Someone posted a graph this week. Model version number on the Y-axis, release date on the X-axis. The line goes up and to the right. The title called it “not quite exponential, but progress is progress.” It was a shitpost. A pretty good one.

The comments, predictably, split into three camps.

First, the people who got it immediately and just typed “lol.” Second, the people who genuinely started analysing the graph before realising the Y-axis was just sequential model numbers. Honest mistake, to be fair. I probably would have done the same. Third, and most entertainingly, the people who did not get it and then got very annoyed at the first group for saying they didn’t get it.

Someone on Reddit built a tool that lets you benchmark yourself against AI language models. Same tests, same scoring. You sit down, answer the questions, and find out what size model you approximate.

The post took off, mostly because the original poster was having an absolute blast in the comments, treating themselves like a product listing. Quantization options. Token pricing. VRAM requirements. The bit where someone asked if they’d fit on an 8GB graphics card and they replied that they’d had Coca-Cola and cheesecake before testing “for an extra pump” — that’s genuinely funny. The whole thread had the energy of someone who understood exactly what they’d made and leaned into it without overselling it.

There’s a particular kind of catastrophe that isn’t dangerous, isn’t expensive in any serious way, and isn’t going to make the news. It’s just quietly, completely awful. Thirty ounces of caramel sauce into a kitchen cabinet is that kind of catastrophe.

Someone posted about this recently and the thread that followed was one of the more honest corners of the internet I’ve stumbled into. The community’s considered advice, delivered with great solemnity, was essentially: you cannot fix this. This is your life now. A few people suggested burning the building down, which is funny until you remember the person is a renter with a roach problem, at which point it becomes a little less funny and a little more relatable.

There’s something uniquely Melbourne about spotting a funny number plate while crawling through traffic. Someone posted a photo to the Melbourne subreddit recently that had people absolutely losing it — a personalised plate spotted crossing the West Gate Bridge that was, let’s just say, anatomically suggestive. The comments section quickly turned into its own comedy show, and honestly, it made my afternoon.

The West Gate is one of those places where you’re either gripping the steering wheel white-knuckled because of the height, or you’re stuck in the usual soul-crushing queue wondering why you didn’t just take the train. So finding something genuinely funny up there feels like a gift from the universe.

Stumbled across something yesterday that had me laughing out loud at my desk – and trust me, that’s not easy to do when you’re knee-deep in deployment scripts. Turns out the world of Self-Managed Super Fund names is an absolute goldmine of Australian humour and creativity.

Someone pointed out that all SMSF names are publicly searchable through the superfundlookup website, and naturally, people have been having a field day with their fund names. We’re talking about serious retirement savings here, but apparently that doesn’t stop Aussies from injecting a bit of personality into what’s traditionally one of the most boring aspects of financial planning.

Something rather amusing happened in my kitchen yesterday. While attempting to clean some second-hand wooden pull-along toys for my nephew, I inadvertently created what looked like the world’s most wholesome toy party. Picture this: several wooden animals, all gathered around a soapy basin, their pull cords dangling in the water like they’re sharing a giant communal drink or participating in some secret toy ritual.

The whole scene started because I’d picked up these delightful wooden toys from the Camberwell Market last weekend. They’re beautiful pieces - the kind that should last generations, unlike the plastic stuff that seems to break before you’ve even finished opening the packaging. But being second-hand, they needed a bit of TLC, particularly those grotty pull cords.