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from
Talk to Fa


from An Open Letter
Just to be incredibly explicit, I am in no way shape or form interested in J as anything past a friend. Because we hang out a lot and we do stupid things together, a lot of people think that we are in a relationship. This isn’t necessarily great for me because both I don’t want her partner to feel worried at all or any kind of fear regarding that, but also because lot of single people might rule me out because it seems I’m in a relationship. But I think it’s honestly a really sweet thing, on how our platonic friendship and love for each other. Is that meaningful. I feel like if strangers don’t think that opposite sex friendships might potentially be relationships, their is work to be done lol. Something about being so comfortable with someone else and not worrying about being perceived in certain ways is a really comforting thought.
from
Things Left Unsaid
I remember when I was a child seeing a show on television with someone using a pottery wheel. It was so cool to see a lump of reddish brown clay spinning around, and being manipulated into a vase, or a bowl, or whatever. It was like magic to me. I always thought I might like to try it.
It was pretty exciting when the person shaping the clay would add too much water or make a part of the outer edge too thin. The entire project would suddenly go into speed wobble. There was really no saving or fixing it when that happened. It would fold up, and flop around wildly. Inertia would destroy it. The only thing they could do was pick up the pieces, mash them all together, and start over.
That is what my posts are like. I start off with an idea, and then I lose control of it. It goes into a speed wobble, fold ups, and pieces of it fly. Instead of starting over, I scoop the entire mess up, mash all the pieces together, and then post it. Maybe I should have started over. Put more work into it. Instead, I put the mess into the kiln. It comes out looking like a lump of clay that has some remnants of when someone had tried to turn it into a vase, and failed. Part of it smooth, part of a hand print, and what might have been the upper rim mostly squeezed together like a sneering mouth. What the fuck is that? Oh, that's when I tried to make a vase. I have to get ready for work.
from
PlantLab.ai | Blog

You have a product that sees plants: a grow camera, a controller, a garden app, a greenhouse dashboard. You want it to say something useful about plant health. The obvious path is to train your own vision model, which means collecting labelled images, standing up training infrastructure, and then owning the much harder second job forever – knowing when your model is wrong. Most teams do not want that job. They want an answer they can trust and a JSON response they can build on.
That is what a plant health diagnosis API is for. You POST an image, you get a structured result back, and the hard part is somebody else's problem: the model, the calibration, the honesty about being unsure.
The point of an API, versus a chatbot that writes a paragraph, is that the answer is structured and machine-readable. A single image goes in. What comes back is a compact object your code can branch on – not prose you have to parse. Illustratively:
{
"schema_version": "3.1.0",
"results": [
{
"is_healthy": false,
"health_confidence": 0.10,
"growth_stage": "flowering",
"growth_stage_confidence": 0.9,
"conditions": [
{
"class_id": "powdery_mildew",
"display_name": "Powdery Mildew",
"confidence": 0.95,
"coarse_group": "fungal_disease"
}
],
"reliability_score": 0.98,
"bbox": { "x0": 0, "y0": 0, "x1": 1, "y1": 1, "normalized": true }
}
]
}
Check the live docs for the full schema, but the shape is the point. Every field is something your integration can act on: the condition (class_id) and its confidence, the clinical family it belongs to (coarse_group), a reliability_score for that result, its growth_stage, and a bbox for each plant when more than one is in frame.
You can hand a plant photo to a general-purpose vision model and get a fluent answer. Two things go wrong at scale.
It over-calls, confidently. A general model produces a confident-looking answer whether or not it has any basis for the call, and it has no idea when it is wrong. Wire that into automation and you will act on your worst inputs, because the confidence number means the least exactly when the photo is hardest.
It is prose, not data, and it is not cheap. You pay per call for a paragraph you then have to parse, normalize, and second-guess. A purpose-built diagnosis API returns fixed fields in a few milliseconds, at a cost that survives running on every frame or every upload.
The value is not “an AI looked at your plant.” It is a calibrated, structured answer you can put a threshold on.
Two fields in that response exist specifically so you can automate without getting burned.
The reliability signal is separate from confidence. Confidence is how hard the model leaned; reliability estimates how much to trust this answer on this specific image. Gate your automation on reliability, not raw confidence, and low-quality photos stop triggering actions. That distinction is the whole reason the field exists.
The family. Every condition comes back with its clinical family, its coarse_group. When two conditions genuinely cannot be separated from a photo, that family is what your logic acts on: alert, log, or ask for a better photo, rather than commit to a coin-flip between two exact names. An honest “it's in this group” is more automatable than a precise guess.
Because the answer is structured JSON, it goes wherever your stack already is. It runs as a step in a Home Assistant automation or a Node-RED flow, behind a camera that fires on motion or on a schedule, or inside your own app's upload path. There is a worked Home Assistant plant-monitoring walkthrough if you want a concrete integration to copy.
The audience this fits: hardware makers who want plant-health detection on the box without building an ML team, app developers who want a diagnosis feature without owning a model, and AgTech integrators who want one detection layer that speaks JSON across their platform.
A diagnosis API is only as good as its honesty about what it covers. PlantLab's live model today diagnoses 30 conditions in cannabis, with tomato in development and further crops on a public roadmap – and a crop is never called “live” in the API before a real model does the work. If your product needs a crop that is still on the roadmap, that is a straight answer you can plan around, not a silent wrong result. The reasoning behind building one crop at a time is in A Plant Lab, One Crop at a Time.
There is a free tier, so you can send a real image and read a real response before writing a line of integration code. Grab a key and the schema at plantlab.ai – one image in, structured JSON out, in about 18 milliseconds.
from
PlantLab.ai | Blog

An AI plant health check is easy to build and easy to trust too much. Point a phone at a plant, and half a dozen apps will name a disease in a second, with a confidence percentage that looks reassuring. The naming is the easy part. Knowing when the answer is wrong, and admitting it out loud, is the part almost nobody ships. So here are the five questions that separate a real diagnosis from a confident guess, and how to take the photo so the check holds up.
The problems worth catching are the ones that look alike. A plant that is short of one nutrient can look almost identical to one short of a different nutrient. Several pests leave nearly the same speckling on a leaf before the real damage shows. Light stress can mimic both. On a clear textbook photo of a single leaf, any decent model gets it right. On the crowded, backlit, dirt-splashed photo a grower actually takes, the same model has to choose between three things that look the same – and that is where most tools quietly fall apart.
So the accuracy number on the box is not the number that matters. What matters is accuracy on the hard cases, on the photos you take, and whether the tool knows the difference.
Here is the single most useful thing to understand about any AI plant health checker.
Confidence is how hard the model leaned. Accuracy is how often it is right when it leans that hard. They are not the same number. Hand a general-purpose AI a plant photo and it will produce a confident-looking percentage whether or not it has any basis for the call. On an easy photo the two line up. On a hard one they can point in opposite directions – a “90% confident” that is wrong more often than a coin flip.
A well-calibrated tool is one where the confidence tracks reality: when it says 90%, it is right about nine times in ten; when it says 40%, it hedges because it genuinely is not sure. A poorly calibrated tool prints a high number every time, because a high number feels better and nobody checks. The gap between those two matters the moment you act on the answer – especially if you wire it into anything automated, where you will end up acting on the worst photos, the ones where the number means the least.
You do not need to see inside the model to judge it. You can judge it from its behavior, with five questions.
1. Does it ever say “I'm not sure”? A tool that always returns a confident single answer is not being confident, it is guessing with good posture. Over-calling, naming a condition it cannot actually distinguish, is the most common failure of consumer plant apps, because a definite answer feels more useful than an honest hedge. Watch for whether it ever hedges at all.
2. Does the confidence track reality? Test it. Give it an obviously healthy plant and an obviously sick one. A calibrated tool is near-certain on both. Then give it a genuinely ambiguous photo – a faint early spot, a lookalike. If the number stays pinned near 100%, the confidence is decoration. If it drops, the tool is being honest.
3. When it is unsure, does it tell you what it is unsure between? The honest answer to a hard photo is often not the most specific one. “A magnesium-group deficiency” or “a sap-sucking pest” is more useful than a confident coin-flip between two exact names, because you can act on the family while you rule out the specifics. A tool that only ever commits to one exact label is hiding its uncertainty from you.
