Category: Omnium-Gatherum

AT 25, YOU WERE BARELY YOU.

Ask anyone to write a letter to their 25-year-old self and they won’t be kind.

Indeed, given the responses to our writing contest last month – we asked you to write a 100-word letter to your 25-year-old self — being 25 is one of the most arrogant, unknowing, unseeing and cringeworthy times of our lives. Did I really spend all that money on a watch? Hook up with a known psychopath? Treat my best friend like dirt? And don’t even talk to me about drinking and drugging. We’re lucky to be alive.

I remember back in the 80s my film festival friend, Helga Stephenson, asked if I would help her ‘chaperone’ a party for TIFF’s young financial supporters. They were all under 30. They were smart, attractive, fit and cocksure. They beamed with certainty. Helga said as we left: “Life hasn’t happened to them yet.”

True that.

Clearly, the older you drift from 25, the younger 25 looks. By the time you’re twice that age, life is often a muddle, or a slow-motion leap off the cliff. Get to threescore years and ten and it can be a tragedy in the making. Get to 80, and more tires are coming off the car than staying on.

Read on…

WILL BOYS BE BOYS?

For years, I’ve yearned for The Economist’s 16-page supplements, which I could rip from the magazine and read on my flight to Ottawa and emerge an hour later awash in knowing lots about something I knew nothing of before, like nanotechnology, quantum mechanics and iambic pentameter.

I remember the first sentence of the report on Japan, published in November 2011: “If you’re a baby girl born this morning in Tokyo, the chances of you living to be 100 are one in two.”

In 2015, The Economist issued a special report on Men Adrift. It was subtitled: “Badly educated men in rich countries have not adapted well to trade, technology or feminism.” Little did I know then that I would be reading the first distant early warnings of a concern whose reporting has risen a thousandfold since: What to do about men and their juniors, boys. Especially white men, and pointedly undereducated white men whom it’s clear now that AI will consume like whales do krill.

Today, it’s hard to read a magazine, stream a Netflix series, see a newcast or talk show, scan a blog, hear a podcast, scroll an Instagram post or buy a book on how young men are not only in huge trouble, they’re creating existential peril, not just for us, but for all of Western civilization. Last month, Janice Stein spoke to a group of wealth managers and their clients and said, “Boys are the most urgent problem the world faces today.”

Read on…

WHAT SPRINGS ETERNAL?

Hope.

And we all got a jolt of it on Tuesday when the Democrats won the governorships of New Jersey and Virginia by big fat luscious margins against Donald Trump’s Republicans.

Those whumping majorities were a breath of life for Americans and the rest of us who rage against gestures such as ICE agents in Chicago forbidding the Latino immigrants they’ve caged from taking communion during a Catholic Mass.

BIG SHOWS, BIG PRIZES FOR…BIG SCIENCE?

I took in two award shows last week, one at Koerner Hall and the other at the ROM next door.

The recipients weren’t powerlifters or Miss Universes or young pianists…or even drug-enhanced Olympians. They were medical scientists.

Offering big prizes for medical breakthroughs used to be rare. Now, there are many dozens of them worldwide, offering hundreds of millions in prizes. They’re driven by the mantra of discovery: “If you think research is expensive, try disease.”

Read on…

…BUT I KNOW WHAT I LIKE.

I don’t know much about art. I especially don’t ‘get’ abstract art. This has caused me to avoid it and to shy away from the people who love and consume it. Where modern art-lovers gather, you won’t find me.

I know I should try harder. Many friends have tried to help open my eyes. Some say art is not about getting an emotional reaction, the way you do with music or books. It’s about making you think of what the artist is saying about the world.

I think a lot of us are fluent in one art form and ignorant or fearful of other forms.

Read on…

WEAPONS OF SELF-DESTRUCTION.

Last weekend our family went for its annual Thanksgiving Walk, a two-hour hike through Awenda Provincial Park above Georgian Bay. Behind me were my stepson and his 11-year-old daughter. Their conversation twisted and turned through as many subjects as they did navigating the fallen trees and winding forest paths. I was listening idly to their back-and-forth when I heard: “But when can I have a phone?”

I won’t say the skies clouded, but the mood changed at this, the most insistent question of our age. Because asking mom and dad when you can have your first phone has turned into asking them when you can have your first shot of heroin.

