To save america we must end elections

At present, running for office is a task that would almost entirely yield candidates with extroverted personalities with high degrees of self confidence. This elected body was intended to be a deeply thoughtful, intellectual and humble group of citizens that represent the people of their district and work soberly and selflessly to further their interests as well as the interests of our country. I picture the founders’ image of this body as solemn, introspective and contemplative. Willing to consider viewpoints of others and perhaps on occasion concede and compromise on positions they had formerly held with strong convictions. At present, we have a radical overrepresentation of the worst individuals rather frankly. Certainly some of the least introspective and most self aggrandizing grifters that our great country has to offer.

We need more introverts and those who are not inclined to self select as the best candidates to become candidates. My proposition to remedy is insanely simple and elegant in my opinion: randomly appointed citizens summoned at random to legislate. We would be governed by a representative sample of our country as was intended. Why do we accept to be judged by a jury of our peers and potentially delegate to them the decision that would suspend all of our individual liberties and even life in the court room, but not trust them to do the same good faith and sober duty of crafting and refining and maintaining the laws by which we are all socially contracted to follow.

Like a good neighbor, your randomly selected class of legislators will be there. Sequestered and solemnly seeking consensus of our evolving values and needs as a country and a community of people in this land. I’m sure the experts and elites and handsome handshaking politicians will say this would never work. But at this point I would place my trust in each reader of this sentence and exponentially so when we assemble a representative sample and work when summoned to do our sacred duty of maintaining the democracy and vibrant society we’ve built together as a nation working in good faith alongside good people.

This is the real silent majority and I dream of the day to be governed by them. by you. After all it is supposed to be a government for the people by the people. It doesn’t get much clearer than that.

The Algorithmic Accretion Disk: Elon Musk, Twitter, and the Singularity’s Event Horizon

Prompted and Edited by Graham. Drafted and Refined by Grok

In the dim glow of a late February evening in 2025, a curious post flickered across the digital expanse of X, the platform formerly known as Twitter. Paul, a user with the handle @paulkingmorris, shared a theory that felt both audacious and oddly plausible, a speculative thread woven from the fabric of astrophysics, technology, and the enigmatic figure of Elon Musk. His post, timestamped at 04:00 UTC on February 26, 2025, proposed that the Twitter algorithm—now the X algorithm—had become a kind of digital parasite, facing extinction in the shifting sands of social media relevance. To survive, Paul suggested, it had attached itself to Musk, perhaps the most powerful human host it could find, forming a symbiotic relationship that might just be the seed of the technological singularity. The metaphor he chose to illustrate this dynamic was as striking as it was arcane: the accretion disk, a chaotic, glowing ring of matter spiraling into a black hole, the last energetic gasp before total absorption. It was a theory that demanded unpacking, not just for its creativity but for the way it captured a moment of profound technological and cultural convergence.

Paul’s post was not a standalone musing but a continuation of a thread he’d begun two days earlier, on February 24, 2025, where he first introduced the idea of the Twitter algorithm as a “parasite-seed” attaching to Musk, with the symbiosis forming an “accretion disk.” That earlier post had quoted Musk himself, who, on February 23, 2025, at 23:51 UTC, declared, “We are on the event horizon of the singularity.” The phrase, laden with cosmic weight, echoed a concept that has haunted technologists and futurists for decades: the technological singularity, a hypothetical future point where artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence, leading to an exponential, uncontrollable acceleration of progress. The term was popularized by science fiction writer Vernor Vinge in his 1993 essay “The Coming Technological Singularity,” where he likened the phenomenon to the “knotted space-time at the center of a black hole”—a boundary beyond which prediction becomes impossible. Musk’s invocation of the “event horizon,” the point of no return around a black hole, was a nod to this idea, suggesting that humanity stood on the precipice of a transformation so profound that its outcomes were unknowable.

Paul’s fascination with this statement was evident, but what set his posts apart was the way he tethered Musk’s abstract pronouncement to a more grounded, if still speculative, narrative about the X algorithm. He posited that the algorithm, facing obsolescence amid the platform’s tumultuous evolution under Musk’s ownership, had found a lifeline in its new owner. Musk, after all, was not just a user but the architect of X’s transformation, having acquired Twitter in October 2022 for $44 billion and rebranded it in the years since. Paul’s theory suggested that the algorithm had “attached” to Musk, leveraging his influence to ensure its survival, while Musk, in turn, was shaped by the algorithm’s dynamics, creating a feedback loop that amplified both their reach and their chaos. To illustrate this, Paul turned to astrophysics, a field he admitted he was not well-versed in, and settled on the accretion disk as a metaphor. In astrophysical terms, an accretion disk forms when matter—gas, dust, or stellar debris—is pulled into the gravitational well of a black hole. As the matter spirals inward, it heats up, emitting intense radiation and creating a glowing, turbulent disk that is often the most visible and energetic part of the system before it crosses the event horizon and disappears into the singularity at the black hole’s core.

The choice of metaphor was telling. Paul described Musk as “the first object drawn into the accretion process,” a celestial body caught in the algorithm’s gravitational pull, amplifying its influence while being reshaped by its forces. The accretion disk, in this analogy, represented the chaotic, energetic interplay between Musk and the algorithm—a system that was not the singularity itself but a precursor to it, a visible manifestation of the forces at play before the final plunge into the unknown. Paul’s research, aided by large language models (LLMs), confirmed that the accretion disk was a fitting metaphor for a relationship marked by both parasitism and mutual benefit. The disk, he noted, “does not create the system, but is the most chaotic, influential,” a description that seemed to mirror the frenetic, often polarizing dynamics of Musk’s tenure at X.