4. Does it work on the photo you actually take? Try the tool on a whole-plant shot, not a tight macro of the damage. Diagnosis is comparative – which leaves are affected, old growth or new, the pattern between the veins or across them, how the rest of the plant looks. Crop all that away and even a good model is guessing. If a tool demands a perfect single-leaf studio shot to work, it will not survive your grow room or your garden.
5. Is it honest about what it covers? Every model has a scope – which plants, which conditions, what it was never built to see. A tool that claims to diagnose anything, on any plant, at high confidence, is telling you it does not know its own limits. Ask what it does not do. The answer tells you whether to trust the answers it does give.
The fastest way to get a wrong answer is a bad photo, and the instinct that produces bad photos is a strong one: when a leaf looks wrong, you zoom in on the damage. That throws away the context the diagnosis depends on. A few habits that measurably change the answer:
We measured these effects and wrote them up in a companion post on how to photograph plants for diagnosis – the framing findings hold regardless of what you grow.
PlantLab is an AI plant health diagnosis lab. It was built around the five questions above, because the reason it exists is that a general-purpose chatbot once looked at a plant, said the wrong thing with total confidence, and cost real time.
Concretely, on the plant-neutral side of what those questions ask for: every diagnosis carries a calibrated reliability signal – a second number that estimates how much to trust this specific answer on this specific image, not just how hard the model leaned. When two conditions genuinely cannot be separated in a photo, PlantLab returns the family rather than a confident coin-flip. It reads the whole plant, not a lone cropped leaf. And it is honest about scope: the live model today covers 30 conditions in cannabis, with tomato and further crops on a clearly-labelled public roadmap, where a label only ever means what it says and no crop is called “live” before a real model does the work. You can read why it is built one crop at a time in A Plant Lab, One Crop at a Time, and what is coming next in I'm Building Tomato Diagnosis Next.
For people building on top of it rather than tapping a phone screen, the same answer comes back as structured JSON: the diagnosis, the family, the reliability signal, the growth stage, per-plant bounding boxes. That is why it drops into Home Assistant and other automation without anyone having to train a model themselves.
An AI plant health check is worth exactly as much as its honesty. A tool that always sounds sure is easy to build and easy to be burned by. A tool that tells you when it is not sure, tells you what it is unsure between, and works on the messy photo you actually took – that is the one you can act on. Judge every plant app by those five questions, take the wide shot, and trust the number that is willing to be low.
You can run a free plant health check at plantlab.ai – answer in about 18 milliseconds, calibrated reliability included, no account required to try it.
from
Jaran Flaath
I starten av september dro vi til Helsinki for en langhelg med fokus på god mat og drikke, og lave skuldre.
Jeg visste veldig lite om Helsinki før avreise, men hadde med en svoger som hadde gjort en del research på forhånd og påtatt seg booking av et par spisesteder i forkant. Det er alltid min regel nummer #1 på reise: Ferdig booket middag, og gjerne lunsj, på forhånd. Det er lite som ødelegger ferieidyllen som å skulle finne en spiseplass når blodsukkeret er i bunn.
Helsinki var en overraskende behagelig by. Gatene opplevdes trygge, de var rene og ryddige, og jeg tror vi kunne telle på én hånd de spisestedene vi ikke synes det fristet å sette seg ned på. Mange andre storbyer synes jeg ofte har i overkant mange kebabhjørner og mer eller mindre tomme, lugubre spiseplasser.
Oppsummert etter langhelgen kan jeg fortelle dette:
Finner stresser ikke. De utøver ikke vold eller bråker unødvendig.
De er skandinaver, så de er ikke overdrevet imøtekommende eller har noen overdreven påtatt interesse i “how you are doing?”, men de er høflige og hyggelige. Midt i blinken for oss andre skandinaver med andre ord.
Jeg tror knapt vi hørte en sirene, og så hele fire politi mens vi var der. I Oslo eller København går det vel knapt fem minutter mellom en sirene skriker seg gjennom gatene. Jeg har ikke sjekket volds- eller ulykkesstatistikken, om det skiller nevneverdig mellom byene, eller om vi bare var heldige og traff på årets roligste helg.
Uansett. Helsinki anbefales varmt. 10 av 10. Under følger en liste over ting vi så og plasser vi besøkte, som jeg kan anbefale du også stikker innom om du skal så i lende.
Hjemmelaget pasta. Både med og uten gluten! Helt vanvittig pasta-opplevelse.
Kulinarisk høydepunkt. To Michelin-stjerner, men jeg tror plassen hadde vært helt utrolig også uten.
🌐 https://www.restaurantgron.com/
Morgenbadstu fra 9-11 i helgene var en skikkelig god start på dagen. Nydelig beliggenhet og fire forskjellige badstuer å veksle på. Prøv røyk-saunaen! Adgang til å hoppe rett i det baltiske hav for nedkjøling. Kan også anbefale pause med noe godt i glasset rundt peisen midt i lokalet.
🌐 https://www.loylyhelsinki.fi/en
Godt valg for litt kulturelt påfyll. Mye fint, både av mer klassisk og nyere kunst.
Er du gamer, spesielt på konsoll? Da må du ta turen innom her. Eneste gangen jeg satt mine føtter innenfor shopping-kategorien på denne turen. Haugevis av både nye og gamle spill, konsoller og utstyr.
Unik drink-bar. Helt spesielt sted, med en spennende historie. Drakk drink av et bittelite badekar. Middels på smak. Maks på opplevelse. Masse gode drinker, både med og uten alkohol.
🌐 https://www.sonofapunch.com/restaurants/trillby-chadwick
Nydelig liten vinbar med herlig atmosfære. De har ingen vinliste, de åpner noen flasker etter humør hver dag som gjør det til en plass som fint kan besøkes om igjen og om igjen.
🌐 https://www.grapewinebar.fi/?lang=en
Masse mer vi burde ha gjort og sett, men det tar også litt tid å ta det med ro. Så har vi noe til neste gang, for vi skal absolutt tilbake.
from AI Tools Test | Reviews, Comparisons & Guides
A YouTube description generator is usually the last tool I open on an upload day, not the first, and the order says something honest about how attention gets spent. By the time a video is cut, the thumbnail is picked, and the title has been rewritten once or twice, there isn't much focus left over for the box of text sitting underneath the video. The description gets whatever attention survives everything that came before it.
This piece uses AllyHub's AI YouTube description generator as its running example, mainly because it fits that gap. It hands over a workable first draft at the point where your own attention for writing has already run thin. The channel's voice still has to come from you.
Editing gets the freshest attention because it happens first, while the footage still feels interesting and the choices still feel creative. The thumbnail gets the next wave, since a weak thumbnail visibly costs views and that's an easy thing to care about in the moment. The description sits after both of those, competing for whatever focus is left once the video already feels finished in every way that shows up on screen. It's tempting to treat it as clerical work, a formality between finishing and publishing, rather than a piece of writing that also has a job to do.
A video feels done the moment the edit is locked and the thumbnail is chosen. Writing a description is a different kind of task entirely. It asks you to step back and explain, in plain sentences, what the video is and why someone unfamiliar with it should watch. That's a writing problem, not an editing problem, and it draws on a different kind of attention than the one you've been running on for the last stretch of the session. Most creators solve it the same way: paste in a line or two, drop in a link, move on. Nobody plans to skip this step. It just tends to be the one finished with whatever is left over.
A rushed description has a recognizable shape once you notice it. It often opens by restating the video title, which tells a viewer nothing they didn't already know. It buries the one sentence that explains the video somewhere in the middle, if that sentence exists at all. It skips timestamps, because timestamps take a few more minutes to write out by hand. None of this happens because a creator stopped caring about the video. It happens because the writing energy that would go into a clear description was already spent earlier in the session, on the parts of the process that feel more visibly creative.
A workable description doesn't need to be long to do its job. It needs one plain sentence, early, that says what the video covers, in words a stranger would use, not the shorthand a creator uses to describe it to themself. It benefits from a shape a viewer can scan quickly: a short opening line, then whatever links, timestamps, or credits belong underneath. And it deserves roughly the same care a title gets, because a description written with no thought behind it tends to read as exactly what it is, something finished after the attention for the day was already gone.
