Latest news with #TheGlobeAndMail
Globe and Mail
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Globe and Mail
How six celebrated Canadians are planning to unwind this summer
Editor: Idella Sturino. Interactive editor: Lucina Lo. Visuals editor: Sarah Palmer. Headshot photographs by Mikael Theimer/Supplied, CBC/Supplied, Phillip Faraone/Supplied, Shannon VanRaes/The Globe and Mail, Riley Smith/The Globe and Mail, Bresler PR/Supplied
Globe and Mail
17-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Globe and Mail
Andrew Gurza wants you to know disabled people still have sex lives
The Globe and Mail's Accessibility Profiles by Graham Isador feature conversations highlighting disabled artists, creators and community leaders. Andrew Gurza wants to make you uncomfortable. It's a major component of their newest work, Notes from a Queer Cripple: How to Cultivate Queer Disabled Joy (and Be Hot While Doing It!). Part memoir, part self-help guide for the disabled, the book unpacks Gurza's sex life – the good, the bad and the often hilarious – with unflinching honesty, offering readers insight into the day-to-day realities of life with severe access needs. Born with cerebral palsy, the award-winning disability consultant, writer and activist wanted to share a perspective rarely seen in the media. Through personal anecdotes and playful narration, Gurza emphasizes that they have wants, desires and needs just like everyone else. Getting those needs met often requires a bit more effort and thought than most people are used to. Recently The Globe talked to the author about their book, awkward conversations and how to address ableism. You've talked about how conversations around disability and sex, particularly queer sex, are basically non-existent. Is that why you decided to write this book? I think people are afraid to hear about a disabled person being sexual. This book is about that. It's also an urgent call for the queer community – specifically the queer male community – to do a lot better when it comes to ableism. I think they're afraid to broach the idea that they're not as inclusive as they say. Maybe they haven't been willing to look at a disabled person in their space before. Someone saying I'm a sexual being, just like they are. You call yourself a 'queer cripple.' It's also in your book title. That's a term other people might take offence to. Why do you refer to yourself that way? I use the phrase queer cripple quite intentionally. For me, they're terms of reclamation. It's a way of being like: you can't hurt me, I've already used the most derogatory terms around disability and queerness that somebody could use. I know it's gonna make people slightly squirm in their seats. Both words have a really dark past. They're derogatory. They have shock value. I do it without irony. I do it because I know that it's going to drum up conversation and make people pay attention. Do you get a kick out of that shock value? Yeah, it's kind of fun. When I was a kid, my presence in a room would automatically make people uncomfortable. I could see them stiffen up. I could tell they weren't sure how to navigate this person in a wheelchair who needed all this support. As I got older I started pushing back against the awkwardness. If you're already going to feel uncomfortable, why don't I deliberately make you uncomfortable to see what happens? But the hope is I can use that discomfort to start a conversation. Where do you think that discomfort comes from? It's okay to be uncomfortable. I want to stress that. Most people don't want to show that they're uncomfortable, but when you encounter somebody with a disability – especially somebody with my level of disability, who needs help with pretty much everything – the uncomfortability comes to the surface. It's fun to play with that but we also need bridges between the non-disabled and the disabled. I think people are just afraid because they haven't been exposed to disability in their personal life. I believe as disabled people, we have to give them grace to feel that discomfort and help them move it through. The book also talks about finding joy in disability. That's really refreshing to me. Acknowledging the hardships while noting it isn't always doom and gloom. I walk a really kind of tight rope line between the humour and the serious stuff. I wanted it to be funny. I could have written a hugely academic, super dry, book about sex and disability. That would have been fine, but I needed to bring people into this experience. I wanted to give them a way in and the only way that I know how to do that is through stupid humour and trying to find brighter moments in addition to the hard stuff. The book is a call for the queer community to do better. It's a call for all of us to look for the disabled joy where we can – small wins, big wins, finding ways to enjoy your body – and to laugh a little bit about the inaccessibility of a disabled person just trying to have a sex life, and how awkward, absurd and ridiculous that can sometimes be.
Globe and Mail
08-06-2025
- Business
- Globe and Mail
Can OpenAI really go the way of Apple and capture lightning in a bottle?
