It’s election season! No politics today. I might do a pass next week, but I’m never great at hitting a deadline. Or am I? I guess that depends on your expectations. Maybe I’ll try a day-after synopsis, but I don’t believe a wave election is coming for either side. This week it’s all rock music, with a ’90s Manchester slant. I mean, have you really listened to Oasis? Feel free to skip to the end; AI doomscrolling lies ahead. Oh, when will this bubble burst? Maybe that’s a political question too?

And apologies for the duplicate email, I might have hiccuped finalizing this while the Brewers were finishing off the Rays.

What does it mean to say you’ve listened to a song?

Or that you understand an artist’s body of work?

Can you really hear U2? I mean, really hear them. Or Dave Matthews? Or Pearl Jam? Choose your favorite artist, close your eyes, and pump up the volume.

Now visualize a treble clef. Picture those notes dancing, building into songs. But assembling a collection isn’t the same as building a perfect album. I don’t mean the type where you scroll around in Spotify or Apple Music and click track four, skip to six, and then return to four. God help us, what a sad life to dirty your phone with so many fingerprints. But let’s not cast blame; music economics requires that one hit. It can be life-changing for singer and songwriter.

But a full effort? Ten to twelve solid tracks. No filler. No reason to bounce. Just pure musical greatness. A collection where you drop the turntable’s needle and listen until the last track fades. Not because the format creates friction but because, damn it, you feel like you’re cheating the artist by not sharing in what the muse conjured from deep inside their soul. The good lord knows finding the muse is hard. There has to be magic behind creativity, even if the dark arts make an appearance now and then too.

Again, there are few architecturally perfect albums. Some would indeed sell their souls to make one.

Many claim Taylor Swift is our generation’s songwriter. Swifty Nation and I have ordained her transformational. She’s one of a kind. Who is bigger than Taylor? The Tortured Poets Department is a perfect title, a wink and nod to a favorite movie. Yet a great title doesn’t make a great album, and this one doesn’t hold together from first track to last. None of her albums sustains that raw energy throughout. You can hear an edge on All Too Well. Red has it in doses. Playing music critic today, I’d classify her as more songwriter than architect.

But building perfection end to end? Oh, call it my opinion, but there have only been a handful, really.

Earlier this year, I argued that Pearl Jam’s Ten proved its case as transformational. But transformational isn’t the same as perfect. Yes, Eddie Vedder had something to say, a vision, and the band never deviated from that raw, unbridled energy. Yet is it perfect? I struggle here, biting my inner lip as I type, No, far from it. That doesn’t mean I don’t love it. Album debates are tough; I say this knowing Swifty Nation’s claws are at the ready. Still, some have reached the pinnacle.

Brian Wilson’s masterpiece, Pet Sounds, belongs on that list, despite a cover that proves you should never judge a book, or album, by its cover. Crafting arrangements and harmonies so far ahead of their time sent the bandleader into a tailspin. The muse clearly helped create the work. But did the music gods reveal too much? He didn’t finish the encore, Smile, for decades. Oh, what could have been. Pet Sounds set too high a bar with its harmonic blend, borrowing the universe with its pageantry, with Coca-Cola cans, dog whistles, bicycle bells, and, of course, animal sounds. And he did this in a pre-digital era, on a handful of tracks and a lot of tape. How was that even possible? To truly hear the full album, try listening on vinyl, solid stereo system included, and turn the dial up because today’s digital services wash out the subtleties. Doing it right places you in true throwback territory.

What about the Beatles? No, you can’t leave John, Paul, George, and Ringo out of this discussion. Has any band recorded so relentlessly over such a short time? They were together only ten years. For my money, I’ll pass on Sgt. Pepper, since it’s playing catch-up to Brian’s opus. Revolver, the White Album, and Rubber Soul come close. But for me, Abbey Roadshines brightest; it’s my go-to listen. The band went into the studio knowing the end was nigh, and they refused to let the world down, producing the definitive song in Here Comes the Sun. George wrote it, and it remains one of their most streamed tracks. Harrison’s work has aged well.

After those two, what else is there? What album makes the list? Rumours? Dark Side of the Moon? Boston (1976)? Purple Rain? OK Computer? I struggled to find my next pick until I walked into the theatre and watched Oasis: Don’t Look Back in Anger, the reunion tour documentary. I admit I’ve been sleeping on these guys, a term my kid shames me with whenever he knows more than I do about music or books or sports, my lesser Scarlet Letter. Yet I grew up during the ’80s rock god era. Think Steve Perry and his four-octave greatness. Then Nirvana tore it all down with that grunge god wail. Pain. Raw energy. Yes, I wore brown corduroy. Who didn’t? Don’t laugh; the style is making a comeback, and I should have stored mine in a time capsule or wooden treasure chest.

Delayed by traffic, I tiptoed into the theatre late, but there was no doubt I was in the right place. Liam Gallagher curses like a rampaging beast fighting hell’s demons. Yes, he’s a Manchester rock god, and he leaves no doubt. F-bombs launched every third word.

The memories came roaring back. Sure, I’ve listened to Wonderwall and Champagne Supernova, dirtying up my cell phone screen. Somehow, I never let the band’s magnum opus play on repeat.

How Did I Forget About Oasis?

It’s simple; I remembered them more for the constant bickering and childish British boy antics. Rock gods played. They roared. Yet that was their lesser schtick, even after they broke up in a hurricane frenzy. Noel left, forming his own group, High Flying Birds. The rest of Oasis stayed with Liam under a new calling card: Beady Eye.

But that didn’t end the spat.

With each respective album release, Liam attacked Noel’s authenticity. He portrayed himself as the genuine rock-and-roll Gallagher and Noel as someone who had become pretentious, forgetting his roots. Noel, never letting a slight go, attacked Liam’s musicianship. His argument was that his brother played a hapless lounge singer performing songs other people wrote.

I guess it was never about record sales but about who stood atop the Gallagher pedestal. In a brotherly war, nobody wants to lose that fight. Alas, their poor mother; I doubt she gave a damn about the band, but she did care for her kids.

As for going back, I understand Noel’s reluctance; returning means more than walking through the same door. Can you recover what made the old work haunt hum? I ponder this often. How long should you stay in a gig? If you decide to pack up, thinking you can always go back in time, is that an option? Well, the answer is often no. And rejoining Oasis, that’s more than a routine day job—that’s an epic life with certain strings, and baggage, attached.

After the walkout in 2009, the next fifteen years became a running game of Liam saying yes and Noel saying no. Near the Morning Glory 20th anniversary, Liam offered to play the album live if they put the fighting aside; yet, reports surfaced that Noel had turned down millions to reunite. Years later, 2018-ish, Liam’s message was simple: I forgive you, let’s get Oasis back together. Noel never engaged.

When a rumored nine-figure offer made the rounds, Noel joked he’d do it if someone produced the money.

Then, Liam, in classic fashion, said, “I’d do it for free.” How epic is that? Had the swagger returned? Maybe the showman never left? Most of the earlier reunions weren’t failures so much as Liam wanting it, promoters throwing out big numbers, and Noel declining. In August 2024, the impossible was finally announced.

Watching, I sensed the fans weren’t sure the boys would actually show up for that first concert. Hundreds upon thousands descended, wearing old T-shirts, many finding spots in trees or atop hills, if only to hear their favorite band roar again. And, oh my, the tears flowed when the two walked out holding hands. The crowd knew every lyric, shouting along. That’s the remarkable part of their work: these records had transformed; they had become lasting.

The Architect and the Instrument

It’s complicated. Yet simple. Noel played architect. The songwriter. He composed all of the classic-era material (Live Forever, Supersonic, Wonderwall, Don’t Look Back in Anger, Champagne Supernova) and increasingly controlled the arrangements and the band’s direction. As a guitarist, he’s not a Slash-style shredder or a Dave Matthews or Tim Reynolds acoustic savant. He worked things out on a Gibson J-150. If a song held its weight with just chords and a vocal line, it went electric and became stadium enormous. That’s why the melodies breathe the way they do. They climb, hang at the top, and fall back, and the next verse builds again.

For me, the beauty of Oasis is this variance: the swell, the release, the swell. The New York Times ran an article in 2021 on what makes a Grammy-nominated song; this type of modulation is a key ingredient.

And Liam was the instrument that played that rise and fall. His sneering, nasal delivery made fairly simple melodies erupt, and his stance, that swagger, that unpredictability, gave Oasis an onstage identity. While watching, I was surprised how little he moves during performances, hugging the microphone. He described it as a forward-thinking, strategic choice—a type of longevity hack. No throwing his hip out attempting Jagger-style kicks for this British rock god.

Their breakup and solo careers show this same division between brothers. Noel without Liam kept the songwriting sophistication but lost some of the Top Gun Danger Zone. Liam without Noel kept the voice, attitude, and visceral impact but needed other writers for consistently strong material. Not to toss shade, Liam did become a legitimate songwriter, with I’m Outta Time. And yes, Noel evolved as a singer too. I think his post-breakup efforts are the strongest of either brother’s.

But during the years that made Oasis, the formula proved simple. A songwriter. Add in a power voice. Sprinkle in a talented band. And that combination became ethereal, soaring above their contemporaries.

A War Cry

By the documentary’s end, that formula had become larger than the band. People across the world knew every single word to Don’t Look Back in Anger. Rice farmers. Fishermen. Divers. They all shed tears, if only to experience what was lost for oh too long.

I wiped a lone tear off my cheek for a different reason. What could have been?

