Well here’s a disturbing point I somehow hadn’t thought about before. Are we training AI, or is it training us?

When I sat down to write this article, in which, to be clear, I did not use AI, I found myself writing the following sentence: “It’s not just in places we’re conditioned to see AI—Google AI overviews, LinkedIn influencer posts, and Facebook feeds—I’ve started seeing AI…” I stopped typing, freaked out, and deleted the sentence. Have I always written this way? I honestly don’t know.

This negative parallelism—“it’s not just x, it’s y” is maybe the most infamous AI writing-ism there is. It is something that is regularly called out as being obviously AI, and is the formation in the sentence Mamdani wrote that Spero called out. But I didn’t use AI. Did I use that construction because I’ve been immersed on an internet full of generic AI writing on every platform all day everyday for years? Or did I just happen to think that was the best way to phrase it at the time?

Related, I like Kai’s take on why we feel so… duped when we see clearly AI-generated text:

I’m not categorically against using AI to help out with tedious work. But there’s a difference between using a tool to say something you actually mean, and using a tool to manufacture the appearance of meaning something.

I know it’s a bit naïve to appeal to common decency when the same technology is busy guiding weapons systems, but please don’t outsource sincerity. Don’t pretend to care about someone or something just to get their attention.

The damage isn’t just annoyance. It’s suspicion that gets attached to genuine messages. Emails I would have read warmly now carry an asterisk. Did a person write this? Does this person actually care about my work, or is this just another prompt in the dark?

I say this sincerely because I am a big fan of Buttondown and how Justin runs the business—this couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy:

Our month-over-month growth rate in Q1 2026 was double our growth rate in Q4 2025. Buttondown has, roughly, grown a little less than 2x every year of its existence; this — its eighth year — is poised to shatter that, if trends hold.

Almost all of that incremental growth, meaning the growth in addition to our historical trend, I attribute to LLMs. We ask people when they sign up what brought them here, and an answer that went from surprising to banal to overwhelming over the course of Q1 was: an LLM. Users of all stripes cite an LLM as the reason that they ended up at Buttondown’s front door.

You should click through for the whole post because he explains why he thinks this happened:

People have asked why I think we have been the beneficiary of this genre of growth. There is one fairly interesting reason: we have accidentally built a very LLM-friendly business in this space.

I’ve always been a big believer in API-first design, and this feels like an almost accidental enormous additional benefit to that approach. Anyway, all that to say… my newsletter is on Buttondown, and yours should be too.

In a practical example of brain fry, Petra Wille recalls some of her personal experience during coaching:

The product leaders and CPOs I coach tell me their people are completely fried before lunch—after a morning of generating content and reviewing outputs in Claude, Gemini, and ChatGPT, they’re just done. Adapting to this new type of work doesn’t make them more productive because they’re out of energy and brainpower by noon.

So conversations about how we actually work—what a sustainable rhythm looks like for humans in this new setup—still needs to happen.

This has become a pretty common complaint/concern among people I talk to, and it gets me too. I’ve been sitting on posting this link because I wanted to include some kind of proposal but… I got nothing. Just agreement with Petra that we really really need to figure out how to work in this new world in a way that avoids mass burnout.

Yes, it’s a clickbaity title, but if you read this as an essay about what to care about at work, it has some good reminders like this:

“Care less” is directionally right, but let’s get more specific. The real shift is learning to place your care deliberately — to get good at telling the difference between what’s strategically important and what’s just noisy. A lot of what happens inside companies is frustrating without being important. Reacting to a messy call that you personally wouldn’t have made as if it’s a strategic risk is what drains you. So is holding on to every detail as if it’s existential. Not everything deserves to be treated with equal importance. A gut check that helps: Will this matter in a year? If not, it probably doesn’t deserve much energy now. What’s the worst-case scenario? Often, it’s not that bad.

I sent this essay to my wife because doing self-owns is kind of my brand. It’s about husbands who can’t stop talking about AI, and despite how uncomfortable it made me, it’s not wrong and also wonderful writing. This is so good:

I should also say I didn’t bother speaking to any of the actual husbands for this story. I’m sick of hearing from the men of AI. So many of us are. They have podcasts and Senate hearings and magazine profiles and probably a group chat with the president. They’ve been talked to—and I can’t stress this enough—enough.

This post is a fascinating look at how botnets actually work. I don’t want to spoil the takeaways so I’ll just quote this (but you should read the whole thing):

Your server isn’t special. Nobody is “targeting” it. Every IP address on the internet is being continuously probed by automated systems. Within seconds of exposing port 22, you will receive login attempts. This isn’t a question of “if” but “when” — and the answer to “when” is “immediately.”

This song is all over my Instagram Reels for some reason and it is such a vibe I can’t get enough of it.