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  • βœ‡On my Om
  • What To Read This Weekend
    It was Apple week and unsurprisingly even I got carried away and wrote a lot about Apple’s launch week. While the big high-end items were new MacBook Pros, the real story to me was the Fusion Architecture. But I am a chip-kinda guy. Sadly, Apple doesn’t give you the deep details, so one is left to postulate some well-reasoned ideas. So that is what I did. Back in 2008, Steve Jobs said, “We don’t know how to make a $500 computer that’s not a piece of junk, and ou
     

What To Read This Weekend

8 March 2026 at 12:00

It was Apple week and unsurprisingly even I got carried away and wrote a lot about Apple’s launch week. While the big high-end items were new MacBook Pros, the real story to me was the Fusion Architecture. But I am a chip-kinda guy. Sadly, Apple doesn’t give you the deep details, so one is left to postulate some well-reasoned ideas. So that is what I did.

Back in 2008, Steve Jobs said, “We don’t know how to make a $500 computer that’s not a piece of junk, and our DNA will not let us ship that.” That was then. This is now. The company knows how to do this, and do this well.

The real strategic story of the week was Apple pushing value. Thanks in large part to its ability to make high-quality things at scale, I am sure it is also preparing itself for whatever economic doldrums are coming our way. It is also a good time to launch a full-frontal on Windows 11 and Chromebooks. On a more personal front, I am already in love with the new midnight blue Neo. I can’t wait to get my hands on it.


Here are seven articles worth your time this weekend.

  • 25 Years of iPod Brain. Molly Mary O’Brien bought a fourth-generation iPod at 14 with cash earned pressing potatoes through a french fry cutter in Vermont. What follows is a love letter to the device that taught a generation how to build a relationship with music. I miss my iPod. She is right, the iPod’s gift was its constraint. That early tension between abundance and curation is something we crave so badly in the age of algorithmic gods. [Dirt]
  • How AI Will Reshape Public Opinion. Dan Williams makes a provocative argument. Social media was a democratizing technology that shifted power from experts to the masses. LLMs are the opposite. Agreed, for you might have heard me say this. [Conspicuous Cognition]
  • The Secretive Company Filling Video Game Sites with Gambling and AI. An eight-month investigation by Aftermath into Clickout Media, a shadowy affiliate marketing company that has been buying beloved gaming sites like GamesHub, The Escapist, and Videogamer, then stuffing them with crypto casino links and AI-generated content under fake author profiles. Internet doesn’t need AI slop, when we already have humans ruining it for greed. [Aftermath]
  • He Saw an Abandoned Trailer. Then He Uncovered a Surveillance Network on California’s Border. James Cordero, a water-damage restoration worker started noticing abandoned trailers along remote border roads. Inside were hidden cameras, license plate readers feeding data into federal databases and logging every car that passes. Meet another edition of our surveillance society. [The Markup]
  • We See Everything. A joint investigation by Svenska Dagbladet and Göteborgs-Posten found that data annotators in Kenya, working for Meta subcontractor Sama, routinely review intimate footage captured by Ray-Ban Meta glasses. As a line from Casablanca goes, “I am shocked, shocked that there is gambling going on here.” [Svenska Dagbladet]
  • Anthropic and the Pentagon. Bruce Schneier cuts through the noise on the Anthropic-Pentagon standoff with the clarity nobody else brought to it. This is not really about one company being more moral than another. The real lesson is about the need for democratic structures and legal restrictions on military AI, not corporate heroism. [Schneier on Security]
  • $599. Not Junk. I love John Gruber’s take on new Macs. So, I was keen to read what he had to say about the MacBook Neo. He thinks Apple is going to sell a zillion of these. [Daring Fireball]

Reality Check. Everyone talks about the AI infrastructure buildout like it’s a done deal. It’s not. Sightline Climate is tracking 190GW across 777 large data centers announced since 2024. Of the 16GW slated to come online this year, only 5GW is actually under construction. Last year, 26% of expected capacity slipped. Their estimate: 30–50% of the 2026 pipeline won’t materialize. Meanwhile, hyperscalers are quietly giving up on the grid entirely, building their own power sources. The bottleneck isn’t chips. It’s watts. [Sightline Climate]


Things I wrote this week, ICYMI:

On Apple:

On AI:

And lastly, OpenAI did the announcement economy a solid:

In Memoriam. Dave Farber, true Internet router. He was one of the most important people in the creation of the Internet, and he taught the people who did most of the work turning what he once called “a research project” into the backbone of modern communication. They don’t make people like Dave Farber anymore. [High Tech Forum]


March 8, 2026. San Francisco.

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • The 2026 iPad Air M4: Early Impressions
    I have been an iPad fanboy for a long time. I never leave my house without it (and the keyboard to go with it). I currently own an M4 iPad Pro (11-inch) which is really good for reading, writing, the Internet, email, Claude, a lot of Lightroom and watching YouTube. And of course, listening to music. You can find me sitting in some coffee shop or the other with one. Yes I really do love my iPad Pro, and using it. Lately, I have been watching less video on the iPad (Vision Pro FTW), but it has
     

The 2026 iPad Air M4: Early Impressions

10 March 2026 at 02:16

I have been an iPad fanboy for a long time. I never leave my house without it (and the keyboard to go with it). I currently own an M4 iPad Pro (11-inch) which is really good for reading, writing, the Internet, email, Claude, a lot of Lightroom and watching YouTube. And of course, listening to music. You can find me sitting in some coffee shop or the other with one.

Yes I really do love my iPad Pro, and using it. Lately, I have been watching less video on the iPad (Vision Pro FTW), but it has replaced Kindle as my reading device. And whenever I am reading, I wish it was thinner, and lighter. I don’t dream of it being faster. I just want it to be lighter, so it feels weightless in hand.

My perfect iPad would be one with the innards, screen and oomph of the iPad Pro, but the svelte, lithesome body of an iPad Air. I have been looking at the brand new M4 iPad Air and that’s all I can think. This is the right form factor for a “pro” iPad. If only Apple could simplify its iPad line-up.

My iPad Pro M4 version is tiny bit lighter than iPad Air, yet feels heavier. Probably because I am using it with a case. And I was using the iPad Air without a case. No wonder it felt lighter. I clearly have my perfect iPad Pro. Jeez, talk about a rookie mistake. Duh!

I have had the iPad Air M4 (11-inch) for a few days. You know I don’t do quick reviews. I really take my time. Still, I have some early initial impressions. And they jive with the slew of reviews that are out in the wild.

I love the speed, I love the lack of weight. Obviously. The screen is good, but since it is nowhere near my iPad Pro, it is not blowing me away. But it will be good enough for those who are newcomers to the iPad world. If I was buying a new upgrade for my mom who does love her iPads, the M4 iPad Air would be a very good option. Nevertheless, my full review will emerge after I have used it for at least four weeks. During those four weeks, I have to NOT use my iPad Pro. And that’s the real challenge.

Still, I decided to sift through what other reviewers both on the web and on YouTube are saying, and cobble together some collective intelligence. Here is what I found.

The short version is this: the M4 iPad Air is still the best tablet you can buy. Not the best iPad, but the best tablet. It is also a product that has not evolved in any meaningful way except for its engine. And yet, somehow both things are true at the same time.


What Actually Changed

Two things. The M4 chip replaces the M3, and Apple swapped in its new in-house networking hardware. There is a new wireless chip for Wi-Fi 7 and Bluetooth 6, and the C1X modem on cellular models. That is the entire list of changes. Same design, same cameras, same 60Hz LCD display, same battery. Same everything else.

The chip is the story. If you are upgrading from an M1 iPad or earlier, you will feel the difference. If you are on an M3, you probably will not. That is why I don’t feel much of a speed bump with my own workflow. I am using the M4 iPad Pro.

The second change is memory. The M4 brings 12GB of unified memory, up from 8GB on the M3 model. More RAM means better multitasking and more headroom for demanding tasks. Transcription in Voice Memos and background removal in Pixelmator happen almost instantly. I feel it in Lightroom as well.

The Display Dilemma

Every single reviewer raised this. The 11-inch iPad Air in 2026 has the same LCD screen it had when the redesigned version without a Home button was released in late 2020. It is a good screen. Colors are accurate, brightness is fine, text is sharp. But I can’t really get with it, because I use an iPad Pro all the time. The gulf is obvious if you live on one and pick up the other.

iPadOS 26 Is the Real Change

iPadOS 26 improved the multitasking experience significantly. It still feels native to the iPad, but the Mac-like flourishes make it a lot easier to use as a main computer. The M4’s extra memory means it handles all of this with more headroom and less hesitation than earlier chips would.

Got Game

Multiple reviewers tested games seriously and came away impressed. Resident Evil 4, which struggled with occasional slowdowns on the M3 iPad Air, ran at a stable frame rate on the M4. Assassin’s Creed: Mirage on high graphics settings and Red Dead Redemption both felt smooth. I have no clue about gaming. I hardly play games, and never on an iPad. AI is my game, for now.

The Complaints

The reviewer chorus is unanimous on two things. First, no Face ID. This is table-stakes technology in 2026. I don’t think there is any convincing justification for withholding it. Second, battery life has not improved. The tested result is 9 hours and 44 minutes on the 11-inch model. Earlier generations broke the 10-hour mark.


Who Should Buy This

If you are on an M1 iPad or earlier, this is a meaningful upgrade: a faster chip, more memory, better connectivity and the iPadOS 26 multitasking overhaul all in one. It is also a strong long term way to enter the iPad ecosystem. I would skip the basic iPad at $349. The Air is far superior to that product and will last longer. It is easier to use, easier to hold and the accessory support (Apple Pencil Pro, Magic Keyboard) is better.

The Elephant in the Room

The MacBook Neo starts at $599 and includes a keyboard and trackpad. To match the Neo’s keyboard, trackpad, and storage capacity, the 11-inch M4 iPad Air setup will run you $970 total, according to Gizmodo’s math. That is a $371 gap.

The question is simple. Do you want to spend that much money on an iPad Air, or just get the Neo? The Air has a touchscreen, Apple Pencil support, and is more portable. It is also no longer an inexpensive productivity device. I am an iPad person and I like the security and simplicity of the platform. I have no problem giving one to my parents. But the price of the Neo is a serious argument against the iPad Air.


Sources: MacRumors, Tom’s Guide, Engadget, Gizmodo, Mashable. Reviewers tested the 11-inch Wi-Fi and cellular models. The device ships March 11, 2026. Starts at $599.

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • The Debt Beneath the Dream
    Every gambler knows that the secret to survivin’ Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowing what to keep ‘Cause every hand’s a winner and every hand’s a loser And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleepKenny Rogers, The Gambler. I don’t know Masayoshi Son, and I don’t need to. But my guess is that the SoftBank founder and CEO can’t be having a good start to his week. The stock of his flagship, SoftBank, is deflating faster than
     

The Debt Beneath the Dream

10 March 2026 at 03:31

Every gambler knows that the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowing what to keep
‘Cause every hand’s a winner and every hand’s a loser
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep

Kenny Rogers, The Gambler.

I don’t know Masayoshi Son, and I don’t need to. But my guess is that the SoftBank founder and CEO can’t be having a good start to his week. The stock of his flagship, SoftBank, is deflating faster than a balloon stuck in powerlines after a New Year’s party. He has bet big on OpenAI as his all-in wager. Whether he is right or wrong remains to be seen.

SoftBank’s shares dropped as much as 12.5 percent. Reports emerged that OpenAI and Oracle had scrapped plans to expand a flagship data center in Texas. Bloomberg reported the expansion fell apart over a combination of financing difficulties and shifting demand. The news undermines two core assumptions behind the entire Stargate Project. That alone should be reason to dig into every data center announcement and follow the money trail.

SoftBank’s credit default swaps widened. In plain English, the bond market is now charging more to insure against the possibility that SoftBank cannot pay its debts. The people who lend SoftBank money are getting nervous. Not a big surprise.

S&P, the credit rating agency, which already had SoftBank at junk, cut its outlook to negative earlier this month. A downgrade could raise borrowing costs precisely when SoftBank needs to borrow more than ever. These are legitimate problems. It also makes you wonder how SoftBank will meet its commitments to OpenAI in April 2026. I wrote about this last week, but even I didn’t know how much was up in the air.

I often refer back to my essay, The Announcement Economy, mostly because that is what we are living in. The details get lost in the bombast of headlines, and the media herd moves on to the next thing. Meme is the news, if news itself isn’t the news.

Let’s turn back the clock to January 2025. Stargate was announced with pomp and show that could rival Mardi Gras. President at the podium, Son and OpenAI’s Sam Altman flanking him. Big words, bigger promises. The beautiful future. Elon Musk, seemingly a sore loser for not being invited to the party, didn’t like it a bit. He said SoftBank “has well under $10 billion secured.” Altman fired back, called him wrong, and invited him to the Texas site. That Texas site is now the one being abandoned. Musk had obvious self-interest in undermining the project. He was also, turns out, right.

This is a good time to ponder the overall data center announcement frenzy. There is a level of insanity in all the news that keeps coming, and it deserves its own moment of skepticism.


I just read this New York Times piece about Nscale, a UK-based data center startup founded in 2024 that just raised $2 billion at a $14.6 billion valuation, with Nvidia backing and Sheryl Sandberg, Nick Clegg, and Susan Decker joining the board. The company barely existed two years ago. Its founder previously sold health supplements and worked in coal mining. Now he’s building “the engine of superintelligence.” Haven’t we seen this movie before? Different cast, similar theme with a charming, charismatic fundraiser and a board with more white shoes than an NBA star. Read the story and decide for yourself.

The irony of the name should not be lost on anyone. In model railroading, N-scale means 160 times smaller than the real thing. The real thing being a hyperscaler like Google, whose CEO told investors the company plans to spend up to $185 billion on infrastructure in 2026.

The data center buildout echoes the late 1990s fiber frenzy. Companies strung cable across continents for bandwidth nobody needed, on the assumption that demand would only go up and that the underlying technology would not change fast enough to matter. Both assumptions proved wrong. The chips will get faster. The models will learn to do more with less. The Excel chart pointing up and to the right rarely survives contact with Moore’s Law.

These are physical products, as much as they might seem like digital ones. You can’t put up walls faster than a query on ChatGPT. Neither can you get energy sources revved up on demand. Physics is physics, and atoms are atoms. It just doesn’t make for a good announcement.

