In Defense of the Grossly Imperfect

This semester I’m teaching a writing course, the theme of which is Artificial Intelligence. If spending time daily contemplating the looming AI takeover isn’t enough to plunge you into existential dread, I don’t know what is. AI has become so sophisticated that it is already replacing our doctors, our service workers, our artists and writers, me. I have no skills AI cannot do more accurately and efficiently. I am thoroughly, humanly, excruciatingly fallible.