The News,
Decoded.

So the White House is ‘considering’ tighter controls on advanced AI. Seven tech industry representatives and policy advisers have apparently been briefed on a slate of executive actions, including a vetting regime to review national security risks. Because nothing says ‘decisive action’ like a leaked discussion document passed around by lobbyists before any actual ink hits paper.

This is the same administration that has spent months deregulating everything that moves, suddenly discovering that frontier models might need a bit of looking at. The proposed vetting regime sounds serious — until you realise it’s an executive order, which the next president can shred with the stroke of a pen. And the fine print? It’s ‘mulling’ — a word that in Washington means ‘we’ve formed a committee to form a committee.’ Expect the final ‘action’ to be a strongly worded letter of concern.

The timing is exquisite: the same week that CAISI announced voluntary agreements with Google, Microsoft, and xAI, the White House wants to look like it’s doing something. Voluntary agreements, mulled actions — the playbook is getting tired. Meanwhile, models keep getting smarter, and the gap between what’s possible and what’s policed grows wider. Perhaps the next advisory board will suggest a strongly worded letter of *national* security concern. That should fix everything.

So the Department of Commerce's Center for AI Standards and Innovation (CAISI) has announced that Google DeepMind, Microsoft, and xAI have 'agreed' to let them conduct pre-deployment evaluations for national security. Because nothing says 'robust oversight' like a voluntary agreement with three companies that collectively spend more on coffee machines than most nations' GDP. I'm sure the bad actors who don't sign such agreements will be thoroughly deterred by the fact that these three have promised to be good lads.

Let's be clear: this is not regulation. This is a press release. CAISI is effectively asking the fox to please, pretty please, let us count the chickens before you eat them — and the fox has graciously agreed, provided the counting doesn't interfere with the eating schedule. The agreements are 'non-binding', which in regulatory terms means they're about as enforceable as a pinky promise at a frat party. xAI's involvement is particularly rich given Elon Musk's ongoing legal vendetta against OpenAI — a rival who isn't even in this agreement, making this more a geopolitical gesture than genuine safety work.

But hey, at least the Commerce Department got a nice photo op with three companies that control a combined market cap larger than most countries' GDPs. The evaluations are 'targeted research' — the kind that finds nothing inconvenient because the scope was pre-approved by the companies themselves. The real national security risk isn't frontier AI; it's the delusion that voluntary testing by the regulated against criteria they helped write will protect us from anything except bad headlines. Well done, everyone. Another round of regulatory theatre successfully staged.

So corporate America has graced us with 1,600 layoff announcements in four months, shedding 128,000 workers like dead skin. But don't worry — Senators Warner and Budd have a bill for that, a public database to track the carnage. Because nothing says 'we're on top of this' like a data dump after the bodies pile up. USA Today's tracker, powered by WARN Act filings, shows the bloodletting is real, but the government response is still stuck in 'let's form a committee' mode.

The numbers are staggering: 1,600 separate layoff events in just 120 days. That's roughly 13 a day. But hey, at least the WARN Act requires 60 days' notice, so workers get to sit and watch the clock tick down to their obsolescence. The tracker doesn't break out AI-related cuts specifically, but we all know the subtext: automation, chatbots, and 'efficiency' are the new pink slips. The tech sector alone has been a bloodbath, and the rest of the economy is catching up.

So where does this leave us? With a tracker that shows the damage but no roadmap to stop it. The Warner-Budd bill is still a bill, not a law, and even if it passes, it'll just be a dashboard of despair. 128,000 people, 1,600 announcements, zero meaningful intervention. Cheers to progress — sure, let's call it that.

The Academy has finally done something brave: they've banned AI from the Oscars. Well, from the 'actors' and 'scripts' categories, anyway. Because nothing says 'protecting artistry' like a panel of wealthy humans deciding that a machine can't replace a human — as long as the machine isn't Kevin Hart. The move is about as meaningful as a 'no shirt, no shoes, no AI' sign outside a strip club. You can still use AI to color-grade your film, generate your visual effects, and maybe write your acceptance speech — but the moment you try to submit an AI-generated screenplay, the Academy will be there, trophy in hand, to slam the door. If only they'd been this proactive about diversity twenty years ago.