Nscale is a UK company. Like everyone else, the UK is feeling left out of the AI buildout frenzy. Just like they did in the fiber buildout days. Don’t be surprised if you see more such announcements about upstarts raising billions from other parts of the world. No one wants to be left out of the announcement party.

The scale of the announcements is staggering. US data center construction starts hit $77.7 billion in 2025, a 190 percent increase over the prior year. The four largest hyperscalers are on track to spend north of $500 billion on infrastructure in 2026 alone. But announcements and reality are two different things.

The numbers bear this out. I recently pointed to a report by Sightline Climate that is tracking 190 gigawatts across 777 large data centers announced since 2024. As I noted in a recent post, of the 16 gigawatts slated to come online this year, only 5 gigawatts is actually under construction. Last year, 26 percent of expected capacity slipped. Sightline’s estimate is that 30 to 50 percent of the 2026 pipeline won’t materialize. Look, if hyperscalers are building their own data centers, we know they can. They have the money. They have customers. They have the domain expertise. They can even spin up their own power sources. Others feel more like Milli Vanilli. They sound good. But is it for real?

I am an AI believer. But boy, the green gas coming out of the announcement engine makes me blanch.

If you see skepticism in my recent writing about physical infrastructure, it’s because sometimes you have to follow the dollars. In my earlier pieces on the $110 billion funding round and the announcement economy, I laid out how the headline numbers didn’t really add up. The structure hasn’t changed. SoftBank is seeking a new $40 billion loan, the largest dollar-denominated borrowing in its history, to meet its OpenAI obligations. Son is doubling down.

To fund the earlier rounds, Son sold SoftBank’s entire Nvidia stake for $3.3 billion. Those shares would be worth well over $150 billion today. He traded one of the great unrealized gains in modern investing history for a 13 percent stake in a company that remains unprofitable, whose flagship data center partner just backed out citing weak demand, and which S&P now considers a liability on SoftBank’s own balance sheet.(1)

Son may still be right. Yahoo Japan, Alibaba, ARM. He has been early and right before. He has also been early and spectacularly wrong — see WeWork. But the structure underneath, borrowed money, illiquid assets, a portfolio more than half locked up, means the margin for error is far thinner than any announcement headline ever suggested.

It isn’t money until it’s money. And it isn’t infrastructure until someone actually needs it. Uses it. And pays for it. As Kenny Rogers put it:

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away and know when to run
You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealing’s done

Footnote #1 (added on 3/10/26): I can see how my awkward sentence gives an impression that Son’s Nvidia sale funding OpenAI. The point I was making was that he has hyperactive style of a a gambler, and this is how he has ended up with OpenAI, and not with $150 billion if he knew how to hold them. Clearly my sentence structure could have been better.


Why I wrote this piece


March 9, 2026

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • The Essence of a Machine
    I didn’t really want to do a quick breezy review of something that has touched me at a deep emotional level. (John Gruber nails it in his review of Neo.) Yes, I am talking about the new MacBook Neo. I can’t remember when I used the words “cute” and “want” about a computer in the same breath. The iBook, maybe? That machine was a little cuddly, colorful, weird thing that made you feel something. Then Apple went serious. Silver. Graphite. Pro. Aspirational. E
     

The Essence of a Machine

10 March 2026 at 22:00

I didn’t really want to do a quick breezy review of something that has touched me at a deep emotional level. (John Gruber nails it in his review of Neo.)

Yes, I am talking about the new MacBook Neo. I can’t remember when I used the words “cute” and “want” about a computer in the same breath. The iBook, maybe? That machine was a little cuddly, colorful, weird thing that made you feel something. Then Apple went serious. Silver. Graphite. Pro. Aspirational. Expensive. And along the way we all forgot that computers could make you smile just by looking at them. Just as none of the cars make you smile and giggle. They are a boring interpretation of a truck or a Tesla.

Then came the Neo. $599. The fun is back. Citrus yellow. Indigo blue. Blush pink. Colors that say, be happy. It’s okay to be silly.

I have had a review unit for four days. Used it. Held it. Caressed it. It looks like a MacBook. It works like a MacBook. It feels like a MacBook.

Everything about it is a MacBook. Except it isn’t.

Four days in, the question stopped being “is this enough?” It became something simpler. What is this, exactly? What is a machine, really? What does it need to be?

First, it’s the name. It is stuck in the crevices of my mind. Neo comes from the Greek neos. It does not simply mean new. Neo means renewed. It means the return to the generating principle after drift.

As it happens, I have been spending time in philosophical texts, ancient and modern. One concept I came across in my reading adventures was Neo-Platonism. Developed by Plotinus in the third century, it was not merely a new version of Plato. It was a return to first principles, a deliberate stripping away of accumulation to recover what was essential. The Neo-Platonists believed all of reality emanates from a single perfect source, The One, and that understanding flows from returning to that source rather than moving further from it.

In language, neo- signals deliberate revival. Neo-classical, neo-noir, neo-pragmatism. Each usage implies that someone looked at how far a tradition had drifted from its originating idea, identified what that idea actually was, and rebuilt from there. It is an act of editorial courage disguised as naming. When Apple called this machine the Neo, consciously or not, the argument is right there in the name.

Neo does not mean more. It means the return to what is essential.

Apple, at least when Steve Jobs roamed its corridors, knew what was essential. It has since lost some of that clarity. It has lost some of what Aristotle calls telos.

Telos is the purpose toward which a thing is directed, the end that defines what it fundamentally is. Not what it can do in a benchmark, not what features it has, but what it is for. The telos of a hammer is to drive nails. The telos of a chair is to support a seated person. Strip away the ornament, the extras, the margin-justifying additions, and you get to the thing itself.

The history of Apple’s greatest products is a history of correctly identifying the telos and ruthlessly removing everything that is not it.

The original iPod. Music in your pocket. Not a camera, not a phone, not an app platform. A thousand songs, a white brick of plastic and steel and joy. When Jobs pulled it out, nobody asked whether it was enough. The question answered itself.

The original MacBook Air. Portable computing, untethered. No optical drive, few ports, impossibly thin. Jobs pulled it out of an envelope and the argument was over. The Air was not a lesser computer. It was the laptop reduced to its essence. Jony Ive once said the best designs are the ones where you cannot imagine adding anything and cannot imagine removing anything. The Air was that.

The MacBook Neo is in that tradition. It runs on the A18 Pro, the same chip family that powers the iPhone. That detail sounds like a compromise until you think about it properly. The iPhone is the most refined personal computing device ever made. Its chip is optimized over a decade for exactly the kind of work most humans actually do. Writing, communicating, reading, browsing, thinking. Early benchmarks show the Neo outperforming the MacBook Air M1 in single-core performance. That is not a consolation prize. That is the telos.

If we had more of a philosophical tradition in Silicon Valley, we would be aware of what Heidegger called the danger of Gestell, his concept for how technology frames everything and everyone as a resource to be optimized, extracted, maximized. These days that means pushing AI into our laptops and ads into every corner of our internet experience.

Customers and reviewers alike look at a laptop and ask all sorts of wrong questions. How much RAM? What GPU? Can it run Final Cut in real time? Nobody stops to ask what they actually need it for.

The spec sheet becomes the thing. The benchmark becomes the measure. The webpage becomes a place to extract every cent. Every human relationship on Instagram an opportunity to transact. And somewhere in all that maximization, the person using the machine disappears.

Ask yourself what you need a laptop for. I asked myself the question. To write. To read. To talk to people I love and people I work with. To think. For all that, the Neo is enough.

And that’s me, someone who already has a MacBook Pro. With the exception of my multilayered editing workflow in Photoshop, after four days, I find the Neo to be enough. The only reason I keep going back to my MacBook Pro is because of Claude CoWork. I wish I could run that on this new machine.

What if everyone asked that question and found the same answer? Why worry about more cores or something hard to contemplate? What’s easy to contemplate? Four colors with color-matched keyboards. Color is not cosmetic. Color is a statement about the relationship between a person and their tool. It says this belongs to you, not to your job title or your budget category. It says computing can be personal and colorful again. (By the way Gruber is talking about color in his review footnotes. “The Neo’s citrus is a beguiling colorway. Everyone I’ve shown it to likes it,” he write. “But is it a green-ish yellow, or a yellow-ish green? In daylight, it looks more like a green-ish yellow.” His comment is about to become a meme. )

In Zen Buddhism, there is the concept of ichi-go ichi-e, meaning this moment, this meeting, only once. A tea bowl needs to be only a tea bowl. A laptop does not need to be a phone, a gaming console, a media center. The completeness of the simple thing is what gives it meaning. You do not add to it.

The MacBook Neo is a laptop. A complete, beautiful, sufficient laptop. It costs $599, but the real disruption is not the price. It is the reminder that “enough” is not a failure of ambition. It is often the highest form of design.

The name says it all. Neo means a return to the generating principle. A machine rebuilt from what a machine needs to be, with full awareness of what came before. Not less. Not a budget compromise. A renewal.

Jobs understood this. The iPod. The Air. The original iPhone’s single button. The radical move was always the same. Identify the telos, trust it, and cut everything else. Sometimes the most courageous thing you can build is exactly what is needed, and nothing more.

I really hope Apple sells a lot of it. Not that I have anything to gain from it. Except the idea that in this era of soulless hyper-capitalism, for a brief second, we can smile and experience the essence of a machine.

March 10, 2026. San Francisco

My Recent Macbook Neo Related Articles

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • Life Has a Hex Code
    We fountain pen people are weird. Every month, around the start of the month, we do a version of the same thing: we make lists. What inks to put in what pens. Rotation schemes, seasonal palettes, elaborate spreadsheets that make a lighthearted hobby look like the desk of an air traffic controller. Not that I know what that looks like. I tried doing all of it. And I hated it. I like four or five colors, and they are all blue. Jokes aside, throw in some gray, just black, lavender, pine g
     

Life Has a Hex Code

11 March 2026 at 06:00
San Francisco

We fountain pen people are weird. Every month, around the start of the month, we do a version of the same thing: we make lists. What inks to put in what pens. Rotation schemes, seasonal palettes, elaborate spreadsheets that make a lighthearted hobby look like the desk of an air traffic controller. Not that I know what that looks like.

I tried doing all of it. And I hated it. I like four or five colors, and they are all blue. Jokes aside, throw in some gray, just black, lavender, pine green and purples — but everything with an undertone of blue. If blue was good enough for Miles Davis, it’s good enough for me.

My point is that the whole inky contortion was beyond my abilities. And then my friend Gailyn of Fountain Pendulum changed everything completely. By presenting a new way to fix this equation of pens and inks.

She announced her 2026 ink theme: tea. Every ink she uses this year would connect, in some way, to the world of tea — its colors, its moods, its quiet ceremony. Not a random rotation. A story.

I saw her video, and felt the particular feeling that only comes when someone solves a problem you didn’t quite know how to articulate.


“Color is a power which directly influences the soul.”
— Wassily Kandinsky

I spend most of my time in California. I don’t have any major trips planned. At least for now.

That’s not a complaint. California contains multitudes, and more specifically it contains San Francisco, which means I have access to some of the most atmospheric light on earth roughly half the year, and the other half I’m under a fog bank so beautiful it makes my heart ache. I moved to San Francisco 23 years ago for a couple of years. Now you know why.

Fog. I have penned enough pieces about fog and its magic, and its metaphorical meaning, by now. “I like the muted sounds, the shroud of grey and the silence that comes with fog,” is how I once described its hold over me.

George Sterling, over a century ago, wrote “The Cool, Grey City of Love” and there is this one most beautiful passage that just makes me stay:

The winds of the Future wait
At the iron walls of her Gate,
And the western ocean breaks in thunder,
And the western stars go slowly under,
And her gaze is ever West
In the dream of her young unrest.

Whether it is life itself. Or appreciation for a place where everyone is trying to invent the future. Or embracing the idea of all of us trying to exist in their own alternative universes. Or a combination of all those. Those are broad brushstrokes of why I have stayed.

So I asked myself: what if the city was the palette?

San Francisco sits between ocean and bay, between the Pacific and the hills, between cold water and coastal air. The colors it produces are not the bright primaries of a travel poster. They are layered. They shift. They have the quality of light that painters chase and photographers wait hours for. I have spent days, hours and now almost a lifetime waiting for my eyes to embrace the changing hues in the middle of Fogust, on Ocean Beach, or when standing on the Embarcadero, listening to roars coming from the baseball stadium that just sits there like a modern-day colosseum, dedicated to keeping us distracted from the drudgery of life.

What I didn’t realize was that my collection had already leaned this way, without me ever planning it. I have created three custom inks that in a weird way try and capture the entire palette. The good people at Kiwi Inks helped create three magical color potions I call Karl The Fog, Ocean Beach, and SF Summer. But I wanted more than just those three.

San Francisco

So I came up with an arbitrary number. 26, because it is 2026.

Twenty-six inks, almost entirely blue-biased. Iroshizuku Kon-peki, which is exactly the color of a clear Pacific sky. Ainezu, a storm gray-blue that looks like the marine layer coming through at speed. Montblanc’s Coal Blue, smoky and deep like the bay at dusk. J. Herbin’s Vert de Gris, that oxidized gray-copper-green that is precisely the color of tidal water where fresh meets salt.

The bottles kept piling up in the closet of my overflowing home office.

I didn’t plan it this way. I just kept buying what looked right. What looked right, it turns out, was home.

Anaïs Nin said it: we don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are. I’ve been looking at the same body of water for years. Apparently it has been looking back.


I created a simple system. And I mean actually simple. Two favorite pens that never change, always inked with the same inks that are meant to do the heavy lifting. Two vintage pens that need the safest, most forgiving formulas. And half-a-dozen rotating inks each month, shifting with the season. These inks allowed me to indulge in the pens from my collection.

January gets Colorverse’s Blue & White Porcelain and Hachimonjiya’s Gassan Blue Moon as an homage to the winter skies, cold and clear. March brings Pilot Kon-peki and Octopus Fluids’ Minze, because March in San Francisco means the first green is starting to show. August comes in with Hello Small Things’ Good Night Blue and Montblanc Great Gatsby, because August evenings here are warm and strange and go on too long in the best way. December closes the year with Pilot’s Fuyu-syogun — literally “winter general” — a gray that looks like morning’s mystical mix of mist, fog and cloud over the bay from the Embarcadero.

The calendar writes itself when you let the place do the work.


Marin Headlands

I wanted this system because I wanted it to solve an even bigger problem. The problem of too many inks. Anyone who collects anything eventually arrives at this reckoning. The collection stops being a source of pleasure and starts being a source of obligation. You feel guilty about bottles you haven’t opened. You buy something new and feel the weight of everything that came before it.

