The future of job hunting has arrived, and it’s about as dystopian as we expected. AI systems are now conducting first-round interviews with candidates, and the response from job seekers has been predictably pragmatic: if you can’t beat the machines, join them.

I’ve been watching this conversation unfold online, and it’s fascinating how quickly people have adapted to this new reality. The arms race between AI-powered hiring systems and AI-assisted job applications is already well underway, with candidates using ChatGPT to tailor their resumes and cover letters to match job descriptions. Some are even embedding white text keywords at the bottom of their resumes – invisible to human eyes but readable by screening algorithms.

The other day I stumbled across one of those viral AI-generated videos showing what planets would look like if you cut them in half “like a cake.” It’s visually stunning, I’ll give it that – the kind of content that makes you want to share it immediately. But then I started reading the comments, and my heart sank a little.

The problem isn’t that the AI got things wrong – it’s that it got them wrong with such confidence and visual appeal that people are treating it as educational content. One person mentioned their mother-in-law showing it to kids as if it were scientifically accurate. That hit a nerve.

The other day I found myself scrolling through a discussion about haggling at The Good Guys, and it got me thinking about how much retail culture has changed over the years. Someone had asked whether that old TV jingle about paying cash to slash prices still holds water, and the responses painted a fascinating picture of modern Australian retail.

Remember those ads? Staff members dancing around with wads of cash, that catchy tune promising lower prices for cold hard currency. It feels like a relic from another era, doesn’t it? Back when commission-based salespeople roamed the floors of electronics stores like modern-day market traders, wheeling and dealing with every customer who walked through the door.

The ACT government’s proposal requiring dog owners to spend at least three hours daily with their pets has sparked quite the debate online, and honestly, it’s about time we had this conversation. While scrolling through the various reactions, I found myself nodding along with some comments while shaking my head at others.

The immediate question everyone seems to be asking is: how on earth would you enforce something like this? It’s a fair point. You can’t exactly have council officers with stopwatches hiding behind every garden fence. But I think people are missing the bigger picture here – this isn’t really about creating a pet police force.

There’s something unsettling about moving into a new place and discovering that your home is literally marking you. I came across a discussion recently about someone who moved into a new apartment only to find their feet, their cat, and everything else turning black from some mysterious substance in their home. It’s the kind of thing that makes you wonder what other nasties might be lurking in rental properties across Melbourne.

I’ve been chuckling about this story that’s been doing the rounds on social media - someone managed to get a MarryBrown ordering kiosk at Melbourne Central to display feet pics instead of the usual menu. While the whole thing is admittedly pretty amusing, it’s also got me thinking about just how shocking the state of retail technology security really is.

The incident itself seems relatively harmless - no property damage, nothing explicitly inappropriate, and easily fixed. But what struck me most was reading through the comments from people who clearly know their way around these systems. Apparently, it wasn’t even a proper “hack” in the traditional sense. These kiosks are running ancient versions of Android, so old they’re probably still named after snacks. The ordering app crashes regularly, dumping users back to the home screen where they can essentially do whatever they want.

I’ve been reading about the latest expansion of digital surveillance programs in the US, and frankly, it’s keeping me up at night. The reports coming out about ICE and other agencies quietly expanding their contracts with private firms to monitor social media activity aren’t just troubling—they’re a glimpse into a future that feels uncomfortably familiar to anyone who’s read their history books.

The scope of what’s happening is staggering. We’re not talking about monitoring specific threats or criminal activity. These systems are designed to flag “negative opinions” about government operations, map out dissent, and link online activity to real-world identities. Your face, your phone, your location, your contacts, even your relatives—all fair game in this digital dragnet.

David Suzuki’s recent comments about the climate fight being “lost” have been doing the rounds online, and frankly, they’ve got me thinking about something that’s been nagging at me for a while now. The 89-year-old environmental icon’s frustration is completely understandable – watching decades of advocacy seemingly fall on deaf ears while the world continues to hurtle toward disaster would break anyone’s spirit. But here’s the thing that really gets under my skin: giving up now is exactly what the fossil fuel industry wants us to do.

I’ve been scrolling through some tech discussions lately, and there’s one that’s been sitting with me for a while. It’s about a developer who’s been running game servers without downtime since 2016 - that’s over eight years of continuous uptime. The post sparked quite the debate, and honestly, it’s got me thinking about our relationship with uptime and what it says about our industry culture.

The original poster was clearly proud of their achievement, using the flexing muscle emoji and everything. But the responses were… well, let’s just say they were mixed. Some folks were impressed, others were horrified, and a few were just plain confused about how someone managed to pull this off without regular reboots.

There’s something deeply satisfying about watching a small team of developers take on tech giants. This week, I’ve been following the progress of ZLUDA, a project that’s attempting to bring CUDA compatibility to non-Nvidia GPUs, and it’s got me thinking about the stranglehold that monopolies have on innovation—and how sometimes, the most important breakthroughs come from the most unlikely places.

For those not familiar with the technical details, CUDA is Nvidia’s proprietary platform for GPU computing. It’s everywhere in AI, scientific computing, and high-performance applications. The problem is, if you want to run CUDA code, you need Nvidia hardware. Period. This has created a situation where Nvidia doesn’t just dominate the GPU market—they’ve effectively locked it down.