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Internetbloggen
Jag har ett komplicerat förhållande till Spotify-spellistor. Å ena sidan är de fantastiska – någon annan har gjort jobbet att kurera musik så jag slipper. Å andra sidan är många av dem... no ja, inte särskilt bra. Men hur vet man skillnaden? Hur bedömer man om en spellista faktiskt är värd att lyssna på?
Det var precis den frågan som Isitagoodplaylist.com skapades för att svara på, och jag älskar dem för det.
Isitagoodplaylist.com är en tjänst som analyserar Spotify-spellistor och ger dem betyg baserat på olika parametrar. Du klistrar in länken till en spellista, och sajten ger dig en detaljerad rapport om hur bra (eller dålig) den faktiskt är.
Det är som att ha en musikrecensent som faktiskt använder data och statistik istället för bara vaga känslor. Och i en värld där Spotify har miljontals spellistor är det här exakt den typ av kvalitetskontroll som behövs.
Tjänsten är gratis att använda, enkel att förstå, och ger faktiskt användbara insikter. Det är en av de där tjänster som gör en sak och gör den riktigt bra – inget krångel, inga onödiga funktioner, bara ren spellistanalys.
När du analyserar en spellista på Isitagoodplaylist kollar tjänsten på flera olika faktorer:
Popularitet och diversitet - Är det bara mainstream-hits eller finns det en mix av kända och mindre kända låtar? En bra spellista balanserar det bekanta med det upptäckande. Om allt är top 40-hits är det kanske inte den mest intressanta spellistan. Om allt är obscurt indie-material med 50 lyssnare per låt kan det vara för nischat.
Artistrepetition - Hur många gånger dyker samma artist upp? Om en spellista påstår sig vara om “90-talets rock” men består av 15 Nirvana-låtar och ingenting annat, ja då är det inte riktigt en bra representation av eran. Bra spellistor sprider ut sig över flera artister.
Release-datum - När släpptes låtarna? En “2020s hits”-spellista borde inte vara full av låtar från 2015. En “klassiker”-spellista som mest innehåller musik från förra året är kanske inte riktigt genomtänkt.
Energi och tempo - Spotify har data om varje låts energinivå och tempo. Isitagoodplaylist använder det för att se om spellistan har ett bra flöde. En träningsspellista borde ha hög energi. En chill-spellista borde ha lägre tempo. Om det är kaos är det ett dåligt tecken.
Längd och sammanhållning - Hur många låtar innehåller spellistan? Finns det en röd tråd eller är det bara random låtar slängda ihop? Vissa spellistor är tydligt kurerade med omtanke, andra känns som att någon bara klickade “lägg till” på sin “liked songs” tills de blev trötta.
Alla dessa faktorer vägs samman till ett övergripande betyg. Det är inte en perfekt vetenskap – musik är subjektivt – men det ger en riktigt bra indikation på om en spellista faktiskt är genomtänkt eller bara slarvigt hopkastad.
Du kanske tänker: “Men varför bry sig? Om jag gillar låtarna spelar väl resten ingen roll?” Och på sätt och vis har du rätt. Men en bra spellista är mer än bara bra låtar – det är en upplevelse.
En välkurerad spellista tar dig på en resa. Den har ett flöde, en uppbyggnad. Den introducerar dig till ny musik utan att chocka dig. Den balanserar det bekanta med det överraskande. Det är skillnaden mellan en random shuffle och något som faktiskt är designat för att lyssnas på från början till slut.
Dåliga spellistor å andra sidan? De hoppar mellan genrer utan mening. De repeterar samma artister tråkigt. De har inget flow – ena sekunden lyssnar du på lugn jazz, nästa sekund dunkar hardcore techno i öronen. Det är uttröttande.
Isitagoodplaylist hjälper dig identifiera skillnaden innan du slösar bort din lyssartid. Och i en värld med oändlig musik är din tid faktiskt värdefull.
En av de coolaste funktionerna på Isitagoodplaylist är att du kan följa specifika curators. Om någon konsekvent gör bra spellistor kan du se alla deras listor på ett ställe.
Ta till exempel den här curatorn eller den här. Du kan se alla deras spellistor, hur de betygsatts, och få en känsla för deras kurerings-stil.
Det är lite som att hitta en bra filmrecensent – när du väl hittat någon vars smak överensstämmer med din kan du lita på deras rekommendationer. Fast istället för filmer handlar det om spellistor.
För oss som faktiskt bryr oss om att göra bra spellistor är det här också en sorts kvalitetssäkring. Jag har själv analyserat spellistor jag skapat, fått feedback på vad som kunde förbättras, och gjort ändringar. Det är som att ha en editor för dina musikaliska kurering.
För att förstå varför Isitagoodplaylist är värdefullt behöver vi prata om hur gigantiskt Spotifys spellistekosystem faktiskt är. Det finns miljontals spellistor. Bokstavligen miljontals. Vissa är officiella Spotify-listor, vissa är från stora medier, men de allra flesta är skapade av vanliga användare som du och jag.
Problemet är att kvaliteten varierar extremt. Vissa spellistor är mästerverk av kurering – de berättar historier, de introducerar perfekt balanserad ny musik, de har tagit timmar att sätta ihop. Andra är... ja, mindre genomtänkta. Någon klickade på “skapa spellista”, drog dit 50 random låtar, gav den ett generiskt namn som “Chill Vibes” och tänkte inte mer på det.
Spotifys sökfunktion hjälper inte heller särskilt mycket. Om du söker efter “workout music” får du tusentals resultat. Hur väljer du? Antalet följare är inte alltid en bra indikator – populära spellistor kan vara populära av fel anledningar, eller för att de fick en viral boost en gång men egentligen inte är bra.
Det är här Isitagoodplaylist kommer in. Det ger dig ett objektivt sätt att utvärdera spellistor baserat på faktiska metriker, inte bara popularitet eller gut feeling.
Jag använder Isitagoodplaylist i flera olika situationer:
När jag hittar en ny spellista - Innan jag börjar följa och lyssna analyserar jag den snabbt. Får den bra betyg? Då är det värt min tid. Får den dåligt betyg kan jag skippa den och leta vidare.
När jag jämför liknande spellistor - Om jag söker efter “80s synthpop” och hittar 20 spellistor med samma tema kan jag analysera dem alla och välja den bästa. Det är mycket effektivare än att lyssna igenom alla.
När jag förbättrar mina egna spellistor - Jag skapar själv spellistor ibland, och det är supervändbart att analysera dem för att se vad som kunde förbättras. Kanske repeterar jag samma artist för ofta? Kanske är tempot för ojämnt? Analysen visar det direkt.
När jag upptäcker nya curators - Om en spellista får högt betyg kollar jag vem som skapat den och följer dem för att se vilka andra spellistor de gjort. Det är ett bra sätt att hitta pålitliga musikskapare.
När jag bevisar en poäng - Okej, det här är kanske mest för skojs skull, men när någon säger “den här spellistan är awesome!” och jag tycker den är trash kan jag analysera den och visa med data varför den faktiskt inte är så bra. Ja, jag är den typen av person.
Isitagoodplaylist är fantastiskt för vad det gör, men det är viktigt att förstå dess begränsningar. Det analyserar objektiva metriker – data, statistik, mätbara faktorer. Det kan inte bedöma subjektiv musiksmak.
En spellista kan få perfekt betyg på alla tekniska parametrar men ändå inte vara något du gillar om musiken inte är din stil. Omvänt kan en spellista få lägre betyg men vara exakt vad du söker om du specifikt vill ha något nischat eller ovanligt.
Tjänsten kan heller inte ta hänsyn till kontextuella faktorer. En spellista avsedd för en specifik fest med specifika människor kan bryta mot alla “bra spellista”-regler men ändå vara perfekt för just den situationen.
Så använd Isitagoodplaylist som ett verktyg, inte som absolut sanning. Det ger dig värdefull information, men du måste fortfarande använda ditt eget omdöme.
