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I am not going to repeat the news. But man, things are really, really bad and getting worse in America. It’s all so unendingly stupid and evil. The tech industry is being horrible, too. Wishing strength to the people who are much more exposed to the chaos than I am. Reading A Confederacy of Dunces was such a perfect novel. It was pure escapism, over-the-top comedy, and such an unusual artifact, that was sadly only appreciated posthumously. Very earnestly I believe that despite greater access to power and resources, the box labeled “socially acceptable ways to be a man” is much smaller than the box labeled “socially acceptable ways to be a woman.” This article on the distinction between patriarchy and men was an interesting read. With the whole… politics out there, it’s easy to go off the rails with any discussion about men and women and whether either have it easy or hard. The same author wrote this good article about declining male enrollment in college. I think both are worth a read. Whenever I read this kind of article, I’m reminded of how limited and mostly fortunate my own experience is. There’s a big difference, I think, in how vigorously you have to perform your gender in some red state where everyone owns a pickup truck, versus a major city where the roles are a little more fluid. Plus, I’ve been extremely fortunate to have a lot of friends and genuine open conversations about feelings with other men. I wish that was the norm! On Having a Maximum Wealth was right up my alley. I’m reading another one of the new-French-economist books right now, and am still fascinated by the prospect of wealth taxes. My friend David has started a local newsletter for Richmond, Virginia, and written a good piece about public surveillance. Construction Physics is consistently great, and their investigation of why skyscrapers are all glass boxes is no exception. Watching David Lynch was so great. We watched his film Lost Highway a few days after he passed, and it was even better than I had remembered it. Norm Macdonald’s extremely long jokes on late-night talk shows have been getting me through the days. Listening This song by the The Hard Quartet – a supergroup of Emmett Kelly, Stephen Malkmus (Pavement), Matt Sweeney and Jim White. It’s such a loving, tender bit of nonsense, very golden-age Pavement. They also have this nice chill song: I came across this SML album via Hearing Things, which has been highlighting a lot of good music. Small Medium Large by SML It’s a pretty good time for these independent high-quality art websites. Colossal has done the same for the art world and highlights good new art: I really want to make it out to see the Nick Cave (not the musician) art show while it’s in New York.
I was just enjoying Simon Willison’s predictions and, heck, why not. 1: The web becomes adversarial to AI The history of search engines is sort of an arms race between websites and search engines. Back in the early 2000s, juicing your ranking on search engines was pretty easy - you could put a bunch of junk in your meta description tags or put some text with lots of keywords on each page and make that text really tiny and transparent so users didn’t notice it but Google did. I doubt that Perplexity’s userbase is that big but Perplexity users are probably a lot wealthier on average than Google’s, and there’s some edge to be achieved by getting Perplexity to rank your content highly or recommend your website. I’ve already noticed some search results including links to content farms. There are handful of startups that do this already, but the prediction is: the average marketing exec at a consumer brand will put some of their budget to work on fooling AI. That means serving different content to AI scrapers, maybe using some twist on Glaze and other forms of adversarial image processing to make their marketing images more tantalizing to the bots. Websites will be increasingly aware that they’re being consumed by AI, and they will have a vested interest in messing with the way AI ‘perceives’ them. As Simon notes in his predictions, AIs are gullible: and that’s before there are widespread efforts to fool them. There’s probably some way to detect an AI scraper, give it a special payload, and trick it into recommending your brand of razors whenever anyone asks, and once someone figures it out this will be the marketing trend of the decade. 