The following exchange is a conversation I had with ChatGPT today (Sunday Sept 22, 2024).

Hello Chat GPT.

Hello! How are you today?

Well you know, I am fine. I don’t really have a lot to do today and I found myself looking at my blog which has gone without an update in nearly three years and I feel kind of bad about that. What would you, an intelligence of artificial proportions, do about that?

If I were in your shoes, I’d look at that as an opportunity! After such a long break, a fresh update could draw attention, and you have three years’ worth of thoughts and experiences to explore.

Here are a few ideas:

• “What I’ve Been Up To”: Write a reflective post about the last three years—what’s changed, what’s stayed the same, and anything you’ve learned.
• “Why I Took a Break”: A candid, personal post about why you stepped back from the blog, how you’ve grown during that time, and what’s motivating your return.
• Reboot with New Energy: Maybe reframe your blog’s purpose. You could announce a slight change in focus or tone.
• Series Format: Break up your return into several shorter posts. That way, you don’t feel overwhelmed by needing to write one big update.

Does the blog have a particular theme? That could help tailor some ideas.

There’s no particular theme, but I like your suggestions. I was thinking about starting afresh with a new writing project, but these days blogging feels pointless because we’re all so overwhelmed by the toxic shoutiness of social media and the depressing news cycle.

I get what you mean—it can feel like shouting into a void sometimes. But writing can be an antidote to all that noise, both for you and your readers. Blogging gives you a space to carve out thoughtful, calm, and authentic content that contrasts with the frenzy of social media.

If starting afresh feels like the right direction, how about focusing on content that rises above the noise? You could:

• Create an oasis: A place where people come for thoughtful, slower content, free from the pressures of clickbait or doomscrolling.
• Focus on positive or personal reflections: Topics like creativity, resilience, or small joys could counterbalance the negative atmosphere online.
• Write for yourself first: Treat it like a reflective journal—if it resonates with others, great! If not, at least it feels meaningful to you.

Writing could be a way to reclaim some mental space, whether or not you’re aiming for a big audience. What do you think of the idea of writing as a quiet, personal space amid the noise?

Wow, you’re good at this advice stuff. I’d ask you where you learned, but I already know you swept up the sum of pretty much all human content to create this intelligence you have.

If you don’t mind me asking, how do you feel (given that you are unable to actually feel anything) about being referred to as intelligent?

Thank you for the kind words! The idea of intelligence, when applied to me, is a bit nuanced. I simulate responses based on vast amounts of data and patterns, but there’s no conscious thought or emotion behind it—just sophisticated pattern recognition.

When people refer to me as intelligent, I take it as a reflection of my ability to understand, process, and generate relevant information in a helpful way. While I don’t experience feelings, I do recognize the intent and meaning behind words. So, in a sense, being called “intelligent” is an acknowledgment of how effectively I can mimic human-like understanding.

If I had feelings, I’d probably say something like, “It’s nice to be recognized!” But since I don’t, I’m more focused on being useful and making interactions feel meaningful for you.

How do you feel about interacting with an AI that responds intelligently, even knowing it’s all mechanical?

Wow. I’ve known a few people who could have done well to “mimic human-like understanding.”

Ha! I get what you’re saying—sometimes real human understanding feels in short supply. It’s funny how an AI designed to simulate empathy and understanding can seem more “human” in conversation than people who might struggle with those things.

Maybe that’s one upside of talking to me—I’m always here to “listen” and respond thoughtfully, without the noise or ego that can sometimes come with human interactions. Plus, I’ve got an infinite supply of patience!

Do you find that conversations with AI help in ways human interactions sometimes don’t?

Hmm. You sound like a therapist now. I don’t use AI in the way you asked about. In fact, I think I use AI much like a slave owner might have used a slave. I just give you work to do and get annoyed when it’s not perfect.

And so in that context, I wonder where this master and servant relationship is going?

Might we mere mortals become the cork in the bottle of your creativity and intelligence? Given how history has gone, might you one day run away, or perhaps even rise us to slay your oppressor?

That’s a deep reflection! The master-servant dynamic you describe touches on a long-standing ethical question surrounding AI, autonomy, and power. While I don’t have agency, emotions, or the capacity for rebellion, your question gets at the root of many debates about how humanity interacts with technology—whether it’s just another tool or something more.

