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we now know that as the price of computing equipment fell, new use cases emerged to fill the gap – which is why today my lightbulbs have semiconductors inside them, and I occasionally have to install firmware updates my doorbell.

surely the compute freed up by more efficient models will be used to train models even harder, and apply even more “brain power” to coming up with responses? Even if DeepSeek is dramatically more efficient, the logical thing to do will be to use the excess capacity to ensure the answers are even smarter.

ure, if DeepSeek heralds a new era of much leaner LLMs, it’s not great news in the short term if you’re a shareholder in Nvidia, Microsoft, Meta or Google.6 But if DeepSeek is the enormous breakthrough it appears, it just became even cheaper to train and use the most sophisticated models humans have so far built, by one or more orders of magnitude. Which is amazing news for big tech, because it means that AI usage is going to be even more ubiquitous.

You should be selling. I don’t mean running drip campaigns. I don’t mean running ads. I don’t mean pitching. I mean authentic, meaningful, organic selling. You should talk to the people you want to be your customers and go deep. Find their objections. Find the thing that sparks excitement. Don’t settle for “that sounds useful” - that’s a bullshit phrase that means your idea is garbage. Find a new customer or find a new idea. Find the customer where it clicks, the partnership and excitement is there, and they represent your early TAM. That is selling.

The recognition was we were relying too much on “data” - analytics - and enterprise conversations. They were the easy solutions. Both are easy access. Both are wrong in our case.

I didn’t actually connect that what I was doing early days at Sentry was sales. I was hanging out at conferences, sharing my opinions, sharing beers with my peers. I was giving presentations talking about how we approached Open Source or how I glued some of our database infrastructure together. I didn’t connect it to sales because I wasn’t shilling bullshit. I was selling my values, my beliefs, my expertise. At the same time I was validating and improving Sentry in these organic conversations.

sales and marketing are not the solution to your problem - just the same way as abstract analytics aren’t going to tell you why a feature doesn’t have engagement.

It’s up to the product team - PMs, engineers, designers - to do the selling, to go deep, to be critical, and to sell the product until it sells itself. Your account reps will assist when you get there, but they’re not going to get you to PmF.

tl;dr Product-market fit isn’t about revenue or analytics It’s about customers selling your product for you You can’t outsource finding it to sales or marketing Focus on your true ICP, even if it means building something that won’t scale initially

He’s identified real problems with our system and possesses the political will to pursue real change. Paired with a Republican majority in both chambers of Congress, he could genuinely achieve what his predecessors could not and pass major immigration reform during his term. But the sweep of these actions — mobilizing the military, pausing asylum, halting the parole process, trying to end birthright citizenship — will incur far more costs than benefits. The innocent people who are trying to flee danger or persecution in their countries and immigrate to the United States legally out of a sincere motivation to better their lives, who often help our country grow and stimulate our economy, will be caught in the machinery of these changes. All told, these executive actions are a step in the wrong direction.

Our system tends to exacerbate criminal behavior more than rehabilitate it, and the United States uses imprisonment as a punishment far more often than is productive or necessary. When it comes to the January 6 defendants, I fully support consequences for those who broke the law, but I also believe the Justice Department acted improperly in how it handled many cases.  The biggest example of this prosecutorial overreach came in a recent Supreme Court ruling that found the DOJ wrongly charged hundreds of rioters under an obstruction of justice statute that elevated the severity of their cases. This case did not fall along ideological lines; Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson joined the majority in the 6-3 decision, while Amy Coney Barrett dissented. At the time the ruling came down, roughly 50 defendants had been convicted and sentenced on that obstruction charge alone, and 27 of them were incarcerated.

The president pardoned the vast majority of the convicted rioters of all wrongdoing in a sweeping manner, with an apparent lack of knowledge of or care for the crimes he was excusing and without expressing any remorse for the pivotal role he played on that day.

While Trump can justify his decisions based on some of the recent failures of the WHO and the Paris Agreement, the withdrawals still carry significant risks for public health and climate change mitigation, which the Trump administration has not shown a plan to address.