Det finns andra verktyg för att analysera Spotify-spellistor, men Isitagoodplaylist sticker ut för sin enkelhet och fokus. Vissa verktyg ger dig omfattande statistik och grafer – vilket är coolt om du är data nerd, men överväldigande om du bara vill veta “är det här en bra spellista?”.
Isitagoodplaylist ger dig svaret rakt på sak. Ett betyg, några nyckelmetriker, klart. Du kan dyka djupare om du vill, men du behöver inte. Det är användbarheten som gör det värdefullt.
Andra verktyg fokuserar mer på att skapa spellistor eller hitta ny musik. Isitagoodplaylist fokuserar specifikt på att utvärdera befintliga spellistor. Det gör en sak och gör det bra, vilket jag alltid uppskattar.
Jag tror att verktyg som Isitagoodplaylist blir allt viktigare. Mängden musik på streamingplattformar växer exponentiellt. Spotify lägger till tiotusentals nya låtar varje dag. Antalet spellistor växer i samma takt.
I den miljön behöver vi verktyg för att filtrera och utvärdera. Vi kan inte lyssna på allt. Vi kan inte analysera varje spellista manuellt. Vi behöver sätt att snabbt identifiera kvalitet så vi kan spendera vår lyssartid på det som faktiskt är bra.
Jag föreställer mig en framtid där Spotify själva integrerar liknande funktionalitet – kanske betyg eller kvalitetsmarkeringar direkt i appen. Men tills dess finns det tredjepartstjänster som Isitagoodplaylist, och jag är tacksam för det.
Om du själv skapar spellistor (vilket du borde om du bryr dig om musik) är Isitagoodplaylist ett ovärderligt verktyg för att förbättra ditt hantverk. Det ger dig konkret feedback på vad som fungerar och inte fungerar.
Kanske upptäcker du att du repeterar samma artister för ofta. Kanske är ditt tempo för ojämnt. Kanske blandar du årtionden på ett sätt som inte fungerar. Analysen visar det, och du kan justera.
Det är som att ha en coach för spellistskapande. Det kommer inte göra jobbet åt dig – du måste fortfarande ha bra musiksmak och kuratorisk känsla – men det hjälper dig identifiera blinda fläckar och förbättringsområden.
Jag har själv blivit en bättre curator tack vare den här typen av feedback. Mina spellistor har bättre flow nu, mer variation i artister, bättre balans mellan bekant och nytt. Det märks när människor faktiskt lyssnar hela vägen igenom istället för att hoppa efter tredje låten.
En underutnyttjad del av Isitagoodplaylist är den sociala aspekten. Du kan dela dina spellistanalyser, visa upp bra curators du hittat, och diskutera vad som gör en spellista bra.
Det är kul att jämföra spellistor med vänner. “Min workout-spellista fick 8.5, vad fick din?” Det är nördigt, ja, men om du ändå är musiknörd (vilket du förmodligen är om du läser det här) är det rätt typ av nördighet.
Vissa använder det också som ett sätt att visa upp sina kuratoriska skills. “Alla mina spellistor får över 8.0 rating” blir ett sorts kvalitetsmärke. Det är lite som att ha ett bra credit score, fast för spellistor.
Låt mig vara ärlig om varför det här spelar roll för mig personligen. Musik är en enorm del av mitt liv. Jag lyssnar på musik flera timmar varje dag. Och hur jag lyssnar – i vilken ordning, i vilken kombination – påverkar faktiskt min upplevelse.
En bra spellista kan förvandla en tråkig pendling till något njutbart. Den kan göra ett träningspass mer effektivt. Den kan sätta rätt stämning för ett socialt sammanhang. Den kan introducera mig till artister jag aldrig skulle hittat annars.
En dålig spellista gör motsatsen. Den bryter flödet, den irriterar, den får mig att vilja byta. Det är slöseri med tid och potential.
Så för mig handlar spellistkvalitet om att respektera musiken och respektera min egen tid. Det handlar om att vara medveten om att kurering faktiskt är en färdighet, inte bara “släng ihop några låtar och hoppas på det bästa”.
Om du har blivit nyfiken (vilket jag verkligen hoppas) är det superenkelt att komma igång. Gå till isitagoodplaylist.com, klistra in länken till en Spotify-spellista, och vänta några sekunder medan analysen körs. Boom, du har ett betyg och detaljerad feedback.
Börja med att analysera dina egna spellistor om du har några. Det är både ödmjukande och lärorikt. Sedan kan du analysera spellistor du funderar på att följa. Jämför liknande spellistor för att se vilka som faktiskt är bäst kurerade.
Om du hittar curators som konsekvent gör bra spellistor, följ dem! Det är guldvärt att ha källor till kvalitetssäkrad musik. Och om du själv börjar skapa spellistor, använd analysen för att kontinuerligt förbättra ditt hantverk.
Det är lätt att tänka på spellistor som något casually – bara en lista med låtar. Men bra spellistskapande är faktiskt en konstform. Det kräver musikkunskap, kuratorisk känsla, förståelse för flow och dynamik. Det är lika mycket konst som att DJ:a eller mixa.
Isitagoodplaylist hjälper oss att erkänna och värdera den konsten. Det ger oss verktyg att identifiera kvalitet, lära oss vad som fungerar, och kontinuerligt förbättra oss som både konsumenter och skapare av spellistor.
I en värld med oändlig musik är kurering det som gör skillnad mellan kaos och upplevelse. Det som skiljer random shuffle från något meningsfullt. Det som gör att vi faktiskt hittar och njuter av musik istället för att drunkna i överväldigande valmöjligheter.
Så nästa gång någon delar en spellista med dig, eller du hittar en som ser lovande ut, ta 10 sekunder och kör den genom Isitagoodplaylist. Det kan rädda dig från timmar av medioker lyssning. Eller det kan bekräfta att du hittat en pärla. Oavsett vilket är det värt att veta.
Och om du själv skapar spellistor – ta det på allvar. Använd verktyg som Isitagoodplaylist för att bli bättre. Din framtida själv, och alla som lyssnar på dina spellistor, kommer tacka dig.
Musik är för viktig för att slösas bort på dåligt kurerade spellistor. Isitagoodplaylist hjälper oss säkerställa att vi faktiskt lyssnar på det bästa. Och det är något jag definitivt kan stå bakom.
from
Platser

Toscana i mellersta Italien är en av Europas mest mytomspunna regioner. Här samsas böljande kullar, vinodlingar, cypresser och medeltida städer med några av världens mest betydelsefulla konstskatter. Det är en plats där natur, kultur och vardagsliv flyter samman på ett sätt som gör att besökaren snabbt känner av regionens särprägel. Toscana är inte bara en destination för sevärdheter, utan en upplevelse som genomsyras av rytm, smaker och historia.
Florens och renässansens arv
Florens är Toscanas kulturella hjärta och en stad som haft enorm betydelse för Europas konst och idéhistoria. Under renässansen blomstrade staden tack vare mäktiga familjer som Medici, och här verkade konstnärer som Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo och Botticelli. Stadens silhuett domineras av den imponerande katedralen Santa Maria del Fiore med sin mäktiga kupol.
Ett besök i Florens innebär nästan oundvikligen möten med konst i världsklass. Uffizierna är ett av Europas mest berömda museer och rymmer verk som format konsthistorien. Samtidigt är Florens mer än sina museer. Att promenera längs floden Arno, korsa Ponte Vecchio i kvällsljuset och slå sig ner på ett litet torg med en espresso är minst lika betydelsefullt som att bocka av sevärdheter.
Siena och den medeltida atmosfären
Siena erbjuder en helt annan känsla än Florens. Här är det medeltiden som sätter tonen. Stadens centrum, Piazza del Campo, är ett av Europas mest unika torg med sin snäckformade struktur. Två gånger varje sommar förvandlas torget till arena för Palio di Siena, ett traditionsrikt hästlopp som engagerar hela staden.
Sienas katedral är ett mästerverk i svart och vit marmor och speglar stadens historiska rikedom. De smala gränderna, de branta backarna och de varma tegelfasaderna skapar en intim och nästan tidlös atmosfär. Här handlar upplevelsen ofta om att sakta ner och låta staden visa sig i sin egen takt.