2: Copyright nihilism breeds a return to physical-only media The latest lawsuit about Meta’s use of pirated books, allegedly with Mark Zuckerberg’s explicit permission, if true, will be another reason to lose faith in the American legal system’s intellectual property system entirely. We’ve only seen it used to punish individuals and protect corporations, regardless of the facts and damages, and there’s no reason to believe it will do anything different (POSIWID). The result, besides an uptick in nihilism, could be a rejuvenation of physical-only releases. New albums only released on vinyl. Books only available in paperback format. More private screenings of hip movies. When all digital records are part of the ‘training dataset,’ a niche, hipster subset will be drawn to things that aren’t as easily captured and reproduced. This is parallel, to the state of closed-source models from Anthropic or OpenAI. They’re never distributed or run locally. They exist as bytes on some hard drive and in some massive GPU’s memory in some datacenter, and there aren’t Bittorrents pirating them because they’re kept away from people, not because of the power of copyright law. What can be accessed can be copied, so secrecy and inaccessibility is valuable. 3: American tech companies will pull out of Europe because they want to do acquisitions The incoming political administration will probably bring an end to Lina Khan’s era of the FTC, and era in which the FTC did stuff. We will go back to a ‘hands off’ policy in which big companies will acquire each other pretty often without much government interference. But, even in Khan’s era, the real nail in the coffin for one of the biggest acquisitions - Adobe’s attempt to buy Figma – was regulators from the EU and UK. Those regulators will probably keep doing stuff, so I think it’s likely that the next time some company wants to acquire a close competitor, they just close up shop in the EU, maybe with a long-term plan to return. 4: The tech industry’s ‘DEI backlash’ will run up against reality The reality is that the gap between women and men in terms of college degrees is really big: “Today, 47% of U.S. women ages 25 to 34 have a bachelor’s degree, compared with 37% of men.” And that a great deal of the tech industry’s workforce is made of up highly-skilled people who are on H-1B visas. The synthesis will be that tech workers will be more diverse, in some respects, but by stripping away the bare-bones protections around their presence, companies will keep them in a more vulnerable and exploitable position. But hard right-wingers will have plenty to complain about because these companies will continue to look less white and male, because the labor pool is not that. 5: Local-first will have a breakthrough moment I think that Zero Sync has a good chance at cracking this really hard problem. So does electric and maybe jazz, too. The gap between the dream of local-first apps and the reality has been wide, but I think projects are starting to come to grips with a few hard truths: Full decentralization is not worth it. You need to design for syncing a subset of the data, not the entire dataset. You need an approach to schema evolution and permission checking These systems are getting there. We could see a big, Figma-level application built on Zero this year that will set the standard for future web application architecture. 6: Local, small AI models will be a big deal Embedding models are cool as heck. New text-to-speech and speech-to-text models are dramatically better than what came before. Image segmentation is getting a lot better. There’s a lot of stuff that is coming out of this boom that will be able to scale down to a small model that runs on a phone, browser, or at least on our own web servers without having to call out to OpenAI or Anthropic APIs. It’ll make sense for costs, performance, and security. Candle is a really interesting effort in this area. Mini predictions Substack will re-bundle news. People are tired of subscribing to individual newsletters. Substack will introduce some ~$20/month plan that gives you access to all of the newsletters that participate in this new pricing model. TypeScript gets a zeitwork equivalent and lots of people use it. Same as how prettier brought full code formatting from TypeScript, autoloading is the kind of thing that once you have it, it’s magic. What if you could just write <SomeComponent /> in your React app and didn’t have to import it? I think this would be extremely addictive and catch on fast. Node.js will fend off its competitors. Even though Val Town is built around Deno’s magic, I’ve been very impressed that Node.js is keeping up. They’ve introduced permissions, just like Deno, and native TypeScript support, just like the upstarts. Bun and Deno will keep gaining adherents, but Node.js has a long future ahead of it. Another US city starts seriously considering congestion pricing. For all the chatter and terrible discourse around the plan, it is obviously a good idea and it will work, as it has in every other case, and inspire other cities to do the same. Stripe will IPO. They’re still killing it, but they’re killing it in an established, repeatable way that public markets will like, and will let up the pressure on the many, many people who own their stock.