William Morris put it plainly: have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. He was talking about furniture. He was really talking about every collector who ever lived.

Twenty-six inks. A city. A year. No new purchases required. No FOMO, wondering if the new limited edition is the one that changes everything. It won’t be. It never is.

The palette is already here. I’ve been looking at it through my window for years. I just wasn’t seeing it.

Gailyn’s tea theme gave me permission to think this way — to treat a collection not as an accumulation but as a statement about what matters to you and where you are. Her year will taste like sencha. Mine will look like the view from the top of Twin Peaks on an August morning, when the fog is below you and the bridge just disappears. The fog horns sound distant. The world muted.

That seems like enough.

The sea-winds are her kiss,
And the sea-gull is her dove.
Cleanly and strong she is—
My cool, grey city of love.

— George Sterling

March 10, 2026. San Francisco

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • Neo Symbolic Capitalism
    “There’s a lot of unevenness in how much attention internal drama and palace intrigue gets across different organizations. As far as I can tell, this is substantially a matter of path dependency: we know the characters in the sitcom of certain organizations but not at others, creating self-reinforcing lock-in effects. How much does one hear about the power struggles at Chevron or the Department of Agriculture? There is even significant heterogeneity between ostensibly similar compa
     

Neo Symbolic Capitalism

13 March 2026 at 21:30

“There’s a lot of unevenness in how much attention internal drama and palace intrigue gets across different organizations. As far as I can tell, this is substantially a matter of path dependency: we know the characters in the sitcom of certain organizations but not at others, creating self-reinforcing lock-in effects. How much does one hear about the power struggles at Chevron or the Department of Agriculture? There is even significant heterogeneity between ostensibly similar companies within sectors.”

Patrick Collison, CEO, Stripe

When I read that, I said to myself, you gotta be kidding me. I mean, palace intrigue has been part of our world. From ancient Egyptians to Romans to the English monarchy, it is way older than the social media and modern internet media machine. Anyway, it got me thinking about Collison’s tweet. I have come to a conclusion. Sometimes a tweet is not just a tweet. Sometimes it is a subliminal confession of symbolic capitalism.

“Symbolic capital is nothing but economic or cultural capital as soon as they are known and recognized, when they are known according to the perception categories they impose, the symbolic strength relations tend to reproduce and reinforce the strength relations which constitute the structure of the social space.”

— French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, 1987

If you apply Bourdieu’s proposed idea to the 21st century, you are left with two kinds of capital. The financial capital is obvious. The second kind, the one that really matters, is symbolic capital. Symbolic capital is reputation, prestige, the accumulated weight of being someone worth listening to. That is even more important in our hyper-connected attention-first society. Symbolic capital is what converts better, faster. Whether it is fundraising, or attracting talent, or presenting yourself as the soothsayer sage of the future bedazzled with implied wisdom.

And there is a lot of symbolic capitalism to be earned these days, thanks to our social media infrastructure. And how easy it is to earn, given how much of our modern media infrastructure has changed, thanks to the hyperinflation of the “sources go direct” concept first proposed by tech inventor Dave Winer.

Financial capital has always been there, from monarchs to robber barons to billionaires, they are a constant. However, the ones who stand above and accumulate more and more of that are the ones that have symbolic capital. JP Morgan was a rich guy, but he made sure that most of the world knew he was the guy who saved the US Government. There is a reason why rich guys buy newspapers and media companies. There is a reason why Rupert Murdoch is richer than the dollars in his bank.

A hundred years later, we have Elon Musk, who was a rich guy, but became the richest guy after everyone believed he was Tony Stark, and he saw the future better than others. He didn’t need the media. He did it his way. And then bought his own machine to make sure he had infinite symbolic capital. Even more financial capital is just a cherry on top of an ever increasing cake.

Musk is the master. He executed a perfect plan for creating a perpetual machine for symbolic capital.

And the whole Valley took notes.

Everyone worth their opinion is now on social media, pontificating and offering wisdom. That is not an accident. Since Patrick’s tweet inspired this piece, let’s take the Collison brothers, arguably the greatest entrepreneurs out of Ireland, as a case study. Their creation Stripe is worth almost $159 billion. Is that enough?

Not really!

Given every startup and every company is in competition with each other now, you need to keep your company as the center of attention. Like everyone else, the Collisons need to keep the mythology of Stripe going. They need to keep earning that all important symbolic capital. If not, they will be lost in the fumes of the daily minutiae of OpenAI and Anthropic as “news.” Of course, the brothers are way too thoughtful to play the leaks-are-the-news game that is so openly played now.

I have seen the Stripe mythology come together literally and figuratively. The obsessive craft, the decade-long patient building of a financial behemoth. The establishing of Stripe Press to celebrate entrepreneurial pursuits. Aligning with the right kind of intelligentsia to earn the right kind of hype. And more lately, podcasts. This is symbolic capital earned and compounded over a decade. That capital is why hundreds of thousands of people follow Patrick. It is why this tweet got the response it did.

As I said, sometimes a tweet is not a tweet. Sometimes it is subliminal thinking about your own approach to doing things and how the world works.

How does the world work?

Today’s world of media and information is not about facts, or fiction. It is a blend of all that, whipped and thrown into the ether of the network at neck-snapping velocity, to overwhelm the moment, till the next moment arrives. The tweet describes the modern attention machine, the same pervasive dynamic that I have described in my previous essays about velocity as the new authority and how the modern internet media machine works. I am pretty sure everyone who matters around these parts is all too familiar with the modern media dynamic. And if they are not, their ultra-well paid media managers make sure they are.

The podcast ecosystem didn’t happen by accident either. Podcasts exist to provide clips and quips that get shared on social to get attention. Better the clip, the more the likelihood of attention. And the faster it is shared, the more you accumulate symbolic capital. It is like the coins you collected when pretending to be Luigi in Nintendo’s Super Mario. The network does not reward what is true or what is deep. It rewards what moves. Speed is the signal.

Since we in Silicon Valley architected this new dynamic, away from the pearl-clutching East Coast temples of orthodoxy, we know that platforms decide what spreads. This is the game, played at Formula One speeds.

There is a reason why “palace intrigue as role model for media” works, especially in our present. Every stumble, every pivot, every hire and firing gets compressed into a shareable unit of meaning and fired into the feed. The PR machine does not fight this. It feeds it. Carefully timed leaks. Coordinated podcast appearances. Engineered moments of apparent candor. The palace intrigue that reaches reporters is not the unfiltered reality. It is the selected version, packaged to keep the company au courant, in the story, in the feed. As I have said before, the meme is the metastory. It is the headline. And that is the point.

Which is why Twitter, now X, feels unbeatable despite everything. It is not because the product is superior. It is because the people with the most power and the most to gain have turned it into a gaming platform for symbolic capital. They are not users. They are players. And the game is very, very good to them.

We are all playing the same game. Patrick is smart enough to see and tweet about it.


March 13, 2025. San Francisco

Related Articles and Essays:

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • Tanhā & Our Modern Consumerism
    It was late into the evening. I wanted to take a break from everything digital. Relaxing by doodling in my notebook. Trying a new grind. Seeing how the metal tip felt on the billowy silky Tomoe River. Nothing dramatic. Somewhere in the middle of all that I let my subconscious take control of my mind, and my hand. And with that my words, and my pen. When I stopped and read, it shook me. I had written something I have felt. The more I look for what I don’t know I’m looking for,
     

Tanhā & Our Modern Consumerism

14 March 2026 at 00:30

It was late into the evening. I wanted to take a break from everything digital. Relaxing by doodling in my notebook. Trying a new grind. Seeing how the metal tip felt on the billowy silky Tomoe River. Nothing dramatic.

Somewhere in the middle of all that I let my subconscious take control of my mind, and my hand. And with that my words, and my pen. When I stopped and read, it shook me. I had written something I have felt.

The more I look for what I don’t know I’m looking for, the more likely I am to not find it.

So I am likely to be disappointed. Be disgruntled. What triggered this was my reaction to a new nib grind. It wasn’t really living up to its billing. Not every grind or nib should, as they too are creation of a moment, the artisan finds themselves in. It was not about them. But more about me.

It made me realize, the more new nibs, new grinds I try, I end up not thrilled with the new or appreciative of what I already have.

The universe in its own unique way, was slapping me silly and asking me to stop. And just try and be happy with what I have. Not find happiness with what I can have next. After all, in the end, it is about knowing what I am seeking really.

The pattern repeats. Objects are what change.

Things that somehow add up and pile up. Another new pen. Another new nib, new notebook. It’s all a distraction. Things that seem to bring happiness, but in the end are nothing but distractions from life and the emptiness of it.

The doodling led to self-reflection, and realization, that what I was chasing wasn’t a pen. Or a nib. Instead it was an imagined feeling that something new, something novel would produce. This feeling lives in the future, in the imagined version of the experience. We all feel it, one way or the other. We act on it, one way or the other. Nibs for me. Labubus for someone else.

The actual nib and pen, once inked are nothing like what was imagined. When the nib skips, and catches on paper, the imagination has none of that. That feeling of disappointment. But this is not just about nibs.

It never was. Clothes. Books. Another notebook. Swipe left, swipe right. The rhythm is identical. You’re not looking for a thing. You’re looking for the version of yourself you imagine owning it would produce. You can’t get there. Not because the thing is wrong. Because that self doesn’t exist. Acquisition isn’t the answer of finding self. It is always elimination, stripping down to the essence. And yet the trap of our modern now is that the Lego blocks of consumerism will complete the thing that really it wants to keep incomplete.

Buddhists call this Tanhā. Loosely translated it means craving. Tanhā is the addiction to wanting itself. Not the object. The wanting. What makes it hard to see is that the seeking loop feels like aliveness. The browsing, the imagining, the anticipating. It produces an energy that feels like engagement with life.

These days we call it FOMO, the fear of missing out. It is the algorithmic, bastard child of Tanhā. Social media didn’t invent this. It surely industrialized it. Every pen post, every rotation photo, every “new pen day” thread is engineered to make your current pen feel insufficient. Not because it is. Because the platform needs you to keep scrolling.

The cost of infinite options is that you never fully inhabit any of them. You hold everything lightly because the exit is always visible. Nothing becomes what it could be if you stayed.

It is ironic. Till recently, I had been using a version of the same camera I started taking photos with over a decade ago. My new camera is a more constrained version of the original. I know it intimately. Like the crook of the hand of a beloved with whom you have walked many walks that go nowhere, but end up somewhere. I know the images before they are captured.

I am also the same person who ruthlessly edited his wardrobe down to one hundred pieces, where the new one comes only when something has to go. It is a restricted palette of colors, choices, and clothing that are determined from knowing myself, what I like, and why I like things a certain way. It is unusual to be so precise in one thing and yet wayward in the other.

The person who writes with one pen for ten years knows things about it. I should know. I used the same pen from 1990 through the turn of the century before buying a new one, to celebrate the new century. So, I should know better. Yet, the whole modern social edifice is built on the new, the novel, and the next.

As a lifelong lover of ghazals, and having grown up in northern India, my first understanding of the word Tanha comes from Urdu. It means alone.

Solitary.
Craving.
Loneliness.

Somewhere in the linguistic memory, craving and loneliness were understood as the same condition.

The seeking loop. The new nib, the new ink. The swipe left or right. The next thing. This isn’t just desire. It’s modern society’s reality of finding meaning and company in objects. It makes you wonder if one is not filling space with things, and instead it is about filling an aloneness that things can’t actually reach.

The answer is not in wanting more.

Buddhists call the practice sati, bare attention. To be with what’s in front of you long enough to see it clearly. And so attention, then, isn’t just a practice. It’s learning to be alone without reaching. To sit with the tanhā, the loneliness, the craving, without immediately converting it into a search. Concrete, in my case: I probably don’t know what my best pen can actually do. I’ve never spent enough consecutive hours with it. I switch before I find the edge. It is strange, because I spent hours, days, weeks, and months with my camera. I should have learned.

It is getting late. The notepad is still on the desk. A few more pages have been used. The ink has dried. Somewhere in the middle of doodling and testing nibs I had stopped being a collector and started being a writer again.

I wonder if subconsciously I had come to a point where I now know it is time to start paring back. Finding the joy in the intimacy of knowing something longer. A lot longer. Just as my favorite clothing. My only camera. My favorite watch.

Is this what it feels like when a pen stops being a collector’s object and becomes a writer’s tool?

I don’t know how long this feeling lasts. But something inside me says, this is the point.

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • The Return of Travis Kalanick: Fact & Fluff!
    Travis is back. It was only a matter of time. Given his old compadres Emil Michael and Shervin Pishevar are back in the news, how could he, the king pooh-ba, stay in the shadows? To a lot of us who have been in the know, Travis Kalanick has never really gone away. He has always been doing his thing, away from the limelight which ultimately became his undoing. For eight years, he was busy building Cloud Kitchens. I heard second-hand stories of progress and stories of challenges. That&rsquo
     

The Return of Travis Kalanick: Fact & Fluff!

14 March 2026 at 17:45

Travis is back. It was only a matter of time.

Given his old compadres Emil Michael and Shervin Pishevar are back in the news, how could he, the king pooh-ba, stay in the shadows?

To a lot of us who have been in the know, Travis Kalanick has never really gone away. He has always been doing his thing, away from the limelight which ultimately became his undoing. For eight years, he was busy building Cloud Kitchens. I heard second-hand stories of progress and stories of challenges. That’s life and that’s business. And that’s startup life.

Still, the return of Travis as a spectacle has been amazing to watch. It has been worthy of putting some popcorn, firing up the (MacBook) Neo, and sitting down and consuming it all. The return says as much about him as it does about the new hype machine, aka whatever passes for media right now.

As an entrepreneur, I love Kalanick, because he makes for a great story. He knows how to do bombast right. And he knows how to play the victim right. He has the right quotes. And he knows how to stumble over himself. In short, a media person has to love Kalanick.

So for most of the day yesterday, I watched him earn his symbolic capital. (If you missed that short essay, I would suggest you read it.) It was fun to watch him drop wisdom on a streaming video podcast. It was good to see him share his very clear, coherent and convincing vision of the physical world and how AI and robotics dovetail with that world. It stands in sharp contrast to the somewhat unclear vision of physical AI shared by academic-turned-Facebooker Yann LeCun, who recently raised over a billion dollars.