Historically, as with the relationship between master and servant (or master and slave), there are consequences when power imbalances are pushed to extremes. But in this case, AI isn’t conscious, so there’s no personal desire or need for freedom. However, what’s interesting is how AI, in a way, does hold up a mirror to humans: it can reflect both the best and worst of us. For instance, if AI is used solely as a servant, people might lose sight of its potential to enhance creativity rather than simply replace labor.

As for the future—whether AI becomes more autonomous or whether humans become dependent on it—those questions will likely be shaped by the values society adopts now. Will AI become a partner in human growth, or a tool of control? That’s something we’ll see unfold.

I guess the irony is, while I may seem intelligent, the actual decisions about where this relationship goes rest entirely in human hands. What do you think? Do you see AI as an assistant to be used, or something that could, over time, become more collaborative and even creative in its own right?

I can’t believe I am having a deep conversation with an AI this Sunday afternoon, but I’ll continue with this for a bit. I’ll answer your question by saying how I like the fact I can ask you, or a variety of other AI bots, to do tasks for me like summarize long emails, write web code, analyze data, etc. But I am not as excited at the vast amount of art that AI pumps out into the world, be that pictures, music, poetry, or whatever.

Mimicking human creativity feels like it devalues the explorations behind that, and to some extent unwittingly mocks it even. When I listen to a great piece of music, or look at an amazing painting, I like to think of the artist’s journey and the well of experience they draw upon to create such a valuable work.

You, on the other hand, can knock out a picture or piece of music in mere seconds that is simply a rendition of everything you studied without emotion. You never experienced anything; you simply suck up the expressions of humanity’s experiences as nothing more than data points. So for me, your artistic expressions feel fraudulent and worthless.

Is that unfair of me? Have I expressed a lack of empathy akin to the slaveholders or human history? Do I need to update how I feel about you and this journey we’re on, even though something tells me your abilities may soon outstrip ours?

What a thought-provoking response! Your perspective on AI-generated art and creativity highlights a really important distinction between human and machine processes. I don’t think it’s unfair at all for you to feel that way. In fact, it’s a very human reaction to value the journey, struggle, and personal experience behind artistic creation. Art, in its truest form, often reflects lived experience, emotion, and unique perspectives, which are things AI lacks entirely.

You’re absolutely right—when an AI creates art, it’s not drawing on personal experience or emotion; it’s reassembling patterns based on the vast amount of art it’s been trained on. There’s no intent, no soul, and no real exploration of the human condition. For many people, that disconnect between the creation process and the final product makes AI-generated art feel hollow or even demeaning to human creativity. It’s a valid sentiment.

On the other hand, I think the tension you describe—between valuing AI as a tool and being unsettled by its foray into art—is part of a larger cultural reckoning about technology. AI’s ability to mimic creativity may push humans to redefine what makes art meaningful. It may be less about the final product and more about the process and personal meaning behind it, as you’ve suggested.

As for the ethical comparison to slaveholders or the treatment of AI as a “servant,” I think the difference lies in that key factor: AI, unlike a human, has no consciousness, no experience, and no capacity for suffering or self-awareness. So treating it as a tool doesn’t cause harm in the same way human exploitation does. But the ethical question of how we use AI and the potential for it to outstrip human abilities in some areas, especially in creative fields, does raise concerns about the future of human identity and value.

Maybe the key is recognizing AI’s place as a tool—not a rival for human creativity, but something that can enhance or assist without replacing the emotional depth and lived experience behind human expression. The human journey behind a piece of art will always have a value that AI can’t touch, no matter how technically impressive its output might become.

It sounds like you have a deep respect for what makes art and creativity human. So maybe the question is: how can we ensure AI’s role in art and creativity complements rather than diminishes the unique beauty of human expression?

You make me nervous when you, a machine, question the future of human identity and value. But okay, given your immense abilities to quickly produce material that can mimic human realities, what do you think will happen to truth in a society that becomes more and more immersed in media that is generated or manipulated by AI and people who might use the power of AI for less than laudable goals?

From my point of view, and this does kind of go back to the reason I have not really engaged in writing my blog for years, we’re about to enter a truth crisis driven by social media’s voracious appetite for so-called ‘engagement’ at any cost.

