AI, Trump, and Deception

On some days, it’s hard to be in the coffee shop. I was writing away when a group of five males who are about my age arrived. I’ve seen them before but don’t know them. After ordering drinks, they took the table beside me and began discussing subjects I enjoy.

For instance, they mentioned “Klara and the Sun”. Terrific book. A short summary is given. They don’t know the author’s name.

Working on my manuscript, I refrained from informing them.

“Did you lose any money yesterday?” one asked another. “There was a big crypto crime. I can’t remember the name of the company.”

I know, I know, my brain shouted, but I kept typing, venturing deeper into the novel in progress.

My coffee-shop neighbors returned to an earlier topic, AI. One said, “I think they’ll need to start labeling things made with AI.”

“Oh, yes,” another confidently replied. “That’s a given.”

I laughed to myself. I don’t think anything involving large sums of money and corporations is a given. I think that’s especially so when profits and revenues are in direct competition with public health and safety. Thinking back, I easily recall several historic incidents that repudiate that idea.

  1. Way back when cigarette companies paid doctors to reassure people that cigarettes weren’t dangerous.
  2. Remember the exploding gastanks on Ford Pintos? Ford paid a lot of money to keep that quiet, figuring that it would be cheaper to pay off the lawsuits.
  3. How ‘bout that time that oil and energy companies found and hid the risks and dangers of climate change?
  4. Purdue, the Sacklers, and the opiod epidemic early this century?
  5. Or what about DuPont and 3M hiding the effects of forever chemicals, Johnsons & Johnsons and the talcum powder/asbestos scandal, Volkswagen and dieselgate, or Monsanto and Roundup?

I can imagine the campaigns already, based on what I’ve seen with GMO labeling battles and Oregon Connects’ astroturf efforts here in Oregon. AI companies will run emotional ads arguing that forced labels stifle local software developers, harm tech startups, and slow down life-saving medical AI innovations.

They’ll jump on the deliberate manufacturing of ignorance and doubt, tactics corporations successfully employed before. As we’ve seen with multiple issues and challenges, the fight over AI labeling won’t be fought with facts; it will be fought by trying to convince you that facts don’t exist yet, or that a consensus about the facts doesn’t exist. It’ll be fought by convincing you that there is doubt.

Which brings us to Trump. Trump loves AI, although he wants to rename it, of course. While in office, Trump will absolutely fight to keep AI labels from being applied. Donald Trump is all for making money and dismisses values like honesty, ethics, and integrity.

So Trump will instantly denigrate any efforts to label AI content. That, I think, to Trump seems a lot like ‘woke’. And if he does, it will malign the effort for years.

I think that because of the 2020 presidential election. Donald Trump claims that election was ‘stolen’ from him. No evidence of that has ever been produced. Trump often claims it’s because of voting by mail. 51% of Americans believe that election security is now a big problem in 2026. When it’s addressed by party, 83% of Republicans believe that voting by mail is now not safe.

We can argue that the polls now reflect a worry that Trump has taken steps to make voting less secure. I believe that he influences others with his lies and deceptions.

Which is the point. When someone like Donald Trump takes the stage and bellows a claim, it becomes part of our modern landscape, tainting truth, spreading doubt and confusion.

And that’s why I don’t think that we’ll ever be able to accurately label AI content.

Not till longer after Trump is gone.

The Negotiations

Grandma and her granddaughter came into the coffee shop. They’re lovely regulars.

Today, the granddaughter declared, “I want ice cream.”

Grandma said, “No, you can’t have ice cream for lunch.”

“I want ice cream.”

“How ’bout chicken noodle soup?”

The granddaughter pouted. “I want chocolate ice cream.”

“How ’bout if you eat chicken noodle soup first and then you can have a little ice cream?”

“I will have chicken noodle soup and then chocolate ice cream,” the little girl agreed.

They moved to the counter and ordered the soup.

The barista said, “I’m sorry, we’re out of the soup.”

Grandma was amazed. “You’re out of the soup?”

“How ’bout a piece of pizza focaccia bread for lunch?” the barista suggested.

As grandma and her granddaughter agreed, the barista said, “Oh, no. We’re out of focaccia pizza, too.”

“You’re out of the pizza thing, too?” Grandma was amazed.

A breakfast burrito was suggested as a compromise.

No ice cream was ever ordered.

Yet.

The Discussion

Four women were chatting at a nearby table at the coffee shop. Appearing similar in age to me, two women dominated the talking. One was short and slender, with fair skin and dark, bobbed hair. The other was tanner and smaller. Smiling a lot, her silver hair fell around her shoulders.

They were talking about toothpaste. Looking up from my writing, I tuned in as the first woman said, “I put a pea-sized amount on my brush.”

One of the other women, heavy, with dry brown hair that came to her shoulders, loudly, sharply scoffed. “That’s not enough.”

The first woman replied, “That’s what the directions say to use.”

The brown-haired woman snorted. “Everyone knows you’re supposed to put toothpaste on all the bristles, from one end to the other.”

The conversation fell still for several seconds. “Anyway,” the first woman resumed.

I returned to my writing.  

The Writing Moment

Breathe in, breathe out.

Sip coffee. Sit. Stare.

Contemplate.

Finished the second pass of the novel in progress, Unfocused. Six zillion words.

Naw. Just felt like it. Only 101K. 485 pages in MS Word.

The usual wars go on in me: finished. Feels good. Is it any good?

What shall I do now?

By that last, I mean, do another editing/revision pass or work on submitting it somewhere.

Other concepts call. A Tribe Called Death is eager to be written. Multitudes.

So, I sit. Sip coffee. Stare.

Contemplate.

Wait for a sign from the coffee shop.

It’s Tuesday

Coffee smells landed. I breathed it in.

The barista greeted me from the counter, “Hey, Michael.”

“Hi, Natalie.” I slid my payment over as she wrote up my order.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

An espresso machine hissed. I shrugged. “It’s Tuesday, isn’t it.”

She nodded. Natalie loves shouting with a big, lovely grin, “It’s Tuesday, innit?”

Today, she said, “Just two days in and it’s already a burden.”

I smiled. “Too true.”

Natalie began entering the order into the register.

“You have my Co-op number?” I asked.

Her emerald eyes widened. “Five nine nine six?”

Classic rock spilled out of the speakers.

“Bingo,” I shouted.

Natalie and I laughed like maniacs.

“It’s Tuesday, innit?” I asked.

Natalie bent over in laughter. “It’s Tuesday, innit?”

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