Clearly, this was not the first time she’d asked, and I was impressed by her father’s patience as he calmly listed all the reasons an 11-year-old shouldn’t have a mobile phone. “But Mary has one, and she’s 12!”

Read on…

SHORT FAT GENERALS.

Last week Pete Hegseth dressed down America’s generals and admirals saying their weight and height will now be measured twice a year: “Today, at my direction, every member of the joint force, at every rank, is required … [to] meet height and weight requirements twice a year every year.”

The weight part I get: obesity in the military is a big recruiting problem which makes it a national security issue.

But the height part is odd because…you can’t really do much about how tall you are.

WHY AI IS WORSE THAN THE WORST STREET DRUG – AND BETTER THAN THE BEST MIRACLE DRUG.

When you’re too addled to stop drinking booze or snorting cocaine, your brain stays very clear on one thing: the only person you’re killing is yourself – and maybe your family. You can take some comfort that your bottle a day habit isn’t ruining the lives of the young family three doors down or the teller at your bank branch, or the total stranger in the nation next door.

In this regard, consuming too much AI is much worse than grossly abusing addictive substances. Every AI search you make, every AI prompt you create contributes to the Gross Global Misery that’s starting to emerge about AI’s unique seductive ability to charm its way into your brain and control it. What we know now is that AI thrives on big information; the more in, the more out.

Read on…

SLOW TALKERS.

In the days ahead we’ll be seeing more tremulous, slow-talking, slow-moving people in public life. This is inevitable; our world is growing older. It’s also a good thing that we can help that become a normal thing.

Last week, I attended the Weston International Award for Nonfiction at the ROM which was given to Leslie Jamison, the American essayist and memoirist who writes deeply confessional pieces for The New Yorker and Vanity Fair. My interest was professional; I, too, had written a recovery memoir.

Jamison speaks quickly, with manic energy. As with most events like this, the author spoke about her work, then she was interviewed by a high-profile person in the world of writing, then she answered questions.

Read on…

STILL WAITING FOR THE CAVALRY TO COME.

The idea that there is no cavalry first hit me in 2005 when I saw the news reports fromHurricane Katrina in New Orleans.

Tens of thousands of people took shelter in the Superdome, and waited…and waited…for help to come. It never did. What came was looting and violence and other trappings ofLord of the Flies. How could this happen? This was America, for heaven’s sake.

It turns out I was right about the country, and wrong about the direction it was headed.

But this social collapse is also happening in Britain where not only is the National Health Service breaking down, but so is garbage pickup and public transit and immigration, and the police. Of course it’s worse in the US where being a white, Christian male can be the only defence against the predations of its government.

Read on…

THE NATIONAL GUARD BECOMES THE NATIONAL GARDENER.

Donald Trump will soon send the National Guard into Memphis or into Chicago, a city where violent crime has been way down and the White House posted images headed“Chipocalypse Now,” and “I love the smell of deportations in the morning.”

It’s certain there will be marches, riots, arrests, blood and likely death in the weeks to come – because Chicago is not the District of Columbia, which is a government town. For Mr. Trump, Chicago is enemy territory, and it’s time to break heads the way Mayor Richard J. Daley did in 1968 when anti-Vietnam War protestors marched on the Democratic Convention.

There may be a better way.

Read on…

OZEMPIC FOR ALL.

The word “Ozempic” first entered the language in 2018 when it was approved as a diabetes inhibitor. That same year, in what has to be the world’s biggest ‘off-label’ transference since the heart-disease drug Viagra became a multi-billion-dollar erectile dysfunction drug, Novo Nordisk started selling Ozempic as a weight-loss drug for very obese people.

Then in 2023, Ozempic and its fellow “GLP-1” drugs were shown to prevent strokes and heart attacks.

The next year, it made a claim to reduce kidney disease.

This year, it showed promising results in reducing the effects of Parkinson’s, as well as alcoholism and addiction, and to reduce obesity-related cancers as well.

My physician wife often says that the more unrelated diseases a drug claims to cure, the more it looks like snake oil. In the case of Ozempic, she’d be happy to be wrong. It really does look to be a universal solvent, curing most everything it touches. True, it’s so new that there hasn’t been time to understand its long-term effects. Maybe it will be the next thalidomide whose crippling effects revealed themselves not in its patients, but in their children.

Read on…

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