Sure, the brothers who fronted this beloved ’90s band screamed a war cry of crass hedonism, arguing they didn’t give a damn about the world. By the end of the flick, I hope both Noel and Liam realized, definitely maybe, that the world gave a damn about them. Forever onward.

Notes:

• Yeah, it’s a reference to an epic Christian Slater movie. Those exist. Not sure it’s his best; that ending from True Romance is next level.

• I have a deep hatred for Radiohead; a controversial take. I just can’t listen to them outside of one song. And sadly, it’s the song the band hates most.

• Should Nevermind be on the list? Maybe. It’s just not on mine because their MTV Unplugged effort surpasses everything else. Cobain, with Martin guitar in hand, conjured a dark magic that night. I can’t think of a frontman expressing more pain during a live performance. The sad part is knowing what happened months later.

• Liam’s first solo songwriting effort with Oasis was Little James. Panned for numerous reasons by critics. Contrived. A knock-off John Lennon song. And I love it.

• After the breakup, the brothers were prolific, dropping ten albums between various projects. I haven’t worked through every one, but, for now, I lean toward Noel being the brotherly winner. He does take more risks. Who works in cutting scissors for background noise? Well, the Beach Boys’ leader would give it a go. But besides him, not too many would make the attempt.

Be Cool, Pass The JPLA On …

Refer a friend

Going Down The Well: A Ranking of Every Oasis Album (What Else Would I Be Listening To)?

After taking in the spectacle, I listened to each end to end; I hadn’t done it in years. I forgot what an amazing band this is. Every record holds up, no going wrong here, but a ranking is a ranking, even if I’m splitting hairs after number four.

(What’s the Story) Morning Glory? Amongst Oasis fans on Reddit, there is a debate that Definitely Maybe takes the top spot. But I’ll go by what members of the band say. Noel’s framing, roughly: Their first album was about wanting to be a rock band. The second is about becoming the rock band. Think of the first Matrix movie when Neo stops the bullets, stares at them with a puzzled face, and the agents take notice, running in fear. For me, this isn’t an argument. Even with a track list filled with memorable singles, this is meant to be listened to beginning to end. Tight. Nearly perfect. Wonderwalland Champagne Supernova are upstaged by what I think is a top-five all-time song. What do I mean? Here are the others on that list:

• The Beatles, Here Comes the Sun.

• Floyd, Wish You Were Here.

• U2, One.

• The Beach Boys, God Only Knows.

And then, I have to list Don’t Look Back in Anger. There are few better.

Definitely Maybe. Here, they sound like they are hoping to Live Forever, amidst all that Cigarettes & Alcohol. A hedonic feast for the ears and one of the best debuts for a band, like ever. Never gets old. Blast it on repeat with the windows down. Better yet, find a Buick Grand National, push in a CD, and drop your foot to the floor. Outrun the cops, cross state lines, and hide on a seldom-used country road. Kidding, don’t take that advice.

The Masterplan. I almost listed this as number four. Or numero uno? A B-side compilation that could top this list? About half of the album was cut from the Morning Glory sessions. That’s a feat, showing what lightning in a bottle meant during this time period. A groove. Or masterplan.

Be Here Now. Stand By Me, what an incredible song. Don’t Go Away, stunning. As a whole, some critics believe that it’s overlong, overproduced, and buried beneath an avalanche of its own guitars. But I love that this effort is beautifully reckless, with an ambition that fits the attempt. A stadium-sized feat no other recording quite matches. As a side note, The Masterplan also has a few songs from these sessions. Oasis never suffered from lack of creative output. When you are this good, the bigger question is how do you choose?

Dig Out Your Soul. Nothing about this record deserves to be underappreciated. Some rank this lower, but the guitars and riffs and songs have aged well despite the short recording turnaround time. And this wasn’t meant to be the last one; they didn’t have that Beatles insight going into the Abbey Road sessions. Granted, in the creative world, always think it’s the last one, be it song, book, or even a blog post. One never knows when the end is nigh. Unfortunately, the band imploded shortly afterward.

Standing on the Shoulder of Giants. Far different from the rest. A little darker. Electronica textures. The hurried fury is missing, that urgency. Uneven, sure—but it is also adventurous, moody, and more ahead of its time than critics give it credit for. I love it, even that odd Little James everyone seems to hate.

Don’t Believe the Truth. Again, splitting hairs. Not quite the same Oasis swagger. But did anyone else have this much to spare?

Heathen Chemistry. Messy. Still glorious.

What Am I Reading (GPU Funding, Anthropic S-1)

There’s this scene in Star Wars: Episode VIII, my favorite in the trilogy, where Luke Skywalker appears. It’s not just any moment; this is the moment. Why Disney recruited the original trio back into the fold but never bothered to put them in a scene together remains malpractice. Still, I give Rian Johnson credit here.

This is handled with care because it isn’t just any hero’s journey; this is Luke’s finish. I love the music. The buildup. How the remaining rebels stand up and take notice. And there is that Mark Hamill wink as he marches past to take on the entire empire all by himself. Kylo Ren sees his former master, orders the attack, and keeps on screaming. It reminds me of the tech industry, rushing to spend before regulations and market incentives shift.

More. And more. And more.

And, of course, there is Anthropic with its billions in losses. The corporate structure is even more of a joke. Typically, a shareholder buys the upside and, with voting rights, can push the founding team to make changes. But not here. This is Facebook-style shenanigans, but worse: 51% of decision-making authority rests with an LLC made up of the company’s founders. What could go wrong here?

I’ll probably be wrong, and the joke is on me. Invest away. Stay thirsty, my friends.

More Readings (A Handful of Links and Two Great Thrillers)

The return of Lights-Out Lidge. Hey, the Astros are out of the postseason, but we will always have our memories.

Will the Staten Island Ferry joke ever end? Maybe they are getting their money’s worth.

I’ve been working through thrillers featured in The New York Times. S. A. Cosby can deal. Blacktop Wasteland. Razorblade Tears. Both are great.

What I’m Pondering (Words and the AI Arms Race)

Well, the world finally stood up and noticed the upcoming AI apocalypse. The security concerns and the impact on the web’s fabric are real. And the utter lack of responsibility in Silicon Valley remains appalling. There was a time when founders would at least say, “That’s my fault. I take responsibility.” Then they’d try to fix the problems. That could be my nostalgia but that era appears over. Politicians don’t apologize or say they are wrong. Companies fight in court. Nobody is accountable.

Weeks back, the White House introduced an AI council with nonbinding agreements. All the founders touted safety. Everyone needs to take a breath.

But this slowdown of sorts has an entirely un-American feel. Instead of having a government agency set rules, we’ve decided to allow the companies to do this themselves? This screams all things illegal. Years back, Apple, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble all formed a consortium to artificially inflate book prices. Yeah, $14.99 was a thing. Pricing is complicated—once prices go up, it’s awfully hard to bring them back down. Anyway, the companies worked with the publisher to keep e-books the same cost as the physical copy. They paid a settlement and everyone forgot.

I know, this isn’t the same. However, there is a place for government intervention. Collusion happens in our system due to a mismatch of incentives. Is safety the goal? Or winning the AI war in a global market? Maybe cold, hard cash? And who decides? But I think we know the answer.

Enter a close cousin to the prisoner’s dilemma. Sure, Mark Zuckerberg agrees to slow down. Yet let’s assume Meta is behind in the AI wars. What would a rational person do? He’d signal a slowdown and put his foot on the gas. And Sam Altman? If he’s ahead, he’ll believe Mark is investing. So OpenAI will set up a hidden project team or SWAT unit to blaze forward. With NVIDIA, Amazon, Anthropic, Microsoft, and others all in this race, and billions on the line, where do we end up? Fun times. It’s a game theory lesson as incentives don’t care about complex and flamboyant personalities. But I’d argue they are neither. Oh, I wonder if Steve would be haunted by this legacy.

What I’m Testing (Jogger’s Journey)

Kenya’s Sabastian Sawe became the first athlete to run a marathon under two hours in a competitive race, winning the London Marathon. I listened to the how on a recent Verge podcast. Apparently, it’s more than just shoes. Drafting. Fuel. Who knew baking soda was a thing?

But the shoes do matter. Nike kicked off the effort. Adidas took home the crown. Shows that first-mover advantage doesn’t always carry the day. So after trying on half a dozen pairs, I’m running in a version for regular Joes. Think high heels equipped with a nylon plate. And yes, these are glorious. Let’s see if they last longer than a couple hundred miles.

Thank you for reading! The JPLA is a reader-supported publication. If you can, please share these musings with your friends. Although not required, consider becoming a paid subscriber in the future; I appreciate all tokens of appreciation.

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And the Music Continues

“You are the music / While the music lasts.”

— T. S. Eliot, The Dry Salvages

I almost sent this to the cutting room floor; yet, I couldn’t quite kill my darlings. Sorry, Faulkner, I did rid the universe of a few paragraphs. The challenge is the editing. This is nearly 3,000 words and is an article trio mashed into a solo act: vibe coding cheapening a profession, quick prototyping benefits, and the importance of principles, not j…

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Readers, it’s been a minute. To pull back the curtain, I usually balance a pair of articles, sending one to the shredder while promoting the other, but I didn’t feel either was worthy. It happens; I’ll circle back to them. And it’s not unheard of for pieces and blocks of writing to be reimagined. There’s a quote attributed to Faulkner, “In writing, you …

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Warning and spoilers, what’s ahead is lengthy and winding. I guess that’s par for the course. And since I started the research on the 3,500 words you’re about to read, the price of Bitcoin has dropped by as much as 12%. This has possibly been driven by a sell-off by MicroStrategy, heavy spot ETF outflows exceeding $3.2 billion, and a large Mt. Gox walle…

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Howdy, kind reader. I’m flipping the script for this edition. Not because I’m being inconsistent; rather, I’m taking a break from the regularly scheduled programming. Why? Well, I read this great book by Oliver Burkeman—more on that later—and he wrote a casual aside about Martin Heidegger, a German philosopher. This short diatribe made me think. And so, I researched and ran with it, which led to a 3,500-word essay. However, anything that epic requires a small token of appreciation. So I’m flipping the script and putting my usual experiments and book recommendations up front, with an article for paid subscribers at the end. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back with the usual format next time. It’s another epic piece that didn’t need a sequel, but events have led me to revisit it as someone stole my idea again. The darned NY Times; they did it again. Sigh. Until next time, here we go.