A generator is genuinely useful for one narrow part of this problem: producing a first draft when you have none, structured well enough that you end up editing instead of starting from an empty box. That's a real use, worth relying on for exactly that. What a generator can't do is confirm that the draft matches the finished video, that the tone sounds like the channel, or that a claim sitting in the description is still true after the edit changed. That part still needs a short read-through by the person who made the video, every time, because a generic draft published unread isn't really an improvement over a rushed one. It just moves the rushing from writing to reviewing.
Those are two different states, and it's worth telling them apart before publishing. Present means there's text sitting in the box, filling the space where a description is supposed to go. Finished means someone read it back against the video once, at whatever level of attention that check deserves. Most rushed descriptions are present, not finished, and the gap between the two usually doesn't show up until later, when a line written early turns out not to match what the video became by the time it was actually cut.
Probably not more willpower saved for the end of a long editing session. That supply runs out for a reason, and it runs out in roughly the same place most days. More realistically, it means treating the description as its own short task with its own moment, even a few minutes taken earlier in the process, or a draft generated ahead of time so the read-through is the only thing left once attention is thin. The description doesn't need to go first. It just needs to stop defaulting to last, every single time.
from AnOublietteofThought
Earlier today I replaced my cat paw industrial with a death moth. I need to change balls, but I'm happy overall. I'd like to find some 3mm rhinestones, but I might get stuck with the 5mm since I sized up from 16g to 14g. I prefer the look of a 16g, but I read a few articles that concern me about migration.
I've had mine for several years now, but when the sadist of a piercer decided to shove a 14g into a two week old irritated piercing without my permission, and shattered the cartilage in my outer ear, let's just say I have concerns. I do have the correct ears for such a piercing, but the guy seriously fucked up. He has no business piercing people. I cannot accurately express how much that hurt. He lied and told me it was because it wasn't healed, then shoved it through the other hole. No taper either. That hurt even worse.
Anyway, that sent me down a rabbit hole of looking at my jewelry. I have a lot of jewelry. I've given away quite a lot, but there were many years where my adornments really meant something to me. I also design and make jewelry, so...
It wouldn't be that big of a deal, except I know that by this time next year, I will likely have much less space. Many of my pieces are made for a specific outfit that I may no longer wear. Others I may melt down and reset. Others I just like but am unlikely to wear.
I need to get real with myself and just give most of it away to someone who might treasure it. I might like certain jewelry, but that doesn't mean current me is going to choose to wear it. I realize I'm pretty predictable and basic in my adornment these days, and I like it that way.
I tend to wear silver toned jewelry. I prefer platinum, rhodium, and titanium, but I also wear sterling and stainless, as well as a few white gold pieces. I keep some yellow gold of each style just in case the outfit demands it.
My industrial is elegant and dainty because I don't enjoy changing it. I keep a range of Celtic styled cuffs. I have three lobe piercings on each ear that I prefer specific threaders, huggers, or studs for. I have flatback studs in every possible color and size. I also have several conch cuffs, but my ear tends to get annoyed with them.
I've gotten pretty particular with my necklace wearing, though I have many. That may change in the future, but it, too, stays pretty simple these days. A dainty chain and specific pendant makes me pretty happy. I can wear chokers or collars, but I find them really annoying unless I weigh about twenty pounds less than I currently do.
Bracelets are easy. I wear specific locked on cuffs almost always. My favorite have the twelve astrology constellations etched into them. They're so pretty. I have all sets in silver and gold. Same goes for anklets. If I'm wearing one it's usually a cuff, bells, or special. I keep considering welding a dainty chain on, but it's not very practical, and stockings would no longer look correct.
Rings...I once wore many rings, but it just feels over-gilded to me now. I have specific rings I wear now, but rarely more than one or two per hand. I don't wear toe rings. Anything else tends to be the same item.
Everything I wear tends to be the same items. So I'm thinking I should really just give it all away. However, much of it is memories, special occasions, and gifts. I don't know. It's a very strange feeling. Much of it, I think I should probably take it apart and add it to my supply hoard.
I froze up and got rid of nothing. There's always next time.
(Not proofread.)
© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.
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Read How to Download Assets from GitHub using a screen reader. online here or read this newsletter below.
GitHub, and by extension, other git based websites are very popular because they all have version control.
I've decided to make this small guide on how to download things from GitHub just in case someone might need a resource somewhere for screen reader users.
This will not be a screen reader guide on how to authenticate with GitHub, upload to GitHub, or anything else related to GitHub.
Before proceeding with reading this guide, I suggest you brush up on working with GitHub via their desktop program or brush up on using GitHub via the command line interface.
Optional, but not required, Git documentation is here, and is kind of like the massive Git explainer
Now you are familiar with GitHub, let's talk downloading things from GitHub.
GitHub currently calls downloadable packages assets. The term "asset" is what is used to generically describe anything a project will allow you to download, be that an .EXE file, source code in a ZIP file, or anything else. GitHub is used to manage so many different projects that a term to describe "releases you can download" was needed, and "asset" is that term for now.
I've included graphical instructions but below the GUI instructions, I provide command line instructions.
To explain the GUI bits, I will showcase some GitHub projects I use.
YT-DLP, a tool to download audio and video from the web.
The Accessible Markdown editor fork I use.
And finally, Pandoc, which is utterly amazing.
To download release packages from a repository, or project, you need to find the releases page. There are multiple ways to get to the releases page.
The easiest, and fastest, way to get to all releases page is to tack on the ending /releases at the end of any project URL. For example, Pandoc releases URL is this.
https://github.com/jgm/pandoc/releases/
It's always best practice to add /latest to the end of all URLs so you can get to the latest release quickly. For example, Pandocs latest release URL can be found here
Over time, I am sure the interface will change, so the most evergreen way I can think of to find the releases is to go straight to the releases URL, but let's say you can't guess the releases URL or don't know that every releases page ends in a /releases ending. How do you get there?
After landing on a main project, or repo, page, Invoke your screen reader's find command. Type, releases, then press enter. The releases link will be immediately after the heading results for the moment.
Releases for any project are listed in reverse chronological order, most recent release first, and at the end of each release section are one of two things, depending on how the developer has chosen to present Assets:
Searching on the word "Assets" is the direct and fastest route to this location.
Most often, for projects with relatively few assets, you will simply have the list of assets showing at the end of each release's section. For projects with larger numbers of assets, the assets button is used.
Usually, for now, the release items will be in a list after you expand the assets button, so you can find whatever you want to download by navigating via list item.
So now you know how to download assets via the GUI, let's tackle downloading via CLI.
If you love the command line the way I love a hunky man’s pecs, there is a way to download assets from the CLI as well. The CLI is my most preferred method of downloading.
In order to download via CLI, you do need the GitHub command line tool. GitHub CLI is a command-line tool that brings pull requests, issues, GitHub Actions, and other GitHub features to your terminal, so you can do all your work in one place.
The easiest way to get it, I've found, is to install GitHub CLI via Winget.
This getting started CLI guide for screen reader users should get you started but you can also Read the GitHub CLI manual to learn everything you can do.
I've provided a custom Windows terminal/command line/PowerShell command below that will download GitHub CLI, install it, then authenticate it after enabling some accessibility settings. I've never tried downloading something without an account, so your milage may wildly vary if you don't authenticate with a GitHub account using the CLI.
winget install --id Git.Git -e; winget install --id GitHub.cli -e; gh config set accessible_prompter enabled; gh config set accessible_colors enabled; gh config set spinner disabled; gh auth login
After you authenticated your GitHub CLI, now we can download assets!
Once you authenticated your Github the command to actually download assets is actually all in one command, unless you want to target kinds of files and or versions.
To download the latest of the project, you need to download the source code archive or fetch a particular extension package. There isn't one command to download everything. Because you need to use one or the other, an archive, or a targeted package file extension type, use a command similar to the below command, making sure to swap out the type of release you want to download.
gh release download —archive=EXTENSION, or, —pattern '*.EXTENSION' —repo <[HOST/]OWNER/REPO>
To break this command down a little bit... we're telling GitHub CLI what to download and where to get it.
gh release download tells GitHub CLI what to do.
