When I was shooting film, the problem was the huge expense of processing and printing. With digital, the problem became the crazy amount of time it took to grade, retouch, and print my pictures. I loved shooting for myself, I just couldn’t justify the money, or the post-processing time – or both.
But in 2007, everything changed. The iPhone was launched.
We, the audience, are not responding to the sharpness, the clarity, the minimal chromatic aberration or lack thereof — the technical quality aspects of this imagery. We’re responding to the honesty; to the realism; and to the intimacy of the photographs people are posting on Instagram, Pinterest, Flickr, etc. After all, we’ve never really seen it before. Or at least, not in such abundance.
That morning, there were so many moments I was hopeful. First, it was just an accident. Next, that everyone could escape the towers if given the chance. Then, that only one tower would fall. Then, that these would be the only casualties. Then, worst of all, that something this profound and dramatic would soften people’s hearts and make them reflect.
I was wrong, over and over again. I don’t know exactly where the line is between optimistic and naive, but these days I feel tremendous compassion and empathy towards the young man who had all those foolish beliefs. I don’t regret hoping that such a horrible day could lead to something better.
But I really did underestimate how power works, and how little it would take to push people from their better angels to their most vicious, vengeful selves.
A disclaimer: I have had substantially more at-bats with debt collectors than most people, as a result of an old hobby of writing letters on behalf of debtors to their lenders and non-affiliated debt collectors. I did this over the Internet, on my own volition, because it seemed pro-social and I was extremely underused by my actual job at the time. This experience leaves me with strong opinions on the debt collection industry; a frequent archetypical person in need of a letter was a Kansan grandmother in diminished financial circumstances who had been harassed for months. I’m going to try to keep these views to a dull roar here, in the spirit of spending more mental energy on discussing why the system presents as so broken.
People with a passion are not to be underestimated.
There is a familiar pattern to my writing. To my actual writing.
I sit at my desk. I start to write. I build up momentum.
A few pages in, I start to think how people might respond to it. I think of the thousands of oh, that's easy for you to says and well, you've never had tos I've heard over the years and I slow down.
Then I stop. And I erase what I've written.
I have a lot of ideas, some of them good. I think I know the way things should be better than most people. I have a strong desire to change the world, to make this planet a better, kinder place for all creatures, not just humans.
But when you've had a life like mine, how can you tell anyone else how to live theirs? When I've been afforded so much, how can I tell others how it should be?
Thing is, all those that's easy for you to says? They're not wrong. It is easier for me to say certain things, to reach certain conclusions. But the irony remains: just because some conclusions are easier to reach, it doesn't make those conclusions wrong.
When you're a beneficiary of luck and capitalism as I have been, no one wants to hear your fucking opinion. Being born to two kind, loving people? Pure luck. I may not have a lot of power and I may not have a lot of money, but I don't have any debt. I don't need anything and I want very little. That is true freedom.
This is why I delete. It's the same urge that drives me out into the woods or up into the mountains. Let's face it together: I am not going to change this world. No matter how good my ideas, no matter how right my conclusions, no one wants to hear that shit from me. This culture loathes imperfect messengers, no matter how good a point they might have.
So rather than complain, rather than coming off as a spoiled brat, even if I'm not wrong... I keep my mouth shut and retreat.
Summary: I believe that small websites are compelling aesthetically, but are also important to help us resist selling our souls to large tech companies. In this essay I present a vision for the “small web” as well as the small software and architectures that power it. Also, a bonus rant about microservices.
In a section of the FAQ titled “Do AI detectors work?”, OpenAI writes, “In short, no. While some (including OpenAI) have released tools that purport to detect AI-generated content, none of these have proven to reliably distinguish between AI-generated and human-generated content.”
How I love summer, for I am far less online and far less anxious about the rise of AI when I’m able to go outside.
The average iPhone customer is 7.4 times as valuable as an Android user. That’s remarkable, but not surprising.
I know very few Android users these days, but those I do share a common refrain: “tech is too complicated, so why would I pay more for an iPhone?” Never having used an iPhone, they become used to a certain…lack of polish. Case-in-point: for the first decade of Android, scrolling on the devices was awful. Jittery, jumpy… Compare that to the very first iPhone, which nailed smooth scrolling right off the bat.
Like using a Mac, the joy and delight (and I use both of those words intentionally) of an iPhone is not in the tasks you accomplish with it (you can, after all, take a photo with an Android, or send a text, or browse the web), but the million little in-between interactions. Opening an app. Swiping to go home. The speed at which FaceID unlocks your phone. The little thoughtful, playful animations of the Dynamic Island. All those interactions add up.
They add up to customers that deeply and perhaps subconsciously satisfied. And people who are satisfied are far more likely to use their phone. It so happens that most people use their phone to, well, buy stuff.
