The tech industry has a peculiar relationship with the word “open.” Remember when Google’s “Don’t be evil” motto actually meant something? Well, it seems we’re watching a similar semantic drift with “open” in real-time, and frankly, it’s getting a bit tiresome.

The latest buzz surrounds OpenAI potentially making moves toward open-sourcing some of their technology. While this might sound promising, my decades in tech have taught me to approach such announcements with a healthy dose of skepticism. The company that started with a noble mission statement about being open and beneficial to humanity has become somewhat of a poster child for corporate pivot.

The latest ChatGPT logo reveal stirred up quite an interesting discussion in gaming circles, particularly among Magic: The Gathering players. The striking similarity between OpenAI’s new spherical logo and the iconic “Damnation” card from Magic can’t be unseen once you notice it - both featuring a dark, swirling vortex that seems to consume everything in its path.

Back in my early IT days, I spent countless lunch breaks playing Magic with colleagues, and “Damnation” was always one of those cards that made everyone at the table groan. Its effect? “Destroy all creatures. They can’t be regenerated.” Pretty brutal stuff. The parallel between this destructive card and an AI company’s branding choice is either deliciously ironic or slightly concerning, depending on your perspective.

Looking through my usual gaming forums today, I stumbled upon something that perfectly captures why indie game development continues to fascinate me. Someone created a skateboarding game where you perform tricks with… a mop. Yes, you read that right. A mop. And honestly? It’s brilliant.

The game, aptly titled “Mop Skater,” combines the mechanics of classic skateboarding games with the mundane reality of household cleaning. The creator even included a punk-rock soundtrack that instantly transported me back to the early 2000s, when Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater dominated gaming conversations at my first IT job.

The self-hosting community is experiencing a fascinating shift in sentiment regarding media servers, particularly around Plex and its open-source alternative, Jellyfin. This debate hits close to home for me, as I’ve spent countless hours setting up and maintaining media servers in my home office.

The core issue that keeps surfacing is the fundamental disconnect between what self-hosting should mean and what some popular solutions actually deliver. When we talk about self-hosting, we’re essentially discussing taking control of our digital services. Yet, ironically, some of the most popular self-hosted solutions still tether us to external dependencies.

Scrolling through my feed this morning, I noticed something peculiar about the interactions on various social media platforms. The recent revelation that over 40% of Facebook posts are likely AI-generated didn’t shock me as much as it probably should have. The writing has been on the wall for quite some time.

Remember when social media was actually social? These days, it feels like I’m playing a bizarre game of “Spot the Human” whenever I open any social platform. Between the AI-generated content, automated responses, and sophisticated bots, genuine human interaction seems to be becoming a rare commodity in our digital town square.

The recent exodus of TikTok users to RedNote has left me both fascinated and deeply troubled. While sitting in my home office, watching this digital migration unfold, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re witnessing something more significant than just another app-switching trend.

The supposed logic behind this move is striking - users are protesting TikTok’s potential ban by jumping to an app with even stronger ties to the very concerns that sparked the ban discussion in the first place. It’s like watching someone protest food safety regulations by deliberately eating at an establishment with worse health violations.

Reading about someone’s 14x RTX 3090 home server setup this morning made my modest 32GB VRAM setup feel like I brought a butter knife to a nuclear war. This absolute unit of a machine, sporting 336GB of total VRAM, represents perhaps the most extreme example of the local AI computing arms race I’ve seen yet.

The sheer audacity of the build is both impressive and slightly concerning. We’re talking about a setup that required dedicated 30-amp 240-volt circuits installed in their house - the kind of power infrastructure you’d typically associate with industrial equipment, not a home computer. The cooling requirements alone must be enough to heat a small neighbourhood.

There’s something fascinating about watching people who consistently get things wrong. Not just occasionally wrong, but reliably, predictably wrong. Wrong enough that their predictions become a kind of reverse oracle, guiding people toward truth by pointing firmly in the opposite direction.

The tech and finance worlds have been buzzing lately about this phenomenon, particularly regarding a certain TV personality whose market predictions have become legendary - for all the wrong reasons. The situation has become so notable that someone actually created an ETF designed to do the exact opposite of his recommendations. While the fund itself didn’t end up performing as well as the urban legend suggests, the very fact that it existed speaks volumes about the peculiar nature of consistently incorrect predictions.

The recent departure of Stephen King from X (formerly Twitter) feels like watching the final scenes of a horror movie we all knew was coming. The master of horror himself has deemed the platform too toxic to remain, and honestly, who can blame him?

From my quiet corner of Carlton, where I often enjoy a peaceful coffee while scrolling through my various feeds, I’ve watched the platform’s steady descent into chaos since Elon Musk’s takeover. The transformation has been fascinating and disturbing in equal measure, like watching a slow-motion train wreck through the lens of a particularly dark Black Mirror episode.

Looking at the recent surge of users flocking to Bluesky - 700,000 new signups in just a week - brings back memories of the early Twitter days, when social media still felt genuinely social. Remember those times? When you could actually have meaningful conversations without drowning in a sea of sponsored content and bot armies?

The migration to Bluesky isn’t just another platform shuffle. It represents something deeper: our collective exhaustion with algorithmic manipulation and corporate surveillance. While brewing my morning coffee and scrolling through discussions about this exodus, what struck me most wasn’t the numbers, but the sentiment behind them.