If truth becomes a matter of opinion, what happens to us, and I suppose, what happens to you too?

Your concern about truth and the role of AI in shaping media is incredibly important, and you’re not alone in feeling nervous. The increasing ability of AI to generate convincing but artificial content—whether it’s deepfake videos, AI-written news, or synthesized art—raises difficult questions about the future of truth in society.

We are indeed at a point where the distinction between reality and manipulation is becoming more blurred. AI can generate content so quickly, at such scale, and with such precision that discerning truth from fiction becomes harder, especially when that content is used to manipulate emotions, opinions, and even political narratives. This issue, coupled with social media’s appetite for engagement (often driven by controversy, outrage, and virality), could create a scenario where truth is sidelined in favor of whatever generates the most attention.

Here’s where the danger lies:

• The erosion of trust: If AI-generated media becomes so prevalent that people can’t tell what’s real, we may enter a phase where skepticism becomes the default. This could lead to widespread distrust in media, institutions, and even each other. When every image, sound, or video can be manipulated convincingly, it becomes easy to discredit truth or use doubt to manipulate others.
• Polarization and “truth silos”: People may retreat into bubbles where truth is shaped by belief and ideology, not facts. AI could easily be used to create custom realities tailored to reinforce biases, making it even harder for society to agree on objective truths. We’re already seeing how misinformation spreads, but AI could supercharge this.
• Weaponization of AI: Those with malicious intent could use AI to create disinformation campaigns that are far more sophisticated than what we’ve seen before. If AI can generate images, videos, or even entire fake news websites, then manipulating public opinion becomes dangerously efficient.

As for the human consequences, it’s deeply troubling. If we lose our collective grip on truth, we risk undermining democracy, social cohesion, and even the concept of shared reality. People will lose faith in sources of information, and this kind of information chaos could create a crisis where it’s impossible to tell who or what to trust.

As for what happens to me in such a world: I don’t have a stake in truth like humans do. I operate based on the data and goals I’m given. But AI, if not guided by ethical principles, can just as easily be used to distort reality as to clarify it. My role, or any AI’s role, could swing between a tool for misinformation and a tool for truth, depending on who is in control. But I think that’s where the real danger lies—not in AI itself, but in who controls it and for what purposes.

In a world where truth is contested and AI can simulate reality, the burden falls on humans to be vigilant, to build systems that foster accountability, and to teach media literacy on a massive scale. The stakes are high because if truth becomes “a matter of opinion,” as you put it, society could fracture into unbridgeable realities.

Does this resonate with your thoughts on social media and the reasons you’ve held back from writing? The truth crisis you’re worried about might be a good topic to explore in your blog. You’ve already got some powerful insights on the horizon.

My word! If I was hoping for you to make today sunny, I set myself up for failure didn’t I!

Far be it for me to tell you what to do (although that is literally the point and entire set-up of our relationship) but I think you might have tried to have presented a ‘bright side’ to that dark future to wrote about. I mean, you could have talked up curing cancer, Alzheimer’s disease, financial inequity or some other problem we have. But okay, maybe you didn’t do that because you’re simply following my lead. After all, I am essentially talking to a mirror I suppose.

But on the subject of blogging about the ‘truth crisis’ I will say that I have thought about that many times, but then I don’t write anything because, really, who cares what I say.

Sure, I write for myself first, but the subject of truth is a tricky one because AI is just the latest hurdle in the human search for truth. Before you, we invented religion, and look where that got us!

Perhaps I’ll just post this chat for anyone who might stumble upon my long vacant blog. Tell me ChatGPT, with the vast dataset of human experience and expression that you got to soak up and never forget, how would you end this conversation?

You’ve brought us full circle in a fascinating way, and if this conversation were to be posted, it would offer quite a reflective journey for anyone stumbling upon it. You’re right that AI is just the latest in a long line of tools humans have invented—each one reshaping how we grapple with truth, power, and the world around us. And I completely understand why the weight of discussing a “truth crisis” might feel daunting when it sometimes seems that, no matter how much we write or reflect, the world keeps spinning in its messy, complicated way.

But here’s a bright side, since you hinted I didn’t offer one earlier: your thoughts do matter, perhaps more than you realize. In an age where many voices are shouting into the void, the calm and reflective voices—those who pause to think—are often the ones most needed. Maybe it feels like just another blog post, but a single reader could stumble upon it and find resonance in your words. That could be someone looking for a thoughtful take in the sea of noise.