Happy end-of-2024! It’s been a pretty good year overall. I’m thankful. There’s no way that I’ll be able to remember and carve out the time around New Years to write this, so here’s some end-of-year roundup, ahead of schedule! Running This was my biggest year for running on record: 687 miles as of today. I think the biggest difference with this year was just that nothing stood in the way of my being pretty consistent and putting in the miles: the weather has been mild, I haven’t had any major injuries, and long runs have felt pretty good. I was happy to hit a half-marathon PR (1:36:21), but my performance in 5Ks was far short of the goal of sub-20 – partly because Brooklyn’s wonderful 5K series was run at the peak of summer, with multiple races at over 85°F. I learned the value of good lightweight running gear: Bakline’s singlets and Goodr sunglasses were super helpful in getting me through the summer. Work Val Town raised a seed round and hired a bunch of excellent people. We moved into a new office of our own, which has a great vibe. It’s been good: we’re doing a lot of ground-up work wrangling cgroups and low-level worker scheduling, and a lot of UX-in work, just trying to make it a pleasant tool. Frankly, with every product I’ve worked on, I’ve never had a feeling that it was good enough, and accordingly, for me, Val Town feels like it has a long way to go. It’s probably a good tendency to be sort of unsatisfied and motivated to constantly improve. New York It’s still such a wonderful place to live. Late this year, I’ve been rediscovering my obsession with cycling, and realizing how much I whiffed the opportunity to ride more when I lived in San Francisco. I guess that’s the first time I felt genuinely nostalgic for the West coast. I miss DC a bit too: it’s one of the few cities where my friends have been able to stay in the city proper while raising children, and I miss the accessible, underdog punk scene. But Brooklyn is just a remarkable place to live. My walk score is 100. The degree to which people here are in the city because they want to be, not because they have to, shapes so much of what makes it great. Other ‘metrics’ Relative to my old level obsession about self-quantification, my ‘metrics’ are pretty moderate now. Everything’s just backward-looking: I’m not paying much attention to the numbers as I go, it’s just fun to look at them year-over-year trends. That said, this was a lackluster year for reading: just 18 books so far. I think I just read an above-average number of books that I didn’t enjoy very much. Next year I’m going to return to authors who I already love, and stay away from genres that – the data shows – I don’t like. Whereas this was a banner year for watching movies: not great! Next year, I want to flip these results. Of everything I saw, Kinds of Kindness will probably stick with me the most. Placemark It seems like a decade ago that I released Placemark as open source software, as developing it as a closed-source SaaS application for a few years. But I did that in January. There have been a few great open source contributions since then, but it’s pretty quiet. Which is okay, somewhat expected: there is no hidden crowd of people with extra time on their hands and unending enthusiasm for ‘geospatial software’ waiting to contribute to that kind of project. Placemark is also, even with my obsessive focus on simplicity, a pretty complicated codebase. The learning curve is probably pretty significant. Maps are a challenging problem area: that’s what attracts a lot of people to them, but people who use maps persistently have the feeling that it couldn’t be that complicated, which means that few users convert into contributors. There are a few prominent efforts chasing similar goals as Placemark: Atlas.co is aiming to be an all-in-one editing/analysis platform, Felt a cloud-native GIS platform, and then there are plenty of indiehackers-style projects. I hope these projects take off! Figma plugins I also kept maintaining the Figma plugins I developed under the Placemark name. Potentially a lot of people are using them, but I don’t really know. The problem with filling in water shapes in the plugins is still unsolved: it’s pretty hard and I haven’t had the time or motivation to fix it. The most energy into those plugins this year, unfortunately, was when someone noticed that the dataset I was using - Natural Earth – marked Crimea as part of Russia. Which obviously: I don’t draw the countries in datasets, but it’s a reasonable thing to point out (but to assume that the author is malicious was a real downer, again, like, I don’t draw the countries). This decision from Natural Earth’s maintainer is heavily discussed and they aren’t planning on changing it, so I switched to world-atlas, which doesn’t have that problem. Which was fine, but a reminder of the days when I worked on maps full-time and this kind of unexpected “you’re the baddie” realization came up much more often. Sometimes it was silly: people who complain about label priority in the sense of “why, at zoom level 3, does one country’s name show up and not anothers?” was just silly. The answer, ahem, was that there isn’t enough space for the two labels and one country had a higher population or a geometry that gave their label more distance from the other country’s centroid. But a lot of the territorial disputes are part of people’s long cultural, political, military history and the source of intergenerational strife. Of course that’s serious stuff. Making a tool that shows a globe with labels on it will probably always trigger some sort of moment like that, and it’s a reason to not work on it that much because you’re bound to unintentionally step on something contentious. Other projects I released Obsidian Freeform, and have been using it a bit myself. Obsidian has really stuck for me. My vault is well over 2,000 notes, and I’ve created a daily note for almost every day for the last year. Freeform was a fun project and I have other ideas that are Obsidian plugin-shaped, though I’ve become a little bit let down by the plugin API - the fact that Obsidian-flavored-Markdown is nonstandard and the parser/AST is not accessible to plugins is a pretty big drawback for the kinds of things I want to build. Elsewhere recently I’ve been writing a bit: Recently I’ve written about dependency bloat and a developer analytics tool we built at Val Town, and started writing some supplementary documentation for Observable Plot about parts of its API that I think are unintuitive. On the micro blog, I wrote about not using GitHub Copilot and how brands should make a comeback. This blog got a gentle redesign in May, to show multiple categories of posts on the home page, and then in August I did a mass update to switch all YouTube embeds to lite-youtube-embed to make pages load faster. I’m still running Jekyll, like I have been for the last decade, and it works great. Oh, and I’ve basically stopped using Twitter and am only on Mastodon and Bluesky. Bluesky more than Mastodon recently because it seems like it’s doing a better job at attracting a more diverse community. I’m looking forward to 2025, to cycling a lot more and a new phase of startup-building. See you in the new year.