Chianti och vinets landskap
Området mellan Florens och Siena kallas Chianti och är sinnebilden av det klassiska toskanska landskapet. Kullarna är täckta av vinrankor och olivlundar, och små byar tronar på höjderna. Här produceras det berömda Chianti Classico-vinet, huvudsakligen gjort på druvan sangiovese.
Att resa genom Chianti är lika mycket en visuell som en kulinarisk upplevelse. Många vingårdar erbjuder provsmakningar där man får inblick i vinets tillverkning och regionens traditioner. Kombinationen av lokala ostar, charkuterier, bröd och vin gör att måltiderna ofta blir en central del av resan.
Val d’Orcia och det ikoniska Toscana
Söder om Siena breder Val d’Orcia ut sig, ett landskap som blivit symbol för Toscana i filmer och fotografier. Här möts man av öppna vidder, ensamma gårdar på kullar och vägar kantade av cypresser. Området är upptaget på UNESCO:s världsarvslista tack vare sitt kulturhistoriska landskap.
Små städer som Pienza och Montepulciano lockar med både arkitektur och gastronomi. Pienza är känd för sin pecorinoost och sin harmoniska renässansplanering, medan Montepulciano erbjuder vintraditioner och vidsträckta utsikter. I Val d’Orcia är det ofta stillheten och ljuset som gör störst intryck.
Pisa och Toscanas kust
Pisa är mest känd för sitt lutande torn, som står på Piazza dei Miracoli tillsammans med stadens katedral och baptisterium. Tornets lutning har gjort det till en av världens mest fotograferade byggnader. Även om området kring tornet är turistintensivt rymmer staden fler sidor, bland annat ett levande studentliv och charmiga kvarter längs floden Arno.
Toscanas kust sträcker sig längs Medelhavet och erbjuder både sandstränder och mer dramatiska kustlandskap. Städer som Livorno ger en mer vardagsnära bild av regionen, med starka sjöfartstraditioner och ett kök präglat av fisk och skaldjur. För den som vill kombinera kultur och bad är kusten ett naturligt komplement till inlandets historiska städer.
Det toskanska köket
Maten i Toscana bygger på enkla, rustika traditioner där råvarornas kvalitet står i centrum. Brödet bakas utan salt, vilket ger en neutral bas till smakrika ostar och charkuterier. Rätter som ribollita, en mustig soppa med bröd och grönsaker, och bistecca alla fiorentina, en kraftig T-bensstek, är typiska för regionen.
Olivoljan spelar en central roll och används både i matlagning och som smaksättare direkt på bröd och grönsaker. Det är ett kök som inte försöker imponera genom komplexitet, utan genom enkelhet och äkthet. Måltiderna är ofta långa och sociala, där samtalet är lika viktigt som maten.
Att resa i Toscana
Toscana har ett välutbyggt tågnät mellan de större städerna, men för att nå de mindre byarna och landsbygden är bil det mest flexibla alternativet. Vägarna slingrar sig genom kullarna och erbjuder ständigt nya vyer.
Våren och hösten är särskilt populära tider att besöka regionen, med behagliga temperaturer och färre besökare. Sommaren är varm och livlig, med festivaler och lokala marknader som fyller städer och byar med energi.
Toscana är en region som upplevs bäst med tid. Det är i de små stunderna, morgonkaffet på ett soligt torg eller en sen middag med utsikt över vinfälten, som dess karaktär verkligen träder fram.
After using Ubuntu for several years, I still consider myself a Linux amateur. I’ve used Windows since middle school so I had to start over. But learning something new is a challenge when your memory isn’t as sharp as it once was. I’ve saved many bookmarks of Terminal commands to refresh my mind.
I bought a Lenovo Thinkpad X-1 Carbon back in 2017. Still find it funny that my Intel i7 quad core processor wasn’t enough to upgrade to Windows 11. That’s when I finally stopped using Windows for good. When my Thinkpad finally died last year (thank you for your service) I had to use my spare 2012 MacBook Pro 13.
I’ve gotten used to the MacOS format and in some ways love it more than my Lenovo. When I couldn’t update the Brave Browser on my MacBook anymore I decided to change the OS.
I researched the best Linux distro for my MacBook and it came down to two choices: Elemental OS or PopOS!. The first one looked promising, very similar to MacOS. But I didn’t want to pay only to not like it. So I chose the latter.
PopOS! doesn’t look like MacOS, but I read good things about it. I also wanted to try something different. After installing it the WiFi card wasn’t working. For some reason the OS doesn’t recognize Apple WiFi cards. The only solution was buying a USB WiFi card from eBay and it works.
I like the OS. It works faster than Ubuntu and it’s easy to navigate. I don’t care much for the Workspaces feature. As long as I can use Terminal and install and use the programs I need that’s all it counts.
The company who makes PopOS! also sells their own laptops, but they’re pricey. They allow donations so I’ll give back whenever I can for their good work. So if you want to try PopOS!, give it a shot and let me know if you like it or not.
#computer #laptop #linux #popos
from 3c0
Her memoir was much more measured than you would expect from a Sagittarius woman. She was so observant those first five years with Picasso, and in a way, it felt like she was locked up in her body, moving and responding to the different situations that she was thrown into—until it dawned on her—2 children later, that she was losing herself, and could no longer live in the shadows of someone.
I do remember being 20-something and ‘letting’ things happen to you, feeling somewhat less in control of your destiny. She was 21 when she met Picasso, who was 61. Reading her memoir gave me some empathy for an ex of mine, who had muttered under his breath, after a couple of years of a long-distance courtship that he had felt like my shadow.
Though, I was no Picasso. I was no tyrannical egotistical painter, who would throw tantrums, when I think of him “fading” within my confidence and poise, I can still understand what he might have meant, a little better. He was 10 years older than me, but I can see why it feels like I have lived more lives than he has.
What they should be teaching us in schools, is the resiliency and confidence that most people try to find in others first. We think that we will get stronger and better, in a duo or couple. Our culture trains us to look outward for it, but a lot of it is self-knowledge…and then the true test of being human, is being able to be part of a community, to be in communion with others—not just in romantic relationships.
from 下川友
部屋には、16時の光が斜めに差し込んでいた。体調はもう底をついていたが、冬の終わりの空気だけはやけに澄んでいた。外にはまだ雪が残り、窓辺の鉢植えには小さな新芽が顔を出していた。
「お前さ、昔、雪どかしてたら八百屋が出てきたことあったろ。しかも値札が全部めちゃくちゃでさ。にんじん一袋三千円とか。あれ、誰のいたずらだったんだろうな」
笑いながら言ったのは、大学時代からの友人・佐伯だ。今は画家をしているらしい。売れているのかどうかは知らないが、たまに個展の案内だけは届く。俺は毎回、行くふりをして行かない。
「お前、木のそばで靴紐結んでたろ。あれ、後から聞いたら“家に飯がない”って合図なんだってな。分かるわけねえよ」
「そんな時期あったな。伝わらない合図にハマってたんだよ。言葉にしないで伝わってほしい、みたいな」
俺たちは床に座って、新作らしい缶コーヒーを開けた。佐伯が缶の側面を見て、ふっと笑う。
「お前、その顔、ゲーセンにいたときの顔じゃん。しかも反射ごし」
「反射ごしでしか出ない顔なんだよ」
「なんだよそれ」
佐伯はテレビ前の古いビデオデッキに手を伸ばした。
「今の子ってさ、ビデオ再生するとき手を繋いでもらうんだってよ。安心するらしい」
「本当っぽく言うなよ」
再生された映像には、大学の文化祭で撮った8ミリが映った。画面の中の俺は紙コップを探している。服を脱ぎ散らかしているような動きで、あちこちを漁っている。
「覚えてるか。紙コップ探してただけなのに、みんなに“脱ぎ魔”って呼ばれてた」
「お前が言い出したんだろ」
佐伯は笑いながら、棚からマグカップを取った。そこには「ぬぎま」と書かれていた。俺のあだ名だ。
「なんかさ、紙コップ取る動きがやたら騒がしくて、服脱いでるみたいだったんだよ」
「コーヒー淹れるわ」
湯気の立つカップを受け取った瞬間、ふと、初めて鼻血を出した日のことを思い出した。洗剤のボトルを覗き込んでむせた拍子に、つっと血が落ちた。あのときの匂いが、今もどこかに残っている。俺は鼻血の出し方がカッコいい。
「そういやさ、喫煙所で上司と一緒になったとき、会社じゃないみたいに話が盛り上がったんだよ。なんか、気持ちよかったわ」
「わかる。俺もこの前、灰皿譲ったら“先祖に侍いる?”って聞かれた」
「どういう感性だよ、それで上司になれたのか」
「知らねえ。でも、ちょっと嬉しかったんだよな」
佐伯がポケットからライターを取り出し、俺に放る。
「名前つけて返してくれよ」
「なんでだよ」
「いいから早く」
「……ポチ」
「合ってる合ってる」
ライターを手に取りながら思う。名前をつけるって、つまり忘れないってことだ。そういうことを、俺たちは昔から、言葉にせずにやってきた。
「資料、添えておくよ」
「急に日本語言うな」
「日本語を言いました」
from Sinnorientierung
Love
One cannot love anybody without turning away from oneself. However, the crucial question is whether this movement is prompted by the desire to turn toward a positive value, or whether the intention is a radical escape from oneself.