—archive=EXTENSION, or, —pattern '*.EXTENSION' tell GitHub CLI what to download.
—repo <[HOST/]OWNER/REPO> tells GitHub Cli where to find the assets in question.
So, in the case of Pandoc, we would use the Pattern flag to find all Windows installers that are packaged. Pandoc calls its Windows binaries "MSI" extensions, so, the pattern command would look like,
gh release download —pattern '*.msi' —repo jgm/pandoc
If a message comes back saying it can't find any assets, try the below, swapping out, MSI, in the below commands, for any other file extension types. So for example, some alternate patterns to look for are,
—pattern '*.exe'
—pattern '*.msi'
—pattern '*.zip'
You can also download the source code if you use a command like this, making sure to include the —archive tag.
gh release download —archive=zip —repo jgm/pandoc
To get a certain version, you would include the version number as well as the type of thing you are looking for, even if you want the source code. You must keep the —repo flag as before because that tells the client where to fetch. To demonstrate this with Pandoc again, we will include an older version but use the pattern flag to find an older MSI installer.
gh release download 3.9.0.2 —pattern '*.msi' —repo jgm/pandoc
And to demonstrate downloading an older source code archive, we would use a command like the below, keeping the —repo flag as before because that tells the client where to fetch.
gh release download 3.9.0.2 —archive=zip —repo jgm/pandoc
And that's all! There's one more thing before we go, but first, allow me to preach for a second. I know this is not the most intuitive via the CLI. Blame GitHub, not me. There's no one command to download all release assets, yet.
Thanks for reading! If you found this guide helpful, give me money so I can keep writing.
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from Out of Office
I did not sleep great last night, but I managed to get up, get dressed, and try to do something with the day.
I went back to pottery to practice throwing a few more things. I still don’t love any of them, but I think I got really good practice and ideas for some new things. I also reached out to my crush! It was a very low stakes text, but I think it’s a start. I don’t want to fixate on this for very long because I want to enjoy the process of whatever happens. What is meant for me will not pass me by – I truly, firmly believe that.
Maybe tomorrow I will try to throw a few more things. I can’t make too many new things at once because I will run out of room on my shelf.
I can’t believe I haven’t heard anything yet. Not that I have a say in the timeline. Without an update, I am forced to stay on unemployed.
Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.
from Out of Office
Today was weird but also kind of good. I am still reeling in from the feeling of loss. First my dog, and now my job. It feels like a fever dream kind of summer.
I helped my mom for a few hours, then pottery for a couple hours to glaze a piece. I am so excited to see some of my new glazed items, and also so ready to make some new ones soon! I went back home for a little bit, then headed back out again for a workout class. A hard workout class. I immediately started feeling sore. I wonder if it was genuinely hard or if I made it hard to try to get some of my internalized energy out. I then went back to pottery and tried throwing a couple things. They turned out alright but not great. I am going to trim them and see how they look bone dry before bisque firing and then decide whether I want to keep them or not.
No update yet… man, this is getting really frustrating.
Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.
from
blog//x2600.cc
An undisclosed location in the city limits of S St Louis County. A nice hotel. Affordable. Nuttin' fancy.
I had a shower. Smoked a few Luckies out the side entrance of the hotel. A quiet night. In AC. Fully aware that I am NOT hearing Highway 55
I will read RSS. Lurk IRC. Watch YouTube videos. Download YouTube videos. Relax and snack.
So sayeth Zahathustra
from Dallineation
I think in the next 5 years, most jobs in my field – data analysis and visualization – will be replaced by AI. So I've been thinking about different careers I could jump to that would be better “insulated” from AI replacement.
It's possible that my current job will morph from designing and building interactive data visualizations to using AI to design and build them for me, with me validating the output. But that also means that fewer people will be able to do the work of data analysis and data visualization than are needed now. So if I'm not “lucky” enough to remain employed in my current field, I'll need something to fall back on.
One possibility I've been thinking about is getting a real estate license and becoming an agent, so I recently talked with a couple friends who work in real estate. One friend is an agent working at a large name-brand brokerage. The other friend owns his own small brokerage. They both gave excellent advice and had good insights and perspectives to share.
The broker friend said he can see a future where a “Zillow AI” can do 40%-50% of the work real estate agents do now. But there will still be a human element needed. People will still want a real live human being they trust to help them with a transaction as important as buying or selling a home.
These conversations have made me realize just how pervasive “AI” has become and how it is disrupting, well, everything. Jobs that you would think are relatively “safe” from being replaced by AI are still being impacted by it, even indirectly.
How we work, communicate, learn, teach, think, etc. – it's all being disrupted by AI.
#100DaysToOffload (No. 168) #tech #AI
from Douglas Vandergraph | Quiet Christian Reflection

Chapter 1: The Quiet Place Where Gifts Get Buried
You can sit at the edge of your bed at the end of a long day and know, deep down, that there is more in you than what you are using. Maybe you have had that feeling after work, after the house goes quiet, or after another week slips by without touching the thing you keep telling yourself you will get to someday. You may not even know exactly what to call it. You just know there is something God placed in you that has not fully come alive yet. That is why the faith lesson about using what God gave you matters so much, and why the deeper Christian encouragement about purpose and faithfulness belongs beside it. This is not about becoming famous, impressive, or better than somebody else. It is about refusing to let fear make your decisions for you.
Jesus spoke directly into this kind of struggle in Matthew 25 when He told the parable of the talents. A master entrusted different amounts to three servants. One received five talents, another two, and another one. The first two put what they had been given to work. The third servant buried his. What strikes me is that Jesus did not make the story about who received the most. He made it about what each person did with what had been placed in his hands. That changes the question. Instead of asking, “Why did they get more than me?” you begin asking, “What am I doing with what I have?”
That question can get uncomfortable because sometimes the answer is not that we lack ability. Sometimes we are simply afraid. You might know exactly what that feels like. You have an idea written in a notebook, but you never take the first step. You know you should make the phone call, submit the application, start the project, learn the skill, encourage the person, or speak up about something that matters, but you keep finding one more reason to wait. On the surface, it looks like caution. Underneath, it may be fear of failing, being embarrassed, wasting time, or finding out that you are not as good as you hoped.
The servant who buried his talent was not empty-handed. He had been trusted with something. That is important. His problem was not that he had nothing to offer. His problem was that fear convinced him the safest choice was to hide what he had. That same fear still works on people now. It tells you that if your gift is not large enough, polished enough, profitable enough, or noticed enough, maybe it is better not to use it at all. Jesus tells a very different story. Faithfulness is not measured by whether your gift looks impressive next to someone else’s. Faithfulness is measured by whether you are willing to use what God entrusted to you.
Think about an ordinary Monday morning. You are driving to work, already tired, already thinking about the bills, the meetings, the family responsibilities, and everything waiting on you. In that kind of life, purpose can sound like a luxury. But maybe your gift is not waiting for some future stage. Maybe it is already sitting in the passenger seat with you. Maybe it is the way you lead people fairly, solve problems calmly, listen when somebody is struggling, or keep your word when it would be easier not to. We sometimes imagine that using our gifts for God must look dramatic. Jesus keeps bringing us back to faithfulness in what has actually been placed in front of us.
That means you do not have to wait for a perfect opportunity before your life begins to matter. You can begin with what is already in your hands. You can take the ability you have, the influence you have, the time you have, and the opportunity in front of you and offer it back to God through the way you use it. That is where this becomes personal. Your talent is God’s gift to you, but what you do with it becomes your response to Him.
And maybe the first step is not a huge one. Maybe it is simply refusing to bury it one more day.
Chapter 2: When Comparison Starts Stealing Your Courage
You can feel perfectly content with your life until you look at somebody else’s. One minute, you are grateful for what you have. The next minute, you see somebody succeeding in the area where you have been struggling, and suddenly your own progress feels small. Maybe it happens while you are scrolling on your phone before bed. Someone announces a promotion, launches a business, publishes a book, grows a ministry, buys a house, or seems to be stepping into the exact kind of life you have been praying for. Nothing about your circumstances changed in those thirty seconds, but the way you see them did.