What I’m Listening To (Morning Run Edition):

Amy Poehler pulled off a Parks and Recreation Reunion Tour with Jon Hamm; I found myself laughing out loud on my morning run. Who knew Paul Rudd went to KU? Hey, I thought I knew this guy—caught all three Ant-Man movies in the theater. Watched the last one in 3-D glasses. Ugh. I’m hoping there is a Dorian Gray–style painting in his closet wearing a tattered Jayhawk T-shirt. Go Tigers.

Fun fact: Oscar Wilde only wrote one full-length novel. Granted, it became so culturally dominant that it tends to eclipse his plays and prison writings.

What I’m Tinkering With (OpenAI, Focused Again):

OpenAI hasn’t had a great couple of weeks. The trial of 2026 is showcasing a management team in disarray, and everyone looks a bit petty. Then, there is Elon; he pushes for the jury and then admits to copyright infringement while on the stand. A wow moment in the world of blatant theft. But that’s the legal process. Kudos to Satya Nadella—he knows how not to leave a paper trail. Pages of text. A call to get him on the phone. And nothing... That’s solid corporate legal training.All that being said, Codex and GPT-5.5 are having a moment. It’s Claude Code and CoWork rolled into a single application that runs at a fraction of the cost. My product of 2025 was Cursor, which I used to rebuild a CMS that manages my website. This month, I dropped the subscription, switched tools, and I’ve been off and running with Zed and the old-fashioned command line. We’ll see if it holds as memory prices are through the roof, helium supplies are dwindling (those memory and chips require the same stuff that powered the Hindenburg), and Anthropic’s capacity is waning. But a competitive market is a good thing, even at hyperscale. Give it a try; Codex doesn’t have OpenClaw hype but is improving through constant updates. Who knows, next month I’ll be tinkering with the next great thing. The world moves fast.

Here’s to Hope (The Redbirds are Barking):

Thanks to this year’s edition of the Cardiac Cardinals, my preseason prediction is looking like a miss. And that’s an incredibly awesome turn of events. No, Jordan Walker hitting over .320 wasn’t on my bingo card. Now, they’re jumping around the dugout, high-fiving, and sharing a dawg pound necklace after each homer. Too early to make any model adjustments. It’s a long season.

What I’m Reading (Time Management for Mortals):

Four Thousand Weeks is a book about time, but not in the airport-bookstore sense. Not hacks. Not inbox zero. Not the perfect calendar system that finally turns life into a solved machine. Burkeman’s argument is harder: the average human life is absurdly short, and most productivity culture is a dodge. Few want to face the simple facts. We keep trying to master time because accepting the limit feels like abject failure.

But the limit is the point.

You cannot do it all. You cannot keep every option open. You cannot optimize your way out of being finite. Sounds bleak, I know.

The book’s strongest takeaway is how it flips productivity upside down. The question is not how to fit more into life. The question is what deserves the weeks you have at your disposal. Email, errands, ambitions, family, books, trips, projects, friendships, maintenance, and all the nonsense—the growing list will always exceed the container. Think how a goldfish grows to fit the surroundings. So the move is not perfect efficiency. It is choosing. And making peace with neglected possibilities.

Read the book. Its spine is Heidegger’s concepts. Still, the practical lesson is simple: stop treating life like a queue to be cleared. Pick the projects, people, and rituals that would still matter if you admitted a finite clock ticks. Think fewer open loops, more deliberate abandonment, and a better relationship with boredom, patience, and limits. What’s rare about Four Thousand Weeks is that it’s not saying to get more done. The pages want us to stop pretending done is a prize to be won.

Heidegger: The Philosopher Who Diagnosed Everyone But Himself

Profound thoughts—these are hard. One man believed Western philosophy spent 2,500 years asking the wrong questions. What is justice? Plato. Knowledge? That Aristotle guy refined it. What is considered good? Oh, if my Philosophy 1 class taught me anything that’s Kant. The entire tradition revolves around definitions. Causality. Truth. Duty. Beauty. Even art. Yet, nobody stopped to ask what existence itself means. That wasn’t until Martin Heidegger came along in the 1920s.

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Passengers on a short flight in Australia have an unsettling experience in “Here One Moment.” An ordinary-looking woman stands, moves through the cabin, and quietly tells each person the cause and date of their death.

Heart Failure.

Fifty-five.

Fate can’t be fought.

The flight lands, everyone goes their separate ways, but the predictions begin haunting the …

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It was a dark and stormy night; my brain had morphed into a mush-like jelly, and I found myself struggling to find a show, despite having infinite options including Top Gun: Maverick. Or pick another Glen Powell favorite; Twisters works too. But no, I violated my Powell principle, passing on the Running Man remake for the inevitable Netflix Doomsday Scr…

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I rolled into the gym on my relentless quest to toss up big weight, cued the Airpods, and tapped play. The music started, I was ready, running a finger along the cool, metal bar. Then, Siri, with her cheery disposition, announced, “Way to get your workout started with music from Brendan O’Brien.”

I chuckled, “Who?”

I assumed this was an AI misfire. But th…

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What was my story of the year? I’m a tech guy by nature, it’s just who I am. And one defined 2025, the cover of Time says it all. Look how far we’ve come.

Years back, we lived in a very different world, and I worked at a remarkable and somewhat unconventional place. Interacting with clients. Solving problems. In meetings, I’d often use a pencil with a wo…

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Happy Holidays! I wrote a long one, which didn’t pan out quite like I expected. Alas, that can happen with novels, experiments, and overlong articles. This will probably be my last ride for 2025 (the year end wrap is taking a bit longer than expected), so I wish everyone’s Christmas be merry and bright. Onward.

Satoshi, The Great and Powerful Part 1

I rem…

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Each Thanksgiving, I jot down my gratitude list. It’s often long and winding—texting with friends on College GameDay always makes the cut, debating Mizzou’s Drinkwitz always predictable play calling.

As for the article ahead, the President delivered a shot of inspiration during a short interview on an overseas trip, leading me to retool my entire web sta…

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Ninjas. I mean, the word screams cool. Right? Open a 1980s Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary, find “cool,” on page 382, and the definition reads something like this (paraphrased):

1, A light chill.

2, Calm.

And 3, Ninjas.

Days gone by, I’d hitch a ride home after Friday night lights, maybe catch The Tonight Show. That Carson guy could tell a joke; he rul…

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I’ve been belated in my Newsletter duties. This is due to a writing project of size and scope, that darn day job I keep, and a ballooning coding project. Also, this article has a political bent around process and debt; people have opinions here. I imagine it’s tough writing politics consistently. Anytime I try to dip my toe in even mundane topics (the s…

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My kid and I were driving through downtown Franklin, TN, debating lunch, and eventually settled on a sushi stop—avoiding the all-you-can-eat conveyor belt option. Yes, this is a thing.

After ordering, with summertime servers bouncing between tables, he asked me about my career. I figured he was getting to that age where one wonders what to do with life. Maybe, he had taken a college career survey—most universities offer the guidance. Choose your favorite, be it Myers-Briggs or the color game or some new variation with a slight twist. I can’t say if any of these ever helped, but I did find certain nuggets of value.

For my own journey, I lucked into it, stumbling from gig to gig. Or perhaps the wand chooses the wizard, but I like to believe you make your own luck.

But no, he didn’t want to learn the towering wisdom behind the shadows of a LinkedIn profile—it’s only truthful when the job doesn’t matter. He wanted to know the early history, the before college era.

So, I told him.

I worked at the world famous Golden Eagle Dinner Theatre during the formidable High School years. Being a waiter paid little, but I loved showing up in coat and tie, greeting guests as they walked in, balancing three salad plates on an arm, and watching the shows. The next summer, I welded and tried odd jobs at a wheel factory, often clocking in before dawn for ten to twelve hours. I do stress try as I was more than awful with weld lines. And my acetylene torch skills were barely passable. Somehow, I made it work; I didn’t die. I give due credit to my mother, who prayed daily and begged the higher powers to keep me from harm’s way. That’s a guess. She never tells her secrets. My mechanical savant brother-in-law helped too.

After my shift, I’d clean the dirt out from under the nails and wipe off the oil and soot. Yes, the theatre called. I’m not sure why I kept both gigs. The check barely covered expenses—gas costs money no matter the the decade.

But there was something about the place. Storytelling changes a person and transforms realities into the magical. I love Pawn Stars reruns because the provenance matters; millionaires are made with signatures and proof of ownership. Rick always did his homework; a sword from antiquity is valuable, but one tied to Harpe, the legendary blade that slayed Medusa, is priceless.

In hindsight, my first employer had its flaws. For one, the riverboat theatre wasn’t really a boat. Yes, it had a plank, the owner crafted the structure with smokestacks and painted it to look like a true Twain-era vessel. And it was located near a river—the marketing literature showed off its location.