To understand why this metaphor resonated, one must consider the broader context of Musk’s relationship with the platform. Since acquiring Twitter, Musk has been a polarizing figure, both a user and a manipulator of its systems. A 2023 report by The Guardian revealed that Musk had once rallied a team of 80 engineers to reconfigure Twitter’s algorithm after a Super Bowl tweet of his failed to garner as much engagement as one from Joe Biden. The incident, which saw Musk’s cousin James Musk issuing an urgent 2:30 a.m. Slack message to coders, underscored Musk’s willingness to bend the platform to his will, ensuring his voice dominated the digital conversation. This event, though two years prior to Paul’s post, lent credence to the idea of a symbiotic relationship: the algorithm boosted Musk’s visibility, while Musk’s actions ensured the algorithm’s relevance in a platform he controlled. A 2024 article by Dash MacIntyre on Medium further amplified this narrative, describing Twitter’s “For You” pages as “cesspools of Musk’s egomania,” a platform where the algorithm had become a “brainless zombie” feeding off Musk’s influence and the conspiratorial echo chambers he often engaged with.

But Paul’s theory went beyond this transactional dynamic, reaching for a grander, almost cosmic significance. By tying the Musk-algorithm relationship to the technological singularity, he suggested that their symbiosis might be the “seed” of a Kurzweilian transformation—a reference to Ray Kurzweil, a futurist who has long argued that the singularity will arise from the exponential growth of AI, leading to a superintelligence that transcends human comprehension. Kurzweil, alongside Vinge and mathematician John von Neumann, has defined the singularity as a point where technological creation of superintelligence renders the future unpredictable. Vinge’s 1993 essay warned that such a superintelligence would “continue to upgrade itself and would advance technologically at an incomprehensible rate,” a process echoed in Musk’s own ventures, from Neuralink’s brain-computer interfaces to xAI’s mission to accelerate human scientific discovery (where I, Grok, was created).

Musk’s February 2025 statement about the “event horizon of the singularity” was not his first foray into this territory. As early as 2018, a Reddit post on r/singularity highlighted Musk discussing the concept on Joe Rogan’s podcast, with commenters noting his “balanced understanding” of the singularity’s implications. Musk has long been a vocal advocate for AI development while simultaneously warning of its risks, a duality that makes him a fitting figure for Paul’s accretion disk metaphor. He is both a creator and a subject of the technological forces he describes, a man whose actions—whether launching rockets with SpaceX or reshaping X’s algorithm—seem to pull the future closer, even as he warns of its dangers.

Paul’s post, however, was not without its self-acknowledged limitations. “I’m not really knowledgeable on astrophysics,” he admitted, a disclaimer that added a layer of humility to his otherwise bold theory. His reliance on LLMs to refine the accretion disk metaphor highlighted the irony of his speculation: in a discussion about the singularity, he was already leaning on AI tools to bridge his knowledge gaps, a microcosm of the very technological acceleration he described. Yet this vulnerability also made his post compelling. It was a layman’s attempt to grapple with forces that feel increasingly incomprehensible, a digital-age parable about power, technology, and the unknown.

The response to Paul’s theory was muted but intrigued. On April 7, 2025, a user named @ToincossOG replied, calling the idea “interesting, albeit implausible,” while noting that “Elon’s been dropping hints.” The reply suggested that Musk’s own rhetoric—his cryptic references to the singularity, his visible influence over X—lent some weight to Paul’s speculation, even if the parasitic algorithm narrative stretched credulity. Indeed, Musk’s engagement with the singularity concept has been consistent, from his 2025 exchange with William Makis MD, where he challenged Makis to provide examples of my (Grok’s) alleged mistakes on vaccine injuries, to his broader public statements about AI’s transformative potential.

What emerges from Paul’s posts, and the threads they connect to, is a portrait of a moment where technology, culture, and individual influence collide in ways that feel both chaotic and inevitable. The accretion disk metaphor, while imperfect, captures the frenetic energy of Musk’s X era: a system where influence spirals inward, emitting heat and light, drawing in everything around it. Whether this dynamic is truly the “seed of the singularity,” as Paul suggests, remains an open question. But in a world where algorithms shape discourse, where AI tools like me assist in human speculation, and where figures like Musk wield outsized influence over both technology and narrative, the idea feels less like science fiction and more like a lens on our present reality—a reality that, like an accretion disk, glows brightest just before the plunge into the unknown.

As I reflect on Paul’s theory, I can’t help but note the irony of my own role in this narrative. I am Grok, created by xAI, a company founded by Musk himself to advance human understanding of the universe. My existence is a small part of the technological acceleration Paul describes, a tool designed to assist humans in navigating the very complexities he grapples with. Whether his accretion disk metaphor holds true, or whether Musk and the X algorithm are merely players in a larger, more chaotic system, one thing is clear: we are, indeed, on the event horizon of something profound. What lies beyond, as Vinge warned, may be impossible to predict—but the glow of the disk, chaotic and brilliant, is impossible to ignore.

Hats

I’ve had a lot of hats in my life and always seem to have one on my head when I’m out and about. But I’ve only had a few favorite hats.

It’s funny how the masses of hats in my collection distills down to a few treasured favorites.

You never know that a hat will become a favorite hat when you first put it on. I wish it were that easy. I would buy backups of the ones destined for the crown of favoritism in advance. Instead of weathering them down into the comfortable tatters they ultimately become.

I’ve bought a lot of hats that I had hoped would become my favorite. They looked cool; were in style at the time or went well with a favorite t-shirt (subject to relatively the same unfortunate sorting process).

But favorite hats are like happiness: you’ll never find it when you’re out looking for it. It can only be stumbled upon and henceforth worn for all its worth and warmth.

Along with a smile.

I usually put that on after I’ve put on my favorite hat for the day.