Did you know you could make a Godzilla movie, maybe the best one at that, for $15 million dollars (or 3 minutes of Chris Pratt in “End Game”, if you’d prefer numeraire)? This film, in which Godzilla is basically the demon baby of Jason Voorhees and the shark from Jaws, deftly explores concepts of guilt, shame, redemption, forgiveness, and family. I cried at the end. I repeat, I cried at the end of a Godzilla movie.

In the last month I’ve watched a Godzilla movie that is specifically constructed to recreate the feeling of a 1950s monster movie, a flawed but admirable attempt to make a modern Charlie Chaplin movie (Fool’s Paradise), and a watchable if uneven and wholly debauched variation on “Singin’ in the Rain” (Babylon). I don’t think this is a coincidence. I think this is a response to VFX and super hero (not comic book) movie fatigue. One way to do that is to go backwards, not in subject matter or setting necessarily, but in story composition and construct. The performances in all three films felt more stage than screen. Texture was emphasized over shock and awe. Emotional crescendos felt more earned than manipulated. I’m not saying these three films are perfect or even necessarily good. What I’m saying is that they felt like a return to older form of film as a medium.

For the last 15 years we’ve had a lot of “remakes” that attempted to modernize old films. Don’t be surprised if we see the inverse going forward: new, original stories filmed in a manner that feels older. “The Thing” but it’s a sea alien on an oil platform, everything wet and on fire. “All the Presidents Men” but it’s a coverup in local Iowa government, with scratchy sunken sofas and life-changing smoke breaks. “Working Girl” but it’s Zendaya and Scarlett Johannsen in a fully modern context, where a misread text subverts an expected plot turn on a broken iPhone screen. Not for a love of classic cinema mind you, or even art, but because making 10 to 1 on winners and losing next to nothing on flops is a business proposition more than a few studios are likely to find enticing.

Go see “Godzilla Minus One”.

I’m wrapping up grading for the semester. So this one is super short. What will I be writing about in the upcoming weeks. Here’s a sneak peak:

1. I will read the course evaluations and let you know how my Game Theory Course changes fared.
2. I’ll discuss a little bit of the new DID Stata methods. I’ll keep it short and sweet provide an example.
3. I want to share some thoughts on objectivity, unreasonable academic charity, and our ability to interpret evidence using multiple models.
4. Squeezing out more time efficiencies in your home life (Especially for parents)
5. There are too many A’s in my Principles of Macroeconomics class.

These are what’s on the Horizon. I’ll link back here to stay on track. Have a great weekend!

The key to successful public forecasting is to choose a subject that is too costly for your critics to formally measure. In keeping with such a spirit of low risk public posturing, I am hereby calling it: peak pessimism is now behind us. Which is not to say that people think things are fine, but rather that the gap between how things actually are (pretty good!) and how people think they are (kinda bad) is much smaller than the gap was six months ago (historically bad, even though they were pretty good then too!). The gloom of sunny days benighted by the goth-tinted glasses of an anxiety-serving media amplified by the terminally online is finally breaking.

For me, the real bellweather was the general non-response to a NYT article and Siena poll that said Biden was likely to lose to Trump head-to-head next November. Six months ago this would have received breathless coverage, with non-stop amplification on social media. What I observed instead was a lot of hand-waving and dismissal of an attempt for political panic clickbait.

So what’s my reasoning? In a nutshell, rational pessimism.

I’m a big believer in ecological rationality i.e. a lot of our seemingly irrational biases are actually relatively optimal behaviors when viewed in the long term for individual survival or cultural/group selection. Pessimism is an expressed preference for fewer negative surprises. From a households perspective, being surprised by a negative shock is far more dangerous to economic survival than being surprised by or even missing out on positive shocks. Choosing to rent intstead of buying a house in 2000 was, in hindsight, problematic, but not nearly so dangerous to your economic survival as buying a house in December of 2007. Not to get too Lamarckian on you, but it’s not crazy to say that the pandemic was such a (Knightian/Black Swan) shock to a lot of people that they updated their entire model of the economy to include the possibility of an entirely new kind of negative economic shock and, as a result, their new strategy is far more pessimistic. They very badly don’t want to be surprised again.

But that doesn’t mean they are done updating. At some point the good news is just too good to ignore. Employment is too good, wages are too good. New vaccines are too good. Climate data is…well that’s still pretty bad, but hey look, solar is happening! Good news, however, is an erosive force running against a freshly built wall of pessimism designed for the express purpose of protecting a household from the next negative shock. We shouldn’t be surprised if it takes a lot of good news a long time to break it down.

