a glimpse into cryptic thought of the reticence
Next time a story like this surfaces, I’ll try to sit it out until more facts have emerged. I’ll remind myself that the truth is sometimes unknowable, and I’ll stick to discussing the news with people I know in real life, instead of with strangers whom I’ve never met. I’ll get my news from legitimate journalists instead of from an online mob for whom Saturday-morning indignation is just another form of entertainment. And above all, I’ll try to take the advice I give my kids daily: Put the phone down and go do something productive.
This is a perennial problem: we can get information quickly, or we can get accurate information. It’s hard to get both at the same time.
Human yearning is a game of choices and sacrifices and compromise.
In contrast, we know the machine doesn’t care about us, nor does it have a cultivated taste of its own; it only wants us to engage with something it calculates we might like.
Secrets have a cost. They’re not free. Not now, not ever.
Mobile phone numbers are even better than social security numbers for identifying people. People give them out all the time, and they’re strongly linked to identity.
Being good looking opens doors, no matter who you are. They say it’s what’s on the inside that counts, that’s kinda hard to count when nobody can see your inside.
Not having to worry about what shirt to put on every morning is one of the secrets to a happy life.
This is why the touchstone experience of millennials, the thing that truly defines us, is not helicopter parenting or unpaid internships or Pokémon Go. It is uncertainty.
At first you loathe the teens, because you know nothing about them and think they’re idiots, beneath you. Then you love the teens because you figure out they are smarter than you, and you make peace with the death of your cultural relevance, because you know you’ll be in good hands. Finally, you recognize the shape of the adults they’ll become, corrupted by money and vanity and hubris just like everyone else.
Those that understand, teach.
It is astonishing what DNA testing can do. The same technology can cleave families apart or knit them together.
I don’t want to think too far ahead because you’re never promised another day, you’re never promised another opportunity.
Maybe, more often than we can bear, the one thing we don’t want to accept is the one thing we need to: Sometimes the world fractures. It just does.
How you spend your time is evidence of where your hope lies.
Peter Sunde, interviewed by Joost Mollen:
Look at all the biggest companies in the world, they are all based on the internet. Look at what they are selling: nothing. Facebook has no product. Airbnb, the biggest hotel chain in the world, has no hotels. Uber, the biggest taxi company in the world, has no taxis whatsoever. The amount of employees in these companies are smaller than ever before and the profits are, in turn, larger. Apple and Google are passing oil companies by far. Minecraft got sold for $2.6 billion and WhatsApp for like $19 billion. These are insane amounts of money for nothing. That is why the internet and capitalism are so in love with each other.
We need a better way of regulating new technologies. That’s going to require bridging the gap between technologists and policymakers. Each needs to understand the other – not enough to be experts in each other’s fields, but enough to engage in meaningful conversations and debates. That’s also going to require laws that are agile and written to be as technologically invariant as possible.
Users are free to click around the Web until they encounter a link to a phishing website. Then everyone wants to know how to train the user not to click on suspicios links. But you can’t train users not to click on links when you’ve spent the past two decades teaching them that links are there to be clicked.
A good “simple” design will help users to understand what is actually going on, how a thing actually works.
Rep. Adam Putnam:
There was one van, maybe a press van, that was parked too close to the plane’s wing. I remember a Secret Service agent running down the aisle; they opened the back stairs, he ran down to move the truck. He never made it back on board. They didn’t wait for him.
Col. Mark Tillman:
I went down to the tarmac to see about having the plane refueled. We could carry 14 hours of fuel. I wanted 14 hours of fuel. I was worried that they weren’t going to have enough fuel trucks, but it turned out we’d happened to park over a hot refueling tank they used for bombers. This civilian is arguing with our crew, “The fuel pits are only authorized for use in time of war.” This Air Force master sergeant—God bless him—overhears this and roars, “We are at war!” He whips out his knife and starts cutting open the cover. That defines to me what the day was like.
[via Garrett M. Graff, Politico]