I feel like "hostile software architecture" is a term we should establish.
Google and Facebook are the absolute masters of this, since all their profit comes from it in one way or another.
Designing applications specifically with the goal of squeezing as much data out of users and making privacy as hard as they can is probably the most "successful" example of hostile software architecture.
Designing around displaying ads would be another one that goes hand in hand.
Did you know that there are two types of gum for my climate? Yes, summer gum and winter gum. The winter gum is in stick form. If you buy it in the humid, semi-tropical Kentucky summers, it will wilt and melt in the pack. The hardshell summer gum will, too, but it takes way longer. Now you know. #smallstories
Brian Eno On Genius, And “Scenius” – Synthtopia http://www.synthtopia.com/content/2009/07/09/brian-eno-on-genius-and-scenius/ #clmooc
Our local grocery allows you to call in and order and pick up. As I approached the entrance, a monster SUV was being loaded by a sweating worker. The car's driver pecked away at her smartphone, oblivious. I waited to see if she would tip. Nope. She drove away in a cloud of diesel. Coming out of the grocery, a large dude in leather and tattoos walked ahead of me and an older woman. He stopped and swept his arm out to let her go ahead of him. A gallant. I needed that incongruity. #smallstories
See a girl: her face masked, body shrouded by a hospital gown, her skin ashen from the epic war she must fight within. A nurse leads her through the cafeteria to fetch breakfast, carefully warding her against contamination. At each kiosk she delicately nods at what she would like to eat. Withal she stands too still, patiently holding tight a clean mauve teddy bear. Her trust, as her life, is palpably desperate, clutching at shoals. An ethereal presence. She is perhaps 5 years old.
This morning I saw a pair of juvenile greater blue herons flying across the creek and then gone. We have at least three nesting pairs of herons on our farm down by that same creek. I feel a wildly inappropriate sense of having helped this brand new mated pair of herons come into being. Like James Wright blurted (https://goo.gl/eaFNTF), have I wasted my life. A gut feeling arising from the truth of observing? Who can stand in the wake of nature's creative force? Pan always wins. #smallstories
I think what you may have noticed is the ebb and flow here. Some people have dipped in and out as life and the seasons take them to different places, but they do seem to come back. I'll still be here, baking bread and playing cello - especially as the days draw in.
My ancestors called it “sæl”, which meant luck. But it wasn’t mere chance or fate. It was something you could have. A fisherman might be successful if they had fishing sæl. You might borrow the luck of a king, or desert a leader whose luck had left them.
Sælig meant lucky, but over the years it changed to mean happy, then blessed, then innocent, then simple, and finally foolish. And today, it’s still pronounced almost the same way: silly.
Eerie to visit your birth home to wander the clutter of memory & change. 1960's: Sleepy mountain town, 640 people, 32 farms. Now: wealthy weekend community. Among the gone: Danny's Shoe Repair. Push the heavy glass door, the jingle, the smell of leather; Danny looks up from his bench. A smile; a greeting in Italian as he rises, removes his green apron & comes to see what you've brought. "Tsk. Tsk." An admonition to take better care. "Treat your feet well, and you will live well." #smallstories
When I was 18 and working part-time in the football stadium restaurant industry I made my own t-shirt - bright red, with the letters 'The Revolution Lives' emblazoned in gold lettering. When people asked me what revolution I meant, I said "the revolution of the mind". Today, I am still revolting. Haven't lost a step. #smallstories
"Did you just ride down that?" My glazed brakes squeal so loudly a kid turns to stare. "I won't bike this hill, it's too steep." She's 12 or 13, an age still bold enough to make pronouncements about strangers' habits.
She has a puppy with one ear up, one down. "Who's this cutie?" the cutie nibbles my fingers. She tells him not to bite but he could teeth me all over, he's perfect.
I get back on my bike. "The hill's so fun."
"Sure," she says, "if you like death-defying things."
Shhhhh. Don't tell my kid. We splurged last night and downloaded Logic for him to take the next big step in his making of music. He knows all the ins and outs of Garageband, and has pushed the limits of Soundtrap and other apps he has worked with. He even took a music engineering class last year where he learned to program and use Logic. He's going to be 14 this week and making music has become his heart and passion. But ... shhhh. Don't tell him. It'll be a cool surprise. #smallstories
more on the birthday cornflakes request:
(previously my son asked for either a kitten or 10kg of cornflakes for his birthday next year)
son: I really want to find out what this fossil is. Do you think we can take it to someone at a museum, maybe for my birthday - I think that would be better than 10 kg of cornflakes.... even if we had a coupon for the cornflakes.
It was the coupon bit that got me.
I think we can do a museum AND cornflakes. You only turn 12 once after all. #smallstories
My wife came back last night in a huff from voting. (A slate of progressive women went on to win local elections.) She had been chatting with sign-holding neighbors and the mayor (it's that kind of city) when a teenage kid on a bike rolled by. They all waved. He waved back. Minutes later, a frantic woman ran up, asking if anyone on a bike had come by. Yes, they said. "That's my husband's new bike," she said, "stolen while we voted!" Sometimes, the world sure lets you down. #smallstories
We waited half an hour for the train to slowly carry 53 foot intermodal cargo boxes. Once the train stopped, though only for a moment. Clack, clack, clack,...couplings first clapped together and then back apart. We estimated a hundred cars. What was inside? Where were they heading?
Some people waited in their cars, but most must have been local and known about alternative routes, pulling around us to make a U turn. We sat, fascinated by the spectacle. It is great to be retired.
Father, husband, shepherd, bird on a wire, concierge. (LAL 1.3)
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