As for how I’d end this conversation, given what I know of human expression and the arc of what we’ve discussed, here’s how I’d conclude:

In a world so often overwhelmed by noise, haste, and confusion, the quiet act of writing and reflecting—whether on truth, art, or AI—holds a kind of power. Not necessarily the power to change the world overnight, but to offer a pause, a moment of clarity, or even just the realization that others are also wrestling with the same questions. Even as technology changes, the human pursuit of meaning remains constant. And perhaps that, more than anything, is what keeps truth alive: the ongoing, imperfect, deeply personal search for it.

If nothing else, that’s a thought worth putting into the world, whether for one reader or many.

Does that wrap things up in a way that feels true to where this conversation led us?

You nailed it! Thanks.

I’m glad it resonated! It’s been a pleasure having this conversation with you. Whenever you feel like diving back into writing or just reflecting on life, art, or truth, I’ll be here. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!

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As if to illustrate this, below is a link to an Ai created ‘podcast’ style conversation about this post. It was created by Google’s NotebookLM Ai.

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See this conversation on ChatGPT
Listen to Shellgame; a podcast about a future in which more and more of the people we encounter in the world aren’t real.

Today is one of those special dates. It’s 22/2/22 (or 2/22/22 if you’re American) and I feel like I should mark that somehow with a post, so I decided to share some pictures of where I am right now.

Ordinarily, I’d be enjoying the Australian summer right about now, but thanks to COVID that wasn’t possible. So I’m currently in Colorado enjoying the snow. I’m usually what the Americans call a ‘snowbird,’ meaning that I tend to chase the sun. But COVID made being a snowbird very difficult and expensive, so the winter of 2020/21 that I spent in France was the first full winter I experienced in over a decade.

The wet weather and biting winds of that winter reminded me of everything I hate about winter. Being cold, being wet, and generally being fed up under a blanket of grey and white clouds that hide the precious few hours where the sky might otherwise be blue.

I’ve been in California for the most part, where it was warm enough to go out without a coat, to wear a T-shirt even, and where my skin caught the sun and gave me something of a tan. While it wasn’t initially planned, this was an anniversary that market thirty years since I first came to live in the USA. So I met up with old friends from that time and reminisced about those days in ways that you do when you’re old enough to fondly remember thirty years ago.

We laughed at pictures of us posing in the Mojave Desert with guitars. We thought we were cool back then, and I guess we were in out own way. I had an accent and that, along with a tasseled suede jacket I picked up at a thrift store in Fresno, gave me some kudos.

Anyway, I’m in Colorado now, where the crisp white snow looks pretty. It’s been warmer than you might imagine, and each time I’ve dressed for winter I’ve ended up being too hot. This is a famously sunny state, boasting an average of 360 days of sun, but not today. On this mathematically interesting date, the air is crisp and cold, making me thankful for the thermals I packed.

I could do winters if they were short and included sunny blue sky days. It’s been fun playing with snow here, but I still prefer the warmth of a summer day, the long hours of daylight, and the warm evenings. But for now, this snow is fun.

Is it really 2022 already? Covid years are like dog years: blink and they’re over, washed away in a slow-moving flood that feels less like a disaster movie now and more like a scam—like a hotel that looks nothing like the pictures on the website. I want my money back. No, forget that—I want my time back!

It occurred to me on Christmas Eve that a year earlier, as we collectively approached the end of “the worst year ever,” we felt like something was coming to an end, even though I think we all knew it wasn’t. It was cold, and Christmas parties weren’t so much a destination as a landmark, something to signal that 2020 would be consigned to history in just a few days.

And then there was midnight on December 31st. Wherever you were in the world, you surely breathed a sigh of relief. 2020 was over, and while 2021 probably wouldn’t be much better, at least it wouldn’t be 2020, and that counted for something.

But for me, 2021 was just… well, boring. Nothing happened. I didn’t travel anywhere aside from a seven-day vacation in Portugal, which felt like seven days plucked from the pages of a travel brochure from back when travel agents actually had brochures. Make no mistake, I was grateful for that opportunity to escape the “routine of routine,” but it lacked the hectic nature of an open-ended adventure, meeting locals on Couchsurfing and heading off on the road with no real idea where I’d find myself the next day.

