Y2K 2.0: The AI security reckoning

2026-Apr-10, Friday 00:00
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Posted by Anil Dash

In just the last few weeks, we’ve seen a series of software security vulnerabilities that, until recently, would each have been the biggest exploit of the year in which they were discovered. Now, they’ve become nearly routine. There’s a new one almost every day.

The reason for this rising wave of massively-impactful software vulnerabilities is that LLMs are rapidly increasing in their ability to write code, which also rapidly improves their ability to analyze code for security weaknesses. These smarter coding agents can detect flaws in commonly-used code, and then create tools which exploit those bugs to get access to people’s systems or data almost effortlessly. These powerful new LLMs can find hundreds of times more vulnerabilities than previous generations of AI tools, and can chain together multiple different vulnerabilities in ways that humans could never think of when trying to find a system’s weaknesses. They’ve already found vulnerabilities that were lurking for decades in code for platforms that were widely considered to be extremely secure.

The rapidly-decreasing cost of code generation has effectively democratized access to attacks that used to be impossible to pull off at scale. And when exploits are less expensive to create, that means that attackers can do things like crafting precisely-targeted phishing scams, or elaborate social engineering attacks, against a larger number of people, each custom-tailored to play on a specific combination of software flaws and human weaknesses. In the past, everybody got the same security exploit attacking their computer or system, but now each company or individual can get a personalized attack designed to exploit their specific configuration and situation.

Now, we’ve had some of these kinds of exploits happening to a limited degree with the current generation of LLMs. So what’s changed? Well, we’ve been told that the new generation of AI tools, currently in limited release to industry insiders and security experts, are an order of magnitude more capable of discovering — and thus, exploiting — security vulnerabilities in every part of the world’s digital infrastructure.

This leaves us in a situation akin to the Y2K bug around the turn of the century, where every organization around the world has to scramble to update their systems all at once, to accommodate an unexpected new technical requirement. Only this time, we don’t know which of our systems are still using two digits to store the date.

And we don’t know what date the new millennium starts.

How we got here

A core assumption of software development since the turn of the century, especially with the rise of open source software in the early 2000s, was that organizations could use more shared code from third parties to accelerate their coding efficiency. The adoption of code sharing through services like GitHub, knowledge sharing on communities like Stack Overflow, and the easy discovery and integration of shared code libraries through platforms like npm (which, like GitHub, is owned by Microsoft) all rapidly accelerated the trend of openly sharing code. Today, tens of millions of developers begin their coding process by gathering a large amount of code from the internet that they want to reuse as the basis for their work. The assumption is that someone else who uses that code has probably checked it to make sure it’s secure.

For the most part, this style of working from shared code has been the right choice. Shared, community-maintained code amortized the cost of development across a large number of people or organizations, and spread the responsibilities for things like security reviews across a larger community of developers. Often, part of the calculation about whether sharing code was worth it was that you might get new features or bug fixes “for free” when others made improvements to the code that they were sharing with you. But now, all of this shared code is also being examined by bad actors who have access to the same advanced LLMs that everyone else does. And those bad actors are finding vulnerabilities in every version of every single bit of shared code. Every single major platform, whether it’s the web browser on your desktop computer, or the operating systems that run powerful cloud computing infrastructure for companies like Amazon, has been found to have security vulnerabilities when these new LLMs try to pick them apart.

In years past, when major software security issues like Heartbleed or xz were discovered, the global security community would generally follow responsible disclosure practices, and the big tech vendors and open source developers would work together to provide updates and to patch critical infrastructure. Then, there would be deliberate communication to the broader public, with detailed information for technical audiences, usually followed by some more semi-sensationalistic coverage in the general press. But the recent spate of similarly-impactful security vulnerabilities have come at such a rapid clip that the leisurely pace and careful rituals of the past are already starting to break down. It’s a bit like the acceleration of the climate crisis; nobody knows how to build a system resilient enough to handle a “storm of the century” every year. Nobody knows how to properly communicate about, and respond to, the “exploit of the year” if it’s happening every six hours.

The New Security Landscape

So, how is this going to play out? In society at large, we’re very likely to see a lot of disruption. Everything runs on software, even things we don’t think of as computers, and upgrading systems is really expensive. The harder a system is to upgrade, the more likely it is that organizations will either resist doing so or try to assign the responsibility to others.

In much of the West we’re in a particularly weak state because the United States has voluntarily gutted much of its regulatory and research capabilities in the relevant security disciplines. The agencies that might lead a response to this kind of urgent effort are largely led by incompetent cronies, or are captured by corrupt industry sycophants. We shouldn’t expect to see a competent coordinated execution at the federal level; this is the administration that had unvetted DOGE workers hand your personal data over to AI platforms that were not approved for federal use or verified to comply with federal privacy standards. The most basic security practices aren’t a consideration for leadership in this regime, and the policy makers like the “AI Czar” are brazenly conflicted by being direct investors in major AI players, making it impossible for them to be disinterested parties in regulating the market fairly.

So who will respond? In the United States, the response will have to happen from the people themselves, with more directly coordinated actions across the private sector, academia, individual technical subject matter experts, and governments and NGOs at the local level. In the rest of the world, strategically-aligned government responses will likely work with those in other sectors to anticipate, and react to, the threats that arise. We’ll probably see some weird and unlikely alliances pop up because many of the processes that used to rely on there being adults in the room can no longer make that assumption.

Within the tech industry, it’s been disclosed that companies like Anthropic are letting major platform vendors like Google and Microsoft and Apple test out the impacts of their new tools right now, in anticipation of finding widespread vulnerabilities in their platforms. This means that other AI companies are either doing the same already, or likely to be doing so shortly. It’s likely there will be a patchwork of disclosures and information sharing as each of the major AI platforms gets different levels of capability to assess (and exploit) security vulnerabilities, and makes different decisions about who, how and when they share their next-generation LLM technology with. Security decisions this serious should be made in the public interest by public servants with no profit motive, informed by subject matter experts. That will almost certainly not be the case.

At the same time, in the rest of the tech industry, the rumors around Apple’s next version of their Mac and iPhone operating systems are that the focus is less on shiny new features and more on “under the hood” improvements; we should expect that a lot of other phone or laptop vendors may be making similar announcements as nearly every big platform will likely have to deliver some fairly sizable security updates in the coming months. That means constantly being nagged to update our phones and apps and browsers and even our hardware — everything from our video game consoles to our wifi routers to our smart TVs.

But of course, millions and millions of apps and devices won’t get updated. The obvious result there will be people getting their data hijacked, their accounts taken over, maybe even their money or identities stolen. The more subtle and insidious effects will be in the systems that get taken over, but where the bad actors quietly lay in wait, not taking advantage of their access right away. Because of the breadth of new security vulnerabilities that are about to be discovered, it will increasingly be likely that hackers will be able to find more than one vulnerability on a person’s machine or on a company’s technical infrastructure once they get initial access. Someone who’s running an old version of one app has likely not upgraded their other apps, either.

Open source projects are really going to get devastated by this new world of attacks. Already, as I’ve noted open source projects are under attack as part of the broader trend of the open internet being under siege. Open source maintainers are being flooded by AI slop code submissions that waste their time and serve to infuriate and exhaust people who are largely volunteering their time and energy for free. Now, on top of that, the same LLMs that enabled them to be overrun by slop code are enabling bad actors to find security issues and exploit them, or in the best case, to find new security issues that have to be fixed. But even if the new security issues are reported — they still need to sift through all of the code submissions to find the legitimate security patches amongst the slop! When combined with the decline in participation in open source projects as people increasingly have their AI agents just generate code for them on demand, a lot of open source projects may simply choose to throw in the towel.

Finally, there are a few clear changes that will happen quickly within the professional security world. Security practitioners whose work consists of functions like code review for classic security shortcomings such as buffer overflows and backdoors are going to see their work transformed relatively quickly. I don’t think the work goes away, so much as it continues the trend of the last few years in moving up to a more strategic level, but at a much more accelerated pace. Similarly, this new rush of vulnerabilities will be disruptive for security vendors who sell signature-based scanning tools or platforms that use simple heuristics, though in many cases these companies have been coasting on the fact that they’re selling to companies that are too lazy to choose a new security vendor, so they may have some time to adapt or evolve before a new cohort of companies come along selling more modern tools.

Avoiding Y2K26

Back in 2000, a lot of folks thought the Y2K bug wasn’t “real” because they didn’t see planes falling from the sky, or a global financial meltdown. In truth, the mobilization of capable technical experts around the world served to protect everyone from the worst effects of the Y2K bug, to the point where ordinary people didn’t face any real disruptions of their day at all.

I don’t know if it’s possible for history to repeat itself here with the series of security challenges that it seems like everyone is going to be facing in the weeks and months to come. There have been pledges of some resources and some money (relatively small amounts, compared to the immense sums invested in the giant AI companies) to trying to help open source and open source infrastructure organizations deal with the problems they’re going to have to tackle. A lot of the big players in the tech space are at least starting to collaborate, building on the long history of security practitioners being very thoughtful and disciplined about not letting corporate rivalries get in the way of best practices in protecting the greater good.

But it’s simply luck of the draw that Anthropic is the player that seems to be the furthest ahead in this space at the current time, and that’s the only reason we’re seeing a relatively thoughtful and careful approach to rolling out these technologies. Virtually every other frontier-level player in the LLM space, especially in the United States, will be far more reckless when their platforms gain similar capabilities. And they’ll be far more likely to play favorites about which other companies and organizations they permit to protect themselves from the coming risks.

Platforms whose funders, board members, and CEOs have openly talked about the need to destroy major journalistic institutions, or to gut civil society organizations, are certainly not going to suddenly protect those same organizations when their own platforms uncover vulnerabilities that pose an existential threat to their continued function. These aren’t just security issues — in the wrong hands, these are weapons. And that’s not to mention the global context, where the irresponsible actions of the United States’ government, which has generally had the backing of many of the big AI players’ leadership, will also incentivize the weaponization of these new security vulnerabilities.

It seems unlikely that merely keeping up with the latest software updates is going to be enough to protect everyone who needs to be protected. In the fullness of time, we’re going to have to change how we make software, how we share our code, how we evaluate trust in the entire supply chain of creating technology. Our assumptions about risk and vulnerability will have to radically shift. We should assume that every single substantial collection of code that’s in production today is exploitable.

That means some of the deeper assumptions will start to fall as well. Does that device need to be online? Do we need to be connected in this context? Does this process have to happen on this platform? Does this need to be done with software at all? The cost/benefit analysis for many actions and routines is likely to shift, maybe just for a while, or maybe for a long time to come.

The very best we can hope for is that we come out the other side of this reckoning with a new set of practices that leave us more secure than we were before. I think it’s going to be a long time until we get to that place where things start to feel more secure. Right now, it looks like it’s about ten minutes until the new millennium.

Cosmic Alchemy

2026-Apr-10, Friday 00:07
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Posted by Hannah Forsyth

The New South Wales gold rush began more than 400 million years ago.

It was an age of fire, that ended with ice. Australia was part of the super-continent Gondwana, which was not yet south. By continent standards it was moving fast. By the end of this era, the Ordovician, it would be at the south pole.