Scheler, M. (2023). Ressentiment (English Edition) [Kindle Android version]. Retrieved from Amazon.com. p38
from bios
4: When The Student Is Ready
By the swimming pool park, at the far crossroads, looking at the street names, today's using buddy says, “Who was Percy Osborne anyway?”
And I say, “Yeah and Matthews Meyiwa?”
“But,” shrugs Mickey Mouse, “Adrian must have been the most badass, no last name, like Tupac.”
He liked to be called Mickey Mouse because he visited Disneyland as child, part of a school thing, his mother saved up for months. And he discovered Mickey Mouse, hustling fantasy hard for tips. He struck up a conversation with this real life fake Mickey Mouse, and somehow ended up in the change room and saw all those ten dollar bills tumbling out of the costume and he thought to himself, this is what I want. It became his ambition to become a hustler like Mickey Mouse. So he left school, called himself Mickey Mouse and now not so much later, it seems to him, he hustles for change outside the public swimming pool, parking cars -he has made a hard shell of life in order to protect his self.
Mickey Mouse spent his nights on the steps of an abandoned house, on the corner of Adrian where Meyiwa becomes Percy, watching over the sex workers who work from the house at opposite corner. One night after a client refuses to pay one of them, and is trying to shove her out of his car, Mickey Mouse shows up, pulls the guy into the street, takes his car keys, marches him to the nearest ATM and makes him pay her.
There are other stories, that he walks the old ladies home after water aerobics, that there is a sex worker – clean now, with kids, off the street – who comes to swim at the pool but because of her past she is afraid to walk alone to South Beach where she now stays alone. He always gives her a walk, Mickey Mouse.
Not popular with the residents of the drug houses – who harass the sex workers, steal from them, worse – he is not allowed in some of the drug houses, maybe because he has stood up to the Nigerians he bravado shrugs.
On the last night of Mickey Mouse, he had gone into the drug house a block further up Percy to ask if anyone had food for him, maybe a piece, or a bag, anything. One of the magosha's boyfriends claims that Mickey Mouse has been harassing his bitch. Another accuses him of stealing some food. Without perceptible warning they are swiftly stabbing pummelling parries into his body...
...and he drops.
He is thrown onto the pavement. Waiting for the ambulance to arrive too late, his burbling blood sucking where they have stabbed him in the lungs.
Down on the corner at Adrian the magosha are bemoaning his fate, here at Percy less than fifty meters away they are talking – whatapestwhatapain, what a poes he was.
Other versions of history.
Mandela was replaced by an actor. Jan Van Riebeck was fat. Jesus was black. How quickly these discussions gain speed. Passed down theories as an attempt to make sense, to comfort, a sense of peace in acknowledging lack of control. In a vacuum rumour stands for truth. Truth is relegated to rumour. History is bigger.
Tupac Eminem. It's the only music around here, no one has a phone, data, the time to find new music, the access to people who know new music, the music played is what's known, what has been passed down, the older deader addicts liked Tupac, the old USBs still work in the new, always a new speakerbox visiting before it's sold. The old legends survive. Watch out for the illuminati.
A phone is not to look for new music or find information. A phone is not a communication device. Everything is currency. Airtime, data bundles, they pass through – sold for drugs food comfort. It's comfort to think there is a larger conspiracy, every disapproved act is resistance. Access is expensive. Cheap flip flops, they're shit, fall apart fast, new shoes that would last can be traded down by the ranks, for food.
On the corner of Meyiwa and Thusi, this twelve year old, he helps me sometimes, he's lived here his whole life. Not long, just his whole life. I help him when I have spare caps, nyope, crack. He helps me when he has spare caps. It is more often he helps me. He knows how to protect himself. He has learnt survival to a degree I will never comprehend. When I get clean I must come back and get him a job. He's never been to school, can't read, can count in multiples of the price of crack. He tells me that he knows I will be getting clean because I have an education, I must have people. To watch the way he survives out here, to see the him pull from nothing, from trash, a baleful look, an alchemist of need. An education to envy, if educated to value it.
It is far more complex than this. Every conception of self is untranslatable to a language outside of the self. Everyone's awakenings are their own. All forms of languages learnt from different sources.
This guy, early forties, he grew up, somewhere West Coast, inland, sand dunes, past the tourist influence, has just been off the street now a year, rebuilding. Twenty years ago he started on the street, has done prison time, is a twenty-eight. When he was fifteen or so he stabbed one of his teachers, but still didn't try meth for six years, and it started even before the teacher.
Somehow earlier he has made himself hard, and then somewhere around twelve he took to stabbing trees.
He would get angry and take out the stolen okapi and find a tree. At school, he would escape the day early, over the back wall, down in the veld in burbling distance to the river, there was this one tree that lent in toward the slope, and he could put one arm around it and his forehead against the trunk, and he could make like it was a brother he was greeting, “Otherwise?”, and he could stab that tree in the stomach, in hard parries, holding on fast and just imagining the life in flurries escaping, the gurgling in his ears.
So for him, in getting clean his biggest fear was that going home his old mense would invoke the number credo, “you leave us, you die”, but after six months die goede het begin balance, so he has to go find them, to get it over with. They've heard he's clean. They appreciate the visit, but he must not spend time with them. He, to them now, is hope. It is impossible to know the truth of this.
The youngest person in the rehab is fifteen, he has booked in with an older using buddy. Court conditionally there, they have been caught breaking into a pre-primary school – they were trying to steal the school's media technology to sell for meth. If they complete the six months they will get a suspended sentence. They spend the hour after the thin meal, before lockdown, out in the twenty by ten metre courtyard, spitting rhymes at each other. The older writing his own, the younger reciting Tupac, Eminem.
He spends his sixteenth birthday in the rehab and the gift given to him by his dorm mates is half an hour alone in the room -so he can skommel in peace.
When he gets home, he plans to stab someone, to get arrested. “In prison I will learn how to protect myself, to...”
He brandishes his fist as if holding an okapi. This is his best option as he conceives it.
It is a week after they book out, that we hear the news, the sixteen year old has escaped to the streets.
One of the older guys from his dorm chuckles at this news. “Fucking seun,” shaking his head, “te steek...”, he grimaces and clutches his fist, swooping quick tight parries, “...human flesh is not butter you know.”
Someone else sighs, “yassis, you know that sound...when you pull out the knife,” sucks air wetly between his teeth, grabs his crotch, “makes me so hard.”
Soy escritor, ensayista para ser exactos. La coherencia es algo que permite dotar de unidad al texto; mantener el hilo conductor del asunto tratado.