That is one of the quiet dangers of comparison. It can make you disrespect something God gave you simply because it looks different from what He gave somebody else. The servant with two talents could have spent the entire story staring at the servant with five. He could have decided that his portion was too small to matter. He could have buried his gift out of disappointment instead of fear. But he did not. He worked with what he had, and Jesus showed that his faithfulness mattered just as much.
That is a lesson worth carrying into real life because comparison rarely announces itself as a spiritual problem. It sounds practical. You tell yourself that you are just being realistic. You notice that somebody else has more experience, more money, more connections, or more natural ability, and you begin shrinking your own expectations. You stop practicing. You stop trying. You stop offering what you can do because someone else can do it better. Before long, you are not simply admiring another person’s gift. You are using their gift as an excuse to neglect your own.
Imagine a parent sitting at the kitchen table after everyone has gone to bed. The house is quiet except for the refrigerator humming in the background. There is a stack of bills nearby, a half-finished cup of coffee, and a notebook with an idea that has been sitting there for months. Maybe the idea is to return to school, start a small business, write something meaningful, or learn a skill that could change the family’s future. The parent looks at people online who seem ten years ahead and thinks, “What is the point? I am already too far behind.”
That thought feels reasonable when you are tired. It is also exactly the kind of thought that can keep a gift buried. Jesus never said that faithfulness would always feel impressive. Sometimes faithfulness looks like studying after the kids are asleep. Sometimes it looks like practicing when nobody is watching. Sometimes it looks like serving one person well instead of wishing you had influence over thousands. Sometimes it looks like doing the next right thing when your progress feels painfully slow.
God does not need you to duplicate somebody else’s path. He is not asking you to become a copy of the person you admire. He is asking whether you will trust Him enough to develop what He placed in you.
That requires humility in two directions. You need enough humility to admit that you still have room to grow, but you also need enough humility to stop insulting what God gave you. Calling your gift worthless because it is smaller than someone else’s is not humility. It is another form of comparison. Real humility says, “This is what I have. It may not be everything, but I will use it well.”
That shift changes the way you walk into ordinary situations. You stop asking whether people are impressed and start asking whether you are being faithful. You stop measuring your beginning against somebody else’s middle. You stop needing your work to look important before you decide it matters.
And that is where courage begins to return. Not because you suddenly feel more talented, but because you stop treating another person’s life as the measuring stick for your own. Your responsibility is not to outshine somebody else. Your responsibility is to stop hiding what God trusted you with and start using it faithfully where you are.
Chapter 3: Give God Something He Can Use
There are moments when the next step is much smaller than the life you imagine. You may be standing in the kitchen before sunrise, waiting for the coffee to finish, thinking about something you know you have been avoiding. Maybe it is a conversation you need to have. Maybe it is a skill you keep saying you will develop. Maybe it is work you feel called to begin, even though nobody is asking you to do it and nobody may notice when you start. The temptation is to wait for a clearer sign, more confidence, or a better season. But sometimes the faithful thing is simply to begin with what is already in your hands.
That is what the first two servants did in Jesus’ parable. They did not know everything that would happen with what they had been given. They did not receive a promise that every effort would be easy or that every decision would succeed. They simply acted. They took responsibility for what had been entrusted to them. That is the part of the lesson that can change the way you live. Faith is not only believing that God gave you something. Faith is being willing to use it.
There is a difference between waiting on God and hiding behind waiting. Sometimes God truly asks us to be still. But sometimes we call it waiting when we are really afraid to move. We pray for clarity while ignoring the step that is already clear. We ask God to show us the whole road when He may only be asking us to take the next ten feet.
Think about someone caring for an aging parent while trying to keep a job, manage a household, and hold themselves together. That person may not feel gifted. They may feel exhausted. But patience, steadiness, compassion, and the ability to keep showing up are gifts too. Not every talent produces applause. Some gifts are used in hospital rooms, quiet houses, difficult phone calls, and ordinary acts of love that almost nobody else sees. God sees them.
That matters because we often connect purpose with visibility. We assume that if something is truly important, it should become bigger, louder, or more public. Jesus did not teach that. He praised faithfulness. Some of the most meaningful things you ever do may never become impressive to the world. They may happen in a conversation where you encourage someone not to give up. They may happen when you choose honesty at work even though dishonesty would benefit you. They may happen when you teach your child something that stays with them for the rest of their life. They may happen when you keep serving after the excitement is gone.
Your gift does not become valuable when people notice it. It was valuable when God entrusted it to you. What matters now is whether you will take it seriously enough to develop it and use it. That may mean practicing, learning, becoming more disciplined, or finally taking responsibility for an area where you know you can grow. You do not have to worship your talent, and you do not have to hide behind it. You can simply treat it like something entrusted to you rather than something you own only for yourself.
You also have to hold it loosely enough to let God decide where it is useful. Sometimes the gift you thought would take you in one direction ends up serving people in another. Sometimes a disappointment redirects you. Sometimes a closed door forces you to develop an ability you would never have noticed otherwise. Faithfulness means you keep offering what you have to God without demanding that He make your life look the way you planned.
And when fear comes back, because it probably will, remember the lesson Jesus gave us. The servant who buried his talent was ruled by fear. The faithful servants moved anyway. That does not mean you will never fail. It means failure does not get to become your master. You can learn, adjust, start again, and keep moving. God can work with honesty, humility, and a willing heart. What is difficult to use is something we refuse to uncover.
Maybe you have buried part of yourself for a long time. Maybe disappointment convinced you that your chance had passed. Maybe criticism made you quiet. Maybe life became so heavy that survival took all the energy you had, and the gifts you once cared about moved into the background. If that is where you are, you do not need to condemn yourself. You can simply begin again. Open the notebook you stopped writing in. Make the call you have been avoiding. Take the class. Encourage the person in front of you. Practice the skill you keep wishing were stronger. Serve where you are instead of waiting for a bigger stage.
You do not have to know that every step will become something big. Faithfulness itself matters. Your talent is God’s gift to you, and what you do with it becomes your gift back to Him. That is the quiet beauty of Jesus’ lesson. At the end of the story, the praise was not for being famous, powerful, or better than someone else. It was for being faithful.
That is something you can choose today. Use what God gave you. Grow it. Share it. Let it serve someone. Let it become part of the good you leave behind. Do not bury it.
Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph
Explore the complete Douglas Vandergraph Master Index: https://douglasvandergraph.com/douglas-vandergraph-master-index/
Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s faith-based videos on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph
from
Notes I Won’t Reread
Theres something thats been irritating me, and before you start the “everything irritates you from what im seeing,” yes, everything irritates me and that has nothing to do with you, you’re here to read, and thats it. anyways, its not important. it isnt that serious either. nobody is going to lose sleep over it, not even me. nothing is going to collapse, not even me. and the world will continue as it is, perfectly fine, even me. but i still hate it. i dont even know why it bothers me this much in the first place. its one of those, you know. incredibly minor things that should pass through your mind, then disappear like every other useless piece of information we collect throughout the day, like the way you watched a couple argue while scrolling. yes, thats all you do humans, scroll that, scroll this, scrolling here, scrolling there. shut the fuck up. thats not what im irritated about but now thats something im irritated about again. irritating irritate thats all what im saying. anyhow. whatever was bothering me still sits. in the back of my head, i noticed it and i got annoyed again then i had the remarkable thought of, why the fuck am i still thinking about this? great question. yet i still have no answer to that. its not even worth. speaking about or explaining. if i told you exactly what it is, you’d read it and think, “thats it?” yeah, thats it. thats the entire problem. nothing else. still, as how ridiculous it is, ill continue. because theres something irritating about people doing the obvious things badly and then acting as though nobody is supposed to notice. im not asking for perfection. im barely asking for competence. theres a considerable gap between those two things, and somehow people. god, people. keep finding the space underneath both. and yes, i understand how dramatic that sounds, but ill still sit here and talk about something that doesnt matter while sounding like i just uncovered whatever, uncovered something. im just annoyed. sometimes something is just annoying. there doesnt have to be some big reason behind it, and i dont need to sit here wondering what it says about me or where it came from. i think its just stupid, and it annoys me. thats all about it. and yet, ive now spent enough time talking about it that ive made it important by accident. which is, unfortunate. because it really doesnt matter. i could have stopped after the first sentence. and i could have just said “this thing annoys me” and moved on with my life like a normal person but no. instead, i wrote about it. then i decided to explain why it doesnt matter then i explained why im annoyed despite it not mattering then i explained why explaining it is stupid. at this point. ive built a small monument to something i claim is dumb. and me sitting here. giving it attention is irritating itself. so great. congrats to that thing. you managed to waste my time without even being interesting. id say ill never think about it again but that would be another lie. and ive already given this enough dignity for one morning.