In the water there were snails, trilobites, corals and some ‘primitive’ fish. On the land, some little bug type fellas with exoskeletons were starting to colonise Gondwana, which was otherwise empty of critters.

Trilobite - Wikipedia

Volcanoes ruled a section of Gondwana that mining companies now refer lustfully (or covetously) as the LFB, the Lachlan Fold Belt. Deep in the earth, gold was already there. Hot magma rose upwards towards the surface, releasing fluids as it went. Amidst these fluids was liquid gold. Gold poured onto the surface of Gondwana, producing substantial reefs of golden metal due to volcanic ‘intrusions’ and also thin streaks through the granite. Then there was the Devonian , which was the Age of the Fishes, because fish came to be on top of the earth’s food chain (if one can have a favourite geological era this is mine). In this era, some of this gold was disrupted by more geological activity, so that gold was enfolded in quartz. This was the gold that diggers began to extract by the rivers in Ophir and Hill End in 1851.

What are we to make of this gold? Perhaps it was waiting patiently under the earth for its purpose to be fulfilled, when finally, the combinations of the end of the Napoleonic Wars, new British banking legislation, imperial expansion, steam ships and settler colonial confidence let thousands of people to take the three-week trip from Sydney to Bathurst and the eight hour journey to extract the gold.

Which is to say, was it always gold, not in terms of composition ot substance, but potential? Was the ‘gold’ sought by diggers and the bankers who bought it from them, embodied in what the magma deposited? Or did the diggers bring gold – the idea of gold – with them? And was it that idea which was infused with the historical moment, the confluence of a specie shortage, the disciplining of bank money and increased global mobility – so much for those diggers to carry! – that made gold, gold?

This is clearly important. Check out the price of gold over one hundred years (source: https://www.macrotrends.net/).

There was the gold standard and dollar-gold convertibility until 1969. Then, the moment that gold wasn’t important (in one way of thinking about it), the price goes nuts. And it goes nuts, as we have just seen, because of lots of ideas about gold: a safe haven when other currencies look dodgy, an opportunity for short-term gains in the process etc.

The relationship between the idea and the price is obvious.

But it is not just the idea of gold, is it? The point of it being gold is that it is actually, materially gold. Of course other metals are also important, but even in bimetallic systems of currency, while you can exchange their value like we do types of currency, you can’t actually substitute silver or cooper or anything else for gold. It actually has to be gold.

No wonder we have so many stories of people able to turn something that isn’t gold, into gold. This was the ancient science/philosophy (when those two were pretty much the same thing) of alchemy – or, at least, a sub-branch of alchemy called chrysopoeia, which distinguishes the gold-making branch from spiritual uplift/elixir of life type branches (though some scholars point out that these were in fact entangled).

It was also the gift/curse of Midas in Greek mythology, whose touch turned everything to gold. And then there is Rumpelstiltskin, who could spin straw into gold.

Of course, all such things are mythical. Gold cannot be magicked into being. There are a few cases of sciencing it into being, but in at least one case it was radioactive. That would probably impact its price, I reckon.

What about 400 million years ago? Did the Ordovician volcano perform primodial alchemy?

Turns out, no. The gold was already there.

Recently, astrophysicists have been able to prove that gold is created when stars collide.

I mean this seems like fucking nonsense, doesn’t it? But seriously. Here is how you make gold.

First you need not just one dead star, but two. Getting hold of two dead stars is quite difficult, but I reckon with some perseverance we can make it work.

Specifically they have to be ‘neutron stars’, which sounds like a star wearing a Superman cape, but is just the ultra-dense remnants left over when a star dies.

Then you need the two stars to collide. Not just line up in the sky when you’re looking at them – we’re making GOLD here, not the zodiac.

It is tricky to do, but the payoff is great. One 2017 collision produced 3 and 13 earth-masses of gold (that’s a pretty wide margin of error, but obv the low end is fine).

How do we get it to earth though? Well this is the really tricky bit. The gold that the Ordovician volcano reached down and extracted from the earth’s core and deposited on the LFB. Well, it was in the dust that coalesced to form the earth itself. When the earth was made of molten stuff, the gold sank deep into the core. Bits of gold dust have sometimes fallen from space, but most of it was produced by the cosmic alchemy and then helped form the earth itself.

Suddenly, today’s price ($4,650.80 USD an ounce) seems a bit of a bargain.

This post is part of my CH Currey Memorial Fellowship at the State Library of NSW on ‘What happened to the gold’?

The Big Idea: Justin Feinstein

2026-Apr-09, Thursday 22:17
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Posted by Athena Scalzi

What are stories but information laid out before the reader? What if that information was conveyed through multi-media formats and told through emails, newsletters, and other digital means of communication? Author Justin Feinstein has brought us something truly unique in his new novel, Your Behavior Will Be Monitored. See how he twists traditional storytelling methods in his Big Idea.

JUSTIN FEINSTEIN:

I didn’t set out to write a novel told through “found” digital files; it happened organically.

My debut novel, Your Behavior Will Be Monitored is comprised of chat transcripts, emails, TED Talks, error messages, and other digital detritus from a near-future AI company. But it wasn’t the result of some grand epistolary vision – I just started writing a chat between an aging, jaded copywriter (i.e., me) and a hyper-intelligent bot he had been hired to teach the nuances of advertising. I didn’t even know what I was writing, maybe a script?

As the dialogue evolved beyond consumer motivation and taglines, and into larger issues like sentience and purpose, I realized I had a larger story on my hands. Other characters (both human and bot) emerged, as well as other file formats. Every time I added a new element, it would offer its own unique opportunities for character and plot development.

For many months I toggled between writing and tinkering with a posterboard covered with Post-it notes, color-coded for different file types. The modularity of the format lent itself well to this process, which is a normal step for screenwriters and one that, as I learned, can provide much structural value to a novelist. It also helped keep me engaged on days that the blank page felt too daunting. I’d move a note from here to there, or add a new one and notice how it would affect the story. Even in revision, long after I’d dismantled the posterboard, I was still shuffling sections around to play with the chronology and build tension or sustain momentum.

It’s worth noting that while Your Behavior Will Be Monitored is my debut novel, I’ve written both another novel and a memoir, neither of which I was able to sell. For those books, I just started writing and kept going until they were done. So, both the process of writing this book and the format itself were foreign to me, and a big departure from how I’d worked in the past (and seemingly an improvement).

As a result of this newfound process, I became hyper aware of the order of information, its consequences for characters, and how it could guide the reader. For example, a mundane error message might not hold much weight early in a story, but the same error message in a later spot could bring significant narrative impact, due to the built-up context.

It was also fun to explore the tonal potential of these different formats. As anyone who has ever worked for a large corporation knows, company-wide emails are often saturated with an everything-is-fine and nothing-bad-is-happening perkiness that borders on the maniacal. Writing them made the company in my novel, Uniview (“The most trusted name in AI”), feel like a character itself. Since the story is linear, I was able to use weekly all-company emails (aka, The Weekly View) as a summation of what was happening, or at least the way UniView wanted to “spin” it. This added a layer of depth to the narrative, since both company employees and readers of the book knew the reality behind the spin.

Once I had a draft that I felt good about, I shared it with my wife, Julia Fierro (founder and director of the Sackett Street Writers’ Workshop, and a damn good editor). I was hoping for some validation and slightly worried that I had created a Beautiful Mind-esque monster that only made sense to me. Fortunately, Julia was impressed and in awe that I had managed to write a book with no exposition or character interiority (i.e., thoughts) – a fact I was somehow only loosely aware of. It wasn’t that I had intentionally avoided it, just that it didn’t fit within the structure I had stumbled into.

That said, I did leverage little tricks to provide context where needed. If a character was entering a physical environment for the first time, they could comment on it or interact with it – like how the copywriter in my book, Noah, bumps his head when getting in a car and jokes about his lankiness, or how he later notes that the AI lab looks like a Swedish furniture showroom. He also has a call early on with his therapist, which is a helpful narrative vehicle for getting to the heart of a character’s fears and desires.

But Julia’s main note for me was that the video surveillance “scenes” in the book felt flat with only dialogue and made them nearly identical to the MP3s/audio recordings. It was a great note, and one I sat with for a while. She was right, but breaking the structure and format of the book for only one file type (i.e., by adding descriptions of what was happening) just felt wrong.

Eventually I landed on not just a solution, but what would become a key component of the book. The head of HR at UniView is a bot, Lex, who handles nearly all aspects of the employees’ lives, well beyond their work. The company champions a symbiotic relationship in which its bots monitor all aspects of employee behavior (hence the book’s title) and tailor their AI offerings accordingly. So, I was able to pepper the video scenes with “behavioral notes” from Lex, which served the double duty of describing gesture and movement in scenes, while simultaneously characterizing her through reactions and commentary. And even though she “doesn’t make mistakes,” the few moments where she struggles to interpret sarcasm or nuanced behavior are some of my favorite in the book.

I don’t know that I’ll ever write a solely digital file-based book like Your Behavior Will Be Monitored again, although I’ll probably keep working with mixed media/epistolary formats. But I can say that playing with Post-it notes is officially part of my process now.


Your Behavior Will Be Monitored: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s|Village Well

Author socials: Website|Bluesky|Instagram

Dilly-Dallying In Denver: Day 2

2026-Apr-09, Thursday 14:12
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Posted by Athena Scalzi

I am someone who wakes up multiple times throughout the night. I always just flip over and go right back to sleep, but I definitely wake up fairly often. On my first morning of being in Denver, I was sleeping on my friend’s couch when I happened to wake up at seven on the dot. I was pretty comfortable, so I almost didn’t flip over at all, but at the last minute I decided I’d be slightly more comfortable if I flipped. So I did, and in doing so I faced the windows instead of facing the apartment. When I tell you I was beholding the single most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen in my life, trust that I mean it.

Radiant pink and bursting gold, the snowy mountains in the distance, and the sun steadily rising, casting light onto the city before me. It was truly a sight, and I stayed up for fifteen minutes to watch the sunrise unfold and transform, until it was finally over and the magnificent colors subsided. I thought about taking a photo, but I decided I just wanted to experience it in the moment and really soak it in just for myself.

After a glorious start to the morning (and going back to sleep for a while), Alex and I started our day off right with a quick stop at The Sen Tea House to pick up some matcha (we are matcha fiends if you couldn’t tell). The Sen Tea House had so many different options for their matchas in terms of sweetness, flavors, and milks, and they have non-matcha drinks, too, so there’s really a drink for every type of preference.

I almost didn’t even get a matcha because I was so enticed by the coconut Vietnamese coffee, but my friend highly recommended their matcha, so I ended up getting the ube matcha, which is listed on their menu as their most popular item. If you look at their online menu, Alex’s drink isn’t on there because it was like a weekly special or seasonal special, but they got the banana cream matcha. And here they are!

Two plastic 16oz cups, each filled with iced matcha. One has purple ube cream on top and the other has a pale yellow banana cream on top. Both have a huge portion of milk in the bottom of the cup, because this was prior to us mixing our drinks up a bit.