But this was very much an aging building.

I was always a bit surprised when people showed, thinking it was going out on the water. I’d reply, “Of course, we’ll be leaving soon.” Being on the wrong side of a natural levee with a concrete bottom didn’t matter. I’ll admit—some didn’t get the joke.

But after they walked across the magical plank, something happened; a transformation of sorts. Stay with me; each cast member, dressed to impress, showed ticket holders to a table that had been personally selected on their behalf. The ornate red carpet led the way accompanied by the sound of a grand piano playing in the background. And this immense golden eagle presided over the crowd until the show began.

Sure, with a dose of reality, anyone could spy the chipping paint, know the piano was out-of-tune, and taste the overcooked buffet-style food. But why ruin the night?

Most left more than satisfied. Memory may be fallible, but magic spells are stubborn. It’s what gives places power. The story matters.

Still, hard truths can pierce the fragile cloud of pixie dust; the cobwebs were real.

One season, the owners contracted the food service out to a local college. I can’t speak to the business decision, most likely it became tiresome to manage. There were only so many hands in charge of routine maintenance, cooking, playwriting, and the list goes on. The owners were boot-strapped entrepreneurs without the promise of Silicon Valley Riches. Somehow, they made it work, despite the place not raking in mountains of cash. Personally, I don’t think it mattered. The people, the lives it touched were probably infinite. That’s the power of story.

Perfectly cooked roast beef? That’s not why they came—it was only a small ingredient in the broader spell.

Yet, the contract caterers arrived, determined to do their efficiency thing and make a mark. I do remember that season the food improved. But the strawberry cheesecake was also more expensive and the employees preparing and serving the food were too. They didn’t clock in for work because of the show; they wanted to make a buck, which impacted the bottom line.

And that additional cost siphoned away other needed improvements. Fresh paint. Writing. Music. That gold paint on the eagle.

No, it’s not one or two things that make a business or project successful. Sometimes, there are hundreds of threads. And if you pull one, a little luster can dim the shine. Be careful making tweaks to complex systems. It’s a lesson Disney understands better than its peers.

Main Street, USA.

Walt meticulously designed this nostalgic vision, using forced perspective and painstaking attention to detail to evoke a sense of cozy, idealized Americana. It’s famously inefficient. There’s no logical business sense in maintaining charming but non-essential features: the horse-drawn trolleys, the barbershop quartet, or the sculpted hedges. The cast touches up chipped paint daily. A start-up or corporate efficiency expert, wielding spreadsheets and cost-benefit analyses, would slash these unnecessary expenses immediately.

However, families don’t flock to either Disney Park for its profit margins; they come for these meticulously preserved inefficiencies—the pristine flower baskets standing tall with the castle looming close behind. The experience works precisely because people embrace the illusion.

It’s not just the Mouse House. All businesses have unique models through tinkering and finite adjustments. Non-profits. The corner grocery store. Consulting companies. Even our Federal Government.

The Balancing Act of Unraveling Institutions

When National Parks outsource management of visitor services to private concessionaires (they often do in concessions and certain services), operational costs for the government might decrease, and certain guest services may improve in efficiency or quality. However, private vendors can prioritize short-term profit over broader public values. This can lead to higher prices, reduced accessibility, or conflicts over environmental stewardship—trade-offs that ultimately risk undermining the parks’ long-term mission rather than saving money in a straightforward way.

I’d argue the nation I call home is the greatest on earth, dwarfing Rome, the dynasties, and that tiny empire managed by a certain tea company (the same empire this nation once declared independence against—over tea, of course). Yes, our government can be woefully inefficient. And, as voters, we’re often whiplashed between cuts and efficiency. Every president talks a big game. Yet, this inefficiency can be a feature, a safeguard of fairness and trust not captured on a balance sheet.

And the government employees who manage social security, serve in the bureau to keep our nation safe, and enforce environmental protections aren’t part of a deep-state conspiracy. Government jobs don’t even have private sector upside. It’s an entirely different model parties fight over.

Pulling any single thread—like our riverboat’s outsourced catering—can unravel the magic. Each piece of the illusion is interconnected, relying on a somewhat collective devotion rather than pure economic rationality.

Perhaps that’s why applying a ruthless efficiency model, whether to Main Street, my lost riverboat theatre, or even broader institutions, can feel like a betrayal.

Yes, magic rarely survives when reduced solely to numbers on a ledger. Maybe that’s why I ran in the red for that second job, nothing to do with the cute blonde who worked there too, right? That’s a love-story for a different day. Onward.

Be Cool, Pass The JPLA On …

Refer a friend

The Devils I’m Reading:

I’ve been on a fantasy kick of late, working through Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn Trilogy. I admit, the man shows a certain passion in his writing. He wrote multiple novels before trying to get any published—some are still on the cutting room floor. Yes, he wrote the bad ones out of his system.

Sure, I read Tolkien as a kid. Who didn’t? But I gravitated to the original Sword of Shannara series by Terry Brooks. The author penned multiple sequels; still, nothing surpassed the original trilogy of Sword, Elfstones, and Wishsong. These are classics. And the plot moves. Same reason I loved Mistborn.

But now that it’s finished, I found myself walking the stacks at Barnes and Noble (my backlog be damned) because magic still exists in book stores. I grabbed The Devils blindly. Last copy. Beautifully illustrated—some publishers will want to keep costs in check but not here. Checking out, the cashier mentioned this had to be the last one. Apparently, people were lining up for the book, and I didn’t recognize the author. Of course, these were fighting words and the cashier responded, “Better be careful walking out to the parking lot with that in hand.”

The style has long, run-on sentences. Me? I write shorter, moving fast. There is a rhythm here. And after I found it, the tale moves in its violent, haphazard path. There be monsters here, er devils, they’re demanding beasts that kill anything in their path.

Glorious through the first act. Nobody writes quite like this.

Maddux-style Pitching (What I’m Watching):

I keep waiting for the Cardinals to decide on what they want to be when they grow up. As I write this, the birds are seven games over five hundred (five ahead of my statistical model). They split with the Cubs series. Swept the Guardians. Then, were handled by the worst team in the division.

Hard to say if they’re truly in the hunt; however, the season proved its worth for last Friday night. Sonny Gray tossed one for the ages. He changed speeds, spins, and moved the ball at will—up and down and in and out. Jason Sheridan in Knights of Legend, my baseball opus, didn’t throw this good. Here was the final line: complete game shutout, gave up a single hit, eleven strike-outs, and zero walks.

But here is the kicker, he only threw 89 pitches.

The so-called Maddux, a shutout on less than 100 pitches, is a rarity in the modern age; even rarer when there are this many whiffs. I did a quick search and this hasn’t been done in the last decade (tell me if I’m wrong). Maybe ever, grant MLB only started pitch-count tracking in the 80s. Still, it’s one for the ages—worth a rewatch if you’re an AppleTV subscriber.

Magic in Applications (What I’m Tinkering With):

I used to love the app store; I’d find numerous applications to try—games, productivity, books, etc., It used be magical. However, I haven’t really downloaded anything new in a year? Longer? Mostly, I want to chuck my phone into the river. That was until my wife recommended Merlin. Developed by Cornell Labs, they built a tool to identify birds by song.

And it is glorious on morning walks. Yeah, the days of a 1,000 songs in my pocket may be gone, but magic still happens, even if it’s for the birds.

The Crows Return (What I’m Listening To On The Morning Run):

Adam Duritz has always written about possibility. He writes with demons, his lens peers through a cracked door leading through a somewhat bleak darkness. Then, a saxophone blares. Yes, there is always a little hope and fiery red hues to the sunrise.

It’s been ten years between Counting Crows albums. I’m thankful he delivered. Suer, AI can slop out song lyrics with a tap but it doesn’t know grit, the suffering hides in the undertones. Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets was worth the wait.

Other Notes:

• The title picture comes from an Adobe project gone wrong—it’s a filtering error modifying a levee photo taken in Canton, MO. How wrong? I don’t typically post this newsletter to my proper website until weeks later, if ever, but I went ahead so everyone can see the original. Be careful with AI, you never know what you’re going to get without proper change control.

• I’m not trying to be misleading on our government contracting out certain services. This is a common practice as noted here. That doesn’t mean everything is entirely perfect.

When Words Fail (AI Citation Problems):

“We Compared Eight AI Search Engines. They’re All Bad at Citing News.”

CJR

The Illusion of Endless Perks

I picked up Sarah Wynn-Williams’ opus Careless People, a reflection about her Facebook journey. Is it perfect? No. But she hooked me with the Fitzgerald quote.

“They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

- F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

I’m a sucker for Gatsby. Short (can be read in an afternoon). Packs a punch. Changes the reader, no matter if it’s the first or fiftieth time through. Quote aside, I loved Wynn Williams’ story for two surprising reasons—neither involved the salacious details the social media company tried to suppress. You see, to begin, there aren’t enough memoirs like this in the wild. Publishers gravitate toward the powerful. Obama. Clinton. Trump. And the Founding Fathers (read Chernow’s homages). Or Walter Isaacson, he’s written about Franklin, Leonardo, Jobs, and Musk. And don’t forget Prince Harry because, well, the Royals sell. Don’t shame me, the Buckingham Palace outcast holds the all-time record for fastest-selling non-fiction book.

But the mid-level manager or individual contributor?