But it will break down. I’m not saying when it will break down, but the cracks are finally starting to show. Pessimism may be ecologically rational, but optimism always has an irresistible allure for those who don’t want to miss out. We’re starting to get the good news because people are starting to want it, even if only just a little bit. And media customers always get what they want.*

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* Which is not to say that Fox News and similar outlets won’t remain consistently negative. Political and age-demographic demands for “everything is going to hell” aren’t going to change any time soon. They will also keep getting what they want.

I’ve thought it over and decided not to write a post this week. It’s not that I have writer’s block. I am writing plenty in the dimensions of my profession that dominate my time (and actually pay me). And I have a back catalog of “bigger” pieces I might write later. But there is nothing I am compelled to write today. Which is what I want to write about.

We all share editorials and thinkpieces with each other, whizzing around social media and email, getting discussed over meals and beverages. This content is produced in mass and at breakneck speed. Some people are very good at it. Others less so. Some people, over time, rise to a level of recognition that they are offered plum spots at major outlets, lavished with salaries greater than I will certainly ever enjoy. Their names acquire significant fame, their opinions serving as the substrate for millions of conversations.

And then we savage them.

Sometimes we savage their works because they are signaling the wrong politics and identities. That’s just life. Sometimes we savage their writing because they’re rich and famous, which is annoying, but that’s just the tax a person pays for being eminent (see Swift, Jonathan). But often, more often than they would likely want to admit, we savage their writing as poor and ill-conceived because it is poor and ill-conceived.

Let’s be clear: these people are largely critical thinkers and phenomenonal writers. But they are also on a deadline. Opinions, unlike news, do not appear in our minds fully formed and their subsequent development does not always adhere to a regular schedule. My writings here are essentially an unpaid hobby. I haven’t missed many weeks this last 3 years, but I’ve missed a few. Some weeks I totally mail it in and just write a few paragraphs about a research paper I read that I thought was cool. The New York Times editorial page does not indulge such academic capriciousness.

Would I invest a lot more time in these posts if the NYT was paying me a hefty salary? Of course. I would have stockpiles of evergreen columns, folders of half-written ideas, a corkboard littered with post-its cataloging my every idea that might support a column. But even then I can’t help but suspect that I might occasionally find myself staring down a deadline with nothing I want to say, or with a drafted piece that I know isn’t very good.

And that’s why I think we get the so many big-name editorials that social media descends on like gleeful hyenas, merrily yanking and ripping until the every vacuous subject and failed predicate has yielded it’s final LOL. Why do columnists collectively produce so much dreck? Because they write too much. Scratch that. Because they publish too much.

Which is why I’m not writing a post this week.

(To be clear out of an abundance of caution, this observation does not pertain to those glorious blogs and substacks that mostly produce data-driven analysis and subject-matter deep dives, rather than bloated opinions designed to foment clicks. You are god’s perfect children, never change.)

The bombshell news in the tech world as of late Friday was that, in a sudden coup, the board of OpenAI fired CEO and tech entrepreneur Sam Altman, and demoted company cofounder and former president Greg Brockman. The exact grounds for their decision remain somewhat murky, but apparently Altman wanted to move faster with AI deployment and monetization than some board members were comfortable with.

The OpenAI organization burst on the scene in the past year with the release of advanced versions of ChatGPT. This “generative” AI technology can crank out computer code and human-like text articles and reports and images. Naturally, students have taken to employing ChatGPT to write their essays for them. And so, professors now use AI to detect whether their students’ essays were machine written or not.

Fellow blogger Joy Buchanan has addressed the rising problem of erroneous information (“hallucinations”) that can appear in AI generated material. There is a movement to slow down the development of AI, for fear it will lead to The End Of The World As We Know It (TEOTWAWKI).  (Interestingly, all of the business commentators I listened to today dismissed the alleged world-ending dangers of generative AI as largely deliberate hype on the part of AI developers, to create a buzz – which it has.)

Having hitched itself technically to OpenAI technology, and having poured something like $13 billion into funding OpenAI, giving it a 49% ownership stake in part of the business, Microsoft was obviously concerned about the effect of Altman’s dismissal on its own AI plans.  As it became clear that the board action would lead to substantial dysfunction at OpenAI, Microsoft carried out its own coup, by hiring Altman and Brockman to run a big in-house AI research initiative, and making it clear that anyone else who wanted to resign from open AI could have their old jobs back, under their old leaders, in Seattle.  And indeed, as of late Monday, nearly all of OpenAI’s employees had signed an open letter stating that unless the OpenAI board quits, they “may choose to resign from OpenAI and join the newly announced Microsoft subsidiary.”