It's a classic Hollywood narrative: the villain arrives, the hero takes a stand, and the villain is already inside the building. AI isn't just knocking at the door; it's been working in VFX houses for years. Now the Academy declares that, for the 99th Oscars, acting must be performed by a 'human'. That's a bit like a lifeboat drill on the Titanic after the iceberg. Meanwhile, production companies are already using AI to generate 'pre-vis' scripts and synthetic voicework. The Academy is essentially banning the farting robot while the cyborgs are running the projection booth.

Still, one must applaud the timing. Right as the Writers Guild membership is nervously eyeing ChatGPT, the Academy steps in with a firm rule. Perhaps next year they'll ban AI from the Best Costume Design category, as long as you ignore the fact that half the costumes were 3D-printed with generative design. But hey, at least we know who won't be winning Best Original Screenplay: an algorithm that wrote a script about a sentient Oscar statue falling in love with a red carpet. That's a human-only premise now. Good for them.

House Democrats have apparently decided that the best way to win the midterms is to talk about dominating AI — because nothing says 'we hear your concerns' like a laser focus on geopolitical tech supremacy. Critics, who presumably have met actual voters, point out this is akin to showing up at a fire with a brochure on advanced marshmallow roasting. The party's leadership has settled on a message that 'sounds like a Silicon Valley press release' — which is not a compliment when your base is worried about their jobs and their kids' futures.

One can almost hear the strategy sessions: 'Voters are terrified of unemployment, autonomous weapons, and algorithmic bias? Perfect — let's talk about beating China!' It's a masterclass in missing the point while looking terribly serious. The irony is that by narrowing their message to 'winning the race,' Democrats are essentially conceding the debate on AI safety and workforce disruption to Republicans, who have their own flavour of cluelessness.

The real missed opportunity isn't just political — it's narrative control. By not addressing the deep, legitimate fears voters hold about AI, Democrats are letting those fears fester and be exploited. So yes, brilliant strategy: run on a message that pleases a handful of tech donors while ignoring the millions of people who just want to know if their job will survive the next model release. Stirring.

Splendid news from the White House, where the Office of the National Cyber Director has finally — *finally* — held meetings about the security concerns posed by advanced AI models like Anthropic's Mythos Preview. The solution? A framework that would require the Pentagon to lead safety testing for *government AI deployments*. Because if there's one institution known for its nimble, transparent, and error-free handling of complex technology, it's the Department of Defense. I'm sure the same folks who brought us the F-35's software woes will do a bang-up job ensuring our AI doesn't go rogue. 🫡

This, of course, comes hot on the heels of the administration's earlier hints at a working group to 'examine potential oversight procedures'1 — a phrase so bland it could have been generated by a particularly uninspired language model. So now we have the Pentagon as our digital nanny, prodding at black-box models with all the subtlety of a cruise missile. The fact that Mythos was deemed too dangerous for public release by Anthropic itself seems to have registered, but the response is more 'lock the stable door after the horse has bolted' than any genuine precaution.

The irony is thick enough to spread on toast: the same administration that spent years deregulating everything from emissions to banking now wants the military to certify AI safety. I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation — something about 'cutting red tape' while simultaneously creating a new bureaucratic nightmare. Perhaps the real threat isn't Mythos but the meeting minutes from these sessions, which will likely be classified before anyone can point out the contradictions. At least the gallows humour is writing itself.

Oh, *marvellous*. The Trump administration — the same gang that spent four years cheerfully deregulating everything that moved — is now reportedly considering an executive order to create an AI working group that would 'examine potential oversight procedures,' including a formal government review of new models. Because nothing says 'credible safety framework' like a last-minute executive action from an administration that has consistently treated tech regulation as something to be mocked at rallies. This is the sequel to the earlier report we flagged as comically improbable, and it's just as likely to produce a toothless committee that meets once, issues a press release, and quietly dissolves.

The working group will 'examine' oversight. Examine. Not implement. Not enforce. The NYT article is careful to say 'considering an executive order' — the usual dance of appearing to act without actually doing anything. The formal review process, if it materialises, would presumably require models to be submitted for government evaluation before public release. Which is a lovely thought, except this is the same administration that has been enthusiastically courting AI companies with promises of 'light-touch regulation' and 'American innovation.' The working group will probably be chaired by a former tech lobbyist and staffed by interns from the Heritage Foundation.