Escribir es apenas una parte de mí. No me da para vivir, pero me adorna, me abre puertas. Soy secretario de una fundación dedicada al estudio de la paz y el desarme. No se gana mucho dinero con estos temas. Son quizás los más importantes del mundo, pero en la práctica pagan mal, los sueldos son bajos y el trabajo puede hacernos personas acostumbradas a ir despacio, sin el atractivo de otras actividades más emocionantes.
Por eso quise escribir. Tengo tiempo, de sobra. He publicado una veintena de libros. Sobre la guerra, sobre la paz -por supuesto-, sobre los convenios de Ginebra, los derechos humanos en zonas de conflictos, y un largo etcétera.
Pero por la noche, créanme, soy el terror de la salsa. Canto y toco las maracas con la orquesta San Ramón, la mejor de la ciudad. Sonamos como el pecado, pura caña, guerra y más guerra: tiro la muleta y el bastón y te pongo a bailar el son.
Aunque me gusta ejercitar la atención, hay momentos en los que se agradece que la mente se balancee en una especie de hilo colgante.
No sé si esto tiene un nombre especial.
No es como el que se queda varado en el limbo, ni como aquellos de los que se dice que vieron pasar un ángel.
Tampoco debemos confundir esta experiencia con la mera distracción, como ocurre cuando nos atrapa una sucesión de imágenes o nos perdemos en la fiebre del sábado por la noche, al ritmo de lo que suene.
No sé si este hilo proviene de nuestro espacio interior, pero cuando regresamos tenemos una perspectiva más dulce de las cosas. Incluso inspiración.
El hilo del que hablo es un punto de extraña claridad, un momento mágico del que retornamos, como aquel que, en un instante, vio una chispa de la luz blanca que late en el corazón de las estrellas.
Soy campeón de yoyo y sé por cabeza propia que los que nos dedicamos a esto somos un poco supersticiosos y desconfiados. Personalmente, soy más desconfiado que otra cosa. Pero también sé que hay que ponerle un ojo a “ciertos detalles”.
Cuando nadie me ve, repaso cada centímetro de la cuerda, porque una vez el yoyo se me fue a la ventana.
-¡Ay qué desgracia, pero qué ocurrencia y ahora qué le digo a tu papá, ya no sé qué haceerr! -dijo mi madre.
Pero enseguida empezaron los triunfos, recuperé la autoestima y el pasado, pasado. El triunfo lo justifica todo.
Conocí a Laftan en Japón, en el campeonato 2023. Chocamos en un pasillo y dijo:
-Esto es una coincidencia significativa. Soy Laftan, Romina Laftan, y tú, ¿quién eres? -Soy Rufino. -Sígueme, Ruf -me dijo.
Y desde entonces no nos separamos: según ella, nos traería mala suerte. Por si acaso, pienso igual.
Si Laftan encuentra el reloj de mesa mirando a la pared, piensa que puede ser una señal de que “se le acaba el tiempo”. Ya me entienden.
Cada paso que da tiene un significado positivo o negativo y a veces ambos, porque a continuación matiza.
Es una leyenda. Varias veces campeona del mundo. En competición, incluso contra sus propios pronósticos, hace volar y danzar su yoyo de un modo nunca visto, y si lo hace a dos yoyos, es sublime. En la intimidad, es cariñosa y conversa con el yoyo. Confieso que al principio sentí celos.
Anoche, mientras hacíamos las maletas, se dió cuenta de que le faltaba la yoya a la que bautizó “Barbie”. Me miró espantada. Para reducir el drama, le dije:
-No me dirás que crees que eso significa que no irás a Chicago... -¿Tú lo sentiste también?
Ahora estamos en el aeropuerto para volar. Sangre fría, porque el vuelo se ha demorado, y esto va para largo. Aquí estamos.
Ella está intentando captar si esta demora “es un aviso”. Y yo, que soy desconfiado, no sé cómo, si el avión va tarde, podrá recibir en pista el adecuado mantenimiento. Así que lo mejor es permanecer cada uno en lo suyo, prácticamente sin mirarnos. Nos entendemos perfectamente, somos las dos mitades del yoyo.
from
Andy Hawthorne

You might not want ketchup on your chips after reading this…
Right then. Nineteen eighty-something, this was. I’m working at Sainsbury’s, aren’t I? Stacking shelves. Putting back all the stuff folk had grabbed off ’em during the day.
You’d traipse out the back to the warehouse, grab yourself a trolley piled up with whatever it might be spuds, bog rolls, anything, then wheel the thing out onto the shop floor and get it all up on them shelves quick as you like.
Then you’d go back and get another one. And do it again. And keep on doing it, hour after hour after bloody hour. And you couldn’t just sling it up there any old how neither. You had to dress it. Why a tin of beans needed trousering up, I never did work out.
The Grocery Manager, Maurice, he was called. Five foot two, near enough as wide as he was tall, with a face like a sheep’s arse that someone had taken the clippers to, he comes waddling over and goes: “Yow! Condiments aisle, next. Gerra move on.”
And he jabs his finger at this trolley loaded up with salts and sauces and great jars of beetroot. Heavy as sin, the thing was.
So off I went, good as gold. Keeping one eye on them beetroots the whole way, mind. I didn’t fancy one of them rolling off and turning me and half the shop floor the colour of a plum.
Made it to the pickles section. Got the pickled onions up there careful as you like, and yes, the beetroot and all. No incidents. Stacked the tubs of salt like I was building a little cathedral out of ’em. Lovely job.
Then. The ketchup.
Bottles of the stuff. Glass bottles. This was the Eighties, remember. Nobody gave a monkey’s about recycling back then. The cases — six bottles a go — were stacked two deep on my trolley.
I looked at ’em the way you’d look at a dog you didn’t quite trust. I didn’t fancy them going over neither. Nobody in their right mind wants to be paddling through a lake of sauce.
So I started stacking. Should’ve been simple enough. Get your scalpel out, slice the plastic off, slide the six-pack onto the shelf, next one, job done. Only some clever sod had mis-stacked ’em, hadn’t they.
So I had to lift a six-pack onto my trolley tray, get it ready to go up, and shift what was already on the shelf about a bit to make room.
CRASSHHHHHH!
SPPPPLLLLLAAAAATTTT!!!
The six-pack on my trolley tray made a break for it. Flung itself at the floor like it had somewhere better to be. And the floor caught it a treat. Caught it so well it smashed every last bottle to bits.
Red ketchup went everywhere. Across the floor. Up the shelving. All over my shoes. Started pooling under the trolley like something out of a horror film.
Maurice came barrelling round the corner, hit the sauce at full tilt, and sat himself down a good deal faster than he’d been planning to.
SQUELCH!!!
“AH BLOODY BOLLOCKS!!!”
Which — when you think about it — him sitting there in a spreading puddle of red… well. I’ll let you picture that one for yourselves.
“HOW the FUCK did that HAPPEN?”
“Well, you come running round the corner and—”
“NOT BLOODY ME, YOW DAFT SOD! The fucking sauce!”
“Ah. Right. Well, I had to shift everything about on the shelf and the pack slid off my tray.”
He picked himself up. Stood there dripping. Went stomping off down the aisle leaving a trail of red footprints behind him like some sort of angry, ketchup-soaked hobbit.
“Clean that UP!”
Now then, I could eat nothing with ketchup on it for months after that. The SMELL. Oh fuck, I can smell it now just thinking about it. It was like somebody had brewed up rotten eggs and gone-off vinegar in a massive vat. And then squatted over it.
Honestly. It has got to be one of the worst smells I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing. Before or since.
Sixty-two mop buckets later, or thereabouts, I got rid of the evidence. Tipping them buckets of sauce-water down the drain out back was a whole other experience I could’ve done without, and all.
A hundred and sixty-two J-Cloths later, I’d got everywhere else sorted. And Nora — one of the women I worked with, lovely woman, built like a prop forward — put the finishing touches on it with about two gallons of air freshener. Sprayed it about like she was crop-dusting.
Ketchup is very nice. In small amounts. Squeezed out of a little sachet onto your burger. I do not recommend wading through it.