Given I have covered Travis for almost two decades, I can say he has aged, as his gray beard shows. For most of my media life, I was not the guy he gave interviews to, or scoops. For those he had more compliant reporters in media. Most of my scoops were earned, and he didn’t like that one bit.

We did enjoy an occasional drink or two, and a slice of pizza. I got to know him when he was still finding his feet with Redswoosh, a company he ultimately sold to Akamai. I was with Red Herring. I was literally in the proverbial room when he and Garrett Camp had a wild and wooly idea for an on-demand limo service at Le Web in Paris. The origin story is infused with just enough typical Silicon Valley mythology. Anyway, the point is I know the man and how he plays the game. As a founder, as a CEO and most importantly as orchestrator of media.

Given all this, and considering how much I can’t stand fluff in memos and media, I decided to do my typical steam wash of the Atoms vision manifesto. Separate the fluff from the fantastic. But first, a word about the pattern. Because it matters, and will help you understand the new manifesto.

At Uber, Kalanick consistently framed external forces such as regulators, competitors, the press, and board members as the problem. The company’s internal failures were always someone else’s move on the chess board. When Susan Fowler published her essay about sexual harassment and a culture that systematically protected high performers over the people they harmed, the initial response was to investigate the investigator. When Greyball, a tool Uber built to deceive regulators and evade law enforcement, became public, it was framed as a misunderstood safety feature.

That pattern held. The company, and by extension Travis, was always being persecuted by people who didn’t understand what it was trying to do. The mission was always too important for ordinary rules to apply.

The Atoms manifesto is pretty much the same playbook. The unnamed investor, though everyone knows who it is, who timed his power grab during a family tragedy becomes the defining event of his departure. Gone are the issues and problems at Uber. Instead what remains is the Horatio Alger-like story of a man who built something transformational, was betrayed at his most vulnerable, and is now back.

What Is Real

The strongest idea in the Atoms vision is the simplest one. Kalanick calls it “Digitizing the Physical World.” I know this because I have written about it. In my life as an investor this has been a recurring theme. The physical world is messy, chaotic, and stubbornly analog, but someone will undo this Gordian knot eventually.

The vision he outlines, sensors on streets, tracking trash trucks and traffic patterns in real time, routing around chaos before it happens, has been tried successfully, if not at scale, in Porto, Portugal almost a decade ago. It was built on a company True had backed, Veniam. The concept of smart city infrastructure, physical world data, the whole thing, was tried and worked at small scale. No one cracked how to scale it. That is still the problem. That is still the opportunity.

Same with mining automation, where companies big and small are doing self-driving automation of earth movers and trucks.

I still believe in this future. The time is now. The technology is knocking on the door. What you need is someone willing to break down the old way of doing things by sheer force of will and refusal to accept that the incumbent way is the only way. A blockhead, in the best sense of the word. If you can beat the cab cabal, one of the most entrenched, politically protected, locally organized industries in the world, then you can do things most people call impossible. That’s Kalanick in a nutshell. It is not nothing.

The second real argument is about specialized versus generalized robots. The industry is currently infatuated with humanoids. Kalanick pushes back, and he is right to. I mean you know how I feel about it. I talked at length with robotics pioneer Rodney Brook about this in my interview for Crazy Stupid Tech.

The humanoid is for bespoke, low-volume, human-designed spaces. The specialized machine is for industrial scale. This distinction matters, and not enough people covering robotics are making it clearly.

Third, the physical AI tech stack he lists, sensors, compute, models, manipulation, software, operations research, manufacturing, real estate, energy, and chemistry, is genuinely intimidating as a scope of work. His point that no single company has to own all of it but cross-stack competence is the advantage is an honest and useful framing.

Fourth, and this one is underappreciated, is land. Kalanick argues that real estate is a critical and overlooked input to physical world AI. Where do you mine the minerals? Where do you manufacture? Where do you store energy? The companies that control that land have an advantage most people are not pricing in yet. That is worth watching.

The last reason I buy this vision is because he has been on this digitizing physical world theme for more than a decade and a half. We talked about it. Often. In a column I wrote for Fast Company, I compared Uber to Google. When I asked Travis if he agreed that Uber is Google-like in that they’re both data-deterministic, he said “Uber’s task is much harder, because it is about taking bits and translating them into atoms and vice versa. Google, in other words, never has to worry about a search result getting stuck behind a trash truck. The real world is a lot more complicated.”

Now you know why the new company is called Atoms.

What Is Fluff

There is a lot. I hate this kind of bullshit, and if you have read me long enough, you know that I don’t suffer nonsense like “Valuable Unknown Truths.” The entropy-and-death framing around it is grandiosity, and lacks all substance. It is venture-speak dressed as philosophy. In plain English, what he is saying is that his company is going to look for insights others miss. Every damn startup says that in their pitch to every venture fund. Of course, you can now see this phrase show up in slide decks around the valley.

My head exploded when I read “Moore’s Law squared.” It is not a thing. The claim that the cost per unit of intelligence is dropping ninety percent per year is unverifiable and uncited. Without actual hard evidence, this is not an argument.

The Tesla and Amazon autonomous futures scenario, lights-out factories, self-driving freight, autonomous delivery, reads like a 2017 pitch deck. The vision is familiar. You know that might be good as vision, but the Chinese are already doing it. Now. Shein and others have invented the new commerce. Xiaomi and BYD have rolled out lights-out factories, and created scale like none before. Self-driving is no longer a vision, it is a feature. But still, it does sound great on TV.

And lastly, the Henry Adams quote about chaos and order is garnish at best. As I said before, Travis knows how to tell a great story with a lot of emphasis. I mean you don’t raise billions if you can’t tell a story with the forcefulness of a tornado.

What Is This Then?

Bloomberg does a good job here. City Storage Systems, the company Kalanick has been running quietly since being pushed out of Uber, is being renamed Atoms. It is going after three major verticals: food, mining, and transport robotics. That is the news.

The rest is a rebranding, a reintroduction, and an attempt to reenter the public conversation on his own terms. To me, this is a specific strategy, and it did not happen by accident. (Whoever the person is behind Travis’ comeback strategy, they were criminally underpaid.)

The vision page at atoms.co is engineered content. Not a press release. Not an interview where a reporter can push back. It is a controlled document, published direct, designed to establish the terms of the story before anyone else can. This is Sources Go Direct in action.

Sources going direct has collapsed the distance between a founder’s worldview and the public’s first impression of it. The press pickup that follows is not independent verification. It is amplification of a frame that was already set. This is symbolic capitalism at work, the accumulation of reputation and attention as a form of currency. Kalanick spent the day earning it back, in real time, in public.

The coverage of Atoms has largely worked exactly as designed. The vision is treated as the news. The rebranding is treated as a launch. The Horatio Alger story, knocked down, wandered, returned stronger, is irresistible to a media world that rewards narrative over nuance and speed over depth. You gotta fill airtime and make people buy your subscriptions.

Kalanick knows this. Uber was built, in part, on the ability to move faster than the institutions trying to contain it. The same instinct is visible here.

The real story is messier and more interesting. A complicated man, with real ideas, trying to rebuild reputation and company at the same time, using the same tools and instincts that made him famous the first time. It worked at Uber, until it didn’t.

Atoms is the next test of whether it works again.

I’ll be damned if I am not interested. And I’ll be damned if I don’t want to see what he does next. That doesn’t mean I need to gulp his MBA-speak as wisdom. I will call the game as I see it being played.

March 14, 2026. San Francisco.

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • What To Read This Weekend
    As I sit here on Sunday morning, reflecting on what has been one of the most hectic writing weeks in a long time, I can’t help but ask, why? Of course, there was a lot of news and action. Not that any of that matters to me, but still, there were new Apple products that were up for review. I have had iPad Air and MacBook Neo in my hands, and ended up writing about them. Neo got me philosophical and took me on a different tangent from a regular review. And there was that great story i
     

What To Read This Weekend

15 March 2026 at 16:30

As I sit here on Sunday morning, reflecting on what has been one of the most hectic writing weeks in a long time, I can’t help but ask, why?

Of course, there was a lot of news and action. Not that any of that matters to me, but still, there were new Apple products that were up for review. I have had iPad Air and MacBook Neo in my hands, and ended up writing about them. Neo got me philosophical and took me on a different tangent from a regular review.

And there was that great story in the Financial Times about Softbank and its founder playing with fire (aka OpenAI). Something about it compelled me to write about it. That and a tweet by Stripe CEO led to me writing about Symbolic Capital, and as if to make my point, former Uber CEO Travis Kalanick emerged from shadows to talk about Atoms. So, that turned into a breakdown of his manifesto.

This week, I moved my “pen newsletter” over to the “backpages” of this website. I am not much of a reviewer, and much prefer to write either short posts or longer pieces. So for me makes sense to just have it all in one place. I wrote two pieces, one about developing an ink-color palette from life itself, and a long reflection on the why of idle consumerism.

So, but the real answer to the “why” I wrote so much this week is that it is eleven years since my company shuttered. And I react to the emotion of loss in the only way I do, by writing. A lot.


Here’s what’s worth reading this weekend.

  • Mac Neo and My Afternoon of Reflection and Melancholy. Steven Sinofsky picked up a MacBook Neo and found himself staring at what might have been. The former head of Windows writes that everything they tried to do with Windows 8 and Surface RT in 2012, a $599 laptop built on a phone chip with a new app model, is exactly what Apple just shipped. “We were early, but not wrong.” [Hardcore Software]
  • The Human Condition or the Conditional Human? A genetic-testing company offers embryo selection for higher IQ. Meta’s chief AI officer says he’ll wait to have children until Neuralink is ready for implantation from a young age. Microsoft’s former head of research describes the “holy grail” as building intelligence superior to any human. David Polansky in the Hedgehog Review points out that they are all part of the same idea, one that is quietly redefining what it means to be human. Great read. [Hedgehog Review]
  • How Chinese Labs Race for the Next First-in-Class Breakthrough. In its 15th five-year plan, China laid out plans for scientific self-sufficiency by spending liberally on basic research across materials, energy, and biomedicine, halving clinical trial review times to match the US. It won’t be enough as it needs a mindset change. One biotech CEO admits China is still “more about engineering and applications, not about original concept and novelty.” [C&EN]
  • What Sports Betting Is Doing to America. You know how I feel about sports betting and how invasive it has become. But to get a first-person understanding of the disease? Read this brilliant piece in The Atlantic. They gave McKay Coppins, a practicing Mormon, $10,000 to gamble with over an NFL season. He had never placed a bet. What started as a journalistic experiment turned into something he describes as “unnerving.” This is the exact problem I’ve been writing about, except someone lived inside it for a season and came back to tell you what it looks like. [The Atlantic]
  • The Slavery Scandal at the Chinese Takeover of a Brazilian Ford Plant. The Washington Post reviewed 5,000 pages of court records and interviewed 41 people to tell the story of what happened when BYD took over a shuttered Ford factory in Camaçari, Brazil. Brazilian prosecutors accused BYD and its contractors of trafficking and conditions “analogous to slavery.” BYD’s response was to blame “cultural differences” and accuse unnamed forces of conspiring against China’s rise. This is what the global EV supply chain looks like when nobody is watching. [Washington Post]
  • In 1844, Chess Was Already Online. Every generation thinks that their technology is so special that it will change the world, and humans. I was reminded of that when I read this story. Six months after Morse sent “What hath God wrought” over the first US telegraph line, someone used it to play chess. Washington challenged Baltimore, moves were transmitted as numbered squares, and seven games were played without a single transmission error. A good reminder. Every new communication technology gets used for play before it gets used for business. The telegraph, the telephone, the internet, and now AI. Human nature doesn’t change. The wires do. [IEEE Spectrum]
  • Goodbye, Tesla-Style Giant Touchscreens. The buttons are back, thanks in part to China mandating physical controls for essential car functions. Europe will now mark down cars that rely only on touchscreens for things like turn signals. So, VW and Mercedes have already reversed course. And the Jony Ive-designed Ferrari Luce interior is full of knobs and switches. Turns out, sleek and futuristic is not the same as safe and usable. I don’t drive, so I don’t know. But I wonder if all this even matters when invisible robots are driving the cars? [Domus]

Things I wrote this week, ICYMI:

March 15, 2026. San Francisco

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • Lobster Boil
    I had coffee this weekend with my good friend Michael Galpert, father to my godchildren. Too much coffee. We talked too much Claw. OpenClaw that is. Michael has been running around the country organizing ClawCons. New York, Austin, Tokyo next. Not industry conferences. In the halcyon days of Web 2.0, we called them meetups and un-conferences. Sponsors are falling over themselves to get them attached to this new new thing, that borders on madness and hope. Just people showing up in rooms b
     

Lobster Boil

17 March 2026 at 02:03

I had coffee this weekend with my good friend Michael Galpert, father to my godchildren. Too much coffee. We talked too much Claw. OpenClaw that is.

Michael has been running around the country organizing ClawCons. New York, Austin, Tokyo next. Not industry conferences. In the halcyon days of Web 2.0, we called them meetups and un-conferences. Sponsors are falling over themselves to get them attached to this new new thing, that borders on madness and hope.

Just people showing up in rooms because they want to talk about what OpenClaw makes possible. Developers, yes. But also small business owners, retirees, students, people who have never attended a tech event in their lives. The energy in those rooms, Michael says, is unlike anything he has seen in years.

I have known Michael long enough to know when he is genuinely excited about something versus just being hyperactive for a second. He is so ‘clawed’ into OpenClaw.

Makes you wonder: what is really going on here? Hope and madness. Whatever the reasons, I am fascinated with the very idea of OpenClaw, how it might be foretelling a future we are not seeing yet.


OpenClaw is a free, open-source AI agent built by Austrian developer Peter Steinberger. It started as a weekend project in November 2025, originally called Clawdbot, went through a rename to Moltbot after a trademark complaint from Anthropic, and landed as OpenClaw at the end of January 2026.

You connect it to whatever AI model you prefer. It runs on your own machine. You talk to it through the messaging apps you already use, including Slack, WhatsApp, Telegram, iMessage, and Discord. And then it does things. Typical chatbots answer questions. It acts. It clears your inbox, makes reservations, tracks your calendar, executes tasks on your behalf while you are doing something else.

By March 2026, it had crossed 247,000 stars on GitHub. Steinberger has since been hired by OpenAI to work on personal agents, and the project has moved to a foundation. The lobster, as they say, has molted. Ironic, the movement’s Jesus has ceded control to his apostles.