I was very pleased with the generous portion of cream on top, as these were $7.75 each. We obviously mixed these up a little bit more before drinking them, but I wanted to take a picture before mixing because I knew that mixing purple and green together would make a very unappetizing brown/grey color. And it did! But trust, it was delicious. It had tons of sweet ube flavor while still having some earthy matcha flavor, and was super creamy. Alex’s banana one tasted wildly fresh, like not artificial-y banana at all. It tasted so healthy like as if you made a fruit smoothie with a banana in it. It was definitely less sweet than mine, but Alex really enjoyed it. I am definitely glad I picked the ube, I can’t get enough ube in my life.

Later in the day, we were off to a highly anticipated spot called Mecha Noodle Bar.

A large black building with orange lettering on the front that reads

This ramen restaurant is fun, fresh, and casual, but also nice enough that you can come in and sit at the bar with a date and have awesome cocktails. I didn’t know at the time, but Mecha actually has a few other locations, though all the other ones are in the Northeast, predominately Connecticut and Massachusetts. How they got all the way out to Denver, I’m not entirely sure. But I’m glad they did, because Alex and I absolutely loved Mecha.

We were originally here for their Restaurant Week offerings, but it turned out that we were there during their happy hour, as well. We decided to double down and get the Restaurant Week menu and order off the happy hour menu, just to keep things exciting.

But of course, I had to start out with a bev:

A clear, tall, tiki glass with orange liquid and a blue bendy straw.

This is their mango sticky rice cocktail, with cachaça, pandan liqueur, coconut, mango, tea syrup, and lemon. Mango sticky rice is one of my favorite desserts in the world, so this cocktail sounded right up my alley. Whoever made it definitely made it kind of strong, but so much of the delicious tropical flavors really came through and I loved the level of sweetness in this drink. It wasn’t too heavy or too dessert-y. Much like the actual dessert it’s named for. Light and refreshing, with intense mango flavor. This drink was $15, but there was a lot of liquid to work through there, so can’t be too mad.

Here was the pre-fixe menu for only $25:

The pre-fixe menu for Mecha Noodle, listing your choices for your first course, second course, and then listing the one and only option for dessert.

Though I love some good edamame and those green beans sounded downright delish, I opted for the shiitake bao, and Alex got the chicken bao. Here’s mine:

A single bao filled with what appears to be only cucumbers on a red, ornately decorated plate.

If it looks like my bao is 200% cucumber, fear not, I got a better shot of the filling:

A look inside the bao, revealing it's not all cucumber, there's actually mushroom, green onion, and sauce.

As you can see, there is actually mushroom, scallions, hoisin, and Kewpie mayo in there. I really enjoyed this bao. The bun was soft and pillowy, the cucumber was crisp and fresh, and the mushroom was a perfectly acceptable size. Alex really liked their chicken one, too.

Before we dove into our second course, we got our happy hour snacks. Alex got the firecracker wings:

A platter of large, breaded wings alongside a wedge of lime and two sauce containers holding a creamy sauce.

These bad boys do not mess around, with their Sichuan peppercorn, Korean chili, tamarind, and togarashi seasoning alongside their lime leaf ranch. My friend offered a wing to me to try, but these suckers packed a kick. Even with the ranch, I couldn’t manage a second bite. These wings are an absolute powerhouse of flavor, and have definitely earned their name of “firecrackers.” While this platter is usually $16, the happy hour price was only $8.

I went for the spare ribs:

A shallow white bowl full of ribs covered in a dark brown glaze, topped with sesame seeds and fresh greens.

I don’t normally eat ribs in public, as they’re very messy and I dare not risk looking goofy, but when it came to these ribs, I no longer cared. They were so good. Too good. Quite possibly the best ribs I’ve ever had, even. Incredibly tender, luscious, fall-right-off-the-bone ribs with a bold, savory, but slightly sweet, sticky sauce that left me questioning why I haven’t had more ribs in my life. Though these were originally $18, the happy hour price was an unbeatable $9. Under ten dollars for these truly delectable ribs was wild, but I was totally here for it.

Finally, our main courses. With the price of the menu being only $25, I had assumed that the main courses would be mini versions of their actual entrees. Like a half portion of their ramen or something along those lines. However, I was pleasantly surprised to discover you get the full portion, which is absolutely wild because a bowl of their noodles costs almost as much as the pre-fixe menu.

Alex got the mala stir-fry:

A big bowl of noodles with peanuts, cilantro, and sauce.

Wide, flat rice noodles, topped with a cumin-Sichuan-peanut sauce, actual peanuts, and cilantro, with spicy brisket lurking just beneath the surface. This dish was also way too spicy for me, but Alex absolutely loved it. I did think the rice noodles were interesting, at least, plus the fresh cilantro is always a plus.

I was a little basic and got the shoyu paitan:

A big red bowl full of ramen. A big chunk of chicken, noodles, corn, scallions, soft boiled egg, and seaweed.

I really love black garlic, especially in ramen, so that’s what led me to pick this chicken ramen. It came with half a soft-boiled egg, some nori, scallions, bamboo, and I added the corn. I am always in the mood for ramen, and this ramen definitely delivered on curbing my ramen craving. I wouldn’t say it was a life-changing bowl of noodles, but it was pretty good and I have no real complaints about it. I liked the egg.

After acquiring many boxes, it was time for dessert:

Two mason jars full of purple pudding and topped with a vanilla wafer.

Oh my god, more ube! I was thrilled to see this beautiful purple pudding concoction. This was “Bonnie’s Banana Pudding,” with ube, vanilla pudding, bananas, and vanilla wafers. I know the mason jars don’t look like very big vessels, but this was absolutely a generous portion size. Like it took some serious work to get through these jars of pudding, but every bite was amazing. The ube flavor worked wonderfully with the vanilla, and the banana wasn’t artificial tasting at all. It was like we were drinking our matchas from that morning all over again!

The pudding was so creamy and had a great mouthfeel, and I almost felt sad when my spoon finally scraped the glass bottom of the jar. I could eat this dessert pretty much every single day.

For one cocktail, two restaurant week menus, a platter of wings and a platter of ribs, we were looking at a cool and breezy $82 before tip. What a steal. I was thoroughly impressed with their happy hour options, plus how good everything was (even if two of the dishes were too spicy for me). Not to mention our waitress was extremely friendly and attentive!

Mecha Noodle Bar really exceeded my expectations and was a great time, I highly recommend checking them out.

After heading back to Alex’s apartment and hanging with some of their apartment friends and checking out a little event happening in the lobby, we went back out to get some drinks to end the night. We walked down the street to Barcelona Wine Bar, an upscale tapas restaurant with tons of wines, beers, and some unique cocktails.

We sat at the bar, which was a beautiful marble with nice, dim lighting that made the place feel elevated yet somewhat cozy. The first drink I chose was actually one of their mocktails, but I asked for a spirit of the bartender’s choice in it. This is the “Tea Time”:

A coupe glass filled with a dark pink liquid with a lighter pink foam on top, plus a mint leaf resting on top. The glass sits atop a black and white marble bar top.

Earl grey tea, blueberry shrub, salted honey syrup, aquafaba, and mint. Plus gin! This drink is so pretty, I absolutely love the color and the stark contrast of the mint leaf on top. The aquafaba made for an excellent foam on top of the drink, as well. I adore earl grey as a flavor, as well as blueberry, and unsurprisingly this drink did not disappoint. I think gin was the perfect addition to this fruity yet sophisticated beverage. Specifically a more botanical gin versus a dry gin. I know what kind of gin I’m about and it sure isn’t Tanqueray.

For my second cocktail, I got yet another mocktail… with a spirit added! This is the “Bees & Bays”:

A wine glass filled with pale yellow liquid and ice, with a bay leaf on top.

That lovely salted honey syrup makes its return alongside lime, cardamom bitters, sparkling water, and is topped with a torched bay leaf. Oh, and gin. This cocktail was so light and refreshing, with simple flavors of honey, citrus, and the lovely feeling of bubbles. I loved how cold it was from all the ice.

Though Alex and I were definitely full from our time at Mecha Noodle, we knew we had to at least try some charcuterie:

A small wooden board with three chunks of cheese, some jam, and some cured meat.

We both knew we wanted drunken goat on the board for sure, but our other picks came to mind much slower. We ended up getting tetilla, a semi-soft cow’s milk cheese, and a third cheese I don’t remember. I know, I know, I had one job! But at least I remembered that the meat is speck! Or… was it serrano? No, no, definitely speck. Probably. And don’t ask me about the jam.

For my final beverage of the evening before walking the couple blocks back to Alex’s apartment, we have the Gin & Jus:

A short glass with pale yellow liquid and ice.

Gin, lime, pink peppercorn, ginger, and green grape. I like all of those things! They were good together. I think I didn’t taste this one as much as I did the previous two. I did like it, though.

Alex had a glass of Moscato, so I didn’t bother taking a picture. I’m very sorry to anyone who wanted to see a glass of white wine.

When we got back, we called it an early night (not too early) so we would feel rested and ready to go for my third day. Stick around to see what whacky beverages I consume next!

Have you been to any of Mecha Noodle Bar’s locations before? Do you like ube? How do you feel about gin? Let me know in the comments, and have a great day!

-AMS

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Posted by Ingrid Robeyns

A journalist from the Wall Street Journal wrote to me a week ago to ask what the numbers that I use in the opening pages of my book Limitarianism would look like today. In particular, she asked whether I could calculate for her the “lifetime equivalent hourly income” of Elon Musk’s current assets today.

Short answer: today that number is 5 million dollars per hour.

Longer answer: The “lifetime equivalent hourly wage” that I calculated in my book was assuming Musk would never take holidays, work 50 hours a week and work until 65. His 809 billion estimated assets would then translate into an hourly equivalent wage of 6,914,530 dollars per hour (hence almost 7 million per hour). Assuming he works 70 hours a week and until he turns 75, it would still amount to 4,938,950 dollars per hour – almost 5 million per hour.

That is: if Elon Musk were paid an hourly wage for his work, he’d need to earn about 5 million dollars per hour to amass that fortune. Of course, this should not be taken literally. There is no such wage. Moreover, this estimate assumes he doesn’t spend any of it. The point of this “lifetime equivalent hourly wage” is rather to make an extremely abstract number, that most people cannot cognitively process, understandable.

I’m glad this journalist asked, but that doesn’t mean she will use it, or even less so that the WSJ will publish any of this – it has happened a few times that USA/UK journalists interview me for a piece on extreme wealth that then doesn’t get published – sometimes they ghost me, sometimes they tell me they wrote the piece (and even share it) but the paper decides not to publish it.

Rising extreme wealth concentration and the relentless drive of the überwealthy to keep accumulating more lies at the core of almost all the world’s most lethal problems. It takes central stage in Luke Kemp’s masterpiece Goliath’s Curse, in which he asks what makes empires collapse. Kemp argues that our current empire is global because of the way our economic system is so radically global, and that if this empire goes down, it will affect all of us (and not just wipe out a geographically bounded empire as it did in the past, for example with the Aztec or the Roman Empire). While Kemp is pretty pessimistic at our odds of saving ourselves from collapse, he argues that it requires in any case two things – a cap on wealth and deep democracy.

Yet we are still not doing anything about extreme wealth concentration, because (a) most people vote for economically right-wing parties who prefer protecting the (extremely) rich above addressing the serious problems humanity is facing, (b) the extremely rich have in too many places captured our collective decision making (often via their corporate structures), (c) and too many regular people are still ignorant about the harmful effects of extreme wealth.