Anyway, it doesnt matter, i just wanted to make that very clear. for the ninth time. you read all of this for something that doesnt matter either, so i guess you fit right in.
Sincerely, this was completely, unnecessary. Not irritated, clearly.
from
SmarterArticles

On 20 August 2026, the Garda station in Wexford published one of the strangest sentences ever to appear on an official Irish policing account. It concerned a suspect roughly seven feet tall, wearing a red and white striped hat, and it read: the Cat in the Hat was not in your driveway while you were out, and he is not currently hiding out in Curracloe.
The Gardaí were not being whimsical for its own sake. They were doing triage. For several days, residents across County Wexford had been seeing videos of a hollow-eyed, life-sized version of the Dr Seuss character standing in driveways, peering through windows and loitering at the edges of doorbell camera footage that looked exactly like their own doorbell camera footage. Some of them had rung the emergency line. The Gardaí explained the mechanism plainly. It is, they said, essentially an AI prompt that places the character into images and videos of familiar places.
That is the whole story in one sentence, and it is worth reading twice. Not a hoax about a crime. Not a rumour about a stranger. A prompt. A machine instruction, executed in seconds, that inserts a fictional menace into a landscape the viewer recognises as home.
Within five weeks, that prompt had produced school lockdowns in Michigan, extra officers at middle schools in Colorado, felony charges in Ohio, four arrested girls in Louisiana aged between thirteen and fifteen, and a Royal Canadian Mounted Police investigation in British Columbia. It had produced a real teenage girl, in West Kelowna, being followed through her own neighbourhood at nine o'clock at night by someone in a costume.
The obvious way to write about this is as a story about fakes getting better. That framing is wrong, or at least it is the least interesting thing that is true. The Cat in the Hat is not a convincing fake. Nobody who looks closely believes a nine-foot cartoon cat is standing on the lawn. What collapsed in 2026 was not the cost of deception. It was the cost of dread: shareable, localised, ambiguous, atmospheric dread, manufactured on demand and aimed at a postcode.
And the institutions built to answer this have spent thirty years learning to ask one question. Is the threat credible? That question has quietly stopped being the operative one. The operative question now is whether the fear is consequential. Those are not the same question, and almost nothing in the machinery of schools and policing is designed to tell them apart.
The origin is disconcertingly banal. On 30 June 2026, a TikTok account posted a clip lifted from the 2003 live action adaptation starring Mike Myers, set to unsettling music and captioned with something bleak about prom and overdoses. The film has always had a slightly wrong quality about it, an uncanny prosthetic face that reads as menacing the instant you strip away the score and the gags. The clip took 4.4 million views in a week before it was deleted.
Momentum came from an ordinary piece of entertainment news. Propstore announced that the original Myers suit was going to auction, with estimates in the tens of thousands of dollars. A physical artefact, photographed under gallery lighting, hollow at the eyes. One post showing the costume was viewed more than fourteen million times in three weeks.
Then the aesthetic mutated. Users stopped posting film clips and started posting evidence. Grainy night footage. Shaky handheld. Ring camera framing with the timestamp in the corner. The character appeared in driveways in Limerick and Cork, on streets in Dublin, Manchester and Leeds. In some versions it carried something that looked like a knife. The generative step is what made this different from a decade of creepypasta: the background was not a generic suburb, it was a suburb that looked like yours, because a person in your town could feed the model a photograph of an actual road and get back a clip of the thing standing on it.
British forces caught up around 25 August. South Yorkshire Police confirmed they had received no reports concerning the character or, they added, his associated Thing One and Thing Two, and then made a more serious point that has been largely overlooked: fabricated police statements about the Cat were circulating too. If you see posts online providing policing updates and advice, the force said, please check that they are from an official policing account. The hoax had already learned to impersonate its own debunking. Cheshire and Cumbria issued their own clarifications.
None of this was costless. One sixteen-year-old told the BBC she had been totally freaked out after watching the videos in the early hours and had asked her mother to collect her from a sleepover. Multiply that by a country. Then notice that nothing illegal has happened yet.
What arrived in North America in late August was a different object wearing the same hat.
In Ireland and Britain the content was ambient. It threatened nowhere in particular. In the United States, within days, it acquired specificity, and specificity is the thing that converts folklore into a criminal offence. Posts named schools. Then they named towns. Then they named individual students.
In Hutchinson, Kansas, police and high school officials became aware on 31 August of posts under the trend directing ominous threats at students. Investigators identified the account holder as a fifteen-year-old pupil at Hutchinson High School and charged them with two counts of criminal threat. The department's framing of the offence deserves attention, because it is the clearest statement of the new logic anyone has produced: even if the posts were intended as a joke, it is unlawful to cause others to fear for their safety.
In Grand Junction, Colorado, a post suggested that someone dressed as the character would turn up at West Middle School and at random homes. On 28 August police increased their presence at West Middle School and Grand Junction High School. Working with Mesa County Valley School District 51, they established that there was no credible threat to students, staff or the community. On 31 August they arrested a fourteen-year-old Grand Junction High School pupil, charged him with harassment and with interference with staff, faculty or students of educational institutions, and released him to his parents. The posts, the department said, are intended to cause alarm and fear in individuals.
Read those two sentences in sequence. No credible threat. Arrest made. That is not an inconsistency. It is the entire shift, stated in official language, in a single press release.
In Berwick, Louisiana, four girls were arrested after officers traced multiple TikTok accounts to local pupils. Three, aged fifteen, thirteen and fourteen, were charged with terrorising. A fourth, fourteen, was charged with cyberbullying. Police Chief J. P. Henry put the rationale in terms of consequence rather than intent: once you hit post, you do not get to decide how seriously law enforcement takes it.
In Worth County, Georgia, the school district announced on 2 September that two high school pupils had taken part and would face disciplinary action alongside legal consequences. In Pasco County, Florida, a twelve-year-old was accused of making written threats to kill. In Wilmington, Ohio, a juvenile faced a felony terroristic threat charge. In Pawnee, Oklahoma, a post targeting the middle school reportedly included a list of around thirty-five named pupils; police obtained subscriber data from TikTok and made an arrest. In Jessamine County, Kentucky, Nicholasville police charged a juvenile with assistance from the FBI. Constantine High School in Michigan went into a precautionary lockdown.
By early September, more than ten juveniles had been arrested across the United States. By the time The Guardian reported on the trend on 13 September, the pattern had hardened: content that began in Ireland and the United Kingdom in August, spread through Snapchat and TikTok, and in its North American form frequently carried threats aimed at specific schools, specific communities and named individuals.
Law enforcement drew the line about where it should be drawn. FBI Special Agent Nathan Head stated the position exactly: just posting the video itself is not a crime. Greg Mays, a deputy commissioner at Tennessee's Office of Homeland Security, described the addition of a named target as the point where it crosses the line. Baldwin Park Police Department in California warned that any threat directed toward our schools, students, staff, or community will not be dismissed as a joke or prank. Laredo police put the arithmetic bluntly: a few seconds on social media can result in a police investigation, school disciplinary action, and potentially serious criminal consequences.
And then the thing that complicates every comfortable analysis. On 24 August, in West Kelowna, British Columbia, a person in a Cat in the Hat costume allegedly chased a teenage girl through a neighbourhood at around nine in the evening. She got to safety. The individual has not been identified. Corporal Devon Gerrits of the RCMP described it precisely: regardless of whether the individual intended the behaviour as a joke, following a young person and causing them to fear for their safety is extremely concerning.