Across the planet, everyone is tinkering.

China tech is going bonkers over OpenClaw. On a Friday afternoon in Shenzhen, nearly a thousand people lined up outside Tencent headquarters to get OpenClaw installed on their laptops. Engineers from Tencent’s cloud unit were helping students, retirees, and office workers set it up. The Chinese have their own phrase for it now: raise a lobster, a reference to OpenClaw’s red lobster logo.

Every major Chinese cloud provider has released its own version. Tencent has WorkBuddy. MiniMax has MaxClaw. Moonshot has Kimi Claw. Local governments in Shenzhen and Wuxi announced grants for startups building on the platform. MiniMax, whose model runs inside many OpenClaw setups, has seen its stock rise over 600 percent since its IPO two months ago.

And then Beijing sent a diktat to state banks, government agencies, and the families of military personnel: Clip the Claw.

A thousand people lining up on Friday. A memo from the CCP. Same technology. Same week.

It’s not nothing.

The Mac Mini has become the unofficial hardware of the OpenClaw moment. People are buying the Apple desktop with a single purpose: a dedicated machine to run their agent, separate from their main computer, connected to a free or cheap open-source model. The SF Standard called the Mac Mini bro the new matcha latte guy. Oy vey!

The publication shares the story of Aaron Ng, a 35-year-old AI engineer in the Sunset. He did not want to give OpenClaw access to his own computer. So he bought a Mac Mini just for the agent. It handles his email, tracks updates about his newborn, controls his smart lights. He texts it baby logs because, in his words, the existing apps were terrible. Others are using it to post their bets on Polymarket to Twitter and game the results.

Mac Mini bro! Apple has backed into a cultural moment, without even trying. Jokes aside, this physical object represents a philosophy. The intelligence lives on your machine. You own it. You aim it. No subscription. No permission required.

I checked in with Hiten Shah, one of my close friends who is building hard with OpenClaw. He summed it up in a single line: (AI) Power to the people.

This is why retirees are lining up in Shenzhen. This is why people with no GitHub account are showing up at ClawCons. For the first time, they can feel AI’s intelligence, even if it is not very good. Yet. Not a demo. Not a keynote promise. Not big boys burning billion dollars a month. A thing that actually does things on their behalf. The gap between what you want done and what gets done has always required either your own time or someone else’s labor. OpenClaw makes that gap feel smaller. That feeling, even in its rough and half-broken form, is new.

It has been almost a month since I published How AI Goes To Work. “What OpenClaw shows is how AI will work in the background,” is what I wrote. “And that is what the ‘AI’ future looks like for normal people. Not a separate AI app. Intelligence woven into tools you already use. Doing work you used to do yourself. Or used to hire someone to do, done by software.”

I have seen this kind of excitement before. Many times. That is what keeps me around in Silicon Valley. The excitement of new technology is my addiction. I saw this with the big poppa, the internet itself. Web 2.0. Social. Cloud. In terms of product, the closest parallel to OpenClaw for me is my first time with WordPress.

WordPress did not invent PHP or MySQL or web publishing. It was a continuation of someone else’s idea. However, it assembled those pieces into something a non-technical person like me could actually use. The gap between having something to say and being able to publish it closed overnight. No developer. No hosting deal. No media company gatekeeping who got a voice. Yes, there were other platforms and other options, but it dovetailed with the rise of open source, the optimism of publishing on the internet, and the joy of sharing and being social.

The best part that most people forget about WordPress is that it was never really about us. It was about the rest of the world that could not afford American software economics. At Forbes.com, we spent millions on bad software, trying to publish professionally. Now you could do it for free. A teacher in Jakarta. A student in Manila. A journalist in Nairobi. Suddenly they had the same publishing infrastructure as the New York Times. That is what the excitement was really about. Not the product. It was the collapse of the permission structure.

OpenClaw has that same siren call. Two hundred dollars a month, or even twenty a month, to Anthropic or OpenAI is not a rounding error for most of the world. The world doesn’t pay $10 for lattes. This is the real barrier. But Chinese-made Qwen runs locally. Chinese-made DeepSeek runs locally. OpenClaw does not care which model you plug in. So someone in Manila or Cairo or Bogota can run the same agentic setup as a San Francisco startup, on a model that costs them nothing. If you want something from Claude or ChatGPT, and you can afford to pay for it, then plug that in too.

WordPress democratized voice. OpenClaw is pointing at something further: action. The gap between what you intend and what actually gets done has always required resources. A team. A budget. An organization. OpenClaw is the first very rough sketch of closing that gap for everyone.

WordPress operated in a forgiving domain. A bad plugin broke your homepage. Mine broke all the time. And there were no plugins. OpenClaw operates in the domain of real-world action. A bad agent deletes your inbox, spams your contacts, creates a dating profile without your knowledge. The blast radius is different. One of OpenClaw’s own maintainers warned publicly that if you cannot understand how to run a command line, this is far too dangerous for you to use safely. That is not a ringing endorsement. But it is also not the point.

OpenClaw is not ready for prime time. The security issues are real and the warts are visible. It is a symbol of what is coming, not the thing itself.

AI can be personal. Not a service you subscribe to. Not a platform you visit. A thing that runs on your machine, serves your intentions, uses the model you choose, and works through the apps you already live in.

In his keynote speech at GTC, Nvidia CEO and founder Jensen Huang described OpenClaw as:

What is Open Claw? It’s an agentic system. It calls and connects to large language models.It has resources that it manages. It could access tools, it could access file systems, it could access large language models. It’s able to do scheduling. it’s able to– do cron jobs, is able to decompose a problem that you gave it into step by step by step. It could spawn off and call upon other subagents. It has IO. You could talk to it in any modality you want. It’s an operating system. I’ve just used the same syntax that I would describe an operating system. Open Claw has open sourced essentially the operating system of agentic computers.


In 2023, Bill Gates wrote that “in the near future, anyone who’s online will be able to have a personal assistant powered by artificial intelligence” and that agents would “utterly change how we live.” OpenClaw, running on a free Chinese model through WhatsApp on a $599 Mac Mini in the Sunset, is the first time regular people can actually feel that becoming real.

That’s what I am Clawing about.

March 16, 2025. San Francisco

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • OpenAI Has New Focus (on the IPO)
    The Wall Street Journal recently reported that leadership wants OpenAI, the company, to focus. Seems like a plain old business strategy story. Nope! First, in more prosaic terms, the all-hands and what was said was indicative of need for focus and urgency. I read it as mild panic stations. Second, step back enough and a clear and complete image should emerge. It reveals the real game being played. It is the grand hand at the big AI poker table. The IPO. Who gets there first, who sets the rul
     

OpenAI Has New Focus (on the IPO)

17 March 2026 at 22:05

The Wall Street Journal recently reported that leadership wants OpenAI, the company, to focus. Seems like a plain old business strategy story. Nope!

First, in more prosaic terms, the all-hands and what was said was indicative of need for focus and urgency. I read it as mild panic stations. Second, step back enough and a clear and complete image should emerge. It reveals the real game being played. It is the grand hand at the big AI poker table. The IPO. Who gets there first, who sets the rules. And who really wins.

The IPO is not about one company. Instead it is about three American AI companies — Anthropic, OpenAI, and SpaceX, which owns xAI. It is about the scale of money to be raised from the market. It is also the urgency to do so. The Economist notes that if all three offer 15 percent of their shares, the combined sum would roughly equal every dollar raised across all American IPOs over the past decade.

It is against the backdrop of a global crisis, and this being a battle for winner take all. And most importantly, with the Middle East busy with bigger problems, the money spigot for American AI might be as tight as the Strait of Hormuz right now. The Gulf sovereign wealth funds that have been backstopping this AI frenzy have other fish to fry, at present.

Public market investors in New York and London will now have to carry the weight. Which means the IPO window is real, it is short, it is now, and it will not stay open forever. In short, this is a three horse race to the IPO market. And OpenAI isn’t the leading pony.


OpenAI was all over the map. Sora. A web browser called Atlas. A hardware device. TikTok-for-AI. All announced with the same breathless urgency, same press release energy, different product each time. Cashing in on the announcement economy.

Simo told staff last week they had to stop being distracted by “side quests.” That is a remarkable word for what was, in practice, an $840 billion company running several unrelated experiments inside itself while its most focused rival ate its lunch.

All startups, big and small, are messy. Some have more disorder than others. The admission of chaos is a way to show recognition, and eventual correction of the problems. The question to me, is why this admission of chaos? And that’s why you need to bring out the popcorn.

Let’s break down the WSJ news report itself. The fact that the Journal “reviewed” the transcript is a giveaway. The Journal didn’t say they had the transcript, or that it was leaked to them. “Reviewed by” is a tell. This is a controlled leak. Nothing wrong with it.

Companies do it often. Big publications like the Wall Street Journal get the scoops and exclusives. This is a game that has been played for the longest time. Every word attributed to Simo, from “side quests,” to “code red,” to the Anthropic “wake-up call,” was chosen for outside consumption, to shape the story.

Don’t get me wrong. While the actual new content of the story is thin, it is still real. The organizational dysfunction is real. The Sora team was housed under research while launching a consumer product — a good sign of that dysfunction. However, the Anthropic “wake-up call” framing is a classic Jedi mind trick. Admit competitive weakness to look clear-eyed to investors and customers, while simultaneously using a rival’s success as the proverbial carrot and the stick.

However, one has to read the story in a larger context. The WSJ report has to be read against other news this week. Reuters reports OpenAI is in advanced talks with TPG, Advent International, Bain Capital, and Brookfield to create a new joint venture valued at around $10 billion that would push its enterprise products through PE-backed portfolio companies across industries. It is forming “Frontier Alliances” with McKinsey, BCG, Accenture, and Capgemini, announced last month. This is a great narrative being put together for a company on a deadline, for a specific audience. OpenAI is great at building narratives. It might back its way into a long-term strategy, but for now, you have to see every piece of news coming out of OpenAI right now as part of a jigsaw puzzle.

There is one audience for this final picture. The bankers and institutional investors who will price the offering. OpenAI needs them to believe three simple things. It has its house in order. It has a real swing at corporate dollars. And that it is ahead in the AI race, both for consumers and corporations.

One thing odd, maybe just to me, is why OpenAI has been stuffing its ranks with former Facebookers who are known to juice growth, find edges, and keep people addicted. They have little background in getting enterprises to buy into a product. Simo herself ran the Facebook app. That organization’s genius is consumer engagement: behavioral hooks, dopamine loops, the relentless optimization of the feed. You can see that in the recent iterations of ChatGPT. It has become such a sycophant, and creates answers and options, that you end up engaging with it. That’s juicing growth. Facebook style.

The next shoe to drop would be news that OpenAI poached some big name executives from say, Salesforce or one of the big boy SaaS companies to take charge of the enterprise push. Right now, OpenAI’s own numbers show that its enterprise business generates $10 billion out of a total annualized revenue of $25 billion. In comparison, Anthropic, the smaller company, is widely regarded as ahead in enterprise adoption.


Why is all this important? Again, as I said, money. I know I am repeating myself. The public market money. That is the only real story. There are three AI companies heading toward public markets. Two have friends in Washington. One has a great satellite launch and Internet business. One has focus. One is perceived as an “all over the map” business.

Zoomed in, there is a reason why Grok and OpenAI are looking to go after the “code” business. Anthropic’s success is good enough proof that AI, despite all the talk of impending singularity and AGI, is all about software — the critical choke point in a digital-first world. That is the business. For now! Not orbital data centers. Not a social video app. Not a hardware device. All these may (or may not) be real money spinners in the future, but for now, you gotta focus on juicing your revenues to go public. Focus is the answer.

Anthropic’s revenue run rate has surged past $19 billion, up from $9 billion at the end of 2025 and roughly $14 billion just weeks before that. Amodei confirmed at Morgan Stanley that $6 billion was added in February alone, driven almost entirely by Claude Code. Revenue doubling in two months. That is the curve that makes a prospectus compelling without a PR campaign to explain it.

The US government has tried to change that calculus. Defense Secretary Hegseth declared Anthropic a supply-chain risk after it refused to give the Pentagon unrestricted access to its models. Altman positioned OpenAI as a bridge-builder while quietly moving to take Anthropic’s vacated government contracts.

Anthropic has no friends in Washington. What it has, in the immortal words of former Microsoft CEO Steve Ballmer, is “Developers, Developers, Developers.” Right now, developers are the ones who actually matter. Despite its somewhat unclear messaging and occasionally awkward public identity, Anthropic’s Claude Code is a product they want to use. Wallet always speaks the loudest.

I won’t be crying over OpenAI. They are doing $25 billion in annualized revenue, with 900 million weekly users, and a CEO who has proven he can bend a narrative to his will.

As I said before. When a grand hand is being played, focus is not such a bad thing. Especially when the billions you desperately need are on the line.

March 17, 2026. San Francisco.

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • How Not to Interview (Interesting People)
    As a photographer who is primarily a writer, I like reading about photography so I can learn from those who create. I do that by reading photo magazines and listening to podcasts. One such magazine is Aperture. They take me out of the noise and bring me right into the core of the work. Photographers I don’t follow, or don’t know. Always a pleasant surprise. In a recent issue they ran an interview with Christophe Lemaire and Sarah-Linh Tran. I have followed Lemaire since his time
     

How Not to Interview (Interesting People)

19 March 2026 at 22:00

As a photographer who is primarily a writer, I like reading about photography so I can learn from those who create. I do that by reading photo magazines and listening to podcasts. One such magazine is Aperture. They take me out of the noise and bring me right into the core of the work. Photographers I don’t follow, or don’t know. Always a pleasant surprise.

In a recent issue they ran an interview with Christophe Lemaire and Sarah-Linh Tran. I have followed Lemaire since his time at Hermès, so I was genuinely excited to read about how he and Tran think about creating. Lemaire is one of the few fashion brands that earns the word “philosophy.” These are people who think in multiple planes: fabric, cinema, sociology, memory.

The initial excitement soon turned into disappointment. Not with the subjects but with the actual interview, and more specifically with the person doing the interview. The interviewer, Alistair O’Neill, an academic from Central Saint Martins, was so much more interested in impressing the subjects that he could never get out of the way.

He finished their thoughts or volunteered his own references. He mentioned mid-interview that he had recently interviewed someone else, for a book chapter he is writing. He was, in the politest possible terms, more interested in being seen conversing with interesting people than in what those people actually had to say.