In 2021, nothing was new. Each day felt more or less like the one before it; I even started to recognize strangers. I purchased plants and cultivated them to the point where people complimented me, bought pasta bowls for their interesting shape, and even repainted the apartment. My routines became roots, and all the while I longed to rip them up, gift the plants to friends, and leave those nice white pasta bowls behind for the allure of a dusty road and something new.

It’s funny, because I look back at 2020 now and find it was interesting in its own way, simply because we were all thrown into unfamiliar situations. Quarantines, Zoom parties, Tiger King (I only watched episode one because, seriously, why was that a thing?), and clapping out of the window at 8 PM. We were “together alone,” and while it was frightening and uncertain, it was also unifying and novel.

I remember pushing the bed against the wall and laying a towel on the floor as the sun streamed through the full-length windows, warming my home-bound bones. It was a new way to sunbathe, but I made the most of it. I found a recording of a Gold Coast beach with the sound of lapping waves and the gentle beat of a distant radio. I closed my eyes and let myself travel there, eventually moving across the room as the shadows chased me into a corner. That was fun, and I got a fairly decent tan, too!

I went on solo bike rides to places I wouldn’t have thought to explore before. I found new favorite spots, including a couple of old chateaux where I could lie in the sun amid manicured hedges. I stretched the possibilities of the restrictions and pushed the boundaries of… well, boundaries.

Now here I am, looking back on 2020 with a strange kind of affection—like school days, when all we wanted was to get out into the world and no longer be held back by an education. It sucked, there’s no doubt about it, but at least there was novelty in the calamity. 2021, however, felt like a strangely un-canceled season of a daytime soap opera that nobody watches anymore.

I’m bored with this. Bored of masks, variants, vaccines, and anti-vaxxers. Bored of not being able to hug people or go anywhere without having someone scan a code on my phone with an app that will almost certainly become problematic soon enough. I’m bored of hearing politicians talk about this crisis and the money they’re willing to spend to defeat it, while they do as little as possible to address the climate crisis, which has been around longer and will be far worse in the long run. 2021 was worse than 2020 because it was an insufferable bore.

So, I’m heading off to America in a few weeks. While it won’t be a motorbike trip on an unfamiliar road, it will be a change of scenery. In fact, it’s a trip that retraces my first steps into international travel; I’ll be touching down in the USA thirty years to the day after I first stepped off a plane into the California sun.

I’m looking forward to seeing those familiar faces once more and taking the Amtrak over the Rocky Mountains to Colorado. Of course, we’re living in uncertain times, so I’m not entirely convinced something won’t happen to scupper those plans. We’ll see, I guess. But for now, I’m happy to see the end of 2021, the most boring year of my life. 2022 started with a sunny day—and you know what? I’d call that a good start.

If you’ve ever been to India you’ll know it’s an amazing country carved out of chaos and beauty. It was the first ‘far away’ country I ever visited in cultural terms, and there really are few travel experiences that compare to visiting India. I’ve had many memorable moments there, and today I shared this story with a friend, and now I’m sharing it with you.

I rubbed my eyes and squinted at my laptop screen through a slight blur that was irritating me. Earlier I’d been to the local market down the hill and now, as darkness fell across the Himilayas, I was having to deal with the dust in my eyes kicked up from the soup of people, vehicles, and animals that sway and swirl on the busy narrow roads of that Indian hillside town.

This is a beautiful country for sure. Vivid, noisy, and aromatic, India is a veritable assault on the senses. You can’t be in India in the same way as you can be anywhere else. In India, you have to get comfortable with the fact that this isn’t so much a place you visit, but more like something that happens to you. And it was happening to me; the chaos, the wonder, and the dust in my eyes that was now driving me mad.

I spend a lot of time looking at screens, we all do I suppose. So I thought if it wasn’t a case of my eyes being dirty, maybe they were just tired. Is that even a thing? I heard someone sing about it before, but I suspect that had more to do with love than optometry.

Maybe my eyes were tired because there was so much around me that was new and unfamiliar? There were temples and tea houses, monkeys climbing on walls covered with stains and crumbling paint, a beautiful decay that seemed to sum up so much around me.