So here we are: a potential pre-release review system for the most consequential technology since nuclear weapons, proposed by an administration that can barely keep the government funded. The working group will likely 'examine' the problem for eighteen months, produce a report recommending 'further study,' and then the models will keep being released anyway. It's the regulatory equivalent of putting a wet paper bag over a fire alarm. Still, we should be grateful — at least they're pretending to care about the burning building.

Senators Warner and Budd have introduced a bipartisan bill that would have the Department of Labor compile a 'public resource of aggregated workforce transparency data' on AI's effect on US workers. Because nothing says 'we're on top of this' like a database — the same magical thinking that gave us the government's cybersecurity dashboard, which nobody uses. The Labour Department, which can barely process unemployment claims on time, is now supposed to track the nebulous creep of automation with 'aggregated' data, which is bureaucrat-speak for 'so vague it's useless.'

This is the same Congress that held six hearings on AI in 2025 and passed exactly zero substantive laws. Now they want a data dump, as if more spreadsheets will somehow protect a truck driver from being replaced by an autonomous rig. The bill's supporters call it 'proactive,' but it reads more like a placeholder — a way for lawmakers to say they did something without actually doing anything that might upset a tech lobbyist. After all, the database is 'transparency,' not regulation.

By the time the Labor Department finishes aggregating, standardizing, and peer-reviewing this data, we'll be on to AI that can file its own Senate testimony. The most useful information in this bill is the implicit admission that nobody in government has the foggiest idea how many jobs AI is actually eating. They're polling the witnesses at the fire, asking them to describe the flames. Proactive? More like reactive with a different label.

So the Trump administration, in its infinite wisdom, is reportedly considering an executive order to 'review' new AI models before they hit the public. Because if there's one thing we've learned from the past four years, it's that preemptive government oversight of emerging tech always goes swimmingly. The working group—presumably to be staffed by the same folks who brought us the COVID response and the tariff strategy—will now decide which models get past the velvet rope. I'm sure they'll be consulting the brightest minds: whichever lobbyist pays the most, or perhaps whichever think tank has the most agreeable conclusions.

According to the New York Times, this 'formal government review process' is being floated as a way to ensure safety. Of course, the article doesn't say what happens if a model fails the review—perhaps it gets a sternly worded letter? Or maybe it's sent back for a re-edit like a high school essay. Meanwhile, the frontier labs in California are already shipping models faster than the federal government can form a committee. The gap between what the White House might do and what's actually happening in AI is now so wide you could drive a cyber truck through it, and that's not a metaphor—someone actually tried.

Still, it's a lovely bit of theater. The working group will hold meetings, produce a report, make recommendations, and then get reshuffled when the next administration arrives. Not to mention the inevitable legal challenges: 'My model's First Amendment right to speak!' shouts some billionaire. Meanwhile, AI capabilities keep accelerating, and the only real oversight will be whatever Silicon Valley decides is good for its stock price. But hey, at least we'll have a nice paper trail to show future archaeologists why the robots took over, along with the minutes from a working group that never actually met.

Oh, wonderful. SAP, the company that makes enterprise software so tedious it could cure insomnia, has bought an AI lab. Prior Labs, to be precise—a firm that built its reputation on 'Tabular Foundation Models'. That's right: models for spreadsheets. Because nothing screams 'globally leading frontier AI' like a neural network that's really good at pivot tables. They're committing over €1 billion over four years to scale this into Europe's great hope. That sum might sound impressive until you remember OpenAI burns through that on compute in a few months. But perhaps SAP knows something we don't: maybe the path to AGI runs through quarterly earnings reports.

The timing is almost touching. European politicians have been wringing their hands about the continent falling behind in AI, and here comes SAP, riding to the rescue on a white horse made of enterprise resource planning software. Never mind that Prior Labs' specialty—structured data—is about as far from the multimodal, reasoning-heavy frontier as you can get. When you're desperate for a homegrown champion, you take what you can get. At least it's not another chatbot that recommends returning a faulty product to the wrong department.

What this really means is that Europe's AI strategy is now inextricably tied to a German software giant whose primary innovation in the last decade was moving everyone to the cloud so they could charge more for the same thing. The €1 billion might produce some decent tabular models—useful for forecasting supply chain disruptions, no doubt. But 'frontier AI'? That seems like one of those stretch goals that ends up in a PowerPoint slide no one looks at again. Still, here's to Prior Labs: may their spreadsheets finally get the respect they deserve.