This is the interaction I see everywhere. The mutual admiration interview is a genre of its own. You see it in podcasts, in magazine profiles, in the long-form Q&As that cultural institutions produce to signal seriousness. The subject is interesting. The interviewer is credentialed. They agree with each other at length. Nothing is at stake. No one is surprised. You finish reading and feel vaguely full but can’t say what you ate. It is worse on technology podcasts. You know people are doing interviews to accumulate symbolic capital, not insight.

Everything gets so diluted that you lose the actual substance. The comfortable questions. Nothing proactive or one that scratches the veneer. The best interviews I read were in Rolling Stone, Creem, and Spin magazines. The interviewer didn’t guarantee to agree. Not hostile, or antagonistic. Not adversarial in the cable news sense. Just genuinely curious enough to risk the awkward follow-up. To leave a silence instead of filling it with your own reference.

Lemaire said something worth sitting with: “Style has a kind of mystery about it. You see someone in the street passing, and you’re like, who is this person?” O’Neill nodded and moved on to Irving Penn.

This was the heart of the conversation. The real reason for the interview. Sitting in that sentence. Pulling on it. Why does mystery matter? What does it mean to make clothes that resist easy categorization in an era when everything is optimized for instant recognition? What does that cost commercially? How do you survive it?

Instead: Penn.

FFS!


Five Things Not To Do

  1. Finish their sentences. You are not the subject. They are. So let them lead. Otherwise you get the answer you expected, not the one that was coming.
  2. Volunteer your own references. Every time you name-drop, you redirect the conversation back through yourself. The subject stops leading. You get zero revelation.
  3. Mention your other work. Nobody you are interviewing cares about your other work. Unless they specifically ask or comment about it, it just gets in the way.
  4. Ask only comfortable questions. Agreement is not a conversation. It is applause. The interesting stuff lives precisely where the conversation gets uncomfortable.
  5. Fill the silence. Silence is the ultimate pressure. Pressure produces truth. The instinct to rescue the subject from a pause is the interviewer protecting themselves, not the reader.

What Rolling Stone Interviewers Got Right

The Rolling Stone interview has shaped my approach more than any other style. The long, languid, and learned approach is still my cheat sheet. The contrast with today’s technology podcasts could not be starker.

A few things from those interviews that have long since been forgotten, but I often use as part of my interview toolkit:

Take your time. An interview is not a two-hour session. You need to spend time to learn about your subject. When I met Brunello Cucinelli, I had no plans for an interview. It was a 30-minute meeting. It turned into a day with the man. It is still one of my most well-read interviews. And I have been a professional writer for the best part of four decades. If you saw the movie Almost Famous, the main character based on Cameron Crowe didn’t get just one hour in a hotel room. He got days on a tour bus. Proximity produces honesty. The subject stops performing eventually. But of course, you could be Lex Fridman. You could talk, and talk, for hours and numb your subjects, not to mention atrophy the brains of your listeners who actually listen.

Do the research. It is really important to know your subject’s work. And how they think. The Rolling Stone writers were music fans, but they were experts as well. They knew music, they knew the backstory, and they just had knowledge. Not just prepared questions. That knowledge meant subjects couldn’t hide behind vague eloquence. Charlie Rose did good interviews on television. Whatever you thought, or still think, of him, and there is plenty to think about, he arrived at every interview with what felt like a Ph.D. in his subject. Politicians, novelists, scientists, filmmakers: with the help of his team, he knew how to guide the conversation no matter what. His work and Rose the man are two different things. The lesson survives him.

Follow the contradiction. I recently wrote about the ever-changing arguments of Sam Altman around advertising. It is not unfair to ask him directly: what happened? Why did you change your thinking? When a subject says something that doesn’t square with what they’ve done or said before, pull on that thread. Politely. Persistently. It is an opportunity to explain for the subject, and for readers to learn. Your role as an interviewer is to bring an understanding about the subject to the reader. You are only interesting, and what you know or say is interesting, only if you are able to achieve that.

Let them be uncomfortable. You have to read the John Lennon interviews in Rolling Stone. They are hard to read. That’s the point. Nobody rescued him from the difficult moments. The reader deserved that discomfort. So did Lennon. Comfort is the enemy of truth in any conversation worth having.

Be present, not prominent. I go into every interview curious. I want to come out smarter than when I walked in. And the only way to do that is to listen. Really listen. You feel the great interviewers in the room. You never feel them performing for the room. That difference is everything.


A Report Card Of My Own Work

I am not going to say that I am good at following my own rules. I slip up, but with the right intentions. I have linked to three long-form interviews with Brunello Cucinelli, musician Nitin Sawhney, and writer and culture critic Jenna Wortham. In these interviews you will find moments where I insert myself.

I make a verbose speech with Nitin, and with Brunello I talk about myself more than I should. But if you read the interviews, there is a reason for breaking the rules. I am not trying to get off the hook. What I am trying to point out is that whenever I have inserted myself, it is because I am hoping to unlock and provoke a response. I use this technique not to be antagonistic, but to share my own foibles.

To push, to provoke, to offer a thought they can agree or disagree with. The conversation, at least for me, moves forward. When O’Neill inserted himself into the Lemaire interview, the conversation folded back on itself. It became about the interviewer’s taste, not the subject’s thinking.

That is the only test worth applying. Who is this serving? If it is the reader (or listener) then you are on the right track.


For what it is worth, here is how the Rolling Stone tests apply to three of my own interviews:

Take your time. The Brunello interview is all about taking the time. A 30-minute meeting that turned into a day.

Know the work cold. I have listened to Nitin Sawhney for years, so it was easy to follow and talk about the emotional and musical evolution of his work, and elicit responses.

Follow the contradiction. With Jenna Wortham, I push on the gap between internet idealism and structural racism directly and persistently.

Let them be uncomfortable. Jenna yes. Brunello, probably not as much. He is a philosopher-king who never gets rattled.

Be present, not prominent. The Nitin nostalgia speech and the Brunello ending are the two places where I cross the line briefly. I know it. Now you do too.


March 19, 2026.

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • Why Fraud Is The Boring Problem
    Michael Smith used AI to create music, and then used AI to create bots to get the “plays” and took the smartest technology companies, including Spotify and Amazon, who should know better, for about $8 million. He is going to jail for his crimes. It is easy to dismiss this as one-and-done fraud. It is anything but. It is an early warning of how AI will disrupt the systems that power our digital society: how culture gets discovered, how commerce gets directed, and how conversations ge
     

Why Fraud Is The Boring Problem

21 March 2026 at 19:58

Michael Smith used AI to create music, and then used AI to create bots to get the “plays” and took the smartest technology companies, including Spotify and Amazon, who should know better, for about $8 million. He is going to jail for his crimes. It is easy to dismiss this as one-and-done fraud. It is anything but. It is an early warning of how AI will disrupt the systems that power our digital society: how culture gets discovered, how commerce gets directed, and how conversations get shaped.

At present, most of our digital society is powered by tech that is, generically speaking, recommendation algorithms. Spotify’s Discover Weekly, YouTube’s suggestion engine, TikTok’s For You page, Amazon’s product feed, Facebook’s news feed. All of it runs on signals of human behavior. Stream counts, completion rates, saves, shares, playlist adds, clicks, purchases. These represent people making choices. The only way to fake that was to hire a back-office army to do it. This is cultural legitimacy laundering.

Scale can now be had for cheap. Almost free. Who is to say that with AI, there won’t be bots that learn and adapt (agents, in polite company) designed to game the system? What if real artists with real music have this army to goose up their stream counts. The algorithm then promotes them to real ears.

What if it is not just real artists, but AI music being created by music-making software models that get better every month. The algorithm promotes this too. Humans like it, save it, share it, and add it to their playlists. They are generating real signals on top of the fake ones. At what point does fraudulently-obtained popularity become real popularity? There’s no clean line.

Just like Uber was limos for everyone, this is payola for anyone, for $200 a month. Even cheaper, if open-source models have their way. You think musicians won’t do it? Look around. They are already buying bots to inflate their numbers using gray-market services. Smith might be the idiot going to jail, but we are facing a structural collapse of the discovery and taste-making apparatus.

In the case of music, since royalties are countable, you can make a case for fraud. In other arenas, things are not going to be as simple. What gets bought on Amazon, what trends on Facebook, what becomes culturally popular. All of it runs on the same logic as Spotify. Signals of human behavior, gamed by machines. AI is making authenticity optional.

Whether it is Spotify directing culture, Amazon directing commerce, or Facebook directing conversations, I have yet to hear from any of their leadership on how they plan to redesign what they do because of the coming onslaught of fake signals.

Smith used crude tools to steal $8 million. His fraud is the boring version of the problem. The interesting version hasn’t been prosecuted yet. It may never be.


Further Reading

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • What To Read This Weekend
    It has been a week of inference. I started the week writing about OpenClaw and its growing popularity. And I end the week with a recap of Nvidia’s GTC event. A lot has been written about the event, especially about Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang’s big claims of quadrupling his revenues to above a trillion dollars, the question that wasn’t asked, why? Sure, we can dismiss this as a bluster of a bull-market darling, but in reality, if we believe that AI is going to be the new way of
     

What To Read This Weekend

22 March 2026 at 15:30

It has been a week of inference. I started the week writing about OpenClaw and its growing popularity. And I end the week with a recap of Nvidia’s GTC event. A lot has been written about the event, especially about Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang’s big claims of quadrupling his revenues to above a trillion dollars, the question that wasn’t asked, why?

Sure, we can dismiss this as a bluster of a bull-market darling, but in reality, if we believe that AI is going to be the new way of interacting with information (as I do) and will impact all sorts of industries, then you have to give his claim some thought.

As I explain in my breakdown of Nvidia GTC, Jensen’s Trillion Dollar Token Factory, for CrazyStupidTech, his boast makes sense for two reasons. First, this is indeed an inference inflection. What that means is that AI goes from being in the “capex” phase to being in the “opex” phase. That key distinction is why you see Anthropic adding a billion or so in revenue every week or so. And that is why OpenAI is in a tizzy. And that is why Elon Musk has made “coding” a top priority for his Grok.

I am hoping to shift gears next week and write longer essays, eschewing news and daily goings-on. I have a few personal pieces that remain unfinished, including reviews of a new photography geegaw and of course the MacBook Neo.

Till next week. For now, enjoy these lovely articles.


  • Why Tech Bros Are Now Obsessed with Taste. Kyle Chayka in the New Yorker on Silicon Valley’s latest borrowed virtue. Silicon Valley is a taste dead zone. I have written about this many times. Now the same people without taste are arguing that because AI levels the playing field, and anyone can build anything, so the only edge left is knowing what’s worth building. That’s “taste.” Don’t look for it in these parts. Chayka makes my point without me losing my hair. [New Yorker]
  • We Have Learned Nothing. Jerry Neumann is my favorite venture capital and startup writer. None better. In his latest piece he makes a point to remind us that the whole edifice of the science of entrepreneurship is just that, an edifice. So, to paraphrase Steve Jobs, think different. And do different from whatever the current advice says. [Colossus]
  • In Search of Banksy. Reuters spent a year using what they call a “reverse forensic” approach to unmask the world’s most famous anonymous artist. Wow. What a great story. I mean, make this a documentary. The journalism is meticulous. [Reuters]
  • Russia’s Self-Inflicted Communication Crisis. Politico maps the race to cut Russia off from the global internet. Telegram, WhatsApp, YouTube, Signal, Discord, X, FaceTime, LinkedIn, all blocked or throttled. Russian President Putin signed a law letting the FSB shut down cellular and internet access on demand. The twist is that the Kremlin’s own military depends on Telegram for frontline communications and crowdfunding. They’re destroying the infrastructure their war machine runs on. What an amazing story. [Politico]
  • The Repricing of Time: Equity in the Age of Agents. Jordi Visser makes the financial argument for what many of us feel intuitively. AI doesn’t just disrupt business models. It compresses time. When competitive half-lives shrink from a decade to months, equity stops representing ownership of a durable franchise and starts resembling a call option on execution velocity. This is the best thing I’ve read on what AI actually does to market structure. I wish I had written this piece. [Visser Labs]

Things I wrote this week, ICYMI:


In Memoriam.

Miles Rose, who passed away on March 1, 2026, in Puerto Rico. He was 72. And he was a friend from the Internet’s halcyon days and ran SiliconAlley.com. I lost touch with him over the past decade or so, but he was and will remain a cherished friend and a reminder of happier, more innocent times in the evolution of the internet. Rest in peace, Miles.

Len Deighton, one of my favorite authors and a master of the spy genre, passed away. I enjoyed this recap of his work. In the end, this is the best way to remember someone who made words his everything.


March 22, 2026. San Francisco

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • More Magic Math from OpenAI?
    When it comes to OpenAI, smart money is starting to do the math out loud. And something doesn’t add up. On surface, today’s news that OpenAI is offering 17.5% guaranteed returns to private equity firms looks like a shot at the Anthropic threat. Scratch the surface, and you start to see the story behind the story. The PE deal is the kind of deal you do when you’ve borrowed against the future and the future is taking longer than expected. Remember a few weeks ago when Nvid
     

More Magic Math from OpenAI?

23 March 2026 at 23:50

When it comes to OpenAI, smart money is starting to do the math out loud. And something doesn’t add up. On surface, today’s news that OpenAI is offering 17.5% guaranteed returns to private equity firms looks like a shot at the Anthropic threat. Scratch the surface, and you start to see the story behind the story.

The PE deal is the kind of deal you do when you’ve borrowed against the future and the future is taking longer than expected.

Remember a few weeks ago when Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang (one of the backers of OpenAI) said that OpenAI was not a well-run business. Now Thoma Bravo founder Orlando Bravo is saying it out loud. Bravo walked away from the JV idea after questioning the long-term profit profile. It is not a coincidence that two smart money operators are arriving at the same conclusion. Just different words.

As I wrote in yesterday’s newsletter, (and in my breakdown of Nvidia GTC, Jensen’s Trillion Dollar Token Factory, for CrazyStupidTech) we are at an inference inflection. What that means is that AI goes from being in the “capex” phase to being in the “opex” phase. That shift is why you see Anthropic adding a billion or so in revenue every week or so. And that is why OpenAI is in a tizzy. And that is why Elon Musk has made “coding” a top priority for his Grok. All three companies are about “business” and revenues and not just promises.

OpenAI is good at promises. Especially the promises of a limitless future. And it has done a good job of borrowing against that future. Except, that future isn’t arriving or arriving fast enough.

