There’s something quietly significant happening in France right now that probably won’t make much noise outside tech circles, but it’s worth paying attention to. The French government is rolling out their own video conferencing platform, essentially ditching Zoom and Microsoft Teams in favour of a homegrown solution they’re calling “Visio” (yes, the same name as Microsoft’s diagramming tool, which is either brilliantly cheeky or a massive oversight depending on your perspective).

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I approach weeknight cooking, and honestly, it’s a bit of a mess. There’s this post I came across from someone in WA who’s managed to prepare 26 meals for about $55 – roughly $2.10 per serve – through bulk meal prepping and strategic shopping. And look, I’ll be upfront: my initial reaction was a mix of genuine admiration and mild defensiveness about my own kitchen habits.

Someone on Reddit sparked an interesting discussion the other day about their manager’s Jekyll-and-Hyde routine during Teams meetings. Camera on? All smiles, warmth, and “how’s your day been, guys?” Camera off? Stone cold silence, even when sitting right next to them in the office. The original poster seemed genuinely baffled by this behaviour, wondering if they were dealing with some kind of corporate narcissist.

Reading through the thread, I found myself nodding along with most of the responses. This isn’t narcissism – it’s just the exhausting reality of modern professional life, particularly for introverts who’ve climbed into management roles.

The October unemployment figures dropped this week, and predictably, the finance forums went into meltdown mode. The headline number came in at 4.4%, with the seasonally adjusted figure at 4.3%. Markets wobbled, someone joked it was barely “a light after dinner fart” (which, honestly, is the most Australian market commentary I’ve seen in ages), and within minutes, the usual chorus began: “RIP rate cuts.”

Here’s the thing that’s been getting under my skin lately – we’ve collectively become obsessed with interest rate cuts. Not just interested, not just hopeful, but genuinely dependent on them happening. It’s like we’ve built our entire economic psychology around the Reserve Bank coming to our rescue, and frankly, it’s a bit concerning.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a peculiar project someone shared online—a script that uses a local AI model to generate fake Twitch chat comments while you work on your computer. At first glance, it sounds utterly absurd. Why would anyone want a bunch of simulated internet strangers commenting on their screen? But the more I sat with this idea, the more fascinating it became.

The concept is brilliantly simple: you run a vision-language model (like Gemma) locally on your machine, it watches your screen, and it generates chat messages that mimic the chaotic energy of a live Twitch stream. Someone suggested having it roast your code while you program, which is both hilarious and slightly masochistic. Imagine fixing a bug at 2 AM while an AI tells you your variable names look like they were chosen by a random number generator. It’s the digital equivalent of pair programming with a sarcastic mate who never sleeps.

There’s something both fascinating and deeply troubling about watching an industry cannibalize itself in real-time. This week, I came across news that data centers are now hoarding SSDs because hard drive supplies are drying up. It’s one of those stories that on the surface seems like just another tech industry supply chain hiccup, but when you dig deeper, it reveals something more fundamental about where we’re heading with AI.

The sheer scale of what’s happening is mind-boggling. Data centers aren’t just buying a few extra drives for redundancy—they’re stockpiling storage at unprecedented rates to support AI workloads. And because traditional hard drives can’t keep up with demand, they’re pivoting to SSDs en masse. But here’s the kicker: to keep costs down, many are opting for QLC NAND drives over the more durable TLC variants. Translation? They’re choosing cheaper, less reliable storage because even with billions being thrown around, they’re still trying to contain costs.

There’s something darkly fascinating about watching the tech industry’s mask slip. DeepSeek, one of China’s AI companies, recently did something quite unusual—they actually acknowledged that AI might, you know, eliminate a lot of jobs. Their CEO even called for a “whistle-blower” system to track job losses. He said he was optimistic about the technology but pessimistic about its impact on society.

Wait, what? Did an AI company executive just admit they’re building something they think will harm society?

I’ve been pondering something lately after stumbling across a discussion about robot vacuums. Someone was asking for recommendations because they’ve got a toddler, twins on the way, and brand new carpet to protect. My first thought was “mate, you’re going to need more than a robot vacuum” – but it got me thinking about the whole automated cleaning thing and whether it actually makes sense for families with young kids.

There’s something uniquely Australian about Chemist Warehouse, isn’t there? Those garish yellow and red signs dot our suburbs like beacons of bargain-hunting hope. I’ll admit it – despite everything I’m about to say, I’m a regular customer. The prices are genuinely good, and when you’re on a budget (which, let’s be honest, most of us are these days), that matters.

But bloody hell, have you tried navigating one of these stores lately?

There’s something beautifully ambitious about teenagers and their craft projects. My daughter had this brilliant vision of turning her favourite hoodie into a Halloween costume by adding cardboard wings with a hot glue gun. The operative word here being “had” – past tense – because now we’re dealing with the aftermath of glue-encrusted fabric and a valuable lesson learned.

This whole situation got me thinking about the nature of learning through mistakes, and how we navigate that fine line between protecting our kids and letting them figure things out the hard way. When she showed me the hoodie, covered in hot glue residue where the wings had been, I’ll admit my first instinct was frustration. Not at her, really, but at the situation. It’s her favourite hoodie, after all.