Joshua Rothman

2 weeks ago | newyorker.com | Joshua Rothman

A couple of years ago, my wife bought my then four-year-old son a supercool set of wooden ramps, which could be combined with our furniture to create courses through which little balls could run. Building the first course was easy, but, as our ambitions grew, the difficulty level rose. Could we make the balls turn corners? What about generating enough momentum for them to go briefly uphill? Would the ottoman support a ramp? What about the piano bench? The variations seemed endless.

4 weeks ago | newyorker.com | Joshua Rothman

I remember light green notebook paper. (Better for your eyes than white.)I remember that the minister’s son was wild. I remember bubble gum. Blowing big bubbles. And trying to get bubble gum out of my hair. I remember Dole pineapple rings on a bed of lettuce with cottage cheese on top and sometimes a cherry on top of that. I remember the Liz-Eddie-Debbie scandal. I remember “Blue Suede Shoes.” And I remember having a pair. I remember trying to figure out what it’s all about.

1 month ago | newyorker.com | Joshua Rothman

I am a forty-five-year-old journalist who, for many years, didn’t read the news. In high school, I knew about events like the O. J. Simpson trial and the Oklahoma City bombing, but not much else. In college, I was friends with geeky economics majors who read The Economist, but I’m pretty sure I never actually turned on CNN or bought a paper at the newsstand. I read novels, and magazines like Wired and Spin.

1 month ago | matr.net | Joshua Rothman

There’s no longer any scenario in which A.I. fades into irrelevance. We urgently need voices from outside the industry to help shape its future.

1 month ago | newyorker.com | Joshua Rothman

My in-laws own a little two-bedroom beach bungalow. It’s part of a condo development that hasn’t changed much in fifty years. The units are connected by brick paths that wind through palm trees and tiki shelters to a beach. Nearby, developers have built big hotels and condo towers, and it’s always seemed inevitable that the bungalows would be razed and replaced.