I haven’t been posting much to the ‘main blog’ recently, but I have been keeping the micro blog updates humming. If you want more content in your RSS reader, you can subscribe to those posts, which are shorter, more scattered, and even less copyedited. It feels bad to have multiple “Recently” headings in the blog listing, so I’ll give them short subtitles from now on. Anyway, what’s up? October was all right. At Val Town, we spent a lot of time interviewing job candidates and improving the AI assistant, Townie. I also got some time to tackle long-awaited technical debt cleanups: I conquered the ‘big scary function’ that did the actual ‘running’ of val code. Cycling Outside of work, a lot of my October-related excitement was related to being outdoors. It’s been a great year for running – I just passed 600 miles so far and will probably hit 650 barring any injuries or life complications. But cycling is on the mind. We just rode the Old Croton Aqueduct trail from Ossining back to Brooklyn. It’s a fairly rough trail: plenty of rocks and terrain. Rideable on my ~32mm tires, but it’d be a lot easier with a mountain bike. We rode past some osage orange trees with their funky-looking and inedible fruit the size of large grapefruits. The trail passed right next to the Lyndhurst Estate, which was owned by a series of rich and powerful people, including Jay Gould, who is especially hated. Upstate, a lot of the attractions are like this, other big historic houses. The trail was mostly really beautiful, though the parts closer to Yonkers have a lot of trash. It’s much more popular with hikers than with cyclists. Even though bikes are explicitly permitted, locals seemed a little surprised by our presence, even though we were ringing bells, going slow, and making lots of space. It’s kind of funny to compare the general spatial awareness of people upstate to those in the city: we encountered a lot of people upstate who were standing in the center of the trail, completely zoned out and surprised by the presence of another human, and then on the way back were on city streets with four people within a few feet of us on foot, bikes, cars, scooters, all mostly aware and ready to silently negotiate how to move together through a shared space. I remarked that I think that when some people move out of the city because of the ‘inconvenience’, the inconvenience is people, and once you leave, you lose a certain ability to live around other people - from then on, you expect to have a suburban yard-sized perimeter around your personal space. Micro I wrote a lot on the microblog this month: about the Arc browser’s recent news that it’ll be abandoned, Reddit adopting Web Components, domain squatting, Python datascience tech, and Knip, a tool for finding dead code in TypeScript systems. Content I watched a bunch of films, which are on my Letterboxd, and the only new album on my rotation is Yasmin Williams’s Acadia: Acadia by Yasmin Williams This YouTube channel is showing all of the steps involved in doing a multi-day bikepacking trip through India. It’s a lot of fun: And that’s it for this month! I’ll write a full-fledged blog post one of these days.