Me? I spent a good deal of money on software for my iPhone, iPad, and Mac. I buy apps that are thoughtfully designed by creative people. (Lumy is a recent find that I just adore.) And, notably, I’m happy to do so. For that, I credit Apple.
The reference desk at my local library. Ask a question about, say, local history…then stand back. Phone books, plat maps, soil surveys, yearbooks, geographic studies…you name it, they know where to find it. You know you’re on to something special when you get a reference librarian to say, “Well now I’m curious.”
The loss of Black-owned land in this community exposes a cruel irony. Pembroke has been one of the few places Black landowners could gain a foothold in Illinois, in part because this land was passed over by white settlers who presumed its sandy soils were worthless. And now, after generations without large-scale development or landscape-destroying corporate farming, this land has become sought after by outside conservationists because Pembroke’s savannas remain largely untouched.
Another story of black land being “taken” (through entirely legal means), but this one has a unique backstory:
No one knows how Joseph “Pap” Tetter escaped the horrors of slavery in North Carolina, only that he, his wife, children and extended family arrived in what would become Pembroke Township in a wagon one day around 1861.
Tetter homesteaded 42 acres of land, which he parceled out and sold to fellow settlers. Proceeds went to help liberate more enslaved people via the underground railroad, according to oral histories.
Unlike the black, spongy soil that made Illinois an agricultural powerhouse, Pembroke’s sandy soil — widely considered some of the poorest in the state — didn’t retain moisture that would allow commodity crops like corn to thrive. But the land offered a fresh start for people who had been owned as property and forced to farm under threat of violence. Through trial and error, they found what could survive the sandy soil, growing specialty crops like okra, collards, peas and watermelons.
I grew up just a few miles from here. I had never heard of Pembroke or Hopkins Park until last week. Never a mention at school, never a mention at home. This week, I messaged some friends from my hometown and none of them had heard of Pembroke, though one responded, “my mom says ‘he’s not traveling there is he?’”
I’m fast approaching forty and I’ve long thought certain things could no longer surprise me, my hometown being high on that list. But here is a township founded by a man who escaped slavery not 30 miles from where I grew up. There are no historical markers, no mentions of it on the Illinois Historical Society website, nothing.
In 2023, that is shameful.
A town founded by an escaped slave became a terminal on the Underground Railroad…thirty miles from my hometown. One of the poorest communities in the United States, a town that was once the largest community of black farmers north of the Mason-Dixon Line…is thirty miles from my hometown.
If anything, I’m embarrassed that I too have fallen into the trap of thinking 1) that area has no surprises left, and 2) that the racial history of the United States isn’t this alive and well.
But I’m suddenly filled with pride knowing that I grew up just a few miles from a town founded by a man who escaped slavery with his family, a town founded as a haven for people escaping some of the worst cruelty imaginable. That history should be known, and it’s a damn shame it isn’t.
I think I’ve accepted the rhetorical framing of the L.G.B.T. community simply because it is widely adopted in our politics and in our discourse. But I tend to agree that it’s not necessarily a legitimate concept in that I’ve never really felt a part of any community. I’ve never felt welcomed. In fact, I’ve mostly felt rejected or attacked. I also think that I’m completely supportive of the rights of transgender adults to live their best lives however they see fit. But I’ve never truly understood the lumping in or connection of transgender issues and gay rights issues. They always have seemed to me to be somewhat distinct.
It doesn’t sound like Mr. Polumbo and I have much in common politically, and while I can’t agree that “I’ve accepted the rhetorical framing of the L.G.B.T. community” (I have not), I really feel his sentiments about community.
In my humble opinion, gay culture has far too warm an embrace with hedonistic capitalism, with empty consumerism, with the vacuous pop culture of Instagram and People magazine and Bravo. Put simply: we sold out. And to express this sentiment openly is to be labeled a traitor to “the community.”
The appeal of traumatic literalism is not so much its scientific rigor as its scientific sheen, which seems to promise objective, graspable solutions to our defining political crises. For the past three decades, liberals have insisted that the institutions of American power, while flawed, were in essentially good shape. Those for whom the status quo wasn’t working out were welcome to jockey for inclusion by claiming identity-related injury. For a liberal politics of inclusion founded on claims of injury, what could be more useful than a way to turn that injury into biological trauma, something objective, observable, and measurable in the brain? In their focus on narrative — that is, on recovering and integrating declarative memories — the battle lines of the ’80s and ’90s trauma culture wars were staked out along clear lines. If you were a feminist or an antiwar activist, you invoked trauma; if you were a conservative, you didn’t. But today’s literalization of trauma is politically promiscuous. In fact, rather than treating trauma as an ideological weapon of the left, now the right wants in on it too.
Floppy disk drives are curious things. We know them as the slots that ingest those small almost-square plastic “floppy disks” and we only really see them now in Computer Museums. But there’s a lot going on in that humble square of plastic and I wanted to write down what I’ve learned so far.