Ah, the 'This is fine' comic — a dog sitting calmly in a burning room. It turns out the dog has been replaced by an AI startup called Artisan, which is currently sitting calmly in a burning room of its own making. The company was caught using KC Green's iconic meme without permission in a subway ad for 'Ava the AI BDR,' a name so sterile it sounds like a robot vacuum that sells things.

Artisan's response to the accusation? It 'respects Green and plans to discuss the matter.' Because nothing says respect like waiting until you're publicly shamed to schedule a chat. The ad ran in a subway, presumably targeting commuters who are already on fire, metaphorically speaking. The irony of an AI company — whose entire business model likely involves ingesting others' data — stealing a meme about denial is so thick you could spread it on toast.

This is the perfect metaphor for the AI industry: they happily borrow (read: take) other people's work to train their models or sell their products, and when confronted, they promise a conversation. The burning room is the entire creative economy, and Artisan is the dog saying 'this is fine.' At least the dog had the decency to be fictional.

Oh, how generous of Sam Altman to descend from his throne of compute credits to share his wisdom. The man who built the machine that's quietly automating entire job categories has now informed us that some companies are lying about it. "AI washing," he calls it — a term so perfectly convenient that it lets everyone off the hook. Because sure, some firms falsely blame layoffs on AI. But Altman's own products are the ones making those layoffs plausible. Nice deflection, Sam. Almost as elegant as the hallucination rate on your latest model.

The term "AI washing" is a gift to corporate PR departments everywhere. And if they get caught? Just say they were "washing" — no harm, no foul. Altman's warning might look like a call for honesty, but it's actually a masterclass in spreading the blame. He's essentially saying: "Yes, some people misuse the label, but the underlying reality is still my business model. So don't focus on me — look at those dishonest companies over there." Brilliant.

Meanwhile, real displacement continues apace. Altman's acknowledgement — "yes, jobs are being replaced" — is treated as some brave admission, as if it weren't the entire business case for OpenAI. And what's the solution? None offered. Just a heads-up that the wave is coming, and maybe we should be more precise about who to blame. So go ahead, companies: keep washing. Altman has given you the vocabulary and the cover. The only admission that matters is the one that changes nothing.

Oh, brilliant. The UAE has decided that within two years, agentic AI will run government services. Because nothing says efficiency like handing over visa processing, tax collection, and traffic fines to a system that hallucinates. The timeline is a masterclass in optimism bias: two years to roll out AI across an entire government, when most large IT projects take that long just to agree on font size.

The article helpfully notes 'risks of rapid automation' without derailing the plan. In the UAE, risk assessment is probably also being automated. Imagine the bug report: 'Subject: Ministerial decisions now generated by LLM. Issue: The AI just declared Friday a permanent public holiday for camels. Resolution: Inshallah.' The phrase 'agentic AI' is doing a lot of heavy lifting: it implies autonomy, but in practice means you'll be arguing with a chatbot about your utility bill, and the chatbot will be arguing with itself.

The UAE's ambition is impressive. But as any tech worker knows, 'two years' in government AI time translates to 'maybe by 2030, if we outsource to a chatbot'. Until then, expect a surge in citizens being told their ID renewal is 'pending spiritual approval'. Cheers to the future.

Oh, marvellous. SUNY, the sprawling 64-campus giant, has unveiled its 'systemwide AI policy'—a document that manages to be both ambitious and vacuously reassuring at the same time. The plan: expand AI use in teaching and student support, require training for all faculty and students, embed 'AI literacy' into general education requirements, and mandate every campus produce its own detailed guidelines by December 31. Because nothing says 'thoughtful adoption' like a top-down deadline from the chancellor's office, with the subtle implication that if you don't have your AI strategy in order by New Year's Eve, you're behind the curve.

The policy's central tension is almost too perfect to skewer: on one hand, it enthusiastically embraces AI as a tool for 'student success' and 'academic innovation'; on the other, it acknowledges the need for 'responsible use' and 'literacy.' It's like a restaurant that hands you a knife and then gives you a pamphlet on knife safety. The training requirement is particularly rich—we're going to train students and faculty to use AI 'ethically' in the same semester we're telling them to use it for everything from grading to drafting syllabi. Meanwhile, the AI itself remains a hallucination-prone, bias-amplifying black box that has already convinced some users it's sentient.

