About This Blog
CeleryKills.com is where I take time to explore whatever subject refuses to leave me alone—politics, quantum mechanics, anthropology, ethics, the future of AI, or whatever problem people ask me to unpack next. My posts usually start with a question, a contradiction, or a bit of public nonsense that deserves careful dismantling. I don’t aim for partisan comfort or for the easy applause of whichever online tribe happens to be loudest that week. I’m far more interested in how ideas work, what evidence supports them, and how we might think a little more clearly than we did yesterday.
The tone here is direct because polite vagueness doesn’t help anyone; analytical because that’s how I’m built; and informed by lived experience across disciplines and continents. I write the way we talk in the Pacific Northwest: calm when possible, sharp when necessary, and always allergic to performative outrage.
At its core, this blog has a simple mission. Push back—hard—against misinformation and intellectual laziness. Offer clarity when public conversations are muddy. And nudge readers toward curiosity rather than fear. If a post here makes you think longer, question deeper, or laugh at the absurdity of our species, then it’s doing exactly what it’s meant to do.
About Me
I’m a retired senior IT architect who spent decades designing systems, teaching programming and architecture, and writing technical material that too often disappeared behind NDA walls. Most of my career unfolded in the corporate world, where precision mattered, ambiguity was expensive, and quiet rooms full of whiteboards were my natural habitat. I’ve also written extensively on AI ethics: privacy, data bias, copyright, logic bias, practical limits, and the unintended plagiarism that algorithms perform so effortlessly. That work pulled together my formal training in information technology and biological anthropology and my background in archaeology, organic chemistry, and philosophy.
I’ve always been a compulsive reader, the kind who wanders across cultures and centuries for fun. I’ve worked through five translations of the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Qur’an, selections from the Vedas, and Buddhist and Zen texts. I’ve also spent time in the myth worlds of the Greeks, Canaanites, Persians, various Native American nations, and several African traditions. A lot of what I write now echoes the lessons those stories teach: how humans search for meaning, how we justify power, and how we repeat mistakes we already had warnings about.
I grew up in rural New York, raised in a feminist household with suffrage-era roots. For the last 35-plus years I’ve lived in the Pacific Northwest, slowly acquiring moss and an appreciation for long contemplative walks in cool rain. I’ve traveled widely—India, Qatar, Italy, Mexico, and a scattering of other places—making a point to talk with people across every social layer. Those conversations have shaped how I look at systems, cultures, and the strange ways we convince ourselves that our worldview is the only sensible one.
Now that I’m no longer architecting enterprise systems, I write. I write because I finally can, and because the world is saturated with misinformation, fuzzy logic, tribalism, and a level of elite greed so brazen it would have embarrassed past generations. At least 15% of my motivation is pure stubbornness; the rest is a mix of curiosity and wanting to help people think more clearly in an age when clarity feels like rebellion.