Gus Carlson is a U.S.-based columnist for The Globe and Mail. After OpenAI's series of embarrassing stumbles – including disruptive outages, pesky glitches in its ChatGTP platform, and the bizarre ousting and rehiring of its chief executive officer in a matter of days – the popular artificial-intelligence platform finally got one right. So right, in fact, that the company has manoeuvred itself into a position to put some blue water between itself and deep-pocketed rivals in the development of AI devices, the way Apple did with rivals in the computer and mobile phone world. The Apple comparison is not coincidental. Late last month, OpenAI said it planned to acquire an AI device company called io in an all-equity deal valued at about US$6.4-billion. Embedded in the purchase is a secret weapon that goes well beyond the technology: the design legend and io co-founder Jony Ive. OpenAI recruits legendary iPhone designer Jony Ive to work on AI hardware in $6.5B deal Mr. Ive is not just another smart techie. He is the design genius responsible for creating Apple's most iconic products, including the iPod, iPhone, iPad and MacBook Air. He also helped design Apple's ultra-modern California headquarters. It was Mr. Ive's eye for combining elegant simplicity and functionality that set Apple's products apart from all others, first in the world of PCs and then in handheld devices. Even Apple's packaging reflects Mr. Ives's commitment to reinforcing the brand's sleek beauty in every way it touches customers. So influential was Mr. Ive that Apple co-founder Steve Jobs said he considered him to be his 'spiritual partner' who saw things the same way he did. Mr. Ive was among Mr. Jobs's first hires when he returned to Apple in 1997 after being fired from the company more than a decade earlier. Mr. Ive had a direct and unfettered reporting relationship with Mr. Jobs. Few would question Mr. Ive's enormous influence on the devices we all use every day. In a post about the io acquisition on X, OpenAI CEO Sam Altman wrote that Mr. Ive is 'the greatest designer in the world.' OpenAI needs a win. The acquisition of Mr. Ive and io is a crucial strategic play for OpenAI to stay ahead in the generative AI race, where competitors including Google, Anthropic and Elon Musk's xAI are making significant investments and quickly pushing new products to market. The showdown in AI devices is seen as the next big inflection point for the sector that may drive consolidation and some flame-outs – fates OpenAI seems determined to avoid. The purchase of io – OpenAI already owns about 23 per cent of the company – is the latest in a recent shopping spree that has seen OpenAI shore up its hardware assets. Just a few weeks ago, it agreed to buy AI-assisted coding tool Windsurf for US$3-billion. OpenAI also acquired analytics database company Rockset last year. OpenAI has also hired the former head of Meta's Orion augmented reality glasses initiative to lead its robotics and consumer hardware efforts. OpenAI CFO says new structure opens door for potential IPO Despite the asset and talent accumulation, OpenAI has some hurdles to clear with its current offerings, as well some reputation issues that continue to dog its credibility. The company has been plagued by high error rates in its application programming interface (API) and performance problems in ChatGTP. Users have reported a wide range of gremlins, including slow response times, trouble mining information from source documents, contextual problems and generic responses to queries. But perhaps OpenAI's biggest black eye came in November, 2023, when its board ousted Mr. Altman as CEO because of concerns about his leadership capabilities and lack of transparency in his communications with directors. Then, just a few days later, after employees protested the firing and threatened a mass walk-out, Mr. Altman was reinstated as CEO. An independent investigation concluded that the board's initial concerns about Mr. Altman did not rise to the threshold for termination. But the damage was done. The chaos in the governance structure dealt a blow to OpenAI's reputation at a time in its young life when it was breaking new ground and trying to establish credibility in the fast-emerging AI space. If history is any guide, Mr. Ive's eye for the kind of elegant, simple and unique device designs that separated Apple from the pack will give OpenAI an advantage over its bigger rivals. The big questions are: Can he capture lightning in a bottle again, the way he did at Apple, and will he be given the latitude to pursue the unique creative path that has made him a tech legend? Based on OpenAI's past governance bungling, Mr. Altman's biggest job is to keep the board out of Mr. Ive's hair and let him work his magic. If they can manage that, oh, the places they'll go.