We don’t see enough of these so if you fit the profile get to writing. If you want to tackle your own, what are the key components of a solid memoir? Lucky for all of us, Mary Karr drafted a guide after reading hundreds. I love this quote early on, “I once heard Don DeLillo quip that a fiction writer starts with meaning and then manufactures events to represent it; a memoirist starts with events, then derives meaning from them.”

Memoirs are ultimately journeys of self-reflection for both the reader and writer. Trauma sells books.

Sarah Wynn-Williams dissects her time at Facebook, beginning by describing how she landed the job. Of course, she used the platform to forge connections. It’s all about who you know.

And yes, I read portions of the book and wondered about the more troubling, headline-worthy accusations. Some moments felt odd—yet I know nothing good happens in Davos, where the wine flows and your mode of transportation hints at class and status. Still, no matter what Facebook’s Public Relations team spins, I believe the writer is being truthful to quote Obi-Won from a certain point of view.

Yet, the book violates many of Karr’s memoir rules, nothing is gained without self-reflection. Did the writer question their own decisions? Or learn anything meaningful? Is the hero’s journey earned? There is some of this here, Every time someone told me I was lucky to survive, I thought, Shouldn’t I be doing something with this life? Devoting myself to changing the world in some way? How do you do that?

And there is more than enough justification to her pen’s venom as she describes her complications during child birth. Spoiler, she felt the company gave little support, forcing her to return early. Yet, I felt she made Mark and Cheryl caricatures. The recount of Zuckerberg’s election-denial conversations with Obama or lavish corporate retreats at White Lotus resorts feels unfair without more inner monologue and self-examination. I mean, she worked for a company bending over backwards to gain access to the Chinese market. Zuckerberg learned Mandarin, even awkwardly asking Chairman Xi to name his first child. By pandering to the extremes, one wonders how much of Facebook’s code made its way into Chinese tools to crush internal dissent, or how much AI research was freely shared for favors. From the book, It’s an incredibly valuable tool for the most autocratic, oppressive regimes, because it gives them exactly what those regimes need: direct access into what people are saying from the top to bottom of society.

Yes, Wynn-Williams is the hero in her own story, a secret agent battling the forces of corporate evil. But I believe she can’t reflect on her role too much for legal reasons. Yes, there is a pending lawsuit. All industry players, Facebook included, grant options and signing bonuses but this comes with confidentiality clauses and fine print. These used to be normal fair, narrower and often limited to trade secrets or proprietary code. But lately, they’ve ballooned, making truthful disclosures hazardous. Legal departments and risk management firms must lie awake at night after reading William Blake, “A truth told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.”

She’s exposed herself legally by even writing this play-by-play account of excess and forays into dangerous global hotspots. Her only legal out might fall under whistleblower protections due to the immense detail around Zuckerberg’s China at all costs strategy. And it’s hard to have self-reflection if you’re blowing the whistle, the logic doesn’t land. I suppose every writer is an unreliable narrator. We all are.

That’s why this is a story about what’s left unsaid. There is magic and meaning in the silent ommissions. Here’s a favorite quote:

Sheryl tells me that the punishing scale of work is by design. A choice Facebook’s leaders had made. That staffers should be given too much to do because it’s best if no one has spare time. That’s where the trouble and territoriality start. The fewer employees, the harder they work. The answer to work is more work. To encourage this, the Facebook offices are overflowing with “perks.”

I remember joining a certain tech company; the onboarding trainer asked new hires to name their favorite company perk—SWAG, 401K match (money is good), healthcare coverage, etc.,

For her, it had to be the free food. She described her day, arriving at the company gym for a run before dawn. Breakfast followed, unlimited greasy bacon. Lunch with colleagues. And then, finally, her family swung by for dinner, meeting at the office. Life revolves around the buffet line.

Breaking it down further, let’s say she arrives at 5.30 AM for that morning workout (note, there is less traffic with this approach) and leaves after dinner and emails at 8.00 PM. Well, do the math, there isn’t much of a day left after the commute. This explains why a 23-year-old bought a moving truck and parked it in the parking lot of a major tech company in 2015. Why buy the house if you’re never there?

Social media hate and banter tends to analyze these perks, plug them into their own working routine, and think they are extravagant. Unlimited vacation looks great on paper but with overworked, small teams it becomes impossible to use. Guaranteed sabbaticals are often punted to next year. Yes, the phrase cultural commitment requires, you guessed it, extended hours. If you’ve ever walked the Las Vegas Strip, there’s a reason for the granite and opulence—they want you to stay forever.

And then there is the justification. Why does she stay? Wynn-Williams does wrestle with these choices.

They could have exercised basic human decency. It was all within their power. Instead, they focused on commencement speeches, vanity political campaigns, vacation properties, raising artisanal Wagyu beef from macadamia-eating cows, whatever their latest plaything was. And it seemed that none of these choices, these decisions, these moral compromises, felt particularly momentous to Facebook’s leadership.

But I tell myself I joined Facebook because I believed the platform was a force for good that would change the world.

Yeah, leaving work behind can feel like escaping Stockholm syndrome. We rarely understand the true cost of endless perks, the status of working at certain companies, and career meaning until we find ourselves asking, like the great philosopher Thanos, “What did it cost?” and realizing the answer might be, “everything.”

Be Cool, Pass The JPLA On …

Refer a friend

What I’m Reading (Infinite Jest):

Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace’s most well-known book spans a thousand plus pages. There’s even hundreds of footnotes on top hitting themes of entertainment, destruction, genius, and addiction. For some, reading reamains a right of passage, and I admit, I'm doing less reading and more studying. It’s that type of book. In this world of drowning distraction, paying attention is challenging. Heck, it may be a moral act. And here, with this tome, you really have to pay attention. The writing is circular. The prose is dense. And the descriptions are vivid but each word has a purpose.

Yesterday, I read one paragraph, which took a half hour. I read it three times. Reading a book warning about distraction, I found myself distracted by the structure. I can’t imagine the time, the cost and toil, to weave this together. It’s almost like he was writing to quell a certain circular noise inside his own head.

Through the 1990s and early 2000s, after finishing this opus, Wallace moved to teach at Illinois State University in Bloomington, Illinois. I wonder if the students even knew they were being taught by one of the world’s greatest authors, lost in the noise of college. How many times did people see him at Denny’s or Babbit Books—a popular local bookstore? I'm sure some would remember the do-rag he often wore but not know about his countless essays and the work left behind.

It's hard to describe the depth, even in the shorter pieces like This is Water. Nobody writes like this.

And maybe nobody will ever again.

What I’m Watching (Cardinals):

That’s why they play the games. I modeled the mighty Redbirds to be under .500 for the year, which could still happen. But they’ve had a hot May fueled by a pitching staff defying expectations, even Mikolas threw strong this month (shout out to a friend who said, ‘When Mikolas’ ERA falls below Contreras’ batting average we might have something’).

Here’s to hope and not waiting until next year.

What I’m Tinkering With (A New Way to HTML):

About every five years I think about switching computers, sometimes this stretches to seven. With major manufacturers continue to push smaller devices, the time between is becoming less and less due to battery wear and tear. What tests out at fourteen hours diminishes as lithium ion degrades. Microsoft must love filling the dump with Surface devices; I’ve had two go from eleven hours to two fairly quickly. Sure there are docking stations and wall plugs but nobody wants a laptop that dies that quickly. It kind of defeats the point of the portable argument. Apple remains the gold standard, I’m six years going with tried and true Intel.

But it’s showing age.

And so, I have to think about moving files and work, which in turn gets me into thinking about my own digital archive. I’ve realized, after digging, that files are spread across Dropbox, iCloud, and hard drive with local back-up—such as quaint solution. Keeping a writing site going since the mid-2000s also creates interesting problems. WordPress, what powers it, has been a gift; I’ve changed the CSS and theme multiple times yet the content transfers with each migration, even if I change hosting providers. The community often thinks in code. But I’m glad, as an end user and writer, that these benefits play out over time. Developers don’t often think in decades. Still, I’m sure creep in my workflow exists, making changes on the site without going back to the original source files. I don’t do it frequently, but I’m sure a misplaced comma annoyed me once upon a time 2019 edition. Without change logs, temptation creates interesting problems. There has been controversy through the years in big media with writers making substantial changes to articles after the fact. It’s so easy to make small tweaks, but one should resist it all the same. A comma can build to something more.

And I’ve been thinking about my own writing workflow and source tracking and my online publishing methodology. I’ve been writing in .txt files and .md for years. Typically, I cut and paste the source files to the site. Some might say just write to WordPress (it leverages markdown). But text files have been around since the 1960s, and I don’t believe they’re going away anytime soon. So, I’ve been testing a new system using Pandoc, Python, and .html templates that requires me to always make changes to the .txt files before publishing to the site.

This runs fairly well (and the pages load fast) but highlights the buy .vs build technology conundrum even large companies face. Yes, I probably don’t need a quarter of the function WordPress and a CMS provides—comments, page rankings, etc., Yet, I do need categories and tags for sorting, tracking, etc., Right now, I’m about 85 percent there in building my own personal CMS, which gives me exactly what I want. But I’m not sure if it’s quite worth it yet.

Again, what does it cost?

Around the Web:

• Indian metal reminds me of Roman Concrete, old technology can be better.

• Looking back at old code, fifty years.

When Words Fail (Five Years Later):

#Jamal

X | Verge Commentary | Jeff Bezos

I’ve been tinkering on a non-fiction project of late that takes the useless knowledge I often peddle and combines it with a nugget that makes one think, maybe.