I think the only reasonable course of action is to double down on our efforts to address (a), (b), and (c).

The Big Idea: Corry L. Lee

2026-Apr-08, Wednesday 22:22
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Posted by Athena Scalzi

Endings are called endings because things end there… but then what? What goes on beyond “the end”? Corry L. Lee is thinking about that very thought, and in this Big Idea for Imbue the Sky, offers some insight.

CORRY L. LEE:

The end of many stories is the Big Bad’s defeat. But is that really the end? If, say, someone had killed Hitler before WWII, would everything have been fine? What about his cronies, his generals, everyone invested in the fascist machine?

In Imbue the Sky, I wanted to explore what happens after the resistance succeeds. The dictator’s dead (hurray!)… but, left behind, is a power vacuum and loads of oppressive systems. In the Bourshkanya Trilogy, the (now-dead) Supreme General has two likely heirs: his sadistic eldest son, groomed for the role and supported by the brutal State police; and his more reasonable daughter, a mage and politician struggling with the State’s “might makes right” mentality. Then there’s the resistance, scrappy and small, with radical ideas of power to the people.

Add in our heroes who, together, assassinated the “unkillable” Supreme General, but now find themselves on opposing sides of a three-way civil war.

Through outlines and early drafts, I worked out the civil war’s progression and how I wanted it to end. But time and again, something wasn’t working. The problem was one of scope.

Most fantasy series, The Bourshkanya Trilogy included, grow in scope from one book to the next. This series began with intimate character, relationship, and magic growth inside the physical confines of a travelling circus (Book 1, Weave the Lightning), grew to working undercover for the resistance within the fascist state’s magical military (Book 2, The Storm’s Betrayal), before becoming nation-spanning in Book 3 (Imbue the Sky) with its civil war. Romances and friendships have shattered, and hundreds of kilometers separate our protagonists. 

The spark in the first two books came from the personal struggles, the push-and-pull of relationships, the tug between characters who cared deeply but wanted different things. How could I hold onto that heart while landing a satisfying ending with revolutionary scope?

I will claim that my answer to this is my Big Idea but, in reality, it was my Big Struggle.

To figure it out, I returned to the core of my original story: two people on different sides of the fascist state. The question of how a person frees themself from fascism fascinated me when I started drafting this series, and it has only become more relevant. In the real world, political rhetoric has become more polarized and aggressive, overflowing with intolerance and hate. 

And I wondered: how do we come back from hatred? Can we make mistakes and still be good? How many of our actions are shaped by our environment, and how can we turn toward forgiveness, understanding, and hope?

With this, Imbue the Sky’s Big Idea began to gel. The core of this story was not its battles or its epic magic (though those would remain, because fight scenes!!!). The heart of this story was characters fighting back toward their best selves—while raising arms against injustice. For some, the fight became about holding onto their light in the face of war’s brutality. For others, it involved realizing how their choices had broken relationships and figuring out how to (try and) mend them. Still others needed to soften their staunch convictions and accept that decisions are not always clear-cut; that sometimes, only by embracing an uncomfortable gray middle ground, can we nurture true growth.

In these questions, I found the end of the series. Not the culmination of the civil war’s battles (though that, too). Not (just) the weaving together of disparate aspects of the magic system into one explosive finale. But the weaving together of lives

The relationships at the end of this series have all shifted dramatically. Not all mistakes can be walked back, not all burned bridges rebuilt. But by looking critically at our choices and the paths they’ve started us down, by being vulnerable and admitting our mistakes, we have a chance to shift the course of history. 

It takes great strength to face your fears and reach for hope; to risk pain and be vulnerable; to risk failure and strive for a better world. In Imbue the Sky, the personal is political. The story doesn’t end when the dictator dies. In a way, it’s only the beginning.


Imbue the Sky: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s|Solaris Books

Author socials: Website|Instagram|Facebook

Read an excerpt

When the crisis comes

2026-Apr-08, Wednesday 00:00
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Posted by Anil Dash

These days, we’re all living in a constant state of crisis, foisted upon us by a world where those who are meant to keep things stable are the least stable factors in our lives. The chaos and stress of that reality makes it difficult to make any plans, let alone to make decisions if you have responsibilities for a team or organization that you’re meant to be leading. It’s easy to imagine there’s nothing we can do, or to feel hopeless. But a resource that just arrived served as a timely reminder for me that a crisis doesn’t have to be paralyzing, and we don’t have to feel overwhelmed when trying to plan how we’ll respond as leaders.

The topic of crisis has been on my mind again as I’ve been looking at the work of some friends who are the most fluent experts on the topic of crisis that I know, prompted by the release of Marina Nitze, Mikey Dickerson and Matthew Weaver's new book, Crisis Engineering.

There’s nothing more valuable than people who can step in during a moment of crisis and provide clarity, not just on how to make it through that moment, but how to seize that opportunity to actually make better things possible. A few years ago, at some of the most stressful and harrowing moments I’ve had as a leader in my business career, I got to connect with a remarkable team who ran towards the crisis that our organization was in, and helped our team get through that moment and not just persevere, but to thrive. I thought a bit about the famous Mr. Rogers line about “look for the helpers”, and Matthew, Marina, and Mikey's team at their company Layer Aleph really were the equivalent of the helpers when it comes to the place where where technology meets the real world.

I’d first heard legend of their way of working in the days and weeks after the notoriously rough launch of Healthcare.gov (This was back when the federal government aspired to competency, inability to deliver was considered a scandal, and media would accurately describe something that didn’t function as a failure.) A small, scrappy, multifunctional team had been able to transform the culture of this hidebound segment of the federal government, and deliver a set of services that are saving American lives to this day. That story is detailed well in the book, but at the time, the conventional wisdom was that this was a catastrophe so impossibly complex, in a bureaucracy so hopelessly broken, that nobody could possibly fix it. And then they did. (With the help of a lot of brilliant and motivated colleagues.)

As it turns out, this was just one of many such efforts that the team would be a part of, and helped define the overall approach that they, and their collaborators, would take in addressing these highly public crises. There are so many situations where a combination of cultural and technical challenges conspire to cause extremely visible failures or disruptions that seem intractable. But over time, a set of practices and principles emerged from their work that took the response out of the realm of superstition and guesswork and into something that was almost a science. These techniques work when systems are crashing, when machines get hacked, when data are leaked, when business models are crumbling, when leadership is in disarray, when customers are angry, when users are leaving, when competitors are attacking, when funders are fleeing. In short, when the crisis is at your door.

Putting it into practice

It was years after their evolution from those early post-Healthcare.gov days into a mature practice that I reconnected with the Layer Aleph team. By then, I was running a company, and a team, that was under an extreme amount of stress, and in a situation that could easily have amounted to an existential crisis. They were able to engage with conviction and compassion, but importantly, they weren’t making it up as they went along. I think this is an idea that’s important to understand in the current moment, too — there is such a thing as expertise. We do not have to settle for incompetence and cronyism. Good people of good character with real credentials and relevant experience can bring it to bear on even the most challenging situations, and when they do, even the most intractable problems are solvable.

And now, that expertise is something they’ve captured and shared.

I don’t often unabashedly endorse books about business and technology; too often I find them to be based on thin premises, padded out with cliches. But what the team here have done with their new book Crisis Engineering is something special — they documented their own experiences of turning real crises into a chance to design new, resilient systems.

Even better, they talk about how other organizations can do the same thing. The reason that I can testify that it works is because I have seen it, and I’ve seen my own team benefit from their work. In fact, I think it was during the conversations after the dust had settled from some of that work that the very phrase “crisis engineering” first emerged as a description of this way of thinking about complex problems. I’m thrilled that it’s become a useful shorthand for naming and discussing this powerful and unique way of tackling some of the most intimidating situations that companies or organizations might take on. It’s built confidence for myself, and my whole leadership team from that era, that we’ll be ready when the next challenge arrives. With apologies to Rihanna, I do want people to text me in a crisis.

The more confidence we can build in our teams that a crisis is an ordinary event that we can plan for, the more ready they will be for that moment when it arrives. That’s why I can’t recommend the book highly enough. Set aside some time to read it, and to make notes on how you might put it into practice when crisis inevitably comes to visit. You’ll be lucky to have had this resource before you need it.

You can read more about the book on their site. (And, as always, nothing I post on my site is sponsored content — I’m enthusiastically endorsing this book because I believe in what these folks have written and genuinely believe it’s worth your time to read if you lead an organization or team.)

Dilly-Dallying In Denver: Day 1

2026-Apr-07, Tuesday 22:26
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Posted by Athena Scalzi

Last month, I went out to Colorado to visit one of my besties from college (Alex) for their birthday. I was out there for a week, and three of those days were spent in Denver, where they were kind enough to host me in their lovely apartment. In those three days, we explored so many different amazing restaurants, cafes, the botanical gardens, and even went into Boulder. I’d like to share the details of my trip with y’all, so buckle in because we are flying first class to Denver, baby!

I flew first class out of Cincinnati through Delta, and every time I fly through Cincinnati, I always try to stop and have a drink and a snack at Vino Volo. I love Vino Volo and if an airport has one, I’m there. I’ve been to the one in Minneapolis, the one in D.C., and I think one in California, maybe their Sacramento location? Anyways, Vino Volo is an airport-exclusive wine bar that has offerings like a charcuterie plate, soups, salads, flatbreads, just some light bites to go along with your wine, beer, or cocktail. So even though it was 10am and my flight was about to board, you know I had to get a little caffeine in me with an espresso martini.

An espresso martini sitting on top of a black cocktail napkin, which sits atop a stainless steel counter/bar. The martini is the color of black coffee with a little bit of the white foam on top, and two espresso beans.

I had a very short layover in Minneapolis, and made it into Denver at about 2pm. I took the train all the way to my friend’s apartment which is literally directly across from the train tracks, and our awesome reunion began. Also, I’ve never taken a train by myself before, I have only had friends in New York help me with the subway, a friend in Portland come with me on the bus system, and friends in Norway help me with the bus while I was very drunk, so public transportation isn’t my forte. It took me so long to figure out where the train was, how to get there, what ticket to buy, and what train to get on. I literally did not know what I was doing but I just hopped on one and hoped it was going the way I needed it to, and it did!

While I was visiting, it was Restaurant Week in Denver. If you’re unfamiliar with it, Restaurant Week (in any given city that participates) is where tons of restaurants in the city will offer a special, pre-fixe menu exclusive to the week, and usually offer it at a hell of a steal. The restaurants participating can offer their menus at four prices, $25, $35, $45, or $55 dollars. This gives people who maybe can’t splurge on a Michelin-star meal a chance to try multiple items for a fraction of the cost.

In our efforts to be culinarily and financially savvy, we also tried to hit specific happy hours. So our first meal in Denver was at Uchi, with an early reservation time of 4 o’clock so we could check out their happy hour menu.

A shot of the outside sign of Uchi, which is a black sign with white letters that read

Uchi is over in the RiNo district, so it’s super close to Denver proper. Uchi is founded by James Beard Award winning chef Tyson Cole, and actually has multiple locations across the US. It is upscale, chic, and incredibly inviting with its warm wood and atmospheric lighting. The servers are friendly, the drinks are delish, and the food is truly next level.

