With Halloween fast approaching, I have done something appropriate for the occasion: I’ve hired a ghost writer. And I must confess, I’m seriously spooked.
My stand-in for this column is not just any old wordsmith – it’s Artificial Intelligence.
If you’re anything like me, you have merely a passing acquaintance with this new phenomenon, praised for its research and writing abilities, but feared by many who worry it may someday out-think humanity.
The topic came up recently during a recent discussion with Nephew, who’s more conversant than I with such stuff. We wondered, could AI start writing my columns for me?
How, for instance, would it have dealt with my most recent topic, Donald Trump’s obsessive criticisms of Kamala Harris’s laugh?
Nephew summoned a version of AI on his cell phone, and, invoking my previous newspapering background, directed it to write a 600-word column on Trump’s view of Kamala Harris’s laugh, “in the style of Gerry Goldstein from the Providence Journal.”
My original column, which reappears for comparison at the bottom of this spread, took several hours of research and writing. And here’s why I’m spooked: AI spit out a fluent, nuanced and similar essay on command – in ten seconds.
But Nephew wasn’t finished: He ordered AI to turn its column into a poem, and in another ten seconds it came up with the verses you’ll see below.
So without further commentary, here’s the package: AI’s essay and poem ( both slightly shortened to save you time), and my original column. If you’d like to write me with your views on the subject but are too busy, don’t worry – just have AI do it.
Kamala Harris’s Laugh: The Sound That Divides
By Artificial Intelligence
Kamala Harris, our nation’s first female and Black vice president, brings with her an unmistakable presence on the political stage. But it’s not just her trailblazing ascent to one of the highest offices in the land that’s sparked debate.
No, in the cacophony of today’s partisan theater, it’s her laugh—sharp, unapologetic, and frequent—that’s become a lightning rod for critics and admirers alike.
Harris’s laugh isn’t the polite, demure chuckle expected from women in power. It’s full-throated and confident. At times, it seems a strategic maneuver—a laugh to disarm a pointed question or punctuate a dodged answer. Yet, the very fact that her laughter has become a talking point says much more about American political discourse and its treatment of women than it does about Harris herself.
It’s an old story in a new package. Just ask former President Donald Trump, who’s spent much of his career shaping the political narrative with a mix of bombast and braggadocio. Trump, no stranger to making personal attacks, took aim at Harris’s laughter during his 2020 campaign. “She laughs at everything, it’s out of control,” he said at one rally, implying there was something off, something unserious about it. For Trump’s base, these barbs landed.
After all, they had heard him use that same tone before, mocking Jeb Bush’s “low energy” or Hillary Clinton’s health.
But here’s the thing—laughter has a history in politics, and it’s far more nuanced than Trump would have you believe. The ancient Greeks understood its power. “Laughter is a bodily exercise, precious to health,” mused Aristotle. The Romans? They weaponized it. Laughter, when used strategically, can undercut an opponent or diffuse tension. Mark Twain, with his folksy wit, went a step further: “Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand.”
Harris’s laughter, like Twain’s proverbial weapon, cuts both ways. During the 2020 vice-presidential debate, as Mike Pence repeatedly interrupted her, she responded with a laugh—sharp, almost incredulous—before calmly asserting, “Mr. Vice President, I’m speaking.” Her laugh in that moment was both a shield and a sword: a way to highlight his condescension while keeping her own composure intact.
But why the fixation on Harris’s laugh? Politics has never been a quiet game, but women, and particularly women of color, are often held to a different standard when they make noise. Men in power—think Joe Biden’s charming grin or Ronald Reagan’s hearty chuckle—are celebrated for their ability to show personality through humor. Women, however, walk a tightrope. Too much laughter, and they’re unserious; too little, and they’re cold.
Donald Trump’s attacks on Harris’s laughter play into a broader, more insidious narrative about how women should act in positions of power. Harris’s laugh is cast as inappropriate because it doesn’t fit the mold—one of quiet deference or reserved professionalism. But her critics, whether consciously or not, reveal more about their own discomfort with a woman who refuses to play by the rules of genteel politeness. Harris isn’t laughing because she’s dismissive; she’s laughing because, frankly, she knows the game and refuses to be rattled by it.
Laughter, as Freud might argue, is often a release of tension—a response to the absurd. Harris’s journey to the vice presidency, from her childhood in Oakland to her historic role in the White House, has surely provided her with more than a few absurd moments. It’s no surprise that in interviews, Harris has mentioned how her mother instilled in her a sense of self that wouldn’t waver in the face of criticism. Her laugh, then, is more than a reaction—it’s a testament to that resilience.
So what does Kamala Harris’s laugh ultimately mean? For some, it’s an irritating quirk, a sign of someone who doesn’t “get it.” For others, it’s a beacon of authenticity in a sea of scripted talking points. But for Harris, it’s simple: a laugh in the face of adversity.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s why it strikes such a nerve. After all, in the words of Mark Twain, nothing can stand against it.