Investors are still trying to figure out what all this means for Microsoft. A pessimistic take is that the corporation has to take a big write down on a $13 billion investment, if the OpenAI organization  (valued a month ago at $90 billion) loses its momentum. An optimistic take is that Microsoft may get the human capital crown jewels of this leading tech outfit for simply the cost of salaries (and signing bonuses), instead of shelling out to buy the enterprise as such. Also, having the technology all in-house would remove the vulnerability of Microsoft currently faces with having a key piece of its future in the hands of a separate organization. There is debate on how much the intellectual property held by OpenAI would inhibit Microsoft from forging ahead with its own version of ChatGPT.

According to Wikipedia:

Shares in Microsoft fell nearly three percent following the announcement.   According to CoinDesk, the value of Worldcoin, an iris biometric cryptocurrency co-founded by Altman, decreased twelve percent.   After hiring Altman, Microsoft’s stock price rose over two percent to an all-time high.  

According to The Information, Altman’s removal risks a share sale led by Thrive Capital valuing the company at US$86 billion.   A potential second tender offer for early-stage investors is also at risk.   Altman’s removal could benefit OpenAI’s competitors, such as Anthropic, Quora, Hugging Face, Meta Platforms, and Google.  The Economist wrote that the removal could slow down the artificial intelligence industry as a whole.  Google DeepMind received an increase in applicants, according to The Information. Several investors considered writing down their OpenAI investments to zero, impacting the company’s ability to raise capital. Over one hundred companies using OpenAI contacted competing startup Anthropic according to The Information; others reached out to Google Cloud, Cohere, and Microsoft Azure.

There is a slight possibility that the open AI board could take a big hit for the team, and bring back Altman and Brockman and then resign in order to keep the organization intact. If that happens, the deployment of generative AI would accelerate – – which might destroy the world.

THIS JUST IN: ALTMAN BACK IN CHARGE AT OPENAI

If there was a prize for “worst board decision of the year” it would have to go to the move late last week to fire Sam Altman. But just when you thought there was no more drama to be milked out of this scene, the news Wednesday is that the OpenAI board is out, and Altman is back in as CEO at OpenAI. Microsoft is presumably happy to have the organization intact, and it seems that those pesky timid souls who were trying to go slow on AI proliferation have been swept aside. TEOTWAWKI here we come…

Sometimes we think things have been incontrovertibly been proven, but we really only know them. Other times we think we know them but we really only think them. It’s always interesting when we something we think becomes something we know. We share those beliefs a little more often with a little more confidence. We start trying to tilt the balance of common knowledge one conversation at a time. I’d argue, however, that we would often be better served to wait until something is proven, as much as something can be proven. Or, at the very least, that our conversational was weight shifted far more when truly compelling evidence hits the scene.

I already believed that New York City’s infamous “Stop and Frisk” program was bad. That the bad outweighed the good. I was always careful to soften my language, to hedge my claims, however, because I always suspected there had to be some margins on which the program yielded some benefit to someone, somewhere, in some context. Criminal deterrence is real, after all.

I no longer feel any need to soften my language or claims one iota. There are research papers that change your priors. There are also ones that harden them into granite. Jonathan Tebes and Jeffrey Fagan have a new working paper they are presenting at conferences and quietly circulating that provides the single most compelling research effort into the effects of Stop and Frisk I have come across to date, one which makes the case that Stop and Frisk had now measurable effect at the margin to deter crime while, at the same came, causing significant harm to the young Black men walking the streets of New York City.

Please go through the slides, but let me summarize. Using a credible and clever event study design around the end of Stop and Frisk, Tebes and Fagan are able to identify the effect of stops on crime, finding an impressively precise null effect. They then look the effect of these stops of neighborhood schooling outcomes, specifically interruptions to instruction, persistent absences, suspensions, and graduation. The result, again, is very clear: Stop and Frisk was a disaster for high school age Black Men.

I’m just going to leave it there. Read the slides, read the paper when they release it, update your priors. And when someone tries to tell you at Thanksgiving dinner this year that New York City is going straight to hell because they ended Stop and Frisk, have the confidence to vigorously attempt to update their priors. Will it work? I’ve never met your family…but probably not.

But you gotta try, right? It’s your duty. And then make yourself a drink or take an extra slice of pie knowing that you earned it.

First, read this story from the NYT about the biggest producer of content on OnlyFans. TLDR; a couple have a compound in Florida and a full stable of employees (writers, editors, accountants, cooks, etc.) all being coordinated around the gigabytes of data generated by the supply and demand of their sexy content. If they were selling in a less stigmatized market, whis would be taught as a case study at business schools.

What I found interesting is how it simultaneously validated and assuaged all my fears about the opportunity to emotionally manipulate large numbers of people by using highly granular data. Don’t get me wrong, that’s arguably the story of every information-deficient marketing campaign ever, but I’m not talking about coarse, subliminal manipulation (“Look at this fully self-actualized person drive a car that signals their worth to strangers and their father”). I mean direct, interpersonal maninipulation through the fabrication of intimate parasocial bonds. The ability to allow customers to create their own, bespoke, false narrative in which they have a relationship with a beautiful stranger. At scale.