Here’s the happy hour menu:

A single sheet of paper listing the happy hour offerings, and stating that happy hour is from 4-6 every day.

Alex and I knew right off the bat that we wanted to do the omakase. A nine-course tasting menu of chef’s choices. What could be better?

And of course, we needed a fun bevy to go with our meal:

The drink menu! Featuring signature cocktails, mocktails, wine, and beer.

I got a sake that was on the happy hour menu called “Hoyo Sawayaka Summer Breeze” and they brought it to me in an overfilled tasting glass that (intentionally) spilled out into a wooden box that the glass resided in. They said that the overpour is a traditional symbol to represent hospitality and appreciation for the guest. I was told I could pour the glass out into the box and drink out of the box, but I decided to just drink out of the glass and then the box. I wanted the experience but didn’t want all of my drink to be out of the box.

The Summer Breeze sake was quite good! It was a little bit drier than I expected, but it was very light and crisp. I’m glad I tried it.

Alex got the Nikko mocktail, which you will see in a photo further on. Non-alcoholic amaretto, coconut milk, raspberry, and pineapple. This was a deliciously creamy drink that wasn’t overly sweet, but had such a nice tropical flavor to it.

Finally, our first course came:

Four oysters on the half shell, over a small bowl of pebbled ice.

Raw oysters on the half shell! This presentation was beautiful, and two oysters for each of us was the perfect start. These oysters were so fresh, not fishy at all, and made even more fresh by the microgreens on top. Served cold and fresh, just how I like ’em. The oysters are normally five dollars a piece, so this being the first course of a $60 nine course meal was already a good sign.

Up next were these tuna temaki with avocado. Now you can see our bevs, too!

A wooden board with the tuna temaki and dipping sauce on them. Also in the shot is Alex's mocktail, light pink and in a short glass with lots of ice and a pineapple frond. You can also see my sake in the glass/wooden box!

I love a temaki, it’s like sushi in a different font! The simple combo of tuna and avocado with rice and seaweed is a certified classic, absolutely nothing wrong here.

For our third course, we got tempura fried Japanese pumpkin:

Two pieces of tempura fried Japanese pumpkin served on an ovular plate with a dish of dipping sauce.

I truly love tempura fried anything and I especially love when it’s pumpkin. It’s so similar to a sweet potato with it’s slightly sweet and earthy flavor. The tempura on the outside was so perfectly crispy, my friend and I agreed it was delightfully crunchy.

This next course was extra special, because it was actually a birthday gift from the kitchen for my friend:

A beautifully presented dish of bright orange ocean trout, yellow butternut squash puree, dark red beet chips, bright and fresh micro greens on top, all served on a beautiful grey stoneware dish. My friend is holding up the happy birthday sign the restaurant made for her, it is a red fish made of paper with a little star with eyes that says happy birthday!

First, can we appreciate how cute the little happy birthday sign is? Alex kept the paper fish as a keepsake. Anyways, what we have here is raw ocean trout atop a butternut squash puree, topped with beet chips, apple, and microgreens. This was so good. The ocean trout was tender and had a beautiful, non-fishy flavor, the butternut squash puree was a wonderful accompaniment and its smooth texture contrasted the crunchy beet chips and crisp apple perfectly.

Also, who else is loving the dishware here? This plate is excellent.

Back to our regularly scheduled omakase, we have what I’d consider to be the most beautiful dish of the evening:

Four absolutely fat pieces of tuna in ponzu, sitting atop mandarin orange slices, and topped with roe and microgreens. Served in a beautiful small stoneware bowl.

I can’t remember if this was bluefin tuna or yellowtail tuna, but it was definitely tuna and it was dressed with ponzu. The mandarin orange slices accompanying it had all of the white parts removed by hand to avoid that bitter pith flavor, and it is topped with roe (I can’t remember what kind!) and microgreens.

This tuna was so succulent and had a lovely mild flavor, paired with the sweet and juicy mandarin slices and bright ponzu, oh my gosh. This dish was seriously an absolute harmony of flavors, everything worked together so perfectly to create a delectable bite. One of my favorite bites of the evening.

Then we had these crispy rice squares:

A small wooden boarding holding two squares of crispy rice.

If I remember correctly, these were topped with salmon, creme fraiche, and lemon zest. What part of that equation isn’t delicious?! We had yet to have any misses in the dishes.

Next was a course that was cooked fish, much to my surprise. This was their seared walleye:

A small chunk of cooked walleye in a sauce, served in a blue and white bowl.

The walleye was served hot and flaked apart nicely, I do think this was a little bit of a small portion for the two of us to share, but honestly everything else was already such a steal price-wise that a smaller course isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Especially because this next course was HUGE:

A huge slab of pork tonkatsu, fried to a perfect golden brown and topped with apples, served alongside a glossy brown sauce and creamy puree.

This giant pork chop served alongside a truffle soy glaze and apple puree, with granny smiths on top, was truly divine. The truffle flavor in the sauce was prominent but not overwhelming, the apple puree was so smooth and creamy, and the crunchy breading on the outside of the perfectly cooked pork chop was just the right level of golden brown. This was an absolute home run of a dish. And look at that nice bowl!

Finally, it was time for dessert, and as stuffed as we were, we couldn’t wait to dive into this dish:

A shallow white bowl holding ice cream, fried milk balls, chocolate mousse, etc.

Sweet cream gelato, chocolate mousse, and fried milk balls, topped with some sort of cocoa crisp thingy that I can’t even remember! I truly did not know what to expect with fried milk balls, but lordyyy they were so good. Crispy outside, basically sweetened condensed milk on the inside, like a lava cake but with milk. The sweet cream gelato was unbelievably bomb, and this was a showstopper dessert all around.

Oh, also, I ordered a cocktail a couple courses prior to the end, and it never came but I was like, eh that’s okay. But then it ended up being on my bill, so I brought it up to the server and he apologized immediately, took it off my bill and gave me the cocktail on the house!

For sixty dollars a person, this meal was incredible. Fresh flavors, unique combinations, beautiful presentations, good service, and food that I definitely can’t get around Bradford. We loved everything, and this was definitely a great birthday dinner for my friend.

After going back to their apartment and digesting for a bit, we decided we needed a late night matcha, and hit up Milk Tea People just before they closed. Alex highly recommended their matcha to me, so while I did end up getting a strawberry matcha, I couldn’t resist also getting the drink that was truly calling my name: the black sesame jasmine cream.

Three drinks in clear plastic cups, strawberry matcha on the left with layered green and red parts, orange blossom matcha on the right layered with a pale yellow section and a darker green top section, and the black sesame drink in the middle, pale grey and white and creamy.

Alex got the orange blossom matcha on the right there, which was slightly floral and definitely more matcha-y/earthy than some sweeter, creamier matchas end up being. For my strawberry one, it was good but it was much less sweet than I anticipated, with the strawberry portion being more like a tart, fresh strawberry flavor. I actually ended up adding strawberry milk to mine to make it sweeter and creamier.

The black sesame drink was my favorite, though, with very prominent black sesame flavor, nice and sweet, and extra creamy. These drinks were a bit more on the expensive side with each one being nine dollars.

We spent the rest of the evening catching up and spilling tea, and I got plenty of pets in on their cat, Callie:

A stunning smokey grey colored cat with yellow green eyes squinting slightly in the sunlight.

Day one complete and I was definitely beat from traveling, but stay tuned for day two!

Have you been to Denver before? If so, have you been out to Uchi? Don’t forget to follow them on Instagram, and have a great day!

-AMS

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Posted by Frank Jacobs

No, you haven’t suddenly gone colorblind. This map is in color. In fact, it is a map of color — specifically, of each U.S. state’s favorite house paint color. It’s just that those favorites look like a swatch book for a funeral parlor — like fifty shades of gray.

Well, gray-ish. From Hawaii to Maine, from Alaska to Florida, the most popular shade for your home’s exterior is some variation of gray, off-white, beige, or greige — a hue so existentially undecided that it can’t commit to being either gray or beige, and so ends up neither, and both.

Dipped in a vat of Resigned Indifference®

But how can this be? America is anything but monochrome. It contains multitudes of cultures, climates, and landscapes, and people who disagree, loudly and publicly, about nearly everything. So why, when Americans need a tin of house paint, do they so often reach for the neutral shelf? Why does the average house in this great and varied nation look like it’s been dipped in a vat of Resigned Indifference®?

The answer is a phenomenon dubbed “the grayening”: a gradual but relentless draining of pigment, not just from exteriors but also from interiors and from the stuff of everyday life, like cars and phones. In 2020, researchers at the Science Museum Group in London found evidence of the trend’s longevity. Feeding roughly 7,000 photographs of everyday objects — kettles, lamps, cameras — from the late 1800s to 2020 into an algorithm, they then asked it to track color distribution over time.

The result: a striking shift toward achromatic — that is, neutral — colors in material culture.

Four vertical panels show an antique radio, a pixelated abstract pattern, a smartphone, and another blurred grayscale pattern.
Color analysis of pictures of a telegraph from 1844 (left) and a mobile phone from 2008. Our communication devices have gone achromatic. (Credit: Science Museum Group)

The grayening has accelerated in the 21st century, but it has ideological roots in the 20th, and industrial ones in the 19th.

The muted lingua franca of global commerce

Early 19th-century objects tended toward natural material colors: the warm brown of wood and leather, the yellows and brass tones of metals. Over time, those pigmentations surrendered steadily to black, white, and gray.

The shift was slow but steady, and its cumulative effect was massive. By the late 20th century, grayscale had colonized and dominated a wide range of object categories. To a large extent, this desaturation is a byproduct of mass production. Industrial manufacturing favors repeatability. Neutral tones are easier to standardize, less likely to clash, and more globally marketable than a particular shade of tangerine, which may sell brilliantly in Seville but offend everyone in Seoul.

In that sense, grayscale is the muted lingua franca of global commerce: inoffensive because it says nothing at all. But the grayening is more than simply an accident of industrialization. In the early 20th century, it got a powerful philosophical boost from modernist design ideology.

“Suited to simple races, peasants and savages”

In his 1908 essay “Ornament and Crime,” Austrian architect Adolf Loos argued that ornamentation was not merely unnecessary, but a sign of arrested moral development. Truly evolved people, he suggested, would gravitate toward clean lines and plain surfaces. Applied ornament, including the use of color as decoration, didn’t enhance; it cluttered and distracted.

A black-and-white portrait of a stern-looking man is paired with a modern city square featuring a large, white building and people walking.
Adolf Loos (left) and his austere, unornamented Looshaus (right, center) at the Michaelerplatz in Vienna. (Credit: Adolf Loos Plzen; Gerd Eichmann – CC BY-SA 4.0)

Loos’s polemical target was Art Nouveau, then in full frothy bloom. His arguments were influential on the Bauhaus school of art, which canonized restraint and straight lines. It, in turn, informed the International Style that swept global architecture from the 1930s onward, a style that favored glass, steel, and concrete. All gray: not just by default, but as a statement of seriousness.