And the poem
Kamala’s Laugh: A Sound
Both Sharp and Bold
By Artificial Intelligence
Kamala Harris, in her office high,
The first of women, Black and bold to rise,
Now finds her laugh the subject of debate,
A sound that stirs both joy and stinging hate.
It’s not a quiet, meek, or gentle sound,
But full and free, a laugh that knows no bounds.
Her laugh, at times, a strategy in play,
A means to dodge, deflect, or turn away.
Yet critics pounce with words both sharp and swift,
Implying something strange, a fatal rift.
The loudest voice among her harshest foes,
Donald Trump, with biting words, arose.
“She laughs at all,” he said with mocking tone,
Implying that her heart was made of stone.
But laughter, too, has roots in history,
Aristotle called it health’s decree.
Mark Twain once said that laughter conquers all,
A force that makes the mighty stumble, fall.
For Harris, laughter serves both shield and sword,
As Pence’s jabs she calmly ignored.
With laughter, sharp and clear, she took her stand,
And claimed her place with firm and steady hand.
But why, one asks, is laughter hers a crime?
When men in power laugh, it’s seen as fine.
From Reagan’s chuckle to old Biden’s grin,
Their humor deemed a mark of strength within.
But women, held to standards far more high,
Are judged for every smile and every sigh.
And Harris, doubly marked by race and sex,
Faces more scrutiny, more harsh effects.
For Harris laughs not out of sheer disdain,
But knowing well the game, its shifting plane.
Her laughter says, “I see the world’s dark jest,
But I remain, unfazed, with steady chest.”
As Freud once said, in laughter’s soft release,
We find a way to let emotions cease.
And Harris, raised by one who taught her well,
Knows strength lies deep where simple words won’t tell.
Her mother’s lessons echo in her soul,
To stand, to fight, and keep her spirit whole.
So when they ask what Harris’ laugh conveys,
It’s not just joy, but strength in many ways.
A laugh that carries through the weight of strife,
And marks the path of her resilient life.
In Twain’s own words, no force can stand its sway—
For laughter, bold and bright, will have its day.
My original column
Gerry Goldstein: Voting is no laughing matter – or is it?
In 1924, the poet Arthur Guiterman wrote,
Anger drives away the Peace of Men;
Pleasant laughter calls it back again.
Words to ponder now that Labor Day is past and the presidential campaign has heated up in earnest.
As we consider a possible return from a few years back of government by insult, a head-scratcher arises over what value there is in Donald Trump’s constant mockings, including his obsession with Kamala Harris’s laugh.
“You know, you can tell a lot by a laugh,” says the former president.
In that case, we can tell little about him, because, how often have you actually seen him laugh (other than at someone’s infirmities)?
Trump might take a lesson in laughter from a person who, like his own felonious self, knew a thing or two about Crime and Punishment: Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
Said the celebrated author:
“If you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know the man, don’t bother analyzing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping… You’ll get better results if you just watch him laugh… If he laughs well, he’s a good man… All I claim to know is that laughter is the most reliable gauge of human nature.”
Down the generations, others, too, have provided ideas not on denouncing laughter, but on celebrating the window into the heart it provides.
The English actor and screenwriter John Cleese minced no words when he declared, “Laughter is a force for democracy.”
He explained, “Laughter connects you with people. It’s almost impossible to maintain any kind of distance or any sense of social hierarchy, when you are just howling with laughter.”
Comedian Yakov Smirnoff, an immigrant from the Soviet Union who frequently satirized his homeland’s repressive government and became a featured guest on American TV shows, noted, “Everybody laughs in the same language, because laughter is the universal connection.”
Magnate Andrew Carnegie, who had more than a nodding acquaintance with achievement, put it succinctly: There is little success where there is little laughter.”
Actor Peter Ustinov viewed laughter as a force to move us forward: “I was irrevocably betrothed to laughter, the sound of which has always seemed to me to be the most civilized music in the world.”
Even Benjamin Franklin had his say on it: “Trouble knocked at the door, but, hearing laughter, hurried away.”
Actress Ruby Dee, an outspoken advocate for civil rights (remember those, Mr. Trump?), opined, “Not to laugh is a big, big, mistake.”
And said the poet Maya Angelou: “I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t laugh.”
While the former president sees a problem with laughter, journalist and author Linda Ellerbee had an opposite take on it:
“I have always felt that laughter in the face of reality is probably the finest sound there is, and will last until the day when the game is called on account of darkness. In this world, a good time to laugh is any time you can.”
So it behooves Harris to keep on laughing, holding only to one bit of restraint as Election Day nears: In accordance with a familiar old saying, Madam Vice President, save your best laugh for last.
Gerry Goldstein (gerryg76@verizon.net), a frequent contributor, is a retired Providence Journal editor and columnist.
