Been scrolling through some discussions about Microsoft’s CEO expressing concerns that AI might destroy the entire company, and honestly, it’s got me thinking about the bizarre state of corporate anxiety we’re living through right now. Here’s a bloke running one of the world’s largest tech companies, worth hundreds of billions, and he’s kept awake at night worrying about being made obsolete by the very technology his company is aggressively pushing.

There’s something oddly satisfying about finding the perfect intersection of quality and value when grocery shopping. Recently, I stumbled across a fascinating analysis someone had done comparing basil pesto across the major supermarkets, and it got me thinking about our relationship with convenience foods and the art of budget shopping.

The breakdown was impressive in its thoroughness - they’d calculated not just the price per 100g, but the actual basil content per dollar spent. Aldi’s Remano brand came out on top at 36 grams of basil per dollar, while Coles’ Cucina Matese offered the best texture despite being pricier. It reminded me of the kind of meticulous comparison shopping my mum used to do, armed with a calculator and a notebook, back when every dollar mattered even more than it does now.

Well, this is it then. The moment we’ve all been dreading has finally arrived. Discord users across Australia are waking up to those lovely age verification screens, complete with the cheerful promise that your personal information will be “used for verification and then deleted.”

Right. And I’m the Queen of England.

The whole thing has me absolutely ropeable, to be honest. Here we have a law that was supposedly designed to “protect the children” but in practice is creating a surveillance state that would make George Orwell blush. The government has essentially outsourced identity verification to private companies – many of them foreign-owned – and we’re expected to just trust that they’ll do the right thing with our most sensitive data.

Sometimes the internet can be a pretty bleak place. Between the endless political arguments, the rage-bait headlines, and the general sense that everyone’s shouting past each other, it’s easy to lose faith in humanity. But then you stumble across something that restores your belief in the fundamental goodness of people.

I came across a post recently from someone facing one of those situations that would test anyone’s limits. Their mother-in-law, who is blind and lives semi-independently, had a medical emergency that resulted in a bathroom covered in blood and diarrhea. The poor woman couldn’t see what had happened, so she didn’t realise the extent of the mess when she tried to clean up. Now she’s in hospital getting the care she needs, but someone still had to deal with the aftermath.

Spotted an interesting discussion online yesterday about the Barbie Café at Chadstone’s social quarter, and it’s got me thinking about one of those modern retail practices that really gets under my skin. Someone noticed they’re operating as card-only but still slapping a surcharge on every transaction - which, if you know anything about ACCC rules, sounds dodgy as hell.

Here’s the thing that frustrates me: we’ve somehow normalised being nickel-and-dimed at every turn. Remember when businesses absorbed their operating costs into their prices like civilised establishments? Now it’s all “convenience fees,” “service charges,” and my personal favourite - surcharges on payment methods that are literally your only option.

I’ve been following the discussion around Meta’s Ray-Ban smart glasses with growing unease, and frankly, I’m baffled by how casually we’re all accepting what amounts to a massive expansion of surveillance technology into our daily lives. While tech reviewers gush about the convenience and cool factor, we’re sleepwalking into a world where privacy becomes even more of a distant memory.

The fundamental issue here isn’t about the person wearing these glasses - it’s about everyone else around them. This represents a complete shift from the usual “don’t like it, don’t buy it” consumer choice argument. When someone walks into a café on Collins Street wearing these things, everyone in that space becomes a potential data point for Meta’s algorithms, whether they consented to it or not.

There’s something deeply unsettling about watching a multinational corporation fold like a cheap suit the moment a government official so much as raises an eyebrow. This whole Jimmy Kimmel situation has me absolutely steaming, and judging by the response online, I’m clearly not alone.

The facts are pretty straightforward. Kimmel made what amounts to a fairly mild observation about the MAGA crowd’s reaction to Charlie Kirk’s death, followed by a joke about Trump’s response to his “friend’s” murder. Nothing groundbreaking, certainly nothing that would have raised eyebrows a decade ago. But apparently, in 2025 America, that’s enough to get you cancelled by government pressure.

I’ve been watching this fascinating discussion unfold online about someone’s journey to escape Google’s digital ecosystem, and it’s got me thinking about my own relationship with Big Tech. The original poster started what they thought would be a simple project - moving away from Google services - only to discover they’d bitten off far more than they could chew.

The whole thing started innocently enough with email. “I started small with email,” they wrote, which had me chuckling into my morning latte. There’s nothing small about ditching Gmail when you’ve been using it for years. The sheer number of services, accounts, and contacts tied to that one email address is staggering. But they pushed through, set up their own mail server with their own domain, and actually got it working. Fair dinkum effort there.

Sips latte while scrolling through yet another discussion about academic publishing costs

Well, this one really got my blood boiling today. Stumbled across a discussion about how DeepSeek - you know, the AI company that’s been making waves lately - had to fork out a whopping $12,690 just to make their Nature article open access. Twelve grand! Just so the rest of us mortals can read their research without hitting a paywall.

There’s something oddly fascinating about the psychological warfare that plays out in those few minutes before a scheduled Teams meeting. You know the scenario: it’s 9:25am, you’re wrapping up something else, and suddenly that little notification pops up telling you someone has already started the 9:30am meeting. What do you do?

I’ve been thinking about this lately after stumbling across a discussion online where people were sharing their meeting joining strategies. The responses revealed something quite telling about how we’ve all adapted to this brave new world of remote work and endless video calls.