Or walking home with your shoes squelching sauce out of the soles with every step. Folk looking at you on the bus like you’ve murdered someone.
I got home and Mum had got tea on. Chips and fish fingers.
“Does anyone want the sauce—”
NO. NOT FOR A LONG TIME.
from An Open Letter
I broke up with her. I think she was anyway going to break up with me, but either way I broke up with her first. And it hurts really fucking bad.
I finally realized that I had to set so I’m kind of a boundary or have some concrete thing because otherwise I would never leave and it showed up in the form of her saying that even knowing how much it hurt me, she did not regret that I was recorded without my knowledge. And if she could, she would’ve wanted it to happen the same way again. I know that this is because she is probably hurt by something I said, but I went through the audio for the first time and everything I said I still standby and I do not think I said anything hurtful, so at most it was a miscommunication. They however did say stuff that I did not hear behind my back that was incredibly not OK and the fact that she does not recognize that even fundamentally recording someone in such a vulnerable state without their knowledge gave me enough to finally leave. It hurts a fucking lot, but at least I can have my head held high, because for once I broke up instead of sitting there and begging and hoping that things will change. That being said it’s still fucking hurts so much. So many little things remind me of her, and it hasn’t even been 12 hours. I find myself like at this weird in between of begging and coming to terms with it. I recognize that I need to stand on business here and fully end it. Even if she comes back and she says the right things, I think I need to be strong and begin to move on and heal. I have given her too many chances and she has said the right things before and her actions did not stay consistent with that. There are a lot of things that she has done and I need to recognize the fact that even if people can change, it is a gradual process and it will not happen nearly as fast as would be fair to me. An additionally there has been so many things that she has done that I’ve been incredibly hurtful and fucked up, and I just don’t think that she is currently at the emotional maturity level to be able to make up for those things, and so those Bridges have been burned, and that is it. It still fucking hurts me so much. It hurts that the person I love so much isn’t actually the person they are. I think I’ve gotten high on the fantasy and the hope of who they could be, and I ignored all of the many warning signs and issues. Partially because I haven’t had any relationships before, I think I just told myself that this is normal, and actually healthy. But this is not at all the love that I hoped for. And as much as I want to, I cannot love her into her changing. And I know that there will be plenty of other people out there that would treat me better and be better matches for me. I really wished that she was the one. But I think there’s a lot of different things that I missed because I blinded myself. One thing my sister mentioned was how having such a big intelligence gap in a relationship isn’t super fun, because while it is nice for the moment in the sense of me being able to teach her things and stuff, I would eventually get bored because she doesn’t have things that she can show me in the same way, and it would be a consistent relationship of me teaching her and not really too much the other way around. I think also in terms of maturity there is a big gap there. Also even like practically, she is not good with money and she also does not have any kind of a job lined up and is finishing a useless degree. Even in games she is a low rank, meaning whenever we would play together it would always be having to be me smurfing. I think it’s not that hard to find a partner that is willing to go to the gym with me, and I can even look for explicitly a gym partner if I want that. But I think more than anything else it’s just the emotional maturity. We kept having issues because her struggles with emotional regulation, and I had to walk her through so many different things like how to validate feelings, understanding how certain actions are perceived, or like how to react in certain situations, and there are just so many different issues there where it feels like I have to baby her or teach her simple stuff. There is going to be some partner out there that is smart, funny, successful, kind, open-minded, and most of all closer to me in terms of maturity. And I think it would be a little bit of the best for me to not right now try to search for that. Just focus on being happy again and healing.
from folgepaula
Your future is your neighbor.
So I got sick. My throat started aching, my voice disappeared, and the fever was kicking in. Around 8 PM, pretty delirious, I texted my neighbor on the 2nd floor asking if she had any ibuprofen because I had run out. Five minutes later, I was medicated and pampered with freshly baked cake. At this point, we’re basically each other’s pharmacies. Medication is the main thing we usually trade, but honestly, the list is endless.
The other day, she asked me about my leg‑hair removal and where I get it done. So I told her I have the Philips laser machine at home and, by the way, why doesn’t she try it? Oh no, don’t waste money on a clinic; try my Lumea first. All of this exchanged casually in the hallway, as always.
Across the hall lives my neighbor with her 9 yo son and Juanita, a Colombian au pair who helps take care of him part time. Since she’s German and the boy's father is South American, having someone from Colombia at home helps keep the language alive. When they go skiing or to the beach on vacation, the au pair takes the opportunity to visit her family, and I get to water the plants inside or on the terrace. They always come back with the best vegan treats for me.
I only recently learned that my neighbor Evri does nails super well, and she loves doing it. I’m grateful, because doing my own nails was a disaster every time. Now I just pop over while the dogs go wild, and instead of spending out 60 euros at a studio, I treat us to whatever dinner she’s craving. Girls date, win-win.
It feels like a past life, but I still remember my first address in Vienna. I moved to the 8th district, freshly arrived from São Paulo. One day, my neighbor knocked on my door to say he’d noticed me moving in the week before, and wanted me to know he was there if I needed anything. Door 25, feel free to ring anytime. Sounds small, but just knowing someone nearby cared, even in the back of my mind, was comforting.
Truth is, I moved to Austria with nothing but two suitcases. I didn’t own a bowl. Or a fork. It was a full life reset: sixty square meters of pure, echoing emptiness. Not a single familiar object to warm the place up, everything that carried any emotional value stayed behind. A few weeks after I arrived COVID hit. So now I was in an almost empty apartment, suddenly working remotely, not knowing anyone but my cousins living in the 19th district and because I’m excellent at prioritizing in a crisis, what did I do? Yes, exactly that, I bought a Yamaha Clavinova. In a week when other people were panic buying toilet paper, I was panic buying a pianino.
Call it intuition or survival instinct, but that probably kept me from spiraling into a full blown depression in the months that followed. I'd play for hours every day.
Out of nowhere one day, my hallway neighbor, an old man between 80 and immortal, who had spent weeks avoiding any interaction with me, and at the peak of the paranoia even brought a complaint to the house management that I was leaving home “too much” (It was 1x a day, to run), and that by leaving my pair of shoes in the corridor I was risking to bring the virus to him, suddenly opens his door as soon as he heard me leaving.
He kept his distance to avoid any unwanted entanglement and asked if I was the one playing the piano in the “late afternoon.” I answered very dryly “Yes”, because I was fully prepared for the lecture. But instead, he told me it was very beautiful and asked what the “piece” was called. I told him it was “La valse d’Amélie” by Yann Tiersen.
That day, affection somehow won over fear. And because he had turned our differences into curiosity, and his cautiousness, for the first time, into some sort of sympathy, I took the chance to explain that I’d be running like a hamster around Hamerlingpark at night, not meeting anyone, just doing what I needed to keep my mental health intact. He smiled, and with a tiny hand wave, gave me the longest and most reassuring “Paaaasst” of my life.
What I am trying to say is that community resilience shapes individual resilience. And we can’t build a strong future in a socially or emotionally weak neighborhood. As much as we try to project our wildest plans and future accomplishments, the truth is: your future self isn’t some stranger, just a slightly evolved version of who you already are today.
/feb26
from
Iain Harper's Blog
There is a particular conversational move that has become common in discussions about AI. Someone demonstrates a new capability, shares a use case, or describes how their workflow has changed, and a familiar response arrives. What about security? What about governance? What about the hallucination problem? What about my twenty years of experience? Each objection arrives wearing the costume of legitimate concern, and each one contains enough truth to feel reasonable in the moment. But taken together, they form something that looks less like careful analysis and more like a defence mechanism.
The pattern is whataboutism in its textbook form. The term originates from Cold War-era Soviet diplomacy, where officials would deflect criticism of human rights abuses by pointing to racial violence in America. The rhetorical structure was never designed to resolve the original issue. It existed to neutralise it. To shift the frame from “is this true” to “but what about that other thing,” and in doing so, to ensure that neither question ever gets properly answered. The AI version of this runs on similar fuel, though the people doing it are rarely aware they’re doing it at all.