Le Corbusier, pioneer of what we now simply call modern architecture, made the point with characteristic charm, declaring that color “is suited to simple races, peasants and savages.” Ouch.

The desaturation didn’t stop at buildings. Car colors have been meticulously catalogued since the dawn of the automotive age, making them a useful proxy for the broader culture’s chromatic pulse. Black had its first heyday as a car color about a century ago, when Henry Ford famously quipped that his Model T was available “in any color the customer wants, as long as it’s black.”

The last, best decade for bold car colors

Like many good stories, it’s only partly true. The early Model T also came in gray, blue, green, and red. Ford narrowed the selection to black in 1914 for reasons that were purely industrial: oven-baked black paint dried faster, speeding the production line; it was more durable than other paints; and it was cheaper, helping to bring the price of a “Tin Lizzie” down from $780 in 1910 to $290 in 1924.

Colors also returned in the final years (1926–‘27) of the Model T, which had sold 15 million units by the time production ended — a cumulative industry record that stood for 45 years, until the VW Beetle surpassed it in 1972.

That Beetle had a good chance of being brightly colored, for the 1970s were the last, best decade for bold car colors, with audaciously named hues like Plum Crazy Purple, Lemon Twist, and Hugger Orange livening up the lots.

A comparison of parked cars: colorful, older models in 1980 on top, and modern, mostly gray cars in 2025 on the bottom.
Top: what a car lot looked like at the end of the 1970s. Bottom: it’s 2025, and gryscale has triumphed. (Credit: X/MyMixtapez)

Earlier decades had their own distinctive palettes: soft pastels and bold two-tones on 1950s cars, jewel tones through the 1960s, and a rich, earthy greenness in the 1990s.

Then, around the turn of the millennium, car colors took a hard right onto Monochrome Avenue and never looked back. In 2004, roughly 60% of new cars sold in the U.S. were achromatic, meaning black, white, gray, or silver. By 2023, that figure had reached 80%. In 2011, white became the single most popular car color worldwide, a position it still holds today.

A self-reinforcing cycle of blandness

The latest global data, from BASF’s annual Color Report, shows white at 38% of new cars produced in 2025, black at 23%, gray at 19%, and silver at 8%. That colorless quartet accounts for 88% of all new cars on the planet. The most popular color worldwide is blue, at just 6%. Green and red each manage 3%.

The logic behind this near-total surrender is once again financial. Car paint production is expensive, and unusual colors reduce the chance that a vehicle will be sold. So manufacturers rationalize their palettes to a dozen safe tones per model, max. Large institutional buyers — rental companies, fleet operators — reinforce that conservative streak, because they too must eventually bulk-sell whatever they bulk-buy. The result? A self-reinforcing cycle of blandness.

A similar calculus applies to houses and house paints. As any estate agent will tell you, neutral colors maximize the resale value of your house because they offend the fewest buyers. There may well be a future home owner out there who shares your passion for aubergine — but betting on them being in the market precisely when you’re selling is a pretty big gamble, and with one of the most expensive assets you’re ever likely to own.

And so the houses of America, and much of the world, are painted in Agreeable Gray, Mindful Gray, Accessible Beige, and their many relatives from the neutral shelf. Note what these names actually signal: not This is who I am, but Please, don’t mind me. Agreeable Gray — the top choice in Alabama, Arizona, and the Carolinas — doesn’t so much describe a color as a social posture.

How minimalism became an aspirational identity

Color-wise, the whole world seems stuck in neutral these days. Call it late-stage modernism. The narrowing of the palette that started with industrialization and became part of modernist ideology in the early 20th century, morphed into a lifestyle choice in the early 21st.

The cultural coup de grâce came around 2010, when minimalism was elevated from an aesthetic to an aspirational identity. “Millennial gray” became a form of conspicuous restraint that signaled sophistication. And no object embodied that shift better than the iPhone.

Apple’s earlier iMac computers were available in such translucent, almost aggressively cheerful colors as Bondi Blue, Tangerine, Strawberry, and Grape. The company’s current product lineup comes primarily in Space Gray, Silver, Gold, and Midnight Black.

Modern living room with gray furniture, floating staircase, wall-mounted shelves, large floor lamp, glass doors, and neutral decor.
It doesn’t get much more Millennial Gray than this interior. Whether this conspicuous restraint from color signals sophistication, is open for discussion. (Credit: Max Vakhtbovych/Pexels)

Color has migrated to a new, virtual reality

So this is where practicality, resale values, and modernist ideology have gotten us: to a material world that is so drained of color that it might depress the hell out of even Adolf Loos and Le Corbusier.

Interestingly, studies suggest there’s something to that colloquial association between gray and depression. Researchers at the University of Manchester tested healthy volunteers, people with anxiety, and people with depression, asking each to choose a color that represents their current mood. Yellow dominated among healthy subjects. Among both anxious and depressed participants, gray monopolized the top spots — with participants describing it as representing “a dark state of mind, a colorless and monotonous life, gloom, misery or a disinterest in life.” The researchers cited previous studies that found depressed people tend to describe life as “monochromatic” or as having “lost its color.”

But the world is darkest — or grayest — just before the dawn. There are signs that the grayening has peaked. As their colors of the year 2025, Pantone chose Mocha Mousse, a warm brown; Behr selected Rumors, a deep ruby red; and Valspar picked Encore, a rich navy blue. Design professionals are noting rising demand for terracotta- and clay-inspired hues.

In car colors, green made little but steady progress in 2025, doubling to 4% in the Americas, overtaking red in Europe. Axalta Coating Systems named Evergreen Sprint, a dark green, its 2025 global car color of the year, and General Motors added Typhoon Metallic, a similar hue, to its palette for the Cadillac CT4 and CT5 models.

And it is worth noting that color has migrated to a new, albeit virtual reality. Our devices may be Space Gray or Midnight Black, but what they project at us is a continuous, attention-grabbing, kaleidoscopic riot of color.

And even that may be a transitional arrangement. History points to the cyclical nature of chromatic preferences. The glorious excesses of the Baroque, for instance, were preceded — and followed — by periods of relative restraint. Who knows: Whatever succeeds the iPhone may be available in Bondi Blue, or Plum Crazy Purple.

Strange Maps #1289

Got a strange map? Let me know at strangemaps@gmail.com.

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This article How the modern world turned gray (and why color may be coming back) is featured on Big Think.

Older but not sicker

2026-Apr-07, Tuesday 07:39
[syndicated profile] crooked_timber_feed

Posted by John Q

(A piece I wrote for the Guardian)
A couple of weeks ago, just before my 70th birthday, I completed the Mooloolaba standard distance triathlon (1,500m swim, 40km cycle, 10km run). There was nothing exceptional about my performance, placing 1,509 out of 1,730 overall and 14th out of 18 in my 65-69 age category.

But not that long ago, it would have been exceptional. Until about 1980, competitive sport for those over 70 was restricted largely to golf and lawn bowls. Until the 1990s, there wasn’t even a category for 70-year-olds in most competitive triathlons. The small number of competitors over 65 were lumped into a single category. The first 70-year-olds recorded as completing the demanding Kona Ironman event in Hawaii (3.8km swim, 180km ride, 42.2km run), to which I still aspire, were Hiromu Inada (male) and Ethel Autorino (female) in the year 2000.

What’s true of triathlons is true of endurance sports in general. Older athletes seem to be becoming more numerous, and also quite a bit faster, across a wide range of sports.

One example is the rise of parkrun, the weekly timed 5km run which has grown virally since it began in the UK in 2004. Tens of thousands of Australians over 70 have completed at least one parkrun and cursory review of the published results suggests a thousand or more turn out on an average week.

This reflects a broader change, with studies indicating an increase in physical activity among older Australians. The proportion of adults over 65 in Australia who were insufficiently physically active fell from 72% to 57% between 2017-18 and 2022.

This hasn’t changed the way we talk or think about the over-70 population. People are still classified as “older” or even “elderly” (a term more redolent of walking frames than running shoes) as early as 65, even though they are now expected to keep working until they are 67.

This has an impact on discussions around health and aged care. In 1980, Australians who reached the age of 70 could expect to live another 12 years or so. Today, they (in my case, we) can expect to live another 17 years on average, with more than half surviving to 80.

The assumption that the 80-year-olds of today will have the same health needs as those of the past implies a big increase in health care costs. But increased survival rates mean that old people today are healthier on average than people of the same age in the past.

Most 70-year-olds are much less likely than those in the past to have smoked. When combined with increased physical activity, the result has been a drop in the incidence of coronary heart disease, a major cause of both death and disability.

The Australian Burden of Diseases Study (2024) reported that while life expectancy at age 70 rose by about two years between 2003 and 2024, the expected time spent in ill health rose by as little as six months.

The trends we are seeing are better understood not as an “ageing population” but as a gradual stretching of the lifespan, with most milestones being reached later and later. Young people study longer and form households later, a fact reflected in the current rental crisis. Prime-aged adults, who were retiring earlier and earlier until recently, can now expect to work well into their 60s.

And, while the inevitable end comes for us a bit later than it used to, the process hasn’t changed much. Most people retain moderately good health until their last few years, before declining rapidly. Few spend more than a couple of years in residential aged care, with only a small fraction of that involving high-intensity care.

I’m old enough to be thinking about this future fairly regularly. For the moment though, I’m more focused on my imminent graduation into the 70-74 category, where I will be among the youngest (or least old) competitors, and a serious chance at a podium finish.

Actually, people love to work hard

2026-Apr-07, Tuesday 00:00
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Posted by Anil Dash

One of the most infuriating tropes that I see repeated in media is executives (usually from boring old companies) insisting that their employees don’t want to work hard. Media outlets dutifully repeat this pernicious lie, despite there being no evidence to back it up, and then cultural commentators either credulously amplify it, or actively take part in advancing the narrative as part of their agenda, even though they know it’s false. There is an apparently infinite attention appetite for commentators who troll for attention by saying how “kids these days” don’t want to work hard.

As has often been documented, the hoary chestnut of saying “nobody wants to work anymore” dates back decades, if not centuries, and it’s never been true in all those years of deletion. It is, firstly, a tactic that bosses use for negging workers in a vain attempt to try to drive down wages (and to successfully get media to blame people for their own underemployment), but it also serves as an effective demonstration of just how little society understand about what actually motivates people.

I’ve helped found six companies in my life, and been involved in the start of a handful of other startups and nonprofits, and literally every single one was full of people who love to work hard. The simple reason for that shared trait is that all of those teams were comprised of groups of people with a few key things in common:

  • A clearly understood goal
  • A common set of values in pursuit of that goal
  • Permission to follow their own ideas to achieve their goal
  • Trust and responsibility to be accountable to one another

If people have these things, and believe in what they’re doing together, they will joyfully work their asses off.

It is genuinely one of the best feelings in life to be completely exhausted while sitting next to someone who’s been right beside you, shoulder to shoulder, fighting to accomplish the same goal. I’ve known that to be true whether we were launching a new company into the world, campaigning to get a candidate we believed in elected, organizing to rally people around an issue, raising funds for an important cause, or even just trying to get people together for a big event or party.