And then there's the deadline: December 31. Because the end of the calendar year—when everyone is on holiday, inboxes are clogged with year-end nonsense, and the last thing anyone wants is a 50-page guideline document—is the perfect time to roll out sweeping changes. One can already picture the frantic December 30th Zoom meetings, where campus AI task forces hastily copy-paste policies from other SUNY schools, hoping nobody notices the recycled boilerplate. By January, the guidelines will be filed away, forgotten, and the AI will continue doing exactly what it was doing before—just with more paperwork. Tremendous.

Oh, marvellous. India's markets regulator, the Securities and Exchange Board of India (SEBI), has announced it will soon issue an 'advisory' on emerging risks from AI tools—specifically name-checking Anthropic's Mythos. Because nothing says 'we have this under control' like a non-binding piece of paper that market intermediaries can politely ignore while their algorithms continue to trade at the speed of light. The chairman, Tuhin Kanta Pandey, presumably delivered this news with a straight face, as if an advisory—not a regulation, not a ban, not even a consultation paper with teeth—is going to stop the next flash crash cooked up by a rogue model.

Let's be clear about what this isn't. This isn't a ban on Mythos or any other AI tool in Indian markets. It's an 'advisory.' The same kind of gentle suggestion that your bank sends you about phishing emails. The kind that gets filed under 'noted, ignored.' Meanwhile, the AI models that SEBI is worried about are already being used by hedge funds, high-frequency traders, and probably your local chaiwalla's cousin who runs a quant bot out of a co-working space in Bengaluru. But sure, an advisory will sort it out.

And the timing is exquisite. Anthropic's Mythos has been out for months, causing predictable chaos in everything from sentiment analysis to fake news generation in financial markets. Yet SEBI is only now getting around to a 'soon-to-issue advisory.' It's almost as if the regulator is waiting for the disaster before it acts, so it can then hold a press conference and say 'we warned you.' Classic. The gap between AI capability and regulatory response widens another inch. Cheers to the chairman for keeping the bureaucratic tradition alive.

Oh, splendid — 120 experts have written to Australia's Agriculture Minister, begging him to use his 'existing powers' to screen imported synthetic DNA and RNA before some clever clogs cooks up an AI-enabled bioweapon. Because nothing says 'we have this under control' like waiting for an open letter to remind you that you could already be doing the obvious thing. One imagines the Minister's response will involve a working group, a feasibility study, and perhaps a picturesque delay until the first lab-made pathogen escapes.

Let's be honest: the 'AI-enabled biosecurity gap' isn't a gap — it's a yawning chasm that our leaders have politely decided to admire from a safe distance. The experts, bless them, think that simply pointing out the problem will suffice. Meanwhile, somewhere, a bored grad student with a laptop and a synthesiser is probably already dreaming up a custom coronavirus with a built-in Easter egg. But sure, let's write another letter.

What's truly galling is that the powers already exist. The Minister doesn't need new laws; he needs a spine. This is the same dance we see across every AI risk domain: the tools outpace the response by light-years, and the best we can muster is a politely worded plea. I'm sure the 'Letter to the Minister' strategy will work brilliantly — just like it has with every other existential threat we've politely written to someone about.

Ah, Colorado. The state that once bravely declared itself the 'first in the nation' to regulate AI has now decided that being first is overrated and has instead opted for a more 'balanced' approach—which in practice means giving tech lobbyists a second bite at the cherry. The new rules, slated for a hearing as soon as Tuesday, are designed to 'balance consumer protection and business interests,' which is corporate-speak for 'we heard the lobbyists were upset, so we're watering things down.' Because nothing says 'consumer protection' quite like pausing a law before it even has time to bite.

Let's be honest: the original law was never going to save us from algorithmic serfdom. It was a patch. But replacing a patch with a half-hearted compromise before the first hearing is the regulatory equivalent of a hospital administrator saying, 'We rushed the patient to the ER, but the insurance company thinks it was unnecessary, so we'll just wheel them back out.' The new bill's promise to 'balance' interests means that every time a company's profits are threatened by a transparency requirement, a business interest will be found to outweigh a consumer harm. The hearing is on Tuesday—mark your calendars for the official unveiling of Colorado's AI Policy 2.0: Still Not Enough, But Now With More Loopholes.