The uncomfortable thing about AI whataboutism is that the concerns are mostly valid. AI security is genuinely underdeveloped, particularly around Model Context Protocol implementations, where the attack surface is wide and poorly understood. Governance frameworks in most organisations range from nonexistent to laughably outdated. Hallucinations remain a structural feature of large language models, a byproduct of how they generate text rather than a bug that some future update will fix. And twenty years of domain expertise does contain knowledge that no model can replicate, particularly the kind of tacit understanding that comes from watching things break in production over and over again until you develop an instinct for where the next failure will come from.
So all are true, but none is the point.
The point is that these objections are being deployed not as calls to action but as reasons for inaction. There is a significant difference between “AI has security vulnerabilities, so we need to build better guardrails while we adopt it” and “AI has security vulnerabilities, so we’ll wait.” The first is engineering. The second is avoidance dressed up as prudence.
Leon Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance, first published in 1957, describes exactly what’s happening. When a person holds a belief about themselves (I am an expert, my skills are valuable, my experience matters) and encounters information that threatens that belief (this technology can do significant parts of my job faster and cheaper than I can), the resulting psychological discomfort has to go somewhere. Festinger identified three common escape routes for that discomfort. You can avoid the contradictory information entirely, you can delegitimise its source, or you can minimise its importance by focusing on its flaws. AI whataboutism is all three at once, packaged as due diligence.
Samuelson and Zeckhauser’s work on status quo bias adds another layer here that is worth sitting with. Their 1988 paper demonstrated that people disproportionately prefer the current state of affairs, even when alternatives are measurably better, and that this preference strengthens as the number of available options increases. The mechanism underneath isn’t stupidity or laziness. It is loss aversion applied to identity.
When you have spent fifteen or twenty years building expertise in a specific domain, that expertise becomes part of how you understand yourself. It is the thing that justifies your salary, your title, your seat at the table. The suggestion that a tool might compress the value of that expertise, or redistribute it, or make parts of it accessible to people who didn’t put in the same years and hard yards, triggers something that feels like an attack even when it isn’t one. The natural response is to find reasons why the tool can’t possibly do what it appears to be doing. And conveniently, AI provides an inexhaustible supply of such reasons, because it is, in fact, imperfect.
The trap is that imperfect doesn’t mean useless. Imperfect is the condition of every tool that has ever existed. The first commercial aircraft couldn’t fly in bad weather. The early internet went down constantly. Mobile phones in the 1990s weighed a kilogram and dropped calls in buildings. Nobody looked at any of those technologies and concluded that the smart move was to wait until they were perfect before learning how they worked.
Yet that is precisely the position many experienced professionals are taking with AI, and the whataboutism provides them with just enough intellectual cover to feel like they’re being rigorous and righteous rather than scared.
What makes this particular round of technological change different from previous ones, and what makes the coping mechanisms around it more dangerous than usual, is the speed.
Previous disruptions gave people time to adjust. The internet took roughly a decade to move from novelty to necessity for most businesses. Cloud computing crept in over years, first as a weird thing Amazon was doing with spare server capacity, then gradually as the default. Even mobile took the better part of five years to go from “we should probably have an app” to “our mobile experience is our primary channel.”
AI is not operating on that timeline. The gap between GPT-3 and GPT-4 was measured in months. The capabilities that seemed like science fiction in 2023 are baseline features in 2026. Agentic systems that were theoretical eighteen months ago are shipping in production today. The window in which “wait and see” was a defensible strategy has already closed for most knowledge work, and many of the people deploying whataboutism as a delaying tactic are burning through competitive advantage while they debate whether the fire is hot enough to worry about.
This is where the coping mechanism becomes actively harmful rather than merely unproductive. If the pace of change were slower, there would be time for the concerns to be addressed sequentially. Fix the security model, then adopt. Build the governance framework, then deploy. But the pace doesn’t allow for sequential anything. The security model has to be built while adopting. The governance framework has to be designed while deploying. The two activities are not opposed to each other, and treating them as an either-or is itself a form of denial.
The most pernicious form of AI whataboutism is the appeal to experience, because it contains the highest concentration of legitimate truth mixed with self-serving reasoning.
Experience matters enormously. The question is which parts of it matter, and for what. The parts that involve pattern recognition accumulated over decades of watching projects succeed and fail, the ability to smell trouble before it shows up in a status report, the judgment to know when a technically correct answer is practically wrong, those parts matter more than ever in a world where AI can generate plausible output at speed. What AI cannot do is evaluate whether the output is appropriate for the specific context, the specific client, and the specific political dynamics of a given organisation. That evaluation requires exactly the kind of accumulated wisdom that experienced people possess.
But the parts of experience that involve doing the work that AI can now do faster, the manual production, the research grunt work, the first-draft generation, the template building, those parts are depreciating rapidly. And for many experienced professionals, the manual production was the majority of how they spent their time, which means the shift feels existential. AI is also moving up the value chain, much as Chinese manufacturing moved from cheap toys to highly complex electronics. This creates a kind of creeping dread that even our most valued, intangible skills will also eventually be under threat.
The whataboutism around experience is often an attempt to avoid this sorting exercise entirely. Rather than doing the difficult work of figuring out which parts of twenty years of expertise are now more valuable and which parts need to be released, it is easier to treat the entire bundle as sacred and dismiss the technology that requires the unbundling.
Cognitive dissonance resolves in one of two directions. You can change your beliefs to match the new information, which is uncomfortable but productive. Or you can distort the information to match your existing beliefs, which is comfortable and eventually catastrophic. Whataboutism is the distortion path, and the longer you walk down it, the harder it becomes to turn around, because every objection you’ve raised becomes part of the identity you’re now defending.
The alternative isn’t to abandon caution. It is to be honest about the difference between caution that leads to better decisions and caution that functions as a socially acceptable way to avoid making decisions at all. Build the governance framework, but build it while experimenting, not instead of experimenting. Raise the security concerns, but raise them in the context of “how do we solve this”, rather than “this proves we should wait.” Lean on your experience, but do the honest accounting of which parts of that experience the world still needs and which parts you’re holding onto because letting go feels like losing a piece of yourself.
The concerns are all valid. The coping mechanisms aren’t.
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rfrmd.com
The gospel is the heart of Christianity, proclaiming the transformative work of God through Jesus Christ to reconcile humanity with Himself. It is the message of hope, grace, and redemption for a broken world.
Core Truth: God is perfectly holy, while humanity is separated from Him by sin.
God is the Creator of all things, characterized by absolute holiness and righteousness. He designed humanity in His image for a relationship of love and obedience (Genesis 1:26-27; Isaiah 6:3). However, every person has sinned by rebelling against God’s perfect standard, choosing self over Him (Romans 3:23). This sin creates an unbridgeable chasm, separating us from God’s presence and leaving us under His righteous judgment (Isaiah 59:2). This is not an abstract theological problem — it is the weight behind every restless night, every unshakable guilt, and every quiet sense that something is deeply wrong. Without intervention, we are spiritually lost, incapable of restoring this relationship on our own.
Core Truth: Jesus, fully God and fully man, bridges the gap through His sinless life and atoning death.
Because humanity cannot overcome sin, God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to accomplish what we could not. Jesus lived a flawless life, fulfilling God’s law perfectly (2 Corinthians 5:21). In love, He willingly died on the cross, taking the punishment for our sins as our substitute (Romans 5:8). His death satisfied God’s justice (1 Peter 3:18), securing forgiveness and reconciliation for all whom God draws to Himself (John 6:37). This act of grace demonstrates God’s profound love and mercy, providing the only way to restore our relationship with Him. Whatever you have done, whatever has been done to you, the cross speaks into the deepest wounds and the darkest corners of your story.
Core Truth: Salvation is a free gift received through faith in Jesus Christ alone.
The gospel declares that salvation cannot be earned through good deeds, moral effort, or religious rituals (Ephesians 2:8-9). It is God's gracious gift, offered freely to all who trust in Jesus as their Savior and Lord (John 3:16). Faith is more than intellectual agreement; it is a wholehearted reliance on Christ's finished work on the cross, marked by genuine repentance — a turning away from sin and toward God with a humble heart (Mark 1:15). By trusting in Him, we receive forgiveness of sins, eternal life, and a restored relationship with God (Acts 4:12). You do not need to clean yourself up first — Christ draws you to Himself and by His Spirit begins the work of making you new.