It announced the $110 billion funding round, while only about $25 billion was near-term committed capital. Stargate was a $500 billion infrastructure promise. Oops. Each of these moments followed the same logic. Project confidence so large that the world treats it as reality. The reported PE deal is just the latest version of the same story.

The question to ask is why is OpenAI willing to guarantee 17.5 percent return? What gives. My harsh read of the situation is that the company needs money, and private equity is the last large pool of capital it can tap. And that tells you something about how many other doors OpenAI has already knocked on.

Here I go again with more questions than answers.

When I look at the news about the joint ventures, I read it as OpenAI cannot afford the cost of selling to big companies on its own. Deploying engineers to customize models for clients is expensive, slow, and margin-destroying. The joint venture shifts that cost onto PE firms while they think they’re buying access. They’re not. They’re picking up the actual cost of the work, dressed up as a partnership. It is a smart move, especially when you are preparing for a public offering.

Here is the line buried in the Reuters report that you should read again and again. The joint venture structure would provide “clearer segment reporting that can support the IPO narrative.”

Loosely translated (and financial analysts would be better to break this down), the JV structure allows OpenAI to create a line item that makes it look like it has recurring enterprise revenue, which is exactly what IPO bankers need to justify a valuation of a trillion dollars. The real product here is not AI. It is an IPO prospectus.

Maybe I am completely off base. There is almost certainly something we don’t know. There might be a product breakthrough that changes everything. OpenAI has surprised before.

However, it is hard to ignore that both Jensen and Bravo raised issues around OpenAI as a business. After all, no healthy business needs to offer terms that OpenAI is offering. You know why this is happening. It is because the need for cash is real. And the need to go public and get that cash is even more real. That 17.5 percent guarantee is just a magic number in magic math.


Previously on this topic:

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • 23 years!
    Rudyard Kipling was right! “San Francisco has only one drawback — ’tis hard to leave.” I thought I would be here for two years, maybe. And then go back to New York. And here I am, still here. The city has given me more than I have given it. The rush of a modern gold rush. Friendships. Little chance meetings that transformed who I am as a person. People have come, people have gone. Booms. Busts. Booms. Busts. Booms. Still here! Charles Moore, School
     

23 years!

25 March 2026 at 17:42


Rudyard Kipling was right!


“San Francisco has only one drawback — ’tis hard to leave.”

I thought I would be here for two years, maybe. And then go back to New York. And here I am, still here. The city has given me more than I have given it. The rush of a modern gold rush. Friendships. Little chance meetings that transformed who I am as a person. People have come, people have gone.

Booms. Busts. Booms. Busts. Booms.

Still here!

Charles Moore, School of Architecture, UCLA, said that “one of the basic human requirements is the need to dwell, and one of the central human acts is the act of inhabiting, of connecting ourselves, however temporarily, with a place on the planet which belongs to us and to which we belong.”

23 years later, it looks like I have found that place. I don’t yearn to leave.

23 years ago my biggest regret was missing opening day at Yankee Stadium. Today, the Yankees are opening their season at the Giants’ stadium. Everything comes full circle.

March 25, 2026.

San Francisco as my “dream state.”

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • We Are Now An Upload (Broadband) Nation
    For thirty-odd years, broadband has been sold as a one-way pipe. The download speed was all that mattered. Bigger the number, better. No one cared about the upload speeds, because the internet was mostly something you consumed. Streaming video, loading pages, pulling files from the cloud. Upload was an afterthought. All that changed when the pandemic came around, and with it came how we used and interacted on the network. And if you use upload as a core part of the internet experience, ca
     

We Are Now An Upload (Broadband) Nation

25 March 2026 at 21:30

For thirty-odd years, broadband has been sold as a one-way pipe. The download speed was all that mattered. Bigger the number, better. No one cared about the upload speeds, because the internet was mostly something you consumed. Streaming video, loading pages, pulling files from the cloud. Upload was an afterthought.

All that changed when the pandemic came around, and with it came how we used and interacted on the network.

And if you use upload as a core part of the internet experience, cable broadband is losing again. Not only to some of the fiber providers, but to the upstart, tiny rivals, those pesky municipal broadband providers. They certainly have come a long way since I went to Truckee in 2004 to write about their nascent muni-broadband network being put in place by the local utility.

A new report from Ookla, studying 13 months of Speedtest data from 14 of the largest municipal broadband providers in the U.S., makes that case plainly. Eight of those 14 municipal ISPs beat their local competitors on median upload speeds.

In 2004, I had a core thesis: broadband would decentralize opportunity (it has,) let entrepreneurs build from anywhere (and they do,) and break Silicon Valley’s grip on who got to participate in the tech economy, and it has. I believed it. The municipal networks being built in places like Cedar Falls, Iowa and Truckee, California felt like the capillaries of a new nervous system.

Of course, thesis and reality are two different things, as I have learned time and again.

It didn’t quite happen that way. The infrastructure spread, but the change didn’t happen. At least not at scale. Startups still clustered in San Francisco and New York. The dream of Bend, Oregon and Overland Park, Kansas as legitimate alternatives to the Valley remained a pipe dream. It still is.

What finally forced the shift wasn’t better pipes. It was a pandemic that left people with no choice but to work from wherever they were. Twenty years of broadband expansion did what it couldn’t do alone: it became the foundation for a behavioral change that only a crisis could trigger. And when that crisis hit, it also changed the need for speed, in a direction no one saw, or bothered to even think about. The need for better upload speeds has become the new need for speed.

Overnight, our typical internet usage changed. Upstream video is now part of everything from going to school, talking to doctors, and shopping. We don’t even think twice about FaceTiming, nary a thought about what network we are using, Wi-Fi or 5G.

According to the latest OpenVault Broadband Insights report, upstream usage surged 21.7% year-over-year in 2025, the fastest-growing metric. In a side-by-side comparison of fiber and DOCSIS subscribers, fiber subscribers with symmetrical 677 Mbps service consumed 93 GB of upstream bandwidth in Q4 2025. DOCSIS subscribers provisioned at an average of 17 Mbps upstream, used 56 GB. That’s a 66% gap, on identical customers, explained almost entirely by what the network allowed them to do. OpenVault concluded that latent upstream demand already exists on DOCSIS networks. People will use the pipe if you give it to them.

Ookla’s data shows what consumers want. Connexion, the municipal provider in Fort Collins, Colorado, delivered over 300 Mbps upload speeds. Comcast’s Xfinity, its main competition in that market, started at 28 Mbps upload and, to its credit, pushed that to about 99 Mbps by December 2025. Still less than a third of what Connexion delivers. In Georgia, OptiLink, another municipal provider, clocked upload speeds in the 230 to 250 Mbps range against Spectrum’s low-20s.

Why is municipal broadband winning on upload? They built new fiber networks. Fiber is symmetrical by nature. The cable industry spent twenty years architecting its networks around download-heavy TV and streaming. Now it is scrambling to retrofit with DOCSIS 4.0, mid-split upgrades, and high-split architecture to claw back the upload headroom it gave away by design. Comcast and Charter are spending real money on this. They are playing catch up.

Municipal providers aren’t dominant when they face off against private fiber competition. AT&T Fiber is competing with LFT Fiber in Lafayette, Louisiana, pulling 473 Mbps down and 424 Mbps up against LFT’s 113 Mbps and 107 Mbps. GFiber in Utah is outperforming UTOPIA on raw speed metrics. The advantage municipal providers have is specifically over the incumbent cable monopolies.

Cable broadband has ruled the roost for so long, but it is facing all sorts of competition. Not just from muni-broadband, but from other emerging technologies.

Fixed wireless started stealing cable’s lunch, though it seems like it has had its boom moment. Each of these shifts had one thing in common. An infrastructure change forced behavior change. And behavior change exposed infrastructure’s limits. This is the unending yin-yang of any and all technologies.

Communities that bet on municipal fiber, often against fierce lobbying from the cable industry, are sitting on a quiet infrastructure advantage. Most of those cities built symmetrical fiber because it was the technically correct thing to do, not because they predicted an upload-heavy future. They got lucky. Or maybe being technically correct is its own kind of luck.

The cable industry will catch up eventually. DOCSIS 4.0 is real and the upgrades are happening. But “catching up” is not the same as being ahead. And in infrastructure, being first matters more than being right on paper.

It might have started with Zoom in the pandemic, but we are now going to be living with applications and services that will see us transform from being content consumers to data sources. Live commerce, cloud gaming, AI voice and video agents, and spatial computing are already starting to tiptoe into our digital life. It is hard to predict what is the next big thing. After all, video conferencing needed its pandemic moment to become a mainstream behavior.

March 25, 2026. San Francisco

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • Meta’s Moment of Reckoning
    Pop some popcorn. Put some butter. Add some salt. Because opportunists (politicians) are pointing their muskets at villains (tech bros), using children’s welfare as the ammunition. In case you were wondering, I am talking about the battle between New Mexico AG and Silicon Valley’s villain in chief. The next bout is on May 4. So mark your calendars. Why? This week two verdicts came in quick succession. First, a New Mexico jury ordered Meta to pay $375 million for knowingly
     

Meta’s Moment of Reckoning

26 March 2026 at 02:45

Pop some popcorn. Put some butter. Add some salt. Because opportunists (politicians) are pointing their muskets at villains (tech bros), using children’s welfare as the ammunition. In case you were wondering, I am talking about the battle between New Mexico AG and Silicon Valley’s villain in chief.

The next bout is on May 4. So mark your calendars. Why?


This week two verdicts came in quick succession. First, a New Mexico jury ordered Meta to pay $375 million for knowingly enabling child predators on Instagram and Facebook. Then, a Los Angeles jury found Meta and YouTube negligent for designing platforms that addicted a young woman who first used YouTube at age six and Instagram at nine.

On the surface this is big win for ambulance chasers. However it could be much bigger if politicians actually have the best intentions that go beyond winning the next elections. History tells me, they are what I said they are, opportunists.

Let’s be honest about what New Mexico AG is. He is an elected official who identified the most despised man in American technology, a category that has never been more unpopular, and filed suit. Zuckerberg is the perfect patsy. Ian Fleming couldn’t have created a more perfect caricature of a villain for our post social age. Weird. Awkwardly dressed to appear cool. Black AR glasses.

Rich, arrogant, visibly indifferent to the damage his products caused, and now on record in two courtrooms defending decisions his own safety teams told him were harming children. The internal documents that came out in both trials showed the same pattern: engineers and safety researchers raising alarms for years, recommendations made and ignored, Zuckerberg choosing growth. None of this is new. I wrote about Facebook’s growth-at-any-cost DNA back in 2018. The pattern has not changed. Only the courtroom has.

New Mexico AG smelled blood. A politician at the end of the day, doing what politicians do. Scoring points against the current villain in chief, building a reputation on the wreckage of someone else’s failure, and calling it justice. The “independent monitor” he is asking for is the tell. And that is not how change happens. That is a patronage job dressed as accountability. That said, underneath the political theater, the structural demands are real. And if a judge grants even a portion of them, they could change daily life for two billion people.


Think about what your daily experience on Instagram or Facebook or TikTok or YouTube actually is. You think you made some choices. Pat yourself on the back. You have been fooled into thinking that you were the one making the choices. Now, let’s get real.

You open the app and a feed appears. Like I did. This morning. I went to Instagram to see what my “pen friends” were doing. I didn’t see a damn thing. What I saw, I didn’t choose. Neither do you. You see what they want you to see.

An algorithm shows you what it wants to show you, trained on everything you have ever paused on, liked, or watched past the halfway point. It is the ultimate illusion, where perception is conflated for reality. It has one job: keep you there. The most reliable way to do that, as the internal research showed and as the companies knew, is to surface content that provokes anxiety, outrage, desire, or envy. Those are the emotions that generate engagement. Engagement brings in the moolah. The loop is the product. I called this trap back in 2018. The feeds have only gotten more sophisticated since.

Layer in the design features built around that loop. Infinite scroll, so there is never a natural stopping point. Autoplay, so the next thing starts before you have decided you want it. Notifications calibrated to pull you back at the moment your attention drifts elsewhere. Variable reward, the unpredictable appearance of a like, a comment, a new follower, built like a slot machine. None of this happened by accident. All of it was tested, measured, and optimized.

This is what the courts are now calling a design defect. And to understand why that matters, you need to understand the wall that has protected these companies for thirty years.

Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, passed in 1996, is the founding legal pillar of the modern internet. It says platforms cannot be held liable for content posted by their users. It is why Facebook is not responsible for a defamatory post, why YouTube is not liable for a radicalization video, why the whole architecture of user-generated content was able to exist at scale. Every time someone tried to sue a social platform for harms caused by what users posted, Section 230 was the wall. Case dismissed.

The Los Angeles plaintiffs found a door in that wall. The jurors were specifically instructed not to consider the content Kaley saw on the platforms. Not because it was irrelevant to her harm, but because content is where Section 230 lives. As NPR reported, the lawyers pursued a case of defective design precisely to get around the high bar set by Section 230.

The entire case was built around the design. Infinite scroll, autoplay, algorithmic feeds, notification systems. Those are not user posts. Those are the company’s own engineering decisions, made in their labs, tested on their servers, optimized by their employees. CBS News put it plainly: this case centered around how the apps are designed, not the content itself. Section 230 does not protect you from your own product choices.

The jury answered yes to seven specific questions per defendant. Were they negligent in the design or operation of their platforms? Was that negligence a substantial factor in causing harm? Did they fail to adequately warn users? And did they act with malice, oppression, or fraud? That last finding triggered punitive damages.

The pipe (aka the Social Media platform), not what flows through it. That argument won and opened new legal ground that can change everything that comes next.


If the design is the defect, the remedy is redesign. Not a warning label. Not a terms of service update. The product itself has to change.

Not surprisingly, I have some suggestions. Actually pretty simple ones that even politicians can grok.

Start with defaults. Right now every addictive feature ships on by default. Flip that. Ship the product in its least addictive form. Chronological feed. No autoplay. Scroll that ends. Notifications off until you choose otherwise. Every addictive feature requires an explicit, informed choice to activate.

That is consent architecture. And it is exactly what these courts have been asking. Did you warn users? Did you get meaningful consent? The answer, established now by two juries, is no.

Real age verification is the other demand with teeth. But it is also a hairball that will unwind a lot of the internet, security and privacy. That is for experts with more gravitas and knowledge than me.

