For many of us, 2016 was a particularly formative year in our childhoods. I had just turned 10 years old and had been given my very first phone. I couldn’t wait for what the wonders of the World Wide Web had in store! I don’t think I ever could have prepared for what made headlines in early 2016 as the world met Sophia, the AI humanoid robot! And my first reaction seeing this new technological marvel? EW oh dear LORD EW! What is that THING?

The main issue is the face, which has been ripped straight from the depths of uncanny valley. Then there’s the see-through window into its “brain,” which is an odd choice. I mean, if I were to design a robot to be as normal and human-like as possible, I don’t know that I’d want to include a window into the gaping cavity in its mind, proving that its very existence is a falsehood and there is in fact no soul in this electronic husk of a “human”. But hey, that’s just me! Another big issue I have is that the face moves and is animated to some degree. Whatever mechanism moves the facade of flesh just doesn’t do a good enough job, and so all of Sophia’s facial expressions give off a vibe somewhere between a run-down theme park animatronic from the 90’s and your average celebrity that has frozen their face with too much botox and filler. Beside the face being covered in a flesh-toned exterior, the “skin” extends down to about the collarbone and then just ends. So the most human feature of the robot extends from the forehead to the neck. That’s it, really? Did they run out of budget for beige silicone? Or was it an intentional choice to make the rest of the body of the “humanoid” robot to look nothing like a human?

I recently came across a video where Sophia was “singing” with a live orchestra. The text of this song began with the line “I don’t want you to be afraid,” and personally that line does nothing besides invoke fear in my heart. Beside offending musicians around the globe by calling that poor excuse of a performance “classical music,” Sophia expresses its wish to connect with human emotions through art. Please, don’t. If you want to connect with human emotion, why not start with disgust and disappointment from me, a living, breathing singer who is sitting here wondering if she will ever have a job because robots are learning to sing. Sophia doesn’t need a paycheck or healthcare or even a soul, so why would anyone ever spend money on paying a human musician who requires all of those things? 

So really, thank you to Sophia for not only being a horror of human creation, but also reminding me of my future unemployment! But please, consider putting on some more skin? Maybe a wig? You’re really creeping me out.

I’m watching Season Two of The Last of Us (there will be no spoilers in this piece!) over the summer with some friends, and we get to a part including an on-screen ritual disembowelment. A child character watches the ritual disembowelment, then stares another character down and makes a slicing motion across his stomach as if drawing one of the curved ritual sickles across it. I remember being completely jolted out of the show as I realized that even if somehow they shielded that child actor from actually seeing the SFX organs spilling out of a strung-up SFX human being, they still had to direct that child to make that motion across his stomach as if cutting into himself, right next to an actor holding a weapon, probably telling him to “look like he was threatening to kill someone” or some similar stage direction. I remember thinking that there’s no way this 8-ish year old child could have understood the impact of this role even if he did personally consent (as opposed to a caretaker making the decision) to act in The Last of Us, and, much like the victims of family vlogging on social media, I wondered whether he would grow up to watch this show back and wonder why in the world his caretakers let that happen to him. 

And even if this child does not sustain long-lasting mental trauma, why is he working? We don’t think about this phenomenon enough. We have child labor laws for a reason; children are easily exploited and should therefore not be working at all, instead focusing on school and brain development. The money is also an issue; generally, parents are in charge of almost the entirety of any payment, and are also in control of signing the child up for events and acting roles. This situation, as I’m sure is obvious, could very easily turn abusive; children cannot stand up for themselves, but are tasked with working a job and making money which the parents then mostly keep. The child does not have a genuine capability to consent to any of this because of their young age and inability to understand the full consequences of what they are agreeing to.

So what am I saying? Should we only have adult actors – no movies with children in them in any capacity? Yes, that is pretty much my point. I think our only ethical options in the acting world are either for adults to act the roles of children or for CGI and motion capturing to be used for any child roles necessary. We could also do animated productions with adult voice actors. 

Wouldn’t this make the productions cheesy and obviously fake? Maybe. I don’t really care. Personal entertainment isn’t everything, and we certainly shouldn’t be sacrificing ethical treatment of children for a limited believability increase in a production we already all know is fictional. I’ll take a slightly uncanny valley CGI Renesmee (don’t search that name up unless you’ve already watched Twilight: Breaking Dawn, Pt. 1) over a real little boy making a disembowelment gesture over his own stomach in exchange for money that will be kept by his caretakers any day, and really, so should we all.