The most useful vocabulary for understanding the Cat in the Hat comes not from computer science but from a subfield of folklore studies that has been sitting patiently on the shelf for forty years, waiting for exactly this.
The term is ostension. Linda Dégh and Andrew Vázsonyi imported it into folkloristics from semiotics to describe what happens when a legend stops being told and starts being done: when narrative extends into action in the physical world. Bill Ellis, who received the American Folklore Society's lifetime scholarly achievement award, expanded the framework and gave us the two categories that matter here. Pseudo-ostension is when someone fabricates evidence of a legend, staging the artefacts the story predicts. Quasi-ostension is when authorities and observers over-interpret ambiguous evidence, reading ordinary facts through the legend's lens until the legend appears confirmed.
The Cat in the Hat trend is an industrialised pseudo-ostension engine with a quasi-ostension feedback loop bolted to the output. Generative models mass-produce the evidence. Institutions, doing exactly what they are trained to do, treat the evidence as signal. The signal generates a response. The response is filmed, posted, and becomes fresh evidence that the legend is real, because look, the school went into lockdown.
Andrew Peck, whose book on the Slender Man won the Chicago Folklore Prize, spent years documenting how a character invented on an internet forum in 2009 acquired the properties of genuine belief through precisely this circulation. The end point of that case is not academic. On 31 May 2014, two twelve-year-olds in Waukesha, Wisconsin, stabbed a classmate nineteen times in a wooded park, saying they needed to appease the Slender Man. She survived. Both were found not guilty by reason of mental disease.
The precedents keep arriving at the same conclusion. In autumn 2016, creepy clown sightings that began in Greenville, South Carolina produced school lockdowns across Ohio, additional patrols in three southern states, and more than a dozen arrests, the overwhelming majority of reports being hoaxes. In February 2019 the Momo challenge reached peak intensity after the Police Service of Northern Ireland posted a public warning on Facebook and British schools relayed alerts to parents. The Samaritans said at the time that they were not aware of any verified evidence in this country or beyond linking Momo to suicide. Children's charities concluded that the warnings themselves were doing more damage than the thing they warned about, teaching children to fear something that did not exist and, in some cases, prompting them to go looking for it.
Here is what is genuinely new in 2026, and it is not the psychology. The psychology is old. What is new is the supply curve.
To stage a clown panic in 2016 you needed a costume, a location and nerve. To make Slender Man photographs in 2010 you needed Photoshop skills and hours. Both of those are meaningful frictions. They limited the number of people who could contribute evidence, and they limited how localised that evidence could be.
Generative video removed both limits at once. By 2026 the leading systems produce high definition clips with synchronised audio from a text prompt, at per-second costs measured in cents, available through consumer subscriptions priced around twenty dollars a month. The interesting figure is not the realism benchmark. It is the marginal cost of the tenth clip, and the hundredth, each one set on a different street.
This is why the standard deepfake framing misleads. The Cat in the Hat is not trying to pass as a photograph of a real event. It is trying to pass as a plausible artefact of your neighbourhood at night, which is a much lower bar and a much more effective payload. Photorealism is not required. Sufficient ambiguity is. Grain, motion blur, a doorbell camera's fisheye distortion and a two second glimpse do most of the work that fidelity would otherwise have to do. The uncanny quality of the source material, a prosthetic cat face from a commercially unloved film, is a feature. It reads as wrong in a way that a well-rendered human would not.
And crucially, the artefact is cheap enough to be disposable. That changes the economics of participation. A child does not need to believe in the Cat to make one. They need ninety seconds and an idea about which street to use.
Retired Lexington police special operations sergeant Jason Rothermund, who now runs an AI consultancy and was interviewed about the Kentucky charges, offered the assessment most likely to age well. This is just, in my opinion, the tip of the iceberg.
The asymmetry at the centre of this is not mysterious. It is arithmetic.
Establishing that a video is synthetic requires, at minimum, an analyst, a tool, a chain of custody and time. Grand Junction took three days between increasing patrols and making an arrest. Pawnee had to serve a request on TikTok and wait for a phone number and an IP address. Meanwhile the clip itself moves through a school's Snapchat groups in under an hour.
Worse, the people we are implicitly asking to perform the verification cannot do it. A University of Florida study published in February 2026 tested participants against synthetic face images and found their accuracy statistically indistinguishable from a coin flip, while a convolutional neural network on the same images reached ninety-seven per cent. The same research found that people did better than the machines on video, which is a genuinely interesting result and should be reported honestly, but better than a machine on video is not the same as good. A 2025 iProov study of two thousand consumers found that only one in a thousand correctly identified every synthetic and genuine item they were shown.
Children are, if anything, worse positioned than adults, and the specific shape of the problem is confidence rather than gullibility. Ofcom's 2026 report on children and parents found that fifty-six per cent of thirteen to fifteen year olds said they were confident they could spot AI-generated content, and forty-seven per cent of sixteen and seventeen year olds said the same. When those confident children were tested, a quarter could not correctly identify the AI-generated image in front of them. Forty per cent of thirteen to seventeen year olds said they would trust an AI-generated news article as much as, or more than, one written by a human journalist.
Layer developmental psychology on top. Joanne Cantor spent her career at Wisconsin-Madison studying how films and television frighten children, and one of her most robust findings is that the reassurance adults instinctively reach for, the phrase tell yourself it is not real, only becomes an effective coping strategy as children get older. Below roughly seven or eight, telling a frightened child that something is fictional does comparatively little to reduce the fear. Older children fear real and abstract dangers more; younger children fear the thing that looks and sounds scary, regardless of its ontological status.
Which means the primary institutional response to this entire episode, saying clearly and repeatedly that the Cat in the Hat is not real, is a strategy whose effectiveness is inversely correlated with how young and frightened the audience is. The Gardaí were right. It was also, for the youngest children in Wexford, not the intervention they needed.
Every school safety protocol in the English-speaking world is organised around an assessment of credibility. Is this a real threat from a person with intent, means and opportunity? It is a good question. It was designed by serious people to prevent both massacres and the over-punishment of children, and it works.
The problem is that it is now answering a question nobody is asking.
Consider what happened at West Middle School. The threat was not credible. Police said so in writing. And yet a school district deployed additional officers, hundreds of children spent a day under visibly heightened security, a fourteen-year-old was arrested and charged, and parents across Mesa County spent a weekend frightened. Every one of those outcomes occurred on the correct side of the credibility determination. The determination did not prevent a single one of them.
This is the asymmetry that ought to reorganise how we think about the problem. The institutional response is not a defence against the payload. The institutional response is the payload. A lockdown is a spectacle, generated at no cost to the person who triggered it, that converts an ambiguous clip into a community-wide event with photographic evidence. The cheaper it becomes to trigger, the more attractive it becomes to trigger. Any system in which a nine-second video reliably produces a police deployment has, whatever its intentions, published a price list.
None of which means the institutions should stop responding. That is the trap, and it is worth naming, because it is the argument that ends with a school failing to act on the one post in five hundred that mattered. The Pawnee post named thirty-five children. That is not folklore. That is a target list, and the correct response to a target list is a police investigation, regardless of whether the accompanying image was rendered by a diffusion model or drawn in crayon.
The question is not whether to respond. It is whether the response can be made proportionate and quiet enough that it stops functioning as a reward.
There is an unexpectedly hopeful piece of this, and it lives in the least glamorous corner of school safety research.
The Comprehensive School Threat Assessment Guidelines, developed by the forensic clinical psychologist Dewey Cornell and colleagues at the University of Virginia in 2001 and recognised as an evidence-based programme in 2013, were built around a distinction that turns out to be exactly the right tool for 2026. CSTAG asks teams to classify a threat as transient or substantive. A transient threat is an expression of anger, a joke, a piece of bravado with no sustained intent to harm. A substantive threat involves a genuine intent to act. The classification drives the response, and the response for a transient threat is explanation, apology and resolution rather than exclusion.
Controlled studies in Virginia found that schools using the model markedly reduced their use of exclusionary discipline, and, notably, showed little or no racial disparity in outcomes, in a domain where disparities are otherwise routine.