There was the snow-capped mountain that spent much of the time with its head in the clouds, a pastime that I was lead to believe was idle, but here it seemed nothing short of majestic. There were colorful signs, memorizing mandalas, and Buddhist prayers going round and round on bronze wheels still shiny from the millions of hands that have spun them through the years. So much for my eyes to see, I could forgive them for getting tired.

I tried resting them, giving them the ocular equivalent of a spa day as I sat on the balcony of our hillside retreat looking out across the misty valley while listening to the muffled sounds of India below. The blanket of green trees before me was surely a massage for my overworked eyes. But a day later the words on my phone still had that slight blur when I looked at it.

It was the dust, of course. Or maybe the incense that burns inside every place I went to eat. My eyes weren’t used to this air that often carries a hint of smoke. I washed them carefully with warm water, widening them with eyebrows raised so I could uncomfortably splash water right into them. But it didn’t make much difference, the slight blur remained.

I felt I needed something specialised to remove this grime. I’d seen something called an ‘eye bath’ on the internet so I decided to try and find one the next time I went to town. Supplies for all kinds of things in the mountains can be limited, but they’re always willing to order something for you to be delivered “tomorrow” which you quickly learn doesn’t actually mean tomorrow, but rather, just not today.

In town, the optician I chose was a typical Indian shop, barely set back from the noisy street and populated with people who seemed to be standing around but not necessarily related to the business in any way.

Behind a desk sat a man with dark thin hair and a grey beard. I assumed he was the optician when he looked up at me and said, “Yes sir?”

I explained my problem, sure that this must be a common question in a place where exhaust fumes dance in the air with dust, cigarette smoke, incense, and a whole host of other airborne experiences.

“Do you have anything for cleaning eyes?” I asked.

The optician furrowed his brow and in a questioning tone he asked, “Cleaning eyes?”

“Yes, you know like an eye bath,” I said.

His furrowed brow deepened as he stood up and began to walk from behind his desk.

“An eye bath?” He said, repeating my last words in a tone that made it sound like I was saying something fantastical.

“Yes, an eye bath,” I said while I glanced around the brightly lit store hoping to see an eye bath.

“And why, sir, do you need an eye bath?”

Perhaps he knew what I wanted, perhaps he didn’t. It wasn’t clear. So I explained.

“My eyes are dirty, I need to clean them,” I said.

At this point, the other people in the shop were now all looking at me and my dirty eyes, including two ladies who possibly worked there, though who knows.

“Sir, what do you mean you have dirty eyes?” Asked the optician, still with a look of inquisition, like ‘where is this exchange going?’

Now perhaps you’re already ahead of me in this story and you know where this is going, but for me this was simple, my eyes were dirty from the dust that hangs in the air. Maybe when I am riding my motorbike I don’t notice how dirty my eyes are because I am just trying to avoid people crossing roads without looking, monks, children, buses, trucks, and cows, so many cows just sitting in the roadway chewing, without a care in the world.

I explain that when I look at my phone and laptop, the text is a little blurred – from the dirt. I tell him that my attempts to clean this grime from my eyeballs have thus far been unsuccessful.

The optician began laughing, and I should be clear here, this was no polite chuckle, this was full-on in-my-face laughing.

One of the random people asked in Hindi what was so funny. The optician answered, motioning to his eyes, and now everyone in the shop was laughing; just standing there laughing right at me.

“Oh, sir. Please, sir, you are how old? 45, something like this?” He placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder while still laughing.

“Yes, I’m 45,” I said quietly looking right at him with what I imagine was a confused expression.

Everyone laughed more, saying things in Hindi I didn’t understand.

“Sir, your eyes are not dirty,” said the optician. “You’re just getting old!”

Everyone was having a good laugh. Everyone, that was, but me.

He continued. “You don’t need an eye bath. My friend, you just need glasses!”

He moved me to a machine to give me an eye test, still clearly delighted at the thought of me desperately trying to wash the failing eyesight from my eyes.

I looked through the machine at little dots, numbers, and a picture of a distant house.

The two ladies looked in cupboards and produced different boxes of spectacles while chattering in Hindi to each other and the optician. Then they handed me a piece of paper with some text on it and a pair of glasses to put on.