Even if you do have a smartphone, it’s not great to have it be a single point of failure. It could be lost, stolen, away from cell service, or have a low battery. Most electronic tickets and admission passes don’t seem to work with the Wallet app, and who knows whether an e-mail, app, or Web link will fail when you need it, even if it was cached. A common pattern is to take a screenshot of the barcode or QR code, but that requires more tech-savvy.
I run into this problem all the time. Rather, I watch people I love run into this problem all the time.
A very dear friend lives in an off-the-grid cabin. He’s proudly never used a computer (aside from an Apple Watch, which I set up as his phone and sole electronic device a few years back). Lately, he’s had some health concerns that require near-constant communications with doctors via MyChart… which can only be accessed by a computer or smartphone.
People like him get lost and left behind in a digital world. I say this as an evangelist of the iPhone: the pocket computer is an incredible tool — camera, GPS, offline maps, streaming music, FaceTime, plant identifier, etc. etc. — but the simple fact is that most people have no clue how to use their phones to their max potential…nor do they care to.
There’s a head-in-the-sand element to this I’ve always found frustrating. More than one friend reacts with what looks like rage when their phones (or the internet) doesn’t behave as it “should.” (And when you become known as the “tech friend,” that rage is often directed at you.) I’ve had to learn to handle those people with care and not mirror their anger back at them. Which ain’t easy, because if people just took a fucking second to learn something…
But then there’s my friend in the cabin, who abstains entirely. I cannot convey how much I admire his conviction, and how much I agree when he says that tech is going to be our downfall. “Sure,” he says, “you use it to identify that star, but everyone else uses it to get on instagram and make themselves feel like shit.” He has a point.
The world is leaving him behind, and it can’t rely on people like me to constantly bridge that gap.
This VPN map shows the relationships between VPN companies, their corporate owners, and paid affiliates who profit from reviewing them positively. It includes information on latest community news, ownership changes, and is updated periodically. Every proven relationship between media companies, content sites, corporate VPNs, and independent VPNs that we could find.
My VPN of choice? Disconnect. Not on this map because it’s not owned by another company nor does it collect your browsing history or any other information about you. Support them if you can.
Oklahoma is working to determine how much water remains in its aquifers, information that state lawmakers could use to set limits on pumping. But Christopher Neel, the head of water rights for the Oklahoma Water Resources Board, said people might not necessarily welcome the government telling them that their land is running out of groundwater.
“If we start showing that kind of data, that kind of goes into your property values,” Mr. Neel said. “If we show an area may be depleted in, let’s say, two years, well, if someone tries to sell that property, they’re not going to be able to.”
Rare to find human nature this blatantly on display.
Isn’t this the problem with humans? We are so concerned with our immediate present that we lose all sight of a not-so-long-term future. We feel entitled to what we have right now and we will do anything to justify keeping it, even when reality shows it to be impossible.
Don’t worry, this article is only a touch about Vivek. Much like the man himself, I encourage you to skip over that part and get right to the take-away line:
Ron DeSantis was right when he said at the debate that America is a nation in decline and that decline is a choice. He just wasn’t right in the way he meant it. We’re in decline because a spirit of lawlessness, shamelessness and brainlessness have become leading features of a conservative movement that was supposed to be a bulwark against all three.
“We do not share SAT scores or GPAs with Facebook or TikTok, and any other third parties using pixel or cookies,” said a College Board spokesperson. “In fact, we do not send any personally identifiable information (PII) through our pixels on the site. In addition, we do not use SAT scores or GPAs for any targeting.”
After receiving this comment, Gizmodo shared a screenshot of the College Board sending GPAs and SAT scores to TikTok using a pixel. The spokesperson then acknowledged that the College Board’s website actually does share this data.
According to tax forms, 14 of the College Board’s 17 executives made more than $300,000 in 2021. Together, CEO David Coleman and President Jeremy Singer made $1,782,254.
A bit of good ol’ gumshoe reporting by Gizmodo, proving there’s something left inside the husks of Gawker Media.
What bullshit on the part of the College Board. Disgusting.
Remember: online, everything you do is tracked.
Everything.
If you aren’t paying for an online service, you are the product being sold.
(TikTok is ByteDance, a Chinese company that reports directly to the Chinese Communist Party. We’re selling out our own children…for what? So the execs of the College Board can have a new vacation home?)
When you know you’re picked at random, you don’t experience enough power to be corrupted by it. Instead, you feel a heightened sense of responsibility: I did nothing to earn this, so I need to make sure I represent the group well.
A lottery would also improve our odds of avoiding the worst candidates in the first place. When it comes to character, our elected officials aren’t exactly crushing it. To paraphrase William F. Buckley Jr., I’d rather be governed by the first 535 people in the phone book. That’s because the people most drawn to power are usually the least fit to wield it.
There’s no better feeling than leaving, of pointing yourself in a direction and heading off…