Instagram’s Adam Mosseri knows what is coming. His year-end memo was full of language about authenticity, credibility signals, and platform responsibility. The same language is now showing up in court filings. At trial, he testified that there is always a tradeoff between “safety and speech.” That is a telling formulation. Safety as a constraint on the product, not a foundation of it. When I pushed on what Instagram is really positioning itself to become, he pushed back. But the architecture he described, who posts rather than what is posted, is exactly the consent architecture these courts are now demanding.

The practical problem for the platforms is simple. You cannot run two different algorithmic systems in one product without everyone noticing. Once you build the less addictive version for minors, the question becomes impossible to avoid. Why is that version not the default for everyone? Why is the more addictive version what adults get, when they never consented to it either?

The legal fight is about children. The logic does not stop at eighteen.


The tobacco parallel is everywhere in the coverage this week. It is the right one, but people are using it loosely. The important part of the tobacco story was not the $206 billion settlement. What changed behavior was what came alongside the money: mandatory disclosure of internal research, advertising restrictions, forced redesign. Joe Camel did not die because of a fine. Joe Camel died because a court said you cannot market this product to children, and you cannot keep making it more addictive than it already is.

The companies held out for decades. Denied the science. Attacked the researchers. Then they did not.

But here is where the parallel gets uncomfortable. Tobacco did not go away. It became Juul. I wrote about Juul back in 2018, when Silicon Valley was celebrating a $15 billion e-cigarette company as a tech startup. I called it Camel 2.0 then. Same addiction, new delivery mechanism, new investors, new PR. As a former smoker who nearly lost his life to cigarettes, I was livid. Tobacco companies figured out how to sell the same addiction in a cuter package, and Silicon Valley helped them do it.

Zuckerberg will do the same. He is too good at survival not to. The feeds may change form. The addiction machine will find a new name. Addiction is a lucrative business. It always finds a way.

Meta and YouTube have already announced appeals. They have the money and the lawyers to fight this for years. And they will. But discovery in each new case keeps producing documents. The internal research keeps surfacing. The bill keeps growing. Eventually it is cheaper to change than to fight.

Zuckerberg’s doctrine is simple: two steps forward, one step back, and make it appear as if he is changing. His superintelligence memo last July was the latest example. Talk about the future, avoid the present, and let the lawyers handle the rest.

That is the logic of the crowbar.

All eyes on Santa Fe on May 4. There just might be enough structural change. And if consent architecture is put in place, then we can all feel the glow, for a moment. Billions of people deserve a different default. Till the battle starts again. Like Juul.

March 25, 2026, San Francisco

PS: I want to apologize for sending two long emails in a single day. I had no intention of doing so. I was definitely not going to write about Meta or social media. I was thrilled to just nerd out about broadband today. However, I can’t help myself when it comes to Facebook and Zuckerberg and their shenanigans. I have been covering them since they were a tiny startup.

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • Jargon Sucks
    I have been a writer long enough to know this in my bones: jargon sucks. It is a crime against writing. It abuses your readers and your listeners. And it is a sure sign you do not know what the heck you are talking about. If you cannot explain something in plain terms to your mom, you do not have a clue. You are reading from a script, pretending to be master of the universe. And yet. Listen to any podcast. Scroll any LinkedIn post. Skim any Twitter thread. You are drowning in it. The
     

Jargon Sucks

26 March 2026 at 17:01

I have been a writer long enough to know this in my bones: jargon sucks. It is a crime against writing. It abuses your readers and your listeners. And it is a sure sign you do not know what the heck you are talking about. If you cannot explain something in plain terms to your mom, you do not have a clue. You are reading from a script, pretending to be master of the universe.

And yet.

Listen to any podcast. Scroll any LinkedIn post. Skim any Twitter thread. You are drowning in it. The calling card of the clueless and the pretentious. Jargon!

And it is the lingua franca of corporate America, as new research shows.

Shane Littrell, a cognitive psychologist at Cornell, has created the Corporate Bullshit Receptivity Scale (CBSR) to measure how susceptible people are to what he defines as “a semantically empty and often confusing style of communication that leverages abstruse corporate buzzwords and jargon in a functionally misleading way.” Now that sentence itself is a perfect example of jargon. Littrell should follow his own advice.

Jokes aside, his research shows that many people cannot tell algorithmically generated nonsense (sentences assembled from real corporate vocabulary but stripped of meaning) from actual quotes from Fortune 500 executives. Littrell surveyed more than 1,000 office workers.

Ouch!

Like I said, jargon is the clutch of the clueless. The research shows that individuals who score higher on “corporate bullshit receptivity” perform worse on work-related decision-making tests. They see their boss as a visionary transformational leader, inspired by empty corporate mission statements. People who are receptive to this stuff tend to produce more of it. They are not cynics playing the game. They actually believe the words work.

Now look around Silicon Valley. We have our own dialect and it is getting worse. Tech bro slang these days ranges from “vibe coding” to “agentic workflows” to “founder mode” to “10x” to “unlock.” With every year, I hear more and more MBA speak, with extra reverence for whoever invented the latest term.

Littrell’s research draws a line between jargon and bullshit. Jargon can be useful when it carries real meaning for people who share context. Bullshit mimics the structure and rhythm of jargon but is empty on purpose, or by accident, or because no one bothered to check. Sadly, even well-meaning jargon meanders into bullshit. “Product-market fit” once described something real.

Illustration made with ChatGPT

  • βœ‡On my Om
  • β€˜Astound’ed. Google Flips Its Fiber To PE.
    I have been a WebPass customer for years. Fast, reliable, founder-run. When there was a problem, you could reach someone who gave a damn. It was the kind of internet service that made you forget you were dealing with a utility. Then Google bought it. That should have been the warning sign. Google buys things it should have no business touching. It launches products without a plan. Its decisions to get into new markets are a map of some mediocre executive’s ambition. I watched
     

β€˜Astound’ed. Google Flips Its Fiber To PE.

27 March 2026 at 15:38

I have been a WebPass customer for years. Fast, reliable, founder-run. When there was a problem, you could reach someone who gave a damn. It was the kind of internet service that made you forget you were dealing with a utility.

Then Google bought it.

That should have been the warning sign. Google buys things it should have no business touching. It launches products without a plan. Its decisions to get into new markets are a map of some mediocre executive’s ambition.

I watched the service slowly get worse. More outages, stagnant speeds, the kind of indifference that sets in when a product becomes a line item rather than a mission. Like it was for Charles Barr, founder of WebPass. When Barr was running the show, the speeds went from 50 Mbps to 100 Mbps to 200 Mbps. All for less than $50 a month. Eventually the speed went to a gig per second. It was one of the fastest in the country.

Since then, as competitors like Sonic were pushing 10 Gbps across San Francisco, my WebPass connection sat frozen at 1 Gbps. The founder used to pick up the phone. Now I was just another entry in a spreadsheet at Alphabet, buried inside “Other Bets,” a division whose name tells you everything about how seriously Google took it.

Google is a company where nobody has real product conviction anymore, just bonus targets and quarterly metrics. It wears a veneer of innovation, but in reality it is a financially optimized extraction machine run the McKinsey way.

Anyway, now comes the news I didn’t want to hear, but knew was going to happen anyway.

Google has sold the whole thing, Google Fiber (including WebPass), to Astound Broadband, owned by Stonepeak, a private equity group. They are calling it a “merger.” It is not a merger. A merger implies two equals coming together to build something. This is a flip. Google wanted off the hook for a money-losing division, and they found a buyer. Customers are just assets in the transaction, transferred like furniture.

Here is the most telling detail. So far, Alphabet has not filed an 8-K with the SEC as part of the announcement. An 8-K is what public companies file when something material happens. Google’s lawyers apparently concluded that losing your internet provider did not rise to that level. GFiber sat inside “Other Bets,” a segment that in 2025 generated $1.54 billion in revenue across everything Alphabet deemed non-core, while losing $16.8 billion. GFiber itself was less than half a percent of Alphabet’s total sales. To their investors, this was a rounding error. To you, it’s your internet connection. That gap tells you everything about where you stood in the relationship.

Then there is Dinni Jain, the CEO of GFiber who will now lead the combined company. His story is presented as reassurance, a steady hand, a cable industry veteran, a man with a Vermont farm who talks about patience and humility. A banker turned cable guy turned Google, and humility. Lolz.

But look at the actual career. He started at NTL, a UK cable company that filed Chapter 11 in New York in 2002. At the time, its $10.6 billion bond default was the largest in US corporate history. He left a year before the collapse. Moved to Insight Communications, a cable operator largely owned by the Carlyle Group, which Time Warner Cable bought for $3 billion in 2012. He became COO of Time Warner Cable, which in turn was acquired by Charter. Every company he has run has been consolidated, absorbed, or flipped. He made enough money to retire to a farm in Vermont in search of humility. And pigs have wings too.

He was hired as Google’s third CEO “out of retirement” to run the fiber unit in 2018.

To stabilize a business in freefall.

He did real work. Under Jain, GFiber cut support calls in half and moved to ten-minute technician appointment windows. In 2024, he hired GFiber’s first-ever CFO. That tomTomed the real plan. You don’t hire a CFO to run an internet service. You hire a CFO when you are preparing to sell. He stabilized GFiber well enough to make it sellable. And now it is being sold.

Let me tell you what Astound actually is, because the name was invented to obscure it. And while we are on the subject of names, notice that Google rebranded “Google Fiber” to “GFiber” before this deal closed. Scrub the Google brand, hide the Astound connection, give customers nothing to search for. That is a classic private equity move. Polish the turd before you sell it.

The only reason I know about Astound is because when I lived in New York I signed up for an upstart called RCN. It wanted to take on Time Warner Cable. And Verizon. And AT&T. I like upstarts. My whole life is betting on the underdog. Monopolies suck, destroy innovation, and throttle progress. RCN convinced me that my apartment needed them just by existing. Sucker, that was me, because in a few months I found that what seemed like startup gold was spray tan on a tin can.

I moved to San Francisco. And because I am like a jilted lover, I kept tabs on that shit show. Being a broadband nerd made it simple. So now you know why I am not “astounded” by Astound. I know the genesis.

In February 2017, private equity firm TPG bought RCN, a cable operator in New York, Boston, Chicago, and DC, for $1.6 billion, and simultaneously bought Grande Communications in Texas for $650 million. A year later, TPG added Wave Broadband on the West Coast for $2.36 billion. Then came the bolt-ons. enTouch in Texas, Digital West in California, WOW!’s Chicago and Maryland markets for another $661 million, Harris Broadband in central Texas. In January 2022, they stapled all of it together under a new name, Astound. The name came from a small Bay Area provider Wave had previously acquired.

In August 2021, before the rebrand, Stonepeak bought the entire platform from TPG for $8.1 billion, $3.6 billion in equity plus $4.5 billion in assumed debt. That is a leveraged buyout. The debt sits on the balance sheet and has to be serviced from operating cash flow, which means it has to be extracted from customers.

Last July, Astound had to refinance. Stonepeak injected another $400 million, pushing debt maturities out to 2029 and 2030. They called it good news. What it actually was: a company under pressure, buying itself more time.

Now add GFiber and WebPass to that debt stack.

The playbook is not complicated. Low introductory pricing, step-function rate increases after twelve months, retention discounts for customers who call to cancel, and underinvestment in everything that doesn’t show up on a cash flow statement. The BBB and Trustpilot reviews are a graveyard of billing complaints and broken promises.

Astound makes the old Comcast look almost saintly. At least with Comcast you knew what you were getting. Astound is as dodgy as there are angles in a tapeworm. Google Fiber’s reviews on Yelp are already failing grades on billing, customer service, support, and performance. Under a PE regime, it is only going to get worse.

Game is the game.

And debt is the game PE plays. Stonepeak has billions in debt to service. That debt requires predictable and increasing cash flow. The easiest way to get more cash flow from a captive broadband customer is to raise prices. There is no mystery here.

What angers me most is the language. The GFiber email I received, and I suspect you got one too if you’re a customer, promised that “nothing is changing about your service.” Not the speed. Not the price. Not the “extraordinary customer experience.” This is the kind of sentence that only gets written when everything is about to change. Companies actually keeping their promises don’t need to make them this explicitly.

“Nothing is changing” is corporate for: we need you to stay through the deal close.

The regulatory picture offers little comfort. The FCC under Chairman Brendan Carr views consolidation favorably. The current commission is not going to save you. California’s Public Utilities Commission is the one real lever. The CPUC has actual teeth. It forced Verizon to make concrete commitments before approving the Frontier acquisition.

Citizens can engage that process. Advocacy groups can push for price locks, service standards, build-out requirements. It won’t block the deal, but it might constrain the worst impulses of a PE-owned operator trying to wring cash from a captive customer base. Given the demographic profile of WebPass customers, none of the consumers are going to complain. They will just pay-up.

Here is the worst part. There is a better option in San Francisco. Sonic.net. And no, it’s not available in my building. A lot of tech people are soon going to find out that Google has sold their internet experience to a terrible company, with a patchwork infrastructure and a poor customer track record.

Let me be specific about that infrastructure. Astound is not one network. It is five or six different networks, built at different times, by different operators, using different equipment, stitched together under a single brand with a management layer on top. As of today, 86% of Astound’s footprint is still HFC, the old hybrid fiber/coax cable architecture from the 1990s. Only 14% is genuine fiber-to-the-home.

Their broadband upgrade path runs through a Harmonic virtualized platform that can theoretically be migrated to fiber someday. Notice the word “theoretically.” Their mobile service rides T-Mobile’s network. Their TV runs on TiVo, distributed through a DirecTV streaming partnership. Their WiFi hardware is Amazon eero. None of these are bad choices individually. Together they describe a company that has outsourced every layer of its stack to someone else.

Google Fiber changes the mix somewhat. GFiber brings about 2.8 million locations passed across 15 states, approaching 1 million subscribers, all on genuine fiber. Markets include Kansas City, Austin, Atlanta, Nashville, Salt Lake City, and a recent expansion into Las Vegas. WebPass adds fixed wireless and ethernet connections in dense urban markets. That is a real fiber asset being dropped into a predominantly HFC platform. Whether the combined company upgrades the HFC side to match, or lets the GFiber advantage erode to fund debt service, is the question that determines what kind of company this becomes. History suggests the latter.

The founding promise of WebPass was simple. Fast internet, honest pricing, people who answer the phone. Google broke that promise through neglect. Astound will break it by design. These are two different kinds of failure, but the customer ends up in the same place.

In the shit.

March 27, 2026, San Francisco

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