Every time, the feeling of being soul-tired next to folks who you know you can trust because they showed up and worked their asses off just like you did, is among the most motivating and inspiring things you can experience. Nobody who’s ever been lucky enough to have had a moment like that could ever think that people “don’t want to work”.

When work doesn’t work

What people face too often is being ground down by systems, institutions, and unjust leaders who insist on creating roles where people are forced to do dehumanizing, isolated, meaningless work, while not being given the agency to make smart and empowered decisions about how the work gets done. Or worse, they’re forced to do work in service of goals that are actively harmful and destructive, and contrary to their own values, or just contrary to basic human decency. It’s not that people are unwilling to work, it is that they are working — to balance their own humanity with the crushing burdens of having to provide for themselves and their families. It is exhausting for a good person to have to do bad work or harmful work or pointless work, just to pay the bills. Being less “productive” in those situations isn’t a shortcoming, it’s a measure of still having an immune system that’s resistant to these moral injuries.

Preserving your soul and sanity in an organization with no morals is very hard work. If you think your workers aren’t working hard, maybe you’re ignoring the toughest part of their job.

And even in more moderate organizations, where things aren’t overtly evil so much as frequently frustrating and burdensome and stressful, there are still plenty of reasons that people aren’t as “productive” (as defined by bosses). Many of these reasons could be addressed by leadership taking accountability for the context and communication provided to workers for their responsibilities. Empowered workers who are given high levels of trust and autonomy tend to be extremely productive, and don’t need babysitting from management. If you treat adults like idiots, they will respond in kind.

There’s also the issue of what people are provided beyond their paychecks. Ideally, everyone on a team will have enough resources to do the job properly, but in a mission-aligned organization even that can be optional at first, because scrappy teams are pretty adept at making something out of nothing if they really have to. There just needs to be a point where they’re not starved of appropriate resources anymore, and it’s a leader’s ethical responsibility to provide everything people need to thrive and be healthy and happy in the long term. The key point here is that people are not driven by greedy, selfish motivations in organizations that accomplish meaningful things; if there’s trust that they’ll be taken care of, and that leaders are worthy of that trust, people will over-deliver in service of the common goal.

But in many organizations, people are given crappy tools, miserable working environments, overbearing surveillance of their workplaces and digital workspaces, meaningless and abstract metrics to achieve, and all of these are delivered with corporate communications that don’t sound like any human being ever. The executives who inflict all of this on the workers hope that they don’t notice that none of the execs are expected to endure any of this.

Finally, fundamentally, there is pay. Compensation and real-world wages have been plummeting for decades; the growing chasm of wealth inequality has been well-documented for many years. But the quiet indignities around that degradation in standard of living have increased, as well, with the chipping away at leisure time through always-accessible digital tools making people have to be on call for their jobs during every waking hour.

The erosion of social norms around employment has been so complete over the last few decades that people born in this century don’t even believe that there was a time when it was not only routine for Americans to be union members, but for private sector companies to provide, and honor, pensions for their employees to benefit from in retirement. The mere suggestion of the idea would get a public company CEO fired in the current era.

Who do we work for?

Why would someone work for an institution that is actively working to undermine their well-being? Most large companies are spending more time strategizing against their employees than against their competitors. Too many nonprofits and other ostensibly non-corporate institutions have gotten the same idea. But it is management that does not want those workers to work — or they would act like it. If your workers aren’t massively motivated to do great work, it’s your fault. Because all you have to do is provide a worthy mission and get the fuck out of the way.

How do I know? Because I’ve gotten it right, and I’ve gotten it wrong. When I’ve taken my eye off the ball, either for unavoidable business reasons, or because I made mistakes due to inexperience or ego or distraction or competition or bad luck or whatever else, the people on my team showed it. Work stopped, quality dropped, frustration and tension increased, and all of a sudden my managers were telling me that “these folks don’t want to work”. Eventually I learned: the right thing to do is to tell those managers that we should be asking, “How are we failing?” Because, short of personal emergencies or life situations that keep them from being able to do their best work, people want to feel proud about the work they’re doing, and to feel like they’re not wasting their time every day when they go into the office. They don’t want to resent their bosses or be annoyed at their coworkers.

The few times I’ve been lucky enough to get it right have been the most satisfying times in my career. Once or twice, I’ve gotten to work for great bosses. They really inspired me to do great work, and taught me a lot that I didn’t know how to do before, or motivated me to want to learn on my own. But more importantly, they made an environment where I could collaborate with my coworkers to do more than I thought was possible, both by myself and especially together with others. I hope that at my best, the teams I’ve led have had a bit of that same feeling; I know I’ve been so proud of what I’ve seen them create and accomplish that they certainly have inspired me over the years.

But perhaps the most important lesson I’ve learned from watching great teams work is that the cynical, toxic view of people’s intrinsic motivations and work ethic that we hear so often is a damnable lie. Most people are tireless and brave and brilliant in the work they do, when it’s work that has purpose and passion. Anyone who tells you otherwise is telling on themselves, and revealing their own lack of imagination and vision about what it’s possible for people to create together.

A Bedazzling Book

2026-Apr-07, Tuesday 02:38
[syndicated profile] scalziwhatever_feed

Posted by John Scalzi

At my event this evening in Upper Arlington, my interlocutor Tom Winegard presented me with this copy of The Shattering Peace, which had been bedazzled by his spouse as a gift to me. This is the first time that I had heard of bibliodazzling, but apparently it’s a thing people do all the time these days. I have to say I don’t mind the effect. The book is now at home in a place of honor on my shelf. I am bemused and bedazzled.

Also, the event itself was a lovely time! Thank you to everyone who came out to see us.

— JS

[syndicated profile] scalziwhatever_feed

Posted by Athena Scalzi

Which dish is more suited for Easter than a carrot cake? None, I say! And lucky for y’all, I have the best recipe for you to try. This recipe is tried and true and absolutely delicious. Many people have said “this is the best carrot cake I’ve ever had!”

This Brown Butter Carrot Cake comes to us from Handle the Heat. It’s surprisingly quick and honestly quite easy, and it’s my go-to carrot cake recipe, even though browning the butter takes some extra time. It’s totally worth it!

I hope you give this recipe a try, and have a happy Easter, or just an awesome Sunday in general.

-AMS

[syndicated profile] scalziwhatever_feed

Posted by John Scalzi

And you say to yourself, what? Scalzi, you are not ten years old today! You are just barely a month away from being 57! The only juvenile you are is juvenile elderly! Stop being a faker, you faker!

To which I respond: Yes, I am fifty-six and eleven(ish) months old… on Earth. But as you know, I have a minor planet named after me, and its orbital period is just a shade under 5.7 earth years long. If you were to position 52692 Johnscalzi (1998 FO8) on the day of my birth, today is the day it would have made its tenth complete orbit since then. Thus, ten ScalziYears. Today, I am ten ScalziYears old.

How will I celebrate such a momentous occasion? As it happens I have a gathering of friends at the church today. It’s for something else entirely but I might bring a cake anyway. And otherwise, I’m taking it easy. It’s nice that this time around it slots in just between Good Friday and Easter. Easter Saturday always feels a little left out of the holiday swing of things, I’m glad this year to give something to do.

My next ScalziYear birthday will be December 12, 2031, so you have lots of time to prepare. Get ready!

— JS

PS: that coin with my asteroids orbit on it was given to me by a fan at the San Antonio Pop Madness convention (whose name escapse me at the moment but they can certainly announce themselves in the comments), and it was super-cool to get it. The other side of the coin is just as awesome:

I have the best fans, honestly.

A Kitten’s First Good Friday

2026-Apr-03, Friday 20:36
[syndicated profile] scalziwhatever_feed

Posted by John Scalzi

Saja is contemplative about it, as he should be.

A reflective Good Friday, Easter, and/or Passover to you, if you celebrate any of these, and have a lovely weekend no matter who you are.

— JS

[syndicated profile] el_reg_odds_feed

Posted by Richard Speed

This GRUB is not an advert for some tasty fried food

Bork!Bork!Bork!  It's one thing to bare your undercarriage in private. It's a whole other thing to do so on the side of a road, risking the possibility that passing drivers will question your Linux competence.…

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Posted by Rebecca Watson

This post contains a video, which you can also view here. To support more videos like this, head to patreon.com/rebecca! Transcript: I recently stumbled upon a headline that is essentially catnip to me. Beccanip, let’s say. “JD Vance Says UFOs Are Actually Demons.” Yep. Yep, of course JD Vance said that. Why WOULDN’T JD Vance …

1: Destiny of the Daleks

2026-Apr-02, Thursday 12:26
[syndicated profile] andrew_rilstone_feed

Posted by Unknown


Destiny of the Daleks is not very good.

It is quite hard to put your finger on what exactly is wrong with it. I think the answer is probably “everything.”

Perhaps we could have overlooked the story’s worse than usual production values if it had been based on some interesting or whacky idea. And if there had been some slickness and panache in the presentation, perhaps we could have overlooked the fact that the one idea it does contain makes absolutely no sense.

Wind back half a decade to, say, Planet of the Daleks, and you’ll find a similar ideas-famine: but that story manages to radiate a certain degree of Elusive Magic. Genesis of the Daleks, of course, was overstuffed with ideas and characters and astonishingly good writing, which makes up for the fact that it’s not particularly a Dalek story.

But Destiny of the Daleks is, well, just not very good.

It throws established mythos to the wolves. Doctor Who never had much in the way of canon or continuity, but there are things which everybody can be expected to know. The TARDIS travels through time; Time Lords physically change their appearance; stuff like that. Douglas Adams had watched Doctor Who when he was a kid; he snaffled scenes and ideas to use in his own Hitchhiker scripts. But he wasn’t necessarily a Fan, and he might have been labouring under the misconception that the Daleks had been hyper-logical automata for the last sixteen years. Terry Nation, who wrote the scripts, must have known better.

When Deadly Assassin debunked Established Time-Lord Canon, it was a conscious piece of iconoclasm, calculated to annoy a certain kind of fan. Genesis of the Daleks jettisoned Established Dalek Mythos because Terry Nation or Robert Holmes had thought up some new mythos which was more fun. Destiny seems to scupper the whole idea of Daleks without quite realising that that is what it is doing.

The production is bad. Laughably, can’t be arsed, who gives a shit bad. The interior of the ruined Dalek city feels like the Blackpool Haunted House exhibit during the off-season. There are some flats and some metal grills and strips of fabric standing in for doors. At the climax of Episode One a D-A-L-E-K smashes through a wall. It’s a pretty astonishing twist that no-one saw coming, given the title of the story. The wall is made of cardboard. No-one makes the slightest attempt to pretend that the wall is not made of cardboard. When we return to the same location a few episodes later, the wall is still made of cardboard.

I bet there is some fan fiction which reveals that the Dalek city literally was constructed from special anti-radiation cardboard, in the same way that the idea of bubble wrap was imprinted on human consciousness by ancient contact with the Wirrn.