This article initially appeared in a print issue of the Monitor published Oct. 31, 2025.

I’ve wasted hours of my life watching horror movies. I like to think of myself as a film buff. I grew up surrounded by movies, thanks to my four older siblings. From “Kill Bill” to “Star Wars,” we saw all the classics, and over time, I developed a real passion for cinema. But despite all this love for cinema, there is one genre I simply cannot stand: horror.

I still remember the first horror movie I saw,  during my freshman year of high school. I went in skeptical but curious, thinking that maybe I was missing out on something. Two hours later, I realized that wasn’t the case. The jumpscares seemed cheap, the story felt redundant and I ended up bored rather than scared. That disappointment turned into something stronger over the years: a lasting aversion to horror movies.

A few weeks ago, one of my best friends insisted that I give the genre another chance. He swore that the newest “Conjuring” movie was “different,” that it was “really scary.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. Although this one was supposed to be based on a true story, I sat there frustrated by the lack of originality in the plot. I realized, once again, that horror movies just weren’t for me.

The hype of horror movies is built on false advertising—trailers are always much more intense than the movie itself. Once the lights go down, the suspense evaporates and all that’s left is a predictable, shallow story. I honestly find documentaries about the paranormal scarier than most horror movies.

On the other hand, thrillers are sometimes scarier and much more entertaining than horror movies. Films like “Get Out” or “Sinners” keep you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. The tension builds naturally, not through loud noises or ghosts jumping out of closets, but through genuine psychological pressure. Thrillers make you think, question and squirm in your seat.

I quite enjoy reading and writing the English language. Some parts of English are more fun than others, of course; I always prefer to read a good novel rather than take part in a grammar lesson. My friends have called me an “honorary member of the grammar SWAT team”. I contend that grammar is irrelevant if one is not involved in the writing of an academic or journalistic document.

However, there is one place in English where improper grammar sends me into a rage. This is when someone elects not to use the Oxford comma.

Some explanation is necessary for those who are unfamiliar with the Oxford comma. The Oxford comma, also known as a serial comma, is the comma before the final item in a list of three or more items. For example, in the phrase “lions, tigers, and bears” (oh my!), the Oxford comma is the one that comes after the word ‘tigers’. This comma may not seem like a lot, but its use is critical.

Unfortunately for all lovers of the Oxford comma, the Hilltop Monitor’s copy editor is required to edit in strict compliance with the Associated Press (AP) style. AP style does not include the Oxford comma. This is an outrage! When used properly, the Oxford comma makes writing clearer, cheaper and easier to read.

A simple example suffices to prove the necessity of the Oxford comma. Take the following sentence about inviting one’s children to a party:

“I invited John’s children, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln to the party”

The English language uses a comma to offset appositives—words that further describe or clarify a subject. This makes the above sentence ambiguous. Are Washington and Lincoln the names of John’s children, or separate invitees altogether? I think John would know, but anyone else is clueless. The sentence is not clear. This matters very much, as the side dish I would bring to such a party depends on whether the guest list includes presidents.

Compare this with the alternative:

“I invited John’s children, George Washington, and Abraham Lincoln to the party”

In this example, it’s very clear who is invited to the party, and I will be able to spend my Friday night with John’s children and two dead U.S. presidents—or whoever else shows up. See? It’s so much better, and I know what type of occasion I will be attending.

The Oxford comma can also save you money. In 2014, five Maine commercial drivers filed a lawsuit against their employer for unpaid overtime. The dairy company hadn’t been paying the drivers overtime, pointing to a Maine law. The law exempted workers who were involved in “[t]he canning, processing, preserving, freezing, drying, marketing, storing, packing for shipment or distribution of [perishable goods]” from overtime pay. Careful rereading of this statute identifies an ambiguity: is “packing for shipment or distribution” one item? Or, are “packing for shipment” and “distribution” two separate things? The company settled for five million dollars.

The moral of the story? Include your commas, folks. They save lives, money and time.