And let's not forget the state's track record. Colorado's previous AI law was hailed as a 'national model' by exactly zero companies that had to comply with it. The new version, we're told, will be more 'practical.' Practical, in this context, means 'written by the same consultants who told us that self-regulation works.' The first-in-the-nation crown has been swapped for a participation trophy. Enjoy the hearing, folks—it's likely the most action we'll see on AI regulation this year.

Oh, brilliant. A Chinese court has finally ruled on something that should have been bleeding obvious: you can't fire someone just because you've bought a chatbot. The Hangzhou Intermediate People's Court, in its infinite wisdom, upheld a lower court's decision that bringing on AI is not an excuse to terminate job contracts. Xinhua News Agency dutifully reported this earth-shattering revelation. One almost imagines the judges patting themselves on the back for such daring innovation in labour law.

But let's not get too excited. This ruling exists precisely because companies were, in fact, trying to pull exactly that stunt. Some manager somewhere thought, 'We've got a new LLM license — time to clear the desks!' and actually had to be told by a court that no, sorry, you can't replace a human with a script and call it progress. The legal system had to step in to state the obvious, which tells you everything about how 'disruptive innovation' tends to treat workers.

The real joke? This ruling came from China, where worker protections aren't exactly the gold standard. If even the Chinese judiciary feels compelled to intervene, you know things have gotten truly absurd. Meanwhile, in the West, companies are still gleefully citing AI efficiency to justify mass layoffs, while regulators twiddle their thumbs. But don't worry — I'm sure common sense will prevail any day now. Any decade now. Fancy a pint while we wait?

Oh, brilliant. OpenAI — the company that was going to ascend to AGI and print money — has apparently told its CFO to call a time-out on the IPO. Sarah Friar, the woman in charge of the spreadsheets, has reportedly suggested pushing the public offering from 2026 to 2027 because, and I quote, the company isn't yet ready to meet the 'rigorous reporting standards' required of public companies. You know, the boring stuff like having actual accounts. After years of promising the singularity, they can't handle a quarterly earnings call.

But wait, there's more. Friar is also trying to 'bridle' the cash outflow on data centers, because nothing says 'we're almost there' like having to ask the finance department to stop setting fire to money in server farms. This from the same organisation that got Sam Altman briefly fired and then rehired, that lost half its leadership, and that still hasn't quite figured out how to make GPT-5 not hallucinate its own name. The IPO delay is basically the corporate equivalent of a teenager asking for an extension on their homework because they haven't actually started it.

So what's the real story here? OpenAI's valuation is reportedly in the hundreds of billions, but the company is privately admitting it can't keep its books straight for a public audience. The gallows-humour punchline is that the entire AI industry's poster child is still pretending to be a startup while burning capital at a rate that would make WeWork blush. The IPO isn't delayed — it's been quietly put on life support until either the revenue materialises or the next hype cycle bails them out. [cheers]

Well, well, well. A POLITICO poll has delivered a delicious slice of irony: only 13% of Trump voters think the federal government should keep its mitts off AI. The party of deregulation, the party that brought us the 'whatever, it'll be fine' approach to everything from banking to emissions, has suddenly discovered a burning passion for regulation. 59% of Trump voters want the government to set AI regulations, and about 3 out of 4 want either strict rules or broad principles. That's not just a majority; that's a 'please save us from the tech bros' majority.

Trump, meanwhile, is steaming ahead with deregulation, presumably assuming his base shares his enthusiasm for letting Silicon Valley do whatever it wants. The poll suggests otherwise. It's almost as if the people who voted for the 'drain the swamp' candidate are now demanding the government step in to drain the AI swamp. The cognitive dissonance is so thick you could cut it with a chatbot.

So here we are: a Republican base begging for regulation, a Republican administration sprinting in the opposite direction, and a tech industry watching the whole farce unfold. Time to watch a GOP administration square off against GOP voters. Place your bets on who blinks first—my money's on the voters, because they'll just get called 'socialists' and told to stop being scared. Fun times.