I read the book The Daily Drucker about fifteen years ago and dutifully turned the page each morning, all the while trying not to skip ahead. Mostly, I found myself getting behind due to travels and the toils of life. But now and then, I still stumble upon the author’s work in spirit. My favorite, Culture eats strategy for breakfast (Note, Drucker never actually said it). The C-Suite shouted it down from on high in the early 2000s. Recently, I heard it mentioned on a podcast in reference to billboards and T-shirts. There is money in branding.

But, if we’re getting cute with words, I have no idea what the saying means. Can culture eat anything? My dog eats kibble; sometimes vomits it up too. I know this is a metaphor, at least I think it is.

Maybe companies eat other companies for breakfast (though multi-million dollar mergers should be handled over lunch). We’ll extend that to the now quaint yet divisive at the time political statement from Mitt Romney: Corporations are people too.

I’m unsure where I’m going with this, but I believe how organizations structure themselves matters. A Vergecast podcast host asks this question to CEOs: Can I see your org chart? It’s a great question, but companies change frequently. Leaders switch seats. Attrition happens. Succession keeps Human Resources up at night.

And reorganization often increases stock price.

So maybe the organizational structure alone doesn’t matter—at least, not by itself.

Let’s take this to the next level. Take an industry. Review its peers. And then find the one that does not belong. My favorite is insurance. If you rank the top property casualty companies in the US by market cap, you find the following: Berkshire Hathaway (Geico and others), Progressive, Travelers, Allstate, Hartford, and the list goes on.

Notice that arguably the largest isn’t on this list—State Farm Insurance. Well, it’s a mutual company. I’d argue that it thinks about the market from a different perspective. The business model has a certain tweak; money flows to the policyholders instead of the shareholders. But if you dig deeper, you might notice something else hiding in plain sight.

Location: Bloomington, IL. It’s a magical land, producing electric cars and chocolate these days too. And another large mutual company resides in the same town, Country Insurance. What’s in the water that sprouts mutual companies in Central Illinois? The origin story? The customer set? Shared values?

Drucker may be right. Culture does eat strategy for breakfast because it’s the organizational chart, location, customer set, and values all rolled into one. It’s the company… maybe.

Thinking about insurance then led me to the education market. And then, I remembered a team dinner in the ‘90s that influenced my career. The details are hazy, but the legends we create, the stories we tell matter—they really do.

What’s next is very much a work in progress, I don’t know if my Daily Drucker will make it off the cutting room floor. But here we go, for the paid clan only. Thanks for reading.

IBM Stories

I remember joining IBM in the late 90s. Time has a tendency to blur, stretch even. A part of me believes I worked there in the 80s but that’s just the nostalgia talking. I suppose that’s why my kid calls me ancient. Yet, I will forever remember a team dinner I’m fairly sure I never attended; still, to this day, people claim I was there.

Let’s set the stage.

Read more

Warning, the next thousand plus words are technical-style wonky and include boring topics touching on government social programs, the 1990s database wars, and system-level thinking. But it’s predominately about taking notes. Is your excitement building? Or have you deleted this already?

I’m okay either way. Personally, I geek out over writing productivity and Get Things Done task management (GTD) solutions; these keep my thoughts in a crazy chaotic, loose order to easily access things I often forget like furnace filter sizes in the house. I have nightmares about driving to Home Depot, waltzing down an aisle, and forgetting the dimensions. Rest assured, that’s never happened to me. More importantly, though, I use certain tools to track my writing projects. What I’m thinking about. Why it matters. Where I’m trying to go with it. The problem is, these systems also have a simple trap: We cling to our illusions.

Yes, I’m here typing, but is anything happening? Is this getting me any closer to a finished product? Sometimes it feels like a fight between freedom and the structure I’m trying to build. And I’m not always sure which side’s winning.

Sigh.

Years back, to solve this challenge, I adopted Roam Research, a beautiful service that you can mold to do what you want. For me, that’s a Zettelkasten-lite approach to note-taking. What is this? It’s complicated. I read a book; I learned something from said book.

But I don’t follow its rules perfectly.

You see, my mind jumps. So, I leverage bulleted lists to jot my ideas down on a digital canvas. One never knows when you may find that Jerry Maguire inspiration and write all night. It happens. Roam works great for this. I type. And when I lose the flow, or an idea, I hit enter and move on. Next bullet. It’s easy. I can go from drafting a paragraph on the next Jason Sheridan book to my lunch plans.

Categorizing Chaos and Tools A Plenty

But what makes the system a wonder is that I review my work and categorize each bullet—eventually. Does this belong in a blog post? High-minded literature? Maybe a hiking trail to take or a restaurant to try? If you’re in professional sales, you might want to highlight a contact or update an account plan. A nurse? Use it to document a work process.

One day, if this fledgling idea graduates to a full article or book, I can just adjust the tag and track accordingly. It’s not uncommon to have multiple bullets correlate around the same idea.

When this happens, trumpets sound, and angels descend down upon high.

And the system is portable, Roam isn’t required. I could do this with note cards (stack and sort)—some folks do. It’s an easy way to get started. There are infinite options.

All businesses gravitate toward certain tools due to licensing, security, or legal constraints. If you work for Google, they want the employees using Docs or Keep instead of OneNote. Because I’ve logged stops across Big Tech and writers will grasp at straws to improve their work, I tend to tinker with everything. Some I’ve abandoned due to fit—SimpleNote, Bear, AppleNotes (granted, Apple is quickly changing the game, and the pencil integration is fantastic).

All Roads Lead to Roam, Until They Don’t

Then, there is Notion.

I’ve tried to love it. The company has built a legion of diehard fans and iterates quickly. But its structure has limited the Zettelkasten in me. Why? The lack of an easy Daily Note featureobs. In Roam (and Obsidian), you just bullet. At end of day, nobody wants to see an empty page. It’s a motivator. A strong one, it turns out. I drafted two books last year. That doesn’t mean they are masterpieces, but they are on paper.

Again, I just start typing; when my idea loses steam I hit enter and move to the next one.

Day end, I go back and tag the output using backlinks. If the snippets are related to an upcoming post, I tag them. If my brain hops to researching details on Alexander the Great for no particular reason, I bullet the details and save them for later—the last JPLA newsletter took three months before finish. If I have no idea what I’m doing, I’ll save it for later. The workflow is simple and powerful.

And Notion doesn’t have it, not really.

I tried resolving the problem by downloading templates. There are hundreds of these; a regular economy has been built around Notion productivity systems. None landed. There were no Eureka moments. I almost abandoned switching, but one thing made the tool click, at least for me.

Database Structure Matters

Yes, it’s the database—the greatest technology created over the last fifty years. No, it’s not AI. For me, it’s all about rows and columns. I lived through the ‘90s database wars between IBM, Sybase, Microsoft, Informix, and Oracle, flowing into the early 2000s. The technology has been a part of my career—like an old glove, now and then you do get to go home again. Both Roam and Notion use databases but with entirely different approaches.

Roam Research is an interconnected graph database where information flows through bidirectional links. Each bullet is an entry. The loose categories link the bullets together. There is a spontaneity in using it.

But Notion is structured more like a yesteryear database; here, each page or entry functions as a record with fields (properties) attached to it. Basically, it’s a text blob. It took time to wrap my head around this, but I was off and running once that clicked. What I like about switching tools is that it allows me to reexamine my workflow. Systems matter.

With pen in hand, I wrote down my Roam categories—writing snippets, article ideas, projects considering, books to read, things to remember (those furnace filter sizes again), movies to watch, famous quotes, etc., With the initial mapping documented, I built a global tag database. Here, it’s a big, one-column table with simple descriptions.

Then, I created another database called the Slip Box—a Zettelkasten concept—that links to the global tag database. In Roam, this is just a category where I toss everything. If an idea hasn’t boiled enough yet it stays here, but it’s important to check these remnants because every idea needs a place. That crazy dream kicking around inside your head has to find a home. Also, I created another database to track tasks around the messiness inside my Slip Box, leveraging the same interconnected tags and tables.

The Sprawl of Spiderweb Views

But evildoers and do-good nicks beware, flexibility can lead to complexity. Interconnected tables have their place, sure. But the bigger the system gets, it’s easy to lose the plot amidst a growing maze. Take, for example, the controversy with the US Treasury where online trolls shouted how the government pays out social security to impossibly old people.

Be skeptical. Isolated records rarely tell the entire story.

Effective applications and databases use interconnected tables with cross-referenced records, lookup tables for validation, and indexes to prevent fraud and minimize large-scale errors. Data might mistakenly associate a SSN with my 125-year-doppelgänger; however, COBOL logic can reference another table to prevent an erroneous or fraudulent payment.

Similarly, with Notion using far-less complexity (I’m only tracking my own mess), I created individual views in each defined category on separate pages. A corresponding view for accepted projects. And another view that also links to a database to track tasks. Between both, I can review each project, where I spend my time, and, more importantly, if I’m falling behind.

Yes, it happens. Writing happens in spurts. So does being productive.

Letting Go

What makes Roam work is that it’s a consistent changing flow. Notion hardens the process but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Still, the lack of the daily page bothered me a touch. I resolved this by creating a simple static page called, yes, The Daily Note. Now, I do miss being able to see each day how much I’ve written (and how little, also important). But what I do love here is that I can right-click each bullet and simply send the snippet to the project or post or whatever. If I don’t have a place for thought/idea, I leave it. Or I move it into the Slip Box for later.

Remember a productivity system doesn’t have to be in Roam, Evernote, Bear, or Notion. These could be ideas on a stack of notecards waiting to be sorted.