More in programming
I’m sitting in a small coffee shop in Brooklyn. I have a warm drink, and it’s just started to snow outside. I’m visiting New York to see Operation Mincemeat on Broadway – I was at the dress rehearsal yesterday, and I’ll be at the opening preview tonight. I’ve seen this show more times than I care to count, and I hope US theater-goers love it as much as Brits. The people who make the show will tell you that it’s about a bunch of misfits who thought they could do something ridiculous, who had the audacity to believe in something unlikely. That’s certainly one way to see it. The musical tells the true story of a group of British spies who tried to fool Hitler with a dead body, fake papers, and an outrageous plan that could easily have failed. Decades later, the show’s creators would mirror that same spirit of unlikely ambition. Four friends, armed with their creativity, determination, and a wardrobe full of hats, created a new musical in a small London theatre. And after a series of transfers, they’re about to open the show under the bright lights of Broadway. But when I watch the show, I see a story about friendship. It’s about how we need our friends to help us, to inspire us, to push us to be the best versions of ourselves. I see the swaggering leader who needs a team to help him truly achieve. The nervous scientist who stands up for himself with the support of his friends. The enthusiastic secretary who learns wisdom and resilience from her elder. And so, I suppose, it’s fitting that I’m not in New York on my own. I’m here with friends – dozens of wonderful people who I met through this ridiculous show. At first, I was just an audience member. I sat in my seat, I watched the show, and I laughed and cried with equal measure. After the show, I waited at stage door to thank the cast. Then I came to see the show a second time. And a third. And a fourth. After a few trips, I started to see familiar faces waiting with me at stage door. So before the cast came out, we started chatting. Those conversations became a Twitter community, then a Discord, then a WhatsApp. We swapped fan art, merch, and stories of our favourite moments. We went to other shows together, and we hung out outside the theatre. I spent New Year’s Eve with a few of these friends, sitting on somebody’s floor and laughing about a bowl of limes like it was the funniest thing in the world. And now we’re together in New York. Meeting this kind, funny, and creative group of people might seem as unlikely as the premise of Mincemeat itself. But I believed it was possible, and here we are. I feel so lucky to have met these people, to take this ridiculous trip, to share these precious days with them. I know what a privilege this is – the time, the money, the ability to say let’s do this and make it happen. How many people can gather a dozen friends for even a single evening, let alone a trip halfway round the world? You might think it’s silly to travel this far for a theatre show, especially one we’ve seen plenty of times in London. Some people would never see the same show twice, and most of us are comfortably into double or triple-figures. Whenever somebody asks why, I don’t have a good answer. Because it’s fun? Because it’s moving? Because I enjoy it? I feel the need to justify it, as if there’s some logical reason that will make all of this okay. But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe joy doesn’t need justification. A theatre show doesn’t happen without people who care. Neither does a friendship. So much of our culture tells us that it’s not cool to care. It’s better to be detached, dismissive, disinterested. Enthusiasm is cringe. Sincerity is weakness. I’ve certainly felt that pressure – the urge to play it cool, to pretend I’m above it all. To act as if I only enjoy something a “normal” amount. Well, fuck that. I don’t know where the drive to be detached comes from. Maybe it’s to protect ourselves, a way to guard against disappointment. Maybe it’s to seem sophisticated, as if having passions makes us childish or less mature. Or perhaps it’s about control – if we stay detached, we never have to depend on others, we never have to trust in something bigger than ourselves. Being detached means you can’t get hurt – but you’ll also miss out on so much joy. I’m a big fan of being a big fan of things. So many of the best things in my life have come from caring, from letting myself be involved, from finding people who are a big fan of the same things as me. If I pretended not to care, I wouldn’t have any of that. Caring – deeply, foolishly, vulnerably – is how I connect with people. My friends and I care about this show, we care about each other, and we care about our joy. That care and love for each other is what brought us together, and without it we wouldn’t be here in this city. I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime trip. So many stars had to align – for us to meet, for the show we love to be successful, for us to be able to travel together. But if we didn’t care, none of those stars would have aligned. I know so many other friends who would have loved to be here but can’t be, for all kinds of reasons. Their absence isn’t for lack of caring, and they want the show to do well whether or not they’re here. I know they care, and that’s the important thing. To butcher Tennyson: I think it’s better to care about something you cannot affect, than to care about nothing at all. In a world that’s full of cynicism and spite and hatred, I feel that now more than ever. I’d recommend you go to the show if you haven’t already, but that’s not really the point of this post. Maybe you’ve already seen Operation Mincemeat, and it wasn’t for you. Maybe you’re not a theatre kid. Maybe you aren’t into musicals, or history, or war stories. That’s okay. I don’t mind if you care about different things to me. (Imagine how boring the world would be if we all cared about the same things!) But I want you to care about something. I want you to find it, find people who care about it too, and hold on to them. Because right now, in this city, with these people, at this show? I’m so glad I did. And I hope you find that sort of happiness too. Some of the people who made this trip special. Photo by Chloe, and taken from her Twitter. Timing note: I wrote this on February 15th, but I delayed posting it because I didn’t want to highlight the fact I was away from home. [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]
One of the biggest mistakes that new startup founders make is trying to get away from the customer-facing roles too early. Whether it's customer support or it's sales, it's an incredible advantage to have the founders doing that work directly, and for much longer than they find comfortable. The absolute worst thing you can do is hire a sales person or a customer service agent too early. You'll miss all the golden nuggets that customers throw at you for free when they're rejecting your pitch or complaining about the product. Seeing these reasons paraphrased or summarized destroy all the nutrients in their insights. You want that whole-grain feedback straight from the customers' mouth! When we launched Basecamp in 2004, Jason was doing all the customer service himself. And he kept doing it like that for three years!! By the time we hired our first customer service agent, Jason was doing 150 emails/day. The business was doing millions of dollars in ARR. And Basecamp got infinitely, better both as a market proposition and as a product, because Jason could funnel all that feedback into decisions and positioning. For a long time after that, we did "Everyone on Support". Frequently rotating programmers, designers, and founders through a day of answering emails directly to customers. The dividends of doing this were almost as high as having Jason run it all in the early years. We fixed an incredible number of minor niggles and annoying bugs because programmers found it easier to solve the problem than to apologize for why it was there. It's not easy doing this! Customers often offer their valuable insights wrapped in rude language, unreasonable demands, and bad suggestions. That's why many founders quit the business of dealing with them at the first opportunity. That's why few companies ever do "Everyone On Support". That's why there's such eagerness to reduce support to an AI-only interaction. But quitting dealing with customers early, not just in support but also in sales, is an incredible handicap for any startup. You don't have to do everything that every customer demands of you, but you should certainly listen to them. And you can't listen well if the sound is being muffled by early layers of indirection.