Read that framework against the Cat in the Hat and something clarifies. Threat assessment never actually depended on the authenticity of the artefact. It depended on the intent and capability of the person behind it. A synthetic image does not break the model. It only breaks the shortcut that many schools and departments substituted for the model, which is: scary content equals serious threat equals maximum response.
The trend is, in that sense, a stress test that reveals which institutions were doing threat assessment and which were doing threat reaction.
There is a strong temptation to treat institutional overreaction as costless caution. It is not.
Research conducted by Georgia Tech's Social Dynamics and Wellbeing Lab in partnership with the Everytown for Gun Safety Support Fund analysed nearly twenty-eight million social media posts from communities in the ninety days before and after school active shooter drills, across 114 schools in 33 states. In the aftermath, the analysis found a forty-two per cent increase in language associated with anxiety and stress, a thirty-nine per cent increase in indicators of depression, a twenty-three per cent rise in health concerns and a twenty-two per cent increase in expressions of fear of death. The effects persisted for at least ninety days. Everytown's own recommendation, notably, is to prioritise threat assessment programmes over student-involved simulations.
That study concerns drills rather than lockdowns triggered by hoaxes, and the difference matters: a drill is announced and a lockdown is not, which if anything suggests the hoax case is worse rather than better. But it establishes the principle that the security response has its own psychological cost, borne by the same children it protects.
The resource drain is measurable too. The K-12 School Shooting Database recorded 853 swatting incidents in American schools between January 2023 and June 2024. Researchers working on the costs of hoax threats have estimated the emergency response to a single school incident at upwards of a hundred thousand dollars once policing, investigation and lost instructional time are counted. Those are officers not attending actual emergencies, and hours of teaching that do not come back.
And then the cost that should trouble us most. In this episode, the people arrested were twelve, thirteen, fourteen and fifteen years old. Some of them wrote target lists. Others reposted a scary cat. The charges range from harassment to felony terroristic threats. Criminal records attach to children at the age at which the capacity to anticipate consequence is, developmentally, still under construction. A system that cannot distinguish the child who threatened thirty-five named classmates from the child who shared a clip to a group chat is not a safety system. It is a lottery with a custodial prize.
The clean version of this article says: it was all fake, the institutions panicked, the children were criminalised for a meme. That version is false in an important way.
A costumed figure really did follow a teenage girl in West Kelowna. Posts really did name individual pupils. The Pawnee list really did exist. Whatever share of the trend was ambient folklore, some non-trivial share was targeted intimidation, and a viral aesthetic provided it with both a delivery mechanism and a deniability script. I was only doing the trend is a remarkably efficient defence.
This is the oldest dynamic in moral panic literature working in reverse. Usually the panic manufactures threats that do not exist. Here the panic manufactured cover for threats that did. Any policy proposal that treats the entire phenomenon as harmless will, sooner or later, wave through the post that was not.
It is also worth being honest about the evidential thinness of parts of this story. Much of the reporting on origins traces to a handful of viral accounts and cannot be independently verified. Claims that the character was linked to violent incidents circulated widely and were, as far as any police force has confirmed, baseless. Gardaí in Wexford stated that no reports of a costumed individual had been recorded on their system at all. We do not have a reliable count of how many schools altered operations, how many lockdowns occurred, or what the aggregate cost has been. We have a fortnight of local news reports, which is not a dataset.
Three responses are already being proposed and are not going to work.
Banning the platform. The content moved between TikTok, Snapchat, Instagram Reels and Facebook within days, and it was generated by tools that are neither hosted nor moderated by any of them. A ban relocates the trend and adds the glamour of prohibition.
Media literacy as a standalone intervention. It is necessary and it is not sufficient, and the Ofcom data explains why with unusual clarity: the children most confident in their ability to detect synthetic content were meaningfully often wrong. Teaching detection to an audience that cannot detect, against generators improving faster than curricula are revised, produces false confidence, which is worse than calibrated uncertainty. Cantor's work adds the developmental caveat: for the youngest children, it is not real does not do the work adults think it does.
Maximum charges as deterrent. Deterrence assumes a calculating actor. The evidence from the clown panic, from Momo and from every school hoax wave since suggests the population involved is mostly children with poor consequence modelling and an audience.
What might work is less satisfying and more boring.
Proportionate and deliberately undramatic response protocols. If the institutional response is the payload, then reducing the spectacle reduces the incentive. Investigating quietly, notifying parents by letter rather than emergency alert, and declining to lock down where a threat assessment team has classified content as transient are all available today and cost nothing. Several departments effectively did this, determining no credible threat while increasing routine patrols.
Decoupling threat assessment from content authenticity. Whether an image was generated should inform the investigation of who made it, not the classification of how dangerous the author is. CSTAG already models this. It needs to be the default rather than the exception.
Provenance infrastructure, with realistic expectations. Article 50 of the EU AI Act, which applies from 2 August 2026, requires that synthetic content be machine-readable as such and that deepfakes be disclosed, with penalties reaching fifteen million euros or three per cent of worldwide turnover. The AI Omnibus agreement, however, gives systems already on the market before 2 August 2026, which is every tool that produced this material, until 2 December 2026 to meet the marking obligation; the disclosure duties are unaffected. The C2PA Content Credentials standard and Google's SynthID watermarking have converged into a dual-layer approach now adopted by OpenAI and others, with more than a hundred billion files watermarked since 2023. The limitations are well documented and should be stated plainly: C2PA metadata is destroyed by a screenshot, SynthID survives compression but carries almost no contextual information, and neither resists a determined adversary. Provenance will not tell a frightened fourteen-year-old at midnight whether the cat outside her window is real. What it can do is shorten the verification loop for the school and the police force from days to minutes, which is the loop that actually matters.
Platform duties with teeth. The UK's Protection of Children Codes came into force on 25 July 2025 under the Online Safety Act, carrying fines of up to eighteen million pounds or ten per cent of global revenue, and require services to assess and mitigate risks to children by age group. A trend that demonstrably frightened children across two jurisdictions is a reasonable early test of whether those duties mean anything operationally.
Graduated legal responses for minors. Ireland's Harassment, Harmful Communications and Related Offences Act 2020, commenced in February 2021, criminalises a single threatening or grossly offensive communication sent with intent to cause harm, with a maximum of two years on indictment. The tools exist on both sides of the Atlantic. The gap is not legislative. It is the absence of a settled institutional practice for the child who shared rather than authored.
Return to the question underneath all of this. What happens to a child's ability to know what is real?
The honest answer is that it degrades in a specific and slightly counter-intuitive way. Children are not becoming credulous. Ofcom's data suggests something odder: they are becoming confidently unreliable, which is the epistemic state most resistant to correction. And they are learning, from direct experience, that the reality of a thing and the consequences of a thing have come apart. The Cat was not real. The lockdown was real. The arrest was real. The fourteen-year-old released to his parents in Grand Junction now has a lived understanding that a fiction produced a police record.
That is the lesson the episode actually teaches, and no media literacy module can unteach it, because it is true.
For institutions, the implication is narrower than the anxiety around it suggests. Schools and police forces cannot adjudicate what is real at the speed the content moves, and they should stop organising their response around the pretence that they can. What they can do is assess persons rather than artefacts, respond in proportion rather than in spectacle, and refuse to treat every child holding a phone as either a victim or a suspect.
The Gardaí in Wexford, in their odd little Facebook post, got closer to this than most of what followed. They did not lock anything down. They named the mechanism, said the cat was not in the driveway, and went back to work. It did not stop the trend. Nothing was going to stop the trend. But it treated the public as people who could be told how the trick worked, which remains, on the evidence, the most durable defence anyone has.

Tim Green UK-based Systems Theorist & Independent Technology Writer
Tim explores the intersections of artificial intelligence, decentralised cognition, and posthuman ethics. His work, published at smarterarticles.co.uk, challenges dominant narratives of technological progress while proposing interdisciplinary frameworks for collective intelligence and digital stewardship.
His writing has been featured on Ground News and shared by independent researchers across both academic and technological communities.
ORCID: 0009-0002-0156-9795 Email: tim@smarterarticles.co.uk
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