There are a few tips of the hat to every previous Dalek story. Human slaves dig, dig, dig in a mine because as well as climbing stairs, automating drilling is one thing Daleks can’t do. The Daleks say that if one human tries to escape it will kill all of them, a bit like my old PE teacher. There is an interrogation scene with a lie detector, which at least means that no-one has to say “no, no, not the mind probe.” There is a Mexican stand off between the Doctor and Davros and the Daleks and the humans. And in fairness, Lalla Ward acts a lot. A lot. When the Daleks arrest and interrogate her she screams and yells and tries to make us believe that she is scared and angry and that these dilapidated props really are a species of outer space robot Nazi. In those scenes, I could almost convince myself that I was watching a Dalek story, that these beasts were as terrifying as I had always been promised they were.

Is it enough for the Daleks simply to be? Does Destiny of the Daleks exist simply to tickle our memories of chocolate and mint ice lollies and saying Extermenate, Extermenate in the playground? We see rows of Daleks gliding down corridors. We see them gliding past various windows and apertures. In the final episode we see kamikaze Daleks in formation in different parts of the quarry: background, foreground, middle distance, which makes the hearts of those of us who failed to pass the Anti-Dalek Force aptitude test three years running quicken. Just a little bit. The scene reminds us of something we used to love. 

If you had drilling machines, a slyther and an army of humankind slaves, you might be able to excavate an idea from Destiny of the Daleks. It’s admittedly the kind of idea that might have appealed to Douglas Adams. Two huge war fleets, controlled by computers: each computer able to foresee the next move of the other, locked in an eternal, centuries long-stalemate, to be broken only when one side turns off the computer and does something stupid.

I think it was a Star Trek plot. If it wasn’t, it certainly should have been.

But what should have been a premise is presented as a twist, revealed in the final episode with very little build up or foreshadowing. Should we not have seen the horribly be-weaponed starfleets staring at each other in the opening establishing shot? Daleks and McVillains doing nothing in their long echoey corridors, waiting centuries for the command to go over the top which will never come? Douglas Adams might even have introduced some lemon-soaked paper napkins.

But neither Terry Nation nor Douglas Adams seems to have the faintest idea what “logic” means. Granted, Leonard Nimoy sometimes used “illogical” to mean “untrue” or “foolish”, and granted, some schoolboys started to use the word in that way, to their parents' intense irritation. But there are quite a lot of episodes where Spock really does use logic to solve a problem.

Home computers were a year or two in the future: but surely Davros ought to have understood the “garbage in, garbage out principle”? Presented with the syllogism “All elephants are pink, Nellie is an elephant, therefore Nellie is pink” the brilliant scientist would have said “That is perfectly logical provided the premises are correct” or “Yes, but this tells us nothing whatsoever about elephants” or indeed, “What you have told me is logically valid, but I do not have sufficient data to know whether or not it is logically sound”. 

The Daleks opponents are the McVillains—a long hair dark skinned generic spaceship crew who are peculiarly embarrassed about the fact that they are robots in disguise. To demonstrate how the stalemate has come about, the Doctor teaches them to play paper/scissors/stone. Sometimes the Doctor beats Romana, sometimes Romana beats the Doctor. But the Doctor always beats the McVillains, and the McVillains always stalemate each other.

Perhaps a human could learn to consistently beat a machine at the game—complete randomness is relatively hard to simulate. But this doesn’t mean that the human would beat the machine on every throw of the hand; only that he would do better on average over hundreds of iterations. Darren Brown did a stunt where he appeared to consistently beat punters at the game: I assume he was closely observing "tells" to skew the odds in his favour or using misdirection to fractionally delay his choice. (Or he have just been cheating, like when he demonstrated his ability to toss ten consecutive heads by spending a week in a studio tossing the same coins several thousand times.) What does any of this have to do with logic, or intergalactic space-ship tactics?

In Genesis of the Daleks, Davros eliminated “pity” from the Daleks psychological make up: but “pity” is not the opposite of logic. He thought that the only way the Daleks could survive was by killing everything in the universe that was not a Dalek. This is pretty callous and quite possibly a bad evolutionary strategy: but “callous” and “logical” are not synonyms. Up to now, the Daleks have been driven, not by excessive rationality, but by hatred. ("Seething bubbling masses of hatred" the Doctor called them in Death to the Daleks.) Certainly at the beginning they were a very thinly veiled metaphor for fascism. Hitler and Mussolini were not renowned logicians.

The story can't make up its own mind about what's supposed to be going on. The Doctor says that the McVillains are “another race of robots, no better than the Daleks” and that “one race of robots is fighting another”. Davros says that the McVillains are “another race of robots” and therefore worthy foes of the Daleks. Romana, on the other hand, says that the Daleks “were humanoid, once”. And there is a strange, orphan scene in which the Doctor finds a lump of green goo which he claims is a Kaled mutation. “Of course! The Daleks were originally organic lifeforms. I think you've just told me what the Daleks want with Davros, haven't you?” Possibly: but he never shares the insight with us, and the subject is never mentioned again. 

The Cybermen were originally conceived as humans with such advanced transplant technology that they eventually replaced their entire bodies with prosthetics. This was also the original back-story for the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. The question of whether a “prosthetic brain” is any different from a computer, and whether a Cyberman is any different from any other robot, and why, in fact, they need a supply of humans to turn into next generation Cyberpeople is never very clearly thought through. Latter iterations seem to assume that they retain a certain amount of human wetware inside them. 

Is the thought that the Daleks have somehow replaced their organic core with cybernetic brains and realised this is a step too far, but one which they cannot undo? And that they have to run back to Daddy so that he can restore the biological component into their make up?

Or is Terry Nation merely using the word "robot" in some esoteric way? Doctor Who scripts sometimes say "universe" when what they mean is "solar system."


“What a brain” says the Doctor as he dismantles K9, again. The Doctor certainly treats K9 as if he is a person; although he might just be being deliberately exasperating. If K9’s brain can generate a mind, then it doesn’t really matter if it evolved or was constructed: and that must apply to the Daleks and the McVillains as well. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts”. It transpires that K9 is suffering from laryngitis. The term computer virus wasn’t coined until 1983, but Douglas Adams has a fairly good track record as an accidental prophet. So is this scene a set-up for the rest of the story, making the point that, organic or cybernetic, it is the Dalek’s software that is at fault?

Actually, not. The scene is there because John Leeson is unavailable, and the voice of K9 will be played by one David Brierly in his three appearances in this Season. (Given that there is an eight month gap between Armageddon Factor and Creature from the Pit, it is doubtful if anyone would have noticed.)


Does the story have any redeeming features at all? Well, the script is edited by Douglas Adams: indeed, it seems probable that Adams wrote it from the ground up, working from a minimal treatment by Nation. And we do get glimpses of authentic Adamic humour. Romana goes back to the TARDIS to fetch K9, leaving the Doctor stuck under a big rock. 

“Don’t go away” she says. 

“I rather hoped you’d have resisted the temptation to say that” he replies. 

But most of Adams’ input seems to be rather puerile word play.

"Oh, seismic. I thought you said psychic."

"Sidekick?"

"Like it? I haven't seen it yet."

It is hard to tell which jokes come from one of the funniest writers of the twentieth century and which are just Tom Baker arsing around. When the Doctor gets a glimpse of the quarry on the TARDIS monitor screen, he exclaims “Oh look! Rocks!”, which is very funny if you happen to be a cheeky thirteen year old. Escaping from the Daleks through a raised tunnel, he remarks “If you're supposed to be the superior race of the universe, why don't you try climbing after us?” Hold the front pages: Daleks can’t climb up stairs! Whether from Tom Baker, Terry Nation or Douglas Adams, it’s an unforgivable breaking of the fourth wall. Oh, if only the "floating" special effect from Remembrance of the Daleks had been available in 1979, so the Dalek could have wiped the smug grin off the Doctor’s face!

The one thing I would be inclined would be the infamous regeneration sequence: in which Romana appears to “try on” a series of bodies before settling on that of Princess Astra from the previous story. The Doctor continues to tinker with K9, and Romana continues to act as if she were literally picking a new outfit. (“The arms are a bit long; I could always take them in.”) One wonders if the whole scene was suggested by a weak pun on the word "changing"?

The Doctor has "changed" three times in the history of the show: once through some kind of rejuvenation or renewal; once as a deliberate act by the Time Lords; and once through a process called Regeneration, conceived as a natural part of the Time Lords’ life cycle. Douglas Adams’ writerly instinct—not to pastiche the regeneration scene from Planet of the Spiders but to come up with something entirely different—is mostly harmless. A year and a bit later, the change from Doctor Tom to Doctor Peter will involve prophecies and a future zombie version of the Doctor. Romana is an up-to-date, fully qualified Time Lord, where the Doctor is an out of date fossil with a ton of field experience. The TARDIS is the place where two utterly alien beings retreat, out of the view of mere mortals. And we all know that there has been a change of cast. So instead of exposition, Adams gives us a quite funny sketch.

And in doing so, he gives us a perhaps needed signal. This is a playful riff. This is twenty five minutes of fun. This is entertainment. This is not an attempt to reveal new data about an emerging imaginary cosmos. This is not a programme you are meant to take seriously. But here is a glimpse of some battered old Dalek props as a consolation prize to your loyal old guard.

Is there an unintentional message here? The clunky old past it’s sell by date show running back to its roots to try to escape from the rut? A half-hearted pastiche of what the show had been like in the 1960s, while a spunky 1980 version struggles to be born? A clash in the actual script between what had been the voice of the old show, and what would be the voice of the new show? A cobweb shrouded version of Doctor Who twitches its fingers and comes back to life, but is shown to be comically out of its time, pushed around like an old relative in a wheel chair quite unaware how ludicrous it looks…

I wish I could say "but when I was thirteen years old I loved it; when I was thirteen years old I overlooked the faults; when I was thirteen years old it was enough that the Daleks were there, like that man who told Tom Baker that he was the only thing that made life in the orphanage bearable." But in fact I knew that people thought I was faintly absurd for identifying as a Doctor Who fan and I knew that this laughable amateurish piece of TV would be one more reason to bully me on Monday morning.

Destiny of the Daleks is really not very good at all.






SCOTUS Rules in Favor of Conversion Therapy

2026-Apr-01, Wednesday 15:00
[syndicated profile] skepchick_feed

Posted by Rebecca Watson

Babe, wake up! The Supreme Court of the United States of America has just dropped a new judgment and it fucking SUCKS! I know, it’s not exactly breaking news, but this one IS unique in a few unfortunate ways, so I’m gonna talk about it. On Tuesday, the Trans Day of Visibility, The Supreme Court …

On the Vergecast, On Video

2026-Apr-01, Wednesday 00:00
[syndicated profile] anil_dash_feed

Posted by Anil Dash

I finally got the chance to drop by one of my favorite podcasts, The Vergecast, where David Pierce had me on to talk about the recent conversation about Apple's moves around video podcasts, as well as the much broader big-picture considerations around keeping podcasts open. We started with grounding the conversation in the idea that "Wherever you get your podcasts" is a radical statement.

The episode also starts with a wonderful look back at Apple's first half-century as they celebrate their 50 anniversary, courtesy of Jason Snell, whose Six Colors is one of my favorite tech sites, and whose annual survey of tech expert sentiment on Apple is indispensable. He's completely fluent in Apple's culture and history, and minces no words about their recent moral failures. Definitely worth the watch! I hope you'll check out the entire episode, and let me know what you think, and I'm really glad to get to continue conversations that start on my site and bring them to a broader audience.

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