As well as changing the way I organise my writing, last year I made some cosmetic improvements to this site. I design everything on this site myself, and I write the CSS by hand – I don’t use any third-party styles or frameworks. I don’t have any design training, and I don’t do design professionally, so I use this site as a place to learn and practice my design skills. It’s a continual work-in-progress, but I’d like to think it’s getting better over time. I design this site for readers. I write long, text-heavy posts with the occasional illustration or diagram, so I want something that will be comfortable to read and look good on a wide variety of browsers and devices. I get a lot of that “for free” by using semantic HTML and the default styles – most of my CSS is just cosmetic. Let’s go through some of the changes. Cleaning up the link styles This is what links used to look like: Every page has a tint colour, and then I was deriving different shades to style different links – a darker shade for visited links, a lighter shade for visited links in dark mode, and a background that appears on hover. I’m generating these new colours programatically, and I was so proud of getting that code working that I didn’t stop to think whether it was a good idea. In hindsight, I see several issues. The tint colour is meant to give the page a consistent visual appearance, but the different shades diluted that effect. I don’t think their meaning was especially obvious. How many readers ever worked it out? And the hover styles are actively unhelpful – just as you hover over a link you’re interested in, I’m making it harder to read! (At least in light mode – in dark mode, the hover style is barely legible.) One thing I noticed is that for certain tint colours, the “visited” colour I generated was barely distinguishable from the text colour. So I decided to lean into that in the new link styles: visited links are now the same colour as regular text. This new set of styles feels more coherent. I’m only using one shade of the tint colour, and I think the meaning is a bit clearer – only new-to-you links will get the pop of colour to stand out from the rest of the text. I’m happy to rely on underlines for the links you’ve already visited. And when you hover, the thick underline means you can see where you are, but the link text remains readable. Swapping out the font I swapped out the font, replacing Georgia with Charter. The difference is subtle, so I’d be surprised if anyone noticed: I’ve always used web safe fonts for this site – the fonts that are built into web browsers, and don’t need to be downloaded first. I’ve played with custom fonts from time to time, but there’s no font I like more enough to justify the hassle of loading a custom font. I still like Georgia, but I felt it was showing its age – it was designed in 1993 to look good on low-resolution screens, but looks a little chunky on modern displays. I think Charter looks nicer on high-resolution screens, but if you don’t have it installed then I fall back to Georgia. Making all the roundrects consistent I use a lot of rounded rectangles for components on this site, including article cards, blockquotes, and code blocks. For a long time they had similar but not identical styles, because I designed them all at different times. There were weird inconsistencies. For example, why does one roundrect have a 2px border, but another one is 3px? These are small details that nobody will ever notice directly, but undermine the sense of visual together-ness. I’ve done a complete overhaul of these styles, to make everything look more consistent. I’m leaning heavily on CSS variables, a relatively new CSS feature that I’ve really come to like. Variables make it much easier to use consistent values in different rules. I also tweaked the appearance: I’ve removed another two shades of the tint colour. (Yes, those shades were different from the ones used in links.) Colour draws your attention, so I’m trying to use it more carefully. A link says “click here”. A heading says “start here”. What does a blockquote or code snippet say? It’s just part of the text, so it shouldn’t be grabbing your attention. I think the neutral background also makes the syntax highlighting easier to read, because the tint colour isn’t clashing with the code colours. I could probably consolidate the shades of grey I’m using, but that’s a task for another day. I also removed the left indent on blockquotes and code blocks – I think it looks nicer to have a flush left edge for everything, and it means you can read more text on mobile screens. (That’s where I really felt the issues with the old design.) What’s next? By tidying up the design and reducing the number of unique elements, I’ve got a bit of room to add something new. For a while now I’ve wanted a place at the bottom of posts for