I have some stickers that say, “Nobody cares about your fake life on social media.” I don't think anything sums that up better than this collection of people looking ridiculous, desperate for likes, as they pose for Instagram photos. The collection is focused on men who take photographs of their girlfriends, but men pose like this, too.
Likes aren't worth much. You just look ridiculous.
The simplest technology advice may be the most effective: when in doubt, turn it off and on again.
State is difficult to manage, as anyone who has worked with React knows. The technical explanation doesn't matter, though.
If some device is acting funny, whether it's your computer, your printer, your iPad, your TV, or something else, turn it off and on again. Don't just turn off the screen. Fully power off the device, then turn it on again. You'd be surprised how many problems this fixes.
Liquid Glass is bad for cybersecurity. Millions of people have learned the hard way never to update their devices, because if they do, everything might change for the worse. Of course, this isn't the first software update to annoy users with seemingly pointless changes, but it may be the worst case of it.
Remember, if you don't pursue your own stupid idea, you'll end up pursuing someone else's stupid idea. Case in point: Liquid Glass. Someone at the top thought it was a good idea, and thousands of Apple employees were apparently too afraid to say, “This sucks.”
The Nielsen Norman Group doesn't like iOS 26, the new iPhone operating system with Liquid Glass, and why should they? The user interface makes many, many elementary mistakes. Few if any would have been made had the designers read Donald Norman's seminal book on usability—yes, the same Norman from the Nielsen Norman Group—The Design of Everyday Things. Like Windows 8 and sadly many elements of iOS before this, iOS 26 applies the book's principles in reverse. User confusion and frustration is therefore no surprise. The real question is, what in the world happened to Apple's organization to allow this, when it previously blazed a trail for usable technology and made The Design of Everyday Things required reading?
Never install the Google Photos app on an Apple device, like an iPhone or an iPad. The app slurps up all your photos and videos, even though they were probably automatically backed up to iCloud already. Then, Google complains that you're out of Google cloud storage space, and services like Gmail stop working. (Well, they stop working exactly the way they should. For example, you may not be able to receive any more emails.) You can solve the problem by paying Google for more cloud storage space, but that's bullshit. There's no reason to pay them, because they had no legitimate reason to steal your data in the first place. Fuck that. Thankfully, there is an alternative. You can uninstall the app, then delete all of Google's copies of your media through the Google Photos website on another computer.
That's all a very technical way of saying the following: never install the Google Photos app on an Apple device. If you already installed it, uninstall it, then delete Google's copies of your photos and videos through the Google Photos website on another computer.
There may be a workaround. There may be some kind of button that instructs Google not to steal your shit and charge you for the privilege. If there is a solution, though, it must not be obvious, because practically everyone I know with an iPhone has faced this problem. Therefore, the easy solution is the best one: never, ever install the Google Photos app on an Apple device.
The ad-based web has failed.
I was recently listening to a podcast about the Branch Davidian cult, led by David Koresh, and how the FBI attempted to end the standoff by, among other things, flooding bedrooms with light to prevent sleep and blaring the screams of dying rabbits over loudspeakers to drive the Branch Davidians insane and hasten their surrender. Apparently, someone thought this was a good idea, and apparently, no one was brave enough to tell that person they were wrong.
The lesson? Speak up. Trust yourself. If you don't pursue your own stupid idea, you'll end up pursuing someone else's stupid idea, and the latter will often be much, much more stupid.
The internet can be a confirmation bias machine. If one wants to find evidence that Wegmans is amazing, they will find it. If one wants to find evidence that Wegmans is terrible, they will find it. For that reason, I don't think anyone should celebrate when they find others online who agree with them. It feels like validation, but I believe it's meaningless.
Consensus is different. If almost all people who are knowledgeable about a certain subject agree on some fact, despite their different upbringings, cultures, and worldviews, then it probably is true. Can one find people online who believe that pandas speak Latin? Probably. The internet is a big place. Can one find broad consensus that pandas speak Latin? Absolutely not. That's one way of knowing it's probably bullshit.
Is broad consensus everything? No, but it's a strong indicator of truth. Add it to your truth detection scorecard. Have it replace “my tribe agrees with me.”
About two years ago, I wrote that the Beatles never set OKRs. It was the punchline to a larger point, but at the time, I was working for a company in the music industry, and I didn't want to criticize music manager types.
Now that I've moved on from that company, and especially because my car sports a custom bumper sticker with the phrase, I've decided to share the unabridged version:
I tend to believe that working too hard to come up with a name for a brand or product is pointless. A name doesn't need to be good to stick. I could point to Facebook or Apple, but there may be no better example than The Beatles. It really is a strange name. It's a pun! It's a dad joke! And yet, I can't imagine them being called anything else.
Can you imagine what a committee would have named the band? For that matter, can you imagine The Beatles writing roadmaps and setting OKRs? Sheesh.
Now that's a t-shirt. “The Beatles never set OKRs.”
I obviously feel the same way today. Speaking of music, maybe that's why one of my favorite Pink Floyd songs, both lyrically and musically, is “Have a Cigar”. A lot of management—certainly not all, but certainly too much—is worse than pointless. It's actively harmful.