And if you can’t find a place for a thought? Sadly, some ideas deserve to die. I don’t do this enough. Writing takes time—books even more so. There is no need to hoard every insight. The muses of myth and legend are generous; trust that what you let go will find another eager soul ready to run with it. Writing—and life—demands such honesty. I guess… maybe… I don’t know. Onward.

Other Thoughts:

• This is a companion update post to Zettelkasten Wasn’t Built In A Day, which highlights my Roam Research setup from three years ago. The setup in Notion is similar with some tweaks.

• For the header image, I ran the original picture from the 2022 post through OpenAI’s service before touching up in Adobe. I will say the new OpenAI image creator has raised its game this week. Before the update, it was only okay, but, after, the improvements its about on par with what I can do in Adobe. And it’s scary fast too.

• Note, I ended up cutting out an extensive section on mainframe look-up tables that was boring; I used to have a fascination on optimizers, etc., comparing database products on the market. Those were the days… And yes, mainframes are secure systems. In time, we’ll probably praise the government for outperforming publicly traded banks. And those shouting fraud into the internet void can move on to the next conspiracy.

Be Cool, Pass The JPLA On …

Refer a friend

What I’m Reading (Mistborn):

I’ve been reading and listening to writers lately, talking about their approach and best practices. I didn’t have any aha moment here from the books or podcasts, but I did discover Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series. Here, the lead character Vin joins a daring plan to overthrow the tyrant Lord Ruler (what a great name for a villain).

I loved Terry Brooks growing up (the first three Shannara books are classics); Sanderson’s style reminds of these straight-forward fairy-tales. Fast-moving, despite the length.

But the twist is that Sanderson’s Final Empire is part fantasy mixed in with a dash of Ocean’s 11. And the final turn I somewhat saw coming, but it was so well-executed I couldn’t help but smile. The complexity makes the world.

A worthy read.

What I’m Watching (Cardinals Spring Training):

I don’t know Redbird fans.

Choices are complicated. In December 2022, the Cardinals signed catcher Wilson Contreras to a 5 year / 87M contract to replace future Hall of Famer Yadier Molina. And then, the team realized he couldn’t catch to their expectations—often criticizing how he managed a game before injury limited his playing time. To solve this problem, they’ve made him the full-time first baseman, which means the team will break camp with two backups at the position (Luken Baker and Alex Burleson) and two catchers (Ivan Herrera and Pedro Pages). Yes, I know the DH is there too. But unless he slashes 24HRs / 64RBIs, better than his 2019 season, he’s expensive compared to the average NL first baseman.

I’m not even touching on the pitching dilemma, sending arguably their best tools to the minors. Yes, there is always a balance in managing a team for the future. However, Yoda said it best about Luke Skywalker, “This one, a long time have I watched. All his life has he looked away… to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was.”

That’s why we play the games. And we should always play to win, putting the best team on the field. If the season ended today, we’d be in first place, but there is a long road ahead.

What I’m Tinkering With (Pacing and Entropy):

Writing has a certain rhythm.

I’ve been pondering entropy—it’s one of those laws of thermodynamics that measures disorder and chaos—while researching a book. Then, I went on a hike and stumbled upon an application idea/feature to measure changes within plot progression. It’s nothing too complicated, and I’m not sure if it’s valuable yet. But I’m going to run measurements on public domain books, just to see if the shifts highlight any trends.

Technically, you could use entropy algorithms on any datapoint to determine slow downs—sales pipeline, inventory levels, projects hours, etc., I’m sure someone has tried this before; no idea is new, it’s all about execution.

Other Random Articles and Notes:

• Beating Mike Tyson or Mr. Dream in Nintendo’s Punch-Out? Challenging. But I never thought it could be done in the first round, let alone in less than two minutes. Only took over 75,000 attempts over a five-year span.

• New Monopoly, coming soon.

• Information loops. Thoughts on data.

When Words Fail (For the Sake of National Security Edition):

“The initiative is supposed to “enhance America’s position as an AI powerhouse,” while preventing “burdensome requirements” from impacting innovation.”

The Verge | OpenAI and Google ask the government to let them train AI on content they don’t own without penalty

Weeks back, I released a short chapter for a future J. Sheridan project, the first words I’ve written on the story in five years. The days do blur.

Typically, the format of my newsletter is to write an essay, and then, share what I’m tinkering with or highlight a book I’m reading. I do try to tie everything together for the careful reader. Eventually, I might, though not always, post a portion of these efforts to my humble website. I’ve been writing here for nearly twenty years. I know, corporate America is trying to kill the open web, but I still like to shout to the wind. I will say, It’s a very different type of post from a newsletter.

Here, I ditched comments long ago, European Union (EU) data privacy laws didn’t help (I don’t keep cookies or sell data, etc.,). I mostly write broadly—science, games, books, food, etc., I’ve touched on a couple of conspiracy posts—Q and the moon landing. Those draw so many random, often troll-farm driven, responses. To hear them tell it, the radiation field doesn’t make landing possible. Or the event was staged in Death Valley.

Trend-wise, commentary moved from individual websites to Facebook or Twitter. Grant, there are some places that maintain a unique identity still, often around sports teams. The Washington Nationals have a thriving community.

But there is one piece of the site I have kept for feedback, the reach-out page. It looks like a simple form but there is some nuance to it.

Google once placed a billboard with the equation “{first 10-digit prime found in consecutive digits of e}.com” across major cities. If you solved it correctly, the answer led to a website with another complex problem. Successful completion of the entire set led to an invitation for a job interview. It’s like a video game Easter egg. Grand Theft auto has them in droves. Nintendo had one only recently discovered in Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out.

So, I tried this too.

Still, I kinda forgot about it because I don’t receive many submissions, hundreds monthly that are often spam. Yet, I’ve only had three souls legitimately solve the simple test. And yes, those who have, get a response. I’m not Oprah, no cars. One person asked for an introduction—easy. Another had a question about a book’s character—even easier. The last asked for a copy of a book—harder due to shipping location, but we worked it out.

I know, this is silly, but I like movies with hidden puzzles in plain sight. The Goonies. National Treasure. Ready Player One. The Prestige. So, of course, I’d try something similar. There is no algorithmic code here; nothing that complicated.

Another reader stumbled upon the test, asking about a five-year-old article, mostly political in nature—a rant where I channeled Alexander Hamilton. If you don’t like politics (or don’t want to think less of me based on implied leanings), don’t bother clicking, but I owed them an article. Kudos.

Overton Vs. Values

Responding got me thinking about the Overton Window, coined by a public policy think-tank. It shifts as cultural attitudes, media narratives, and political leadership evolve. Policies move through stages from unthinkable to mainstream and eventually to law. Some trends are good; some are probably not so great. I’ll let you decide the winners and loser yourself. Yet, I started to think how it’s important to shield one’s self from any echo chamber. That can be hard. And a means to do that is understanding our own values, what we feel is important.

I used to use the following with teams I led, calling them the three simple laws for a successful career:

1. Know what your chasing (Said Goal),

2. Why you’re chasing it (Real Reason Why Said Goals Exist, Business Growth, etc., How do you fit in the larger corporate wheel),

3. And, ultimately, what you hope to become by chasing it (Long Term Growth)

I’d like to say I invented this schtick, but these are attributed to Jim Loehr. His book Leading with Character is a winner, but it’s important to do the exercises. And think about how this applies to leadership, no matter if you’re in corporate America, parenting at home, working at a charity, building a business, volunteering at schools—the list is infinite, choose your own adventure. I’ve always believed the means matter more than the end result.

Values are important when entering the arena.

Lately, I’ve been working on a side project—thinking about leadership concepts. So I’m sending a short article about the ancients to those who contribute to the tip jar. I’d love a little feedback. If you’re not a paid subscriber, join the club; it does have a few perks. And I usually wake up each morning thinking, readers have certain expectations.

No obligation, of course. Until next time, thanks for reading.

The Leadership of Alexander

Alexander the Great, born in 356 BCE, continues to tower over world history. He conquered the world. Never lost a battle. And because of the Homeric way the ancients told stories, it was claimed his lineage traced to Heracles. A claim, perhaps. If you’ve forgotten those Greek myths, ask yourself: Who fathered Heracles? Yes, Zeus himself.

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I grew up in the age of Atari, transitioning to the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES). You remember those square cartridges, right? And the console with that faux-wood paneling? I know, I’m old. These were also the days when Donkey Kong and Galaga ruled restaurant nooks and gas-station crannies. I remember this corner grocery stop near my hometown square. That’s not quite a perfect description—mostly, it was an early convenience store of sorts sans the gas. Memory is fallible, but I recall a row of stand-up coolers hawking Coke and Pepsi. The owners, according to the stories I tell in my own head (it’s a crowded place these days), eventually built a beer cave because it’s hard to make a living on soft drinks and candy bars. Later, they added a line of quarter eaters along the wall. A pinball machine too; I’d like to say it was the epic Indiana Jones classic, but it wasn’t.

This was small-town living, long before mobile phones and the internet. So I’d save my loose change, bike to the shop, and burn through what silver didn’t slip through my pockets on the ride over. This was glorious, mindless fun.

I find explaining the appeal of those old, decorated electronic cabinets to kids raised on sleek handhelds difficult. Modern Linux and Windows machines (Asus, Steam, and Lenovo) boast impressive horsepower: my Nintendo Switch, despite being eight years old, runs hundreds of classic arcade games. Now imagine porting these into an 80s-era cabinet; if I lined those boxes along the roadside, they’d stretch into the horizon.

We take the computing power on mobile devices for granted—an iPhone’s power dwarfs these antique chipsets.