Core Truth: Salvation transforms our purpose, freeing us to live for God’s glory and enjoy Him forever.
Salvation is not merely about personal benefit but about redirecting our lives to honor God. As redeemed people, our ultimate purpose is to glorify God in all we do, reflecting His love, truth, and goodness (1 Corinthians 10:31). This new life involves growing in Christlikeness, pursuing holiness, and shining as a light to others (Matthew 5:16). Salvation reorients our desires, leading us to find true joy in knowing and serving God (Romans 12:1-2).
Core Truth: God initiates, sustains, and will complete our salvation through a lifelong process.
Salvation is not just a one-time event but the beginning of a journey. The God who calls us to Himself provides the faith to believe and empowers us to grow in holiness—a process called sanctification (Philippians 1:6). Through the Holy Spirit, He transforms us to reflect Christ’s character, enabling us to turn from sin and embrace righteousness (Romans 8:29-30). This lifelong work assures believers of God’s faithfulness to keep and guide them to the end (John 10:27-28). On the days when your faith feels weak and your failures feel loud, remember that your standing before God rests on Christ's faithfulness, not yours.
Core Truth: Christians are called to share the good news as God’s ambassadors.
The gospel is not meant to be kept private but shared with the world. God invites every believer to participate in His mission by proclaiming the good news of Jesus (Matthew 28:19-20). As ambassadors, we represent Christ, sharing His message of reconciliation through our words, actions, and transformed lives (2 Corinthians 5:18-20). This calling, known as the Great Commission, is both a privilege and a responsibility, empowering us to bring the hope of the gospel to a broken world (Mark 16:15).
The gospel is “the power of God for salvation” (Romans 1:16), offering hope to all who believe. It reveals God’s character, addresses humanity’s deepest need, and provides a purpose that transcends this life. By embracing the gospel, we are not only reconciled with God but are also invited into His mission to redeem and restore the world. If you find yourself drawn to this message — stirred by a longing for God you cannot explain — take heart. That very desire is evidence of His work in you, for no one seeks God apart from His calling (John 6:44). Before the foundation of the world, He set His love on a people for Himself (Ephesians 1:4), and the hunger you feel is His Spirit drawing you home (John 6:65).
This living relationship with God is the very point of our existence, giving us both an unshakeable hope for tomorrow and a profound answer for how to live today. For tomorrow, it offers the certainty of eternal life—the unbreakable promise that we will be with Him forever in a place without sorrow or pain. This future hope gives us the courage to face hardship, knowing that our present struggles are temporary and our ultimate victory is secure.
For today, knowing God provides the strength to endure, the wisdom to navigate complexity, and a peace that anchors us in the midst of life's storms. Our purpose is no longer found in fleeting achievements but in a daily walk with Him, turning our work, our relationships, and even our challenges into acts of worship. He gives our present reality ultimate meaning, transforming our ordinary lives into an extraordinary offering of love, service, and unshakable joy.
If you are looking for a church — or looking to come back to one — here are some things worth considering: How to Find a Faithful Church. You were not meant to walk this road alone, and God ordinarily works through the gathering of His people to strengthen and sustain the faith He gives.
from
rfrmd.com
Finding a good church matters. The Christian life was never meant to be lived alone. God saves individuals, but He saves them into a body — a community of Christ's people who gather around His Word, receive His sacraments, and hold one another accountable in love. The church is not an optional add-on to the faith; it is the ordinary means God uses to grow and sustain His people.
But not every church that calls itself a church is faithful to what Scripture teaches. So how do you tell the difference? Here are some things to look for — and a few things to watch out for.
A faithful church treats Scripture as the final word on all matters of faith and life. The preaching should open the Bible, explain what it says, and apply it to the congregation — not use a verse or two as a springboard for the pastor's opinions or motivational talks. Look for expository preaching that works through books of the Bible and lets the text set the agenda (2 Timothy 4:2). If the sermons could work just as well without the Bible, that is a problem.
The gospel — the good news that sinners are reconciled to God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ — should be the heartbeat of everything the church does. Not moralism. Not self-help. Not vague spirituality. The cross and the empty tomb should shape the preaching, the prayers, the songs, and the sacraments. A church that drifts from the gospel has drifted from the point (1 Corinthians 15:3-4).
Christ gave His church two sacraments: baptism and the Lord's Supper. A faithful church practices both regularly and takes them seriously as means of grace — not mere rituals or symbolic gestures, but real instruments through which God strengthens the faith of His people (Matthew 28:19; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26). If a church rarely celebrates the Lord's Supper or treats baptism casually, ask why.
The New Testament does not envision a church run by a single charismatic leader with no accountability. Faithful churches have a plurality of elders who shepherd the congregation, teach sound doctrine, and are themselves accountable to one another and to a broader body (Titus 1:5-9; Acts 20:28). Whether the structure is presbyterian, reformed baptist, or another form with meaningful elder oversight, the key is accountability. If one person makes all the decisions and answers to no one, be cautious.
This one may sound harsh, but it is actually a mark of love. A church that never confronts sin in its members is a church that does not care enough to protect them. Church discipline, practiced according to the pattern Jesus laid out in Matthew 18:15-17, is about restoration — calling wandering sheep back before they destroy themselves. A church that practices it carefully and humbly is a church that takes holiness and the wellbeing of its members seriously.
A faithful church calls its members to more than showing up on Sundays. It provides opportunities for Bible study, prayer, and genuine fellowship. It expects its people to serve one another, to use their gifts, and to grow in their knowledge of God over time (Hebrews 10:24-25). If a church asks nothing of you beyond attendance and a check, it is not asking enough.
Worship is about God — who He is, what He has done, and what He has promised. A faithful church gathers to praise Him, hear from Him through His Word, respond in prayer and song, and receive His grace through the sacraments. The question to ask is not “did I enjoy the experience?” but “was God honored and His Word faithfully proclaimed?” (John 4:24). Be wary of churches where the atmosphere feels more like a concert or a performance than a congregation gathered before a holy God.
A church should be able to tell you what it believes — clearly, specifically, and in writing. Historic Reformed confessions like the Westminster Confession of Faith, the Heidelberg Catechism, or the London Baptist Confession provide a tested and proven framework that ties a church to the broader Christian tradition and guards against doctrinal drift. If a church cannot clearly articulate what it believes or dismisses creeds and confessions as unnecessary, there is little to hold it to the faith once delivered to the saints (Jude 1:3).
No church is perfect. You will not find a congregation without flaws, frustrations, or people who sometimes let you down. That is not a reason to stay home — it is actually the point. The church is a gathering of sinners who are being sanctified together, not a collection of people who have arrived. If you wait for the perfect church, you will wait forever and miss what God intends to give you through the imperfect one down the road.
At the same time, do not settle for a church that makes you comfortable but leaves you unchallenged. A good church will step on your toes occasionally. It will tell you what you need to hear, not just what you want to hear. That is not a bug — it is a feature.
If you are coming from a church that hurt you, or if you have never been part of a church at all, the idea of walking through those doors can feel overwhelming. That is understandable. But God uses the ordinary, sometimes messy, gathering of His people to do extraordinary work in the lives of those who show up. Find a faithful church, commit to it, and let God do what He does best — shape you into the image of His Son alongside others who are on the same road.
You may have noticed that I have purposefully avoided pointing toward a specific denomination or church, with the prayer that the Lord would use this page as a starting point for conversation between you and a local congregation. That said, if you are not sure where to begin, here are three confessionally Reformed Presbyterian denominations that hold to the Westminster Standards and take the marks of a faithful church seriously. Each has a church locator to help you find a congregation near you:
These are not the only faithful churches out there, but they are a solid place to start. Visit, ask questions, sit under the preaching, and see if the marks described above are present. A good church will welcome your scrutiny — they have nothing to hide.