudge users toward healthy behaviors. Apple uses three digital rings to measure a person’s daily activity in different ways. Each one has a bright color and a simple name. The blue “Stand” ring prompts you to, well, stand more.
The stories are hauntingly similar: A teenager, their whole life ahead of them, buys a pill from someone on Snapchat. They think it’s OxyContin or Percocet, but it actually contains a lethal amount of fentanyl. They take it; they die. Their bereaved parents are left grasping for an explanation.
A 2021 NBC News investigation found more than a dozen such cases across the country.
We live in the age of the short attention span. And yet: Finding a recipe in a blog post requires first scrolling past a novella detailing the chef’s personal experience with the dish. Streaming shows run long, dragging into feature-film territory. Episodes of The Joe Rogan Experience podcast are sometimes longer than Avatar.
In late July 1980, a five-month-old Doberman pinscher puppy in Washington, D.C., started throwing up blood. It died the next day at an animal hospital, one of many pets that suffered that year from a new illness, parvovirus. “This is the worst disease I’ve ever seen in dogs,” a local veterinarian told The Washington Post, in an article describing the regional outbreak. It killed so fast that it left pet owners in disbelief, he said.
The ear is a marvelous, humble organ. It powers our hearing and also our balance, keeping us upright and connected to the world around us. In return, ear doctors tend to ask that we follow one very simple rule: Don’t put anything smaller than your elbow in your ear. Of course, you can’t actually fit your elbow inside your ear. But you can fit a Q-tip, which comes with this warning: “Do not insert swab into ear canal. Entering the ear canal could cause injury.
Dylan Longton really knows how to flip an egg. A 33-year-old line cook at an unassuming diner just outside Albany, New York, Longton can make an omelet do a backflip and land it smoothly right back into its pan cradle. And people love him for it. Not just people in Albany, or people in New York. People all around the world, sometimes more than a thousand at once, tune in on TikTok to watch Longton flip eggs, and reheat bacon and homefries on the grill.
This past spring, I participated in the sacred tradition that comes around once every few years: I got a new iPhone. The speaker on my old one had broken, forcing my hand. But let’s be clear. I didn’t care about the speaker. The real reason you upgrade an iPhone, of course, is to get a better camera.Within a couple of weeks of unboxing my new iPhone 14 Pro, however, I noticed something odd happening. I’d take a selfie, think I looked great, and lock my phone, satisfied.