Globe and Mail
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Globe and Mail
Look Ma, No Hands is a celebration of writing and a sensitive exploration of chronic pain
The first editorial cartoon that ever made me cackle felt like a personal attack. The graphic showed two black lines dressed in cowboy boots and 10-gallon hats, facing each other as if poised to draw pistols. A piece of paper – in my mind, a work in progress of some sort, perhaps an essay or newspaper column – rested beneath them. The italicized caption was perfect: 'This paragraph ain't big enough for this many em dashes.' Any editor of mine will confirm: I have an em-dash problem. As such, I've never hit 'purchase' on a product so quickly – a framed print of that cartoon sits proudly on my writing desk at home. Journalist and cartoonist Gabrielle Drolet, whose drawings for The Globe and Mail, The New Yorker and beyond often poke fun at the writing process, drew that genius em-dash portrait. Perhaps we share an affinity for over-using that particular piece of punctuation. But you wouldn't know Drolet had any trouble writing at all from her memoir, Look Ma, No Hands, which, through comics, stories and a heavy handful of aloof humour, details her experience of coming of age alongside her chronic pain. For the last decade or so, Drolet has bounced between Canadian cities, building her career as a writer and artist while jousting a herniated disc in her spine. While manageable with physical therapy and lifestyle changes, the condition – initially misdiagnosed as thoracic outlet syndrome – has for years caused Drolet extreme discomfort in her hands and arms. Not ideal for a journalist, or for a 20-something tasked with building IKEA furniture in third-floor walk-up apartments in Montreal. In Look Ma, No Hands, Drolet recounts her situationship with pain, and carefully describes how for most of her adulthood, her upper neck and back have interfered with her ability to thrive. It's an impressive debut in the vein of Emma Healey's Best Young Woman Job Book, but softer, less barbed. If Healey's memoir feels like sharing a night's worth of red wine with that author, Look Ma, No Hands feels like a warm mug of cocoa with Drolet. It's vulnerable and open as she recalls some of the most pivotal moments of her early twenties. As a freelance writer, Drolet's had some, uh, interesting gigs, the most memorable being her stint as a horse journalist, collating information about competitive horse racing into a daily newsletter. Throughout her memoir, she playfully captures the Groundhog Day-esque tumult of wielding words for a living – the simultaneous boredom and dread that accompanies being your own boss. (Even when the work at hand is horses.) Another highlight is the care with which she unpacks her queerness – the ways in which her chronic pain has shaped her capacity to be intimate with partners across the spectrum of gender. While Drolet's experiences are unique to her, one gets the sense she's not alone at the intersection between what her heart and mind long for, and what her body can tolerate. These chapters, in which Drolet turns inward (without once over-sharing), are perhaps Look Ma, No Hands's strongest stuff: They offer a side of her not easily captured in a cartoon or shorter essay. I'll be the first to admit I'm this book's target audience: a bisexual journalist in Canada who's closer to the beginning of my writing career than the middle of it. But Drolet's writerly voice is funny, punchy and dry, and makes no assumptions about the reader holding the memoir in their hands. Suffering from chronic pain? UofT researcher has some ideas to help you cope While established fans of Drolet's cartoons might chuckle at a few familiar turns of phrase, the memoir expands those snapshots of wit into something more concrete, less ephemeral. A time capsule for the zillennials in this country who lost crucial chunks of growing up to the pandemic. If you're unsure this book is for you, I recommend reading Drolet's viral garlic essay – about her love affair with jarred garlic catalyzed by the pain in her hands, published by The Walrus – or this excerpt from her memoir, about the forgotten thrill of calling your friends in a society propped up by e-mails and texts. If you like those stories, you'll love Look Ma, No Hands – and you'll join me in setting up social media alerts for when Drolet sells prints of her artwork. (I'm in the process of having her Severance-inspired animal portraits framed as we speak.) For years, Drolet has captured the quirks of this world through zesty drawings and trendy think-pieces. Now, with Look Ma, No Hands, she's proven she can make long-form writing work for her, with the help of dictation software and impish, hand-drawn characters, creatures who gaze at the words around them with cocked eyebrows and clever captions. No em dashes needed.
Globe and Mail
06-06-2025
- Globe and Mail
The man behind the wrong number
A Regina officer is accused of using police resources to prey on vulnerable women. These are their stories Jana G. Pruden Regina The Globe and Mail Illustration by Rob Dobi to view this content.
