Welcome to the main event: an AI free-for-all where OpenAI, Google, and Anthropic swagger into the ring with their trillion-parameter hype machines—then promptly lose their cool when a ragtag Chinese startup named DeepSeek R1 strolls in, spending less than Sam Altman’s annual hoodie budget.
While OpenAI and Google play SimCity with billion-dollar compute clusters, DeepSeek’s crew apparently cracked the code using ramen money and a Costco pallet of export-controlled GPUs.
Let’s rewind to 2010. Barack Obama was president, Instagram hadn’t yet convinced us to ruin our meals with Valencia filters, and I, a bright-eyed blogger armed with a domain name and a dream, installed WordPress. Fast-forward 15 years, and here we are: my blog is old enough to start asking for the car keys, and I’ve finally thrown WordPress into the retirement home. Let me tell you why—and why you might want to, too.
When OpenAI announced Operator this week a ChatGPT-powered AI that can supposedly autonomously book flights, shop online, and manage your life, I immediately envisioned Jarvis from Iron Man casually ordering me artisanal croissants while I nap. Instead, after using it for a few hours, I feel like I just watched a self-driving car get confused by a stop sign. It’s… adorably underwhelming.
The Hype vs. The Reality Operator’s core pitch is seductive: an AI that can take over tedious digital tasks by using a web browser to do things like a human would. But right now? It’s less Tony Stark’s butler and more that one coworker who takes 45 minutes to figure out how to mute themselves on Zoom.
I wanted to be wowed. Really, I did. As an owner of the Galaxy S23 Ultra, I was hoping the Samsung Galaxy S25 would come charging in with jaw-dropping features, ready to make me question how I ever lived without it. But nope. Instead, Samsung decided to slap a few buzzwords on what feels like a slightly tweaked S23 Ultra, jack up the price, and call it a day. If you’ve been eyeing the S25, save yourself the heartache and your cash. Here’s why it’s not worth the upgrade.
Whenever someone says, “let’s set some OKRs,” I feel a part of my soul leaves my body. A freshly printed “Q1 Objectives” deck gets its wings somewhere in the bowels of corporate hell. And for what? To justify busy work? To keep middle managers feeling important? Let’s cut through the jargon and call it what it is: a massive waste of time designed to look like progress.
Here’s why OKRs (Objectives and Key Results) and KPIs (Key Performance Indicators) are bullshit—and, frankly, why you should be sceptical of anyone who insists they’re essential.
Algorithms. For decades, they’ve been the gatekeepers of the tech industry, the sacred rites of passage for anyone hoping to secure a coveted job at a top-tier company. Entire platforms like Leetcode and HackerRank have built empires around this obsession, turning the act of coding into a gladiatorial spectacle. But let’s be honest: is the ability to invert a binary tree under duress really the hallmark of a good programmer? Or is it an elaborate hazing ritual we’ve all agreed to endure?
Aussie Broadband has just unveiled a new line-up of NBN plans that Aussie power users and professionals have been asking for a while. Dubbed the “PRO” plans, these offerings cater to those who need high download speeds and larger upload capabilities—something that has been sorely lacking in many NBN plans to date.
The plans include:
• NBN 250/100 at $139 per month
• NBN 500/200 at $169 per month
• NBN 1000/400 at $199 per month
On July 19, 2024, a seemingly routine software update became a global nightmare. CrowdStrike, a cybersecurity giant trusted by countless organisations worldwide, inadvertently released a faulty update that brought systems crashing across the globe. As someone who relies on technology daily, personally and professionally, I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine as I watched the chaos unfold.
Let’s be clear: this wasn’t a cyberattack. It was an honest mistake, a “logic error” in the code that slipped through testing. But that’s precisely what makes it so terrifying. Imagine what a coordinated, malicious attack could do if a simple update can cause this much havoc.
Let’s chat about everyone’s favourite corporate euphemism: the Performance Improvement Plan, or PIP for short. If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of one, you know it’s about as pleasant as a root canal without anaesthesia. But today, we’re going to peel back the layers of this bureaucratic onion and expose the tears-inducing truth.
First off, let’s dispense with the notion that PIPs are a well-meaning attempt by your company to help you improve. That’s as believable as your manager’s claim that they’re “not micromanaging, just checking in”. While some companies might have well meaning intentions, the truth is for most, once you’re on the PIP, you’re already gone.
Let’s face it: React’s popularity is a classic example of being in the right place at the right time.
When it first hit the scene, the web development world desperately needed a saviour. Developers were drowning in the complexities of AngularJS, with its notorious digest cycle and performance issues that made building with Angular a nightmare. Along came React, with its fancy virtual DOM and declarative approach, and suddenly, everyone was singing its praises.