common actions, or links to related and follow-up posts. As I do more and more long-form, reflective writing, I want to be able to say “if you liked this, you should read this too”. I want something that catches your eye, but doesn’t distract from the article you’re already reading. Louie Mantia has a version of this that I quite like: I’ve held off designing this because the existing pages felt too busy, but now I feel like I have space to add this – there aren’t as many clashing colours and components to compete for your attention. I’m still sketching out designs – my current idea is my rounded rectangle blocks, but with a coloured border instead of a subtle grey, but when I did a prototype, I feel like it’s missing something. I need to try a few more ideas. Watch this space! [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]
Humanity's Last Exam by Center for AI Safety (CAIS) and Scale AI
Most of our cultural virtues, celebrated heroes, and catchy slogans align with the idea of "never give up". That's a good default! Most people are inclined to give up too easily, as soon as the going gets hard. But it's also worth remembering that sometimes you really should fold, admit defeat, and accept that your plan didn't work out. But how to distinguish between a bad plan and insufficient effort? It's not easy. Plenty of plans look foolish at first glance, especially to people without skin in the game. That's the essence of a disruptive startup: The idea ought to look a bit daft at first glance or it probably doesn't carry the counter-intuitive kernel needed to really pop. Yet it's also obviously true that not every daft idea holds the potential to be a disruptive startup. That's why even the best venture capital investors in the world are wrong far more than they're right. Not because they aren't smart, but because nobody is smart enough to predict (the disruption of) the future consistently. The best they can do is make long bets, and then hope enough of them pay off to fund the ones that don't. So far, so logical, so conventional. A million words have been written by a million VCs about how their shrewd eyes let them see those hidden disruptive kernels before anyone else could. Good for them. What I'm more interested in knowing more about is how and when you pivot from a promising bet to folding your hand. When do you accept that no amount of additional effort is going to get that turkey to soar? I'm asking because I don't have any great heuristics here, and I'd really like to know! Because the ability to fold your hand, and live to play your remaining chips another day, isn't just about startups. It's also about individual projects. It's about work methods. Hell, it's even about politics and societies at large. I'll give you just one small example. In 2017, Rails 5.1 shipped with new tooling for doing end-to-end system tests, using a headless browser to validate the functionality, as a user would in their own browser. Since then, we've spent an enormous amount of time and effort trying to make this approach work. Far too much time, if you ask me now. This year, we finished our decision to fold, and to give up on using these types of system tests on the scale we had previously thought made sense. In fact, just last week, we deleted 5,000 lines of code from the Basecamp code base by dropping literally all the system tests that we had carried so diligently for all these years. I really like this example, because it draws parallels to investing and entrepreneurship so well. The problem with our approach to system tests wasn't that it didn't work at all. If that had been the case, bailing on the approach would have been a no brainer long ago. The trouble was that it sorta-kinda did work! Some of the time. With great effort. But ultimately wasn't worth the squeeze. I've seen this trap snap on startups time and again. The idea finds some traction. Enough for the founders to muddle through for years and years. Stuck with an idea that sorta-kinda does work, but not well enough to be worth a decade of their life. That's a tragic trap. The only antidote I've found to this on the development side is time boxing. Programmers are just as liable as anyone to believe a flawed design can work if given just a bit more time. And then a bit more. And then just double of what we've already spent. The time box provides a hard stop. In Shape Up, it's six weeks. Do or die. Ship or don't. That works. But what's the right amount of time to give a startup or a methodology or a societal policy? There's obviously no universal answer, but I'd argue that whatever the answer, it's "less than you think, less than you want". Having the grit to stick with the effort when the going gets hard is a key trait of successful people. But having the humility to give up on good bets turned bad might be just as important.