When I trudged miles uphill through snow to the bus stop, to play the graphically best games, the arcade ruled. Home consoles couldn’t compete. Yeah, I loved Atari’s Kaboom, and, much later, Super Mario Brothers on the NES. But compared to an arcade cabinet with Street Fighter? It wasn’t even close. These were the supercomputers of my age.

Today, millions play Epic Games’ Fortnite. I admit, I don’t really get it. I tried years ago, and a host of teenagers killed me in sixty seconds, laughing the entire time on open chat. More attempts, same result. Part of me wanted to reach through the internet and punch them—give them credit, they talked smack like Larry Legend. Yet, I felt sorry for these poor souls because they’ll never understand the magic of becoming Street Fighter champion.

Two players going head to head.

A crowd around you. The oohs and ahhs emerge when pulling off Zangief’s spinning pile-driver. I can still hear the ghosts, those whispers.

And there is a row of quarters. To challenge the winner, you had to put your money down. Standing in line—the world’s greatest invention.

That was gaming culture. Sure, go ahead, pull off a blistering combo on today’s home console controllers. Wear that goofy headset. There’s skill there. But to do it with a joystick and six thick buttons with a half dozen shouting and cheering people around you, that’s a different game. And at twenty-five cents a round, that could get expensive for a cash-strapped kid. The couch crevices eventually did run out of money.

I miss those days.

The time adventure games ruled too. I recall those Tandy Floppy Disks, memory tells me I upgraded to a 3.5 drive. Sierra created many of my favorite games, King’s Quest and Police Quest. LucasArts also ruled the point-and-click era with Indiana Jones and Secret of Monkey Island.

Between past cabinet glory and Tandy computer memories, I wanted to revisit these classics again.

The Power of Aging Game Libraries

This can be challenging because these relics are somewhat like the aging code of Fortune 500 companies and Government agencies. Sometimes, test environments don’t exist. Yet, stuff keeps on humming.

I caught a story on The Verge about the Steam Deck and thought I’d give it a spin. More on this later, but I love that it (1) runs on Linux and (2) anything I buy lasts forever due to how the company handles emulation through what’s called Proton—a Windows compatibility layer. And (3) if something isn’t running I find a way through tinkering and digging around.

Yes, many say Google search is broken—some of this comes down to the reliability and contract with the open web. The tech companies are breaking it to train our new AI overlords. What I find amazing is that no matter what I’m looking for, the engine directs me to a Reddit page. So, why not just ask Reddit directly?

The Steam Deck can emulate many classics. Where I struggled was with the sound. Games of the day relied on hardware’s MIDI drivers, which isn’t a thing these days. I give the Reddit community credit; they recommended some tweaks (leveraging ScrummVM), and I was off and running. Sound sorted, I finished an adventure game and turned to perhaps the toughest shooter of all-time.

Blistering Hard

Contra wasn’t just a video game; it was an experience that tested the limits of focus and precision. Two commandos, armed with nothing but guns shooting white dots and player determination, stormed alien-infested jungles and fortresses, dodging a ceaseless barrage of firepower. The stakes are high here, the margin for error razor-thin. Every screen is a kaleidoscope of mayhem—enemies swarming, towering bosses too.

It’s craziness. This game is hard. Booting it up again made me remember how fast your buzz top fighter can perish against the alien horde.

And yet, for many players, the developer built an escape hatch: the legendary Konami Code. Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select and start. A simple sequence, whispered among friends on the school bus. Or found in Nintendo Power.

Yes, it still works.

Thirty lives instead of three—it changes the game. With the cheat code, Contra becomes a testing playground. One can practice and experiment without constant failure, offering a glimpse of what mastery may feel like. And it lets anyone beat the game through brute force alone.

But it’s cheating, not unlike paying people to level up characters in Diablo.

Played the right way, Contra is about rhythm and timing. Great players don’t need the cheat. They understood that the bullets aren’t something to dodge—they can be guided. To play at the highest level means not reacting to the chaos but learning to control it, bending the game to your own will. Each jump, each shot, each perfectly timed roll has a purpose. Yes, it took time for my muscle memory to kick in, but I remembered how the game’s logic predicts where you’re headed. Once that’s hammered out, the alien horde can be stomped out like the reptiles in that original V-Series (that’s an old reference). Yet, I brute force the penultimate level—assuming I have enough lives to finish. Some don’t.

There is a lesson here.

Seeing the Chessboard

The ability to go beyond reaction isn’t just a gamer’s skill; it’s a mindset. Surgeons anticipate complications, adjusting mid-procedure. Trial lawyer doesn’t just counter arguments; they weave stories sharp enough for juries to grasp and memorable enough to stick. Novelists do more than outline stories, they construct entire worlds where readers can lose themselves, paragraph by paragraph. The salesperson doesn’t just take the order; they manage an overarching account plan, even if they make it up as they go sometimes.

Professionals don’t rely on shortcuts or cheat codes. They find the patterns. They don’t just survive the white-bullet video game storm—they direct it. Whether it’s sketching out a product, wrestling with that blank page, closing a deal, or pulling a project back from the brink of failure, the principle holds. Mastery isn’t about reacting to chaos. It’s about stepping into it, finding a rhythm, and bending it to your will. And yeah, there’s joy there—real, hard-earned joy, even if I have to remind myself sometimes.

Other Notes and Sources:

• There is a scene in the movie, Searching for Bobby Fischer that I love about seeing the chess board.

• The power of open source; it drives the cost down.

• I’m not sure which game is more difficult, Contra or Punch-Out. This isn’t the first time, I’ve gone back to a classic game.

• And yes, I played Street Fighter at this Alladin’s Castle. I’m not sure if it’s still going but what a run… Picture is inspired from those days, imported and designed in Photoshop.

• ScrummVM, doing the good work of keeping old games going.

• Contra is hard; first comment in the Reddit post is great.

• PC gaming is hitting its stride.

• The mechanical version of keeping old games alive.

Be Cool, Pass The JPLA On …

Refer a friend

Open Source Victory Lap:

I don’t like to say, “I told you so.”

Yes, the buzz on the DeepSeek LLM has gone wild. If you haven’t kept up, this is another Chinese model, built on a derivative of Gwern, which I talked about in early January.

What’s so special about the new kid on the block?

Most likely, nothing. All of my original points hold, (1) the Chinese firm was able to use less resource intensive hardware than what was available on the market, (2) they consolidated the token data down, which flattens answers but promotes efficiency, and (3) trained the model at a cheaper cost. If the country has a superpower, it’s the ability to copy what Western companies invent. Nothing new; however, the cost to build, train, and power these models had certain assumptions built in on future markets. That is now taking a hit lowering stocks in tech and nuclear energy.

But should it? A track record of being truthful has never been in the cards, and I’m not sure we should take what the country says at face value until the details are confirmed. I probably wouldn’t say I had cutting-edge hardware if it was under US embargo either.

Still, open source software flattens the cost curve. It always has.

What I’m Tinkering With, Steam Deck (Arch Linux):

Sam Palmisano famously only had one picture on his desk; it was him with Linus Torvalds—the founder of Linux. Yeah, my wife wouldn’t love that idea. But CEOs often decorate their offices to align with strategic direction. Jobs had a minimalist desk. Bezos used a cheap wooden one.

The little things do permeate throughout an organization.

I remember friends at IBM who tried to replace their Windows machines with Linux; hate of Microsoft ran deep here, I suppose. Gates did ruin the OS/2 party.

I thought this was a fool’s errand—nothing ran on Torvalds’ OS. That’s no longer the case; time horizons matter.

Pro-Tip, if you plug the Steam Deck into a computer monitor and keyboard, it’s a full fledged Linux computer. Check your email. Search the web. Write a book. Build a presentation. Take notes. If you have an aging machine running unsupported Windows or OS X, breathe new life into that computer by swapping out the operating system. Like moving, a change of scenery can improve your outlook.

What I’m Reading (Return to the Tipping Point) :

I saw Malcom Gladwell keynote a data analytics conference in San Diego years ago. He kicked it off saying vast amounts of data doesn’t solve problems or give actionable insights. I laughed, not the answer the sponsors, who pedaled analytics tool combing through vast amounts of data, were probably expecting.

His breakout book The Tipping Point launched in 2000 and argued social changes or events or product adoption doesn’t spread gradually in any linear way. Instead, ideas build slowly until hitting a tipping point, after which they accelerate into rapid, exponential growth mode.

The theory seems sounds. I’m not sure I’ve ever came away with an actionable thought from one of Gladwell’s books. But he can tell a story. And makes you think. Anyway, he recently revisited his breakout novel in Revenge of the Tipping Point. I’m still thinking through his overarching arguments. But, like always, he’s telling a story. That doesn’t mean it has to be right; rather, it just needs to convey a certain argument. What’s wrong with being entertained?

When Words Don’t Fail (Super Bowl Recap):

“This year began with a terror attack that tried to shatter it’s spirit,” Tom Brady said, introducing the performance. “But the resilience of New Orleans is matched by the resolve of our country.”

PitchFork

“Hold my Hand.” Lady GaGa

Fox

When Words Don’t Fail (Bill Murray Valentine’s Day Edition):

“Whatever happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life, I’m happy now… because I love you.”

Ground Hog Day

The post-Lina Khan era will be one to watch. She was bound to lose her job, no matter whether Harris or Trump won. There was just too much money being poured into both campaigns clamoring for her removal. Her effectiveness and worldview are up for debate—I think she prioritized outcomes over process in her thinking. Yet, she’s the most impactful FTC lea…

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