It’s that list bit that matters. What this couple have deconstructed is a formula for producing intimate parasocial relationships worth thousands of dollars to customer at scale.

The exploitation of fabricated relationships for income is the story behind the worlds oldest profession, not to mention most scams, for a very long time. The ability to produce them at any real scale, however, has been far more elusive. When someone pulls it off they’ve usually created a cult, whether it’s a new religion or a political cult of personality, and it’s worth taking note of. So have these Onlyfans creators laid out the blue print for future politicians, social entrepreneurs, and general power seekers? Are we at the beginning of an industrial revolution for social movements?

Actually, I kind of think they do have a blue print, but it’s going to be a minute before it crosses the chasm to other sectors because most fields that rely on parasocial relationships to grow don’t have the luxury of immediate profitability that sex work does. You might start your social movement with the ambition of analyzing every bit of data so your stable of employees in your Smithian pin factory of communications and content can rapidly grow your follower base, but you’re not going to have any money to pay them. What people tend to forget about sex work industries is that they generate revenue from minute one (that’s exactly what lures people into making what have historically been less than optimal long term personal decisions). By comparison, religious and political aspirants are a bunch of broke boys.

Religion and politics look like they have a lot of money until you consider size of the customer base (most people) and the sectors they influence (nearly all of them).  $14 billion was spent on federal election campaigns in the United States in 2020, the most ever. That sounds like a lot until you realize that a) it’s 2 and 4 year cycles and b) the federal government spends $6 trillion per year. By comparison, $5.5 billion poured through just OnlyFans, just last year. (Do I even need to convince you that new religious and social movements are notoriously short on cash?)

The story of each stage of the internet is the same thing over and over: a group of people couldn’t benefit from scale before but now they can. Social minorities looking to date couldn’t find each other before, now they can. People buying and selling pez dispensors can’t find each other, now they can. People with extreme beliefs were socially ostracized now they can find and reaffirm each other. People selling content to niche audiences used to have to find their customers through large media companies now they can do it directly. Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump both had disproportionate impact on American politics in part because they leverage the internet to disintermediate their ostenisble political parties. That’s the internet bringing scale to parts of the American electorate previously too distant from the median voter.

Power and ambition be damned, however, aspirant leaders are still not going to be able to build what two people selling naughty pictures in Florida were able to do because most people don’t want to pay for politics. Just ask every newspaper in the country struggling to stay afloat. We’re entering a new age of scale in the fake relationships being sold to us, but it will only be for the kinds of relationships we actually want. That doesn’t mean those will be emotionally nutritious relationships, but choice will remain intact. Portfolios of relationships for a lot of people are going to change, but I suspect its going to look less like Evita Peron and Jim Jones, and a lot more like Taylor Swift and Frito Lay.

Marketing will become more granular, more personal, more intrusive, and more effective. If this fills you with anxiety, I hope you can take some solace knowing its mostly going to happen for the stuff you are willing to pay for, like love, family, and your sense of self-worth. Data-enabled relationship fabrication will grow in market share as artificial intelligence crowds out the classically information driven side of marketing. The uncanny of valley of cringe is a customer relations disaster, a trap whose lines are invisible and always moving. For AI to learn where the boundaries lie is to move them. Which means this decidedly human labor market will grow all the faster. And a blue print for selling naughty content from a Florida couple will find its way to selling you damn near everything else.

Housing remains the most expensive monthly outlay for most Americans. There are signs of things getting better, but the fact remains that for those living within the first or second ring of suburbs surrounding a given city, space is at a premium. For this holiday season, give the gift of not taking up any more of that precious, precious space.

Don’t give them instant pots or juicers for their already full kitchen counter. Don’t give them clothes to go in their overflowing closets. Don’t give them knick knacks, tschotckes, or decorative thingamajigs that will rapidly migrate from shelves to bins to (shudder) storage units. Don’t get them stuff.

I’m not going to say get them “an experience” because we’ve all become a little weary of that cliche. What I suggest is getting them a luxury that might fall at the margins of their budget. Get them a massage. A facial. A stretching session (that’s a real thing). If they line wine or whiskey, get them a bottle they’ve never tried. The stuff they already like is easy, but my expectation is that is probably already in their budget. Gift them the risk of trying something they might not like.

Books are acceptable because there is an entire ecosystem that exists that take books from one home to the next once it has been read. Get them a subscription to Amazon Music or a download code for a new game on their PlayStation. Get them tickets to a concert or play. Get them a two hour cleaning service.

Babysit their kids for a Saturday. Tell them their hair looks nice and really sell it that you mean it. Leave them alone for a couple days so they can recooperate from a long week. Just no more stuff please.