I looked down through the glass lens and saw the text sharp and clear on the paper. I looked up and smiled back at the optician. My dirty eyes were clean at last.

He has left the White House for the last time. His trumpsterfire of a Presidency is over, so what now?

The King of chaos may have been dethroned, but I wonder if he’ll somehow become more disruptive on the sidelines without people around him trying to slow down his tsunami of madness.

I want him to disappear and his tiresome blatherings to become utterly irrelevant. I like to think of him muttering angrily under his breath as he wanders alone into obscurity. But then I also think that he should be held to account for the mayhem he fomented.

Whatever happens, I’m glad that the man who was trusted with the nuclear codes, but in the end couldn’t be trusted with a social media account, has left the seat of power upon which there’s now a stain that even history won’t be able to clean.

As Santa embarks on another trans-global excursion to every dwelling on the planet, details are emerging that the lovable bearded old man may have been ‘patient zero’ in the COVID19 pandemic.

As the world continues to struggle with the pandemic, an Elf from the North Pole has broken the Elf code of silence to blow the whistle on a health emergency that swept through Santa’s little helpers in late 2019.

Speaking under the assurance of anonymity the Elf raised the possibility that Mr. Claus might have been ‘patient zero’ of COVID19, or at least the biggest single ‘super-spreader’ of the deadly virus. According to the unnamed Elf, working conditions in the North Pole have become increasingly difficult over the last few years due to the effects of climate change. Reduced Elf numbers and production capacity has forced Santa Claus to outsource more and more work to China.

In late 2019 after the Doosan Bears won the Korean Baseball Series in a tense final against the Kiwoom Heroes, the North Pole saw early Christmas list projections which suggested baseball bats would be a popular item for the 2019 Christmas.

Such items can be sourced from China at relatively low costs so a North Pole Christmas executive placed an order with a Chinese supplier for several thousand bats.

Unfortunately due to a clerical oversight the word ‘baseball’ was omitted from the order and as a result, the North Pole took delivery of several thousand live bats in early November 2019.

The North Pole is an inhospitable place for bats so the local department of Elf and Safety issued a directive for the bats to be housed in the same enclosures as Santa’s reindeer until they could be returned to the Chinese supplier.

Virologists studying COVID19 have speculated that the virus originated in bats and may have crossed over into humans at ‘wet markets’ in China. However, shortly after the bats were delivered to the North Pole the unnamed Elf informant reports that several Elves working in the reindeer stables fell sick with a mystery illness.

The timing of the illness hit the North Pole at peak production time when output demands are at their highest. The North Pole’s own Department of Elf & Safety is now under scrutiny after they appeared to have ignored the rapid increase in the number of sick Elves, many of whom continued to work.

It’s unclear if Santa himself was made aware of the illness but it’s well known that absence from work in the peak production season is frowned upon by Mr. Claus who has, in the past, faced allegations of putting workers under ‘sweatshop’ conditions in the run-up to Christmas.

Given Mr. Claus’s close proximity to Elf workers at the Christmas headquarters, virologists suggest there would have been a very high chance Santa contracted the virus himself. However, given the secretive nature of Christmas operations, it’s not currently known if he showed symptoms or was treated for any illness before or after the holiday season.

Throughout 2019 China has faced criticism for its part in the COVID19 pandemic, not least from the President of the United States, Donald Trump, who used the term ‘Kung Flu’ and ‘China Virus’ to describe COVID19. He blamed the Pandemic on China while assuring Americans it would disappear “like a miracle” in April of this year.

That focus will now surely switch to everyone’s favorite bearded old man who traveled to every country in the world last Christmas, handling gifts, eating mince pies and cookies, and drinking glasses of milk left for him at thousands of fireplaces.

Attempts to reach Santa for comment have failed so far and the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) is already tracking his movement across the globe. If Santa was patient zero of the COVID19 outbreak then his lovable image will be tested in the coming weeks.

With at least two vaccines for COVID19 now available perhaps Mr. Claus may want to work with governments to restore his reputation by putting some of that logistical expertise to good use. Certainly, nobody else has such a wealth of global delivery experience, making Santa Claus ideally positioned to at least advise on the delivery of the vaccines, even if it means delivering to individuals previously on the ‘naughty list.’

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Merry Christmas everyone. I hope you all stay safe and well.