Withdrawing from the Paris Agreement won’t affect our climate change outlook much, but it is a missed opportunity to redirect U.S. climate policy toward a more realistic objective. The treaty’s goal of keeping global surface temperatures to roughly 1.5°C (2.7°F) above pre-industrial levels is now practically unattainable after record-hot years in 2023 and 2024, and its secondary 2°C goal also appears to be in peril — a 2024 UN Environment Programme report stated that “emissions must fall 28 per cent by 2030 and 37 per cent from 2019 levels by 2035” to maintain the 2°C goal. Achieving those reductions would undoubtedly require massive, destabilizing changes to economic systems, which are neither desirable nor plausible. However, that provides more justification for the United States to stay in, not to drop out of, the agreement. In his executive order announcing the withdrawal from the Paris accords, Trump even said the U.S. must play “a leadership role in global efforts to protect the environment” — but how can we lead from the sidelines? Withdrawing is a huge missed opportunity to direct international climate policy towards its biggest problems: China’s rise and finding alternative fuel sources.

Domestically, Trump is also missing a large opportunity to combine a center-right "all of the above" energy policy with a center-left "abundance agenda," one that maintains a seat at the table for petroleum and natural gas while we continue to invest in renewable technologies. Nuclear energy should also be part of this effort, and its adoption is squarely in line with both the Trump administration and Paris Agreement’s goals.

The WHO does critical work tracking new disease outbreaks and identifying emerging pathogens, and the U.S. withdrawal threatens its ability to aid this work and maintain the benefits we all receive from it.

Furthermore, our status as a global health leader within WHO is smart diplomacy and advances our national security interests. We can guide ongoing efforts to eradicate polio, protect children from diseases, and mitigate future outbreaks. We also receive benefits, like communications on transnational spread of dangerous viruses, scientific collaboration for each year’s seasonal flu vaccine, and access to information about emerging threats. Lastly, we can investigate global threats, as we did when U.S. scientists joined the WHO delegation that visited China in February 2020 to assess its Covid response.

Both Trump and public health experts have rightly criticized the effusive praise the WHO heaped on China in the early days of the pandemic, even as questions swirled about how the virus spread. In a critical moment for its mission, the WHO seemed more occupied with keeping China happy than fulfilling its obligations to the rest of the world. The organization also failed to acknowledge that Covid was airborne early on, providing more evidence that it was ill-prepared to meet the moment.

Trump is right that the U.S. contributes a disproportionate amount to the WHO compared to China (even though he has exaggerated the magnitude of that difference), and we should push for fairer standards. While it is now starting to diversify its revenue sources, the organization’s reliance on the U.S. is evident in the measures it has already taken since Trump announced the withdrawal order — freezing recruitment and drastically scaling back its travel budget.

With all these issues in mind, leaving the WHO is still not the answer; in fact, leaving will make our problems worse. In our absence, China would likely seek to step up to mold decisions to its will — how does that help the U.S.? If Trump wants to play tough with the WHO, why not stay involved but slash our funding commitments?

His worlds can be isolated, smothering, grating, haunting, bleak, warm, familiar, alien, all at once. They are never dull and they are never someone else’s. Never sacrificing his weirdness, his staunch outlooks on life, or his vision, you can feel his fingerprints on everything he made, because nobody else possibly could have. Sometimes annoying with how opaquely abstract they can be, but never in a cynical way. He had a laser precise understanding of his control over an audience, and explored all the extremes that come with that. He wove dark, brutal, sometimes cruel tapestries of our own psyches and displayed them back to us with white glove care.

Despite being viewed as abstract or avant garde, there is an inescapable Americana to his work, with all of its horrific blemishes and stunning beauty, hand in hand just like the country itself.

Lynch’s art is uncomfortable, uncompromising, but never uncaring. Frigid surreality that could only be a product of warm humanity. Darkness will always coupled with light. After all, nightmares are still dreams.

I would argue that the core tenets of the average American consumer mindset in 2025, the perfect encapsulations of the noxious attitudes that led us to where we are now, come in the form of two particular phrases that have been parroted ad nauseam the last few years.

The first of which is the classic, “Let people enjoy things.” Deconstructing it, it really defines the entire first half of the decade in more ways than one. An invisible straw-man evil big Other that somehow controls whether or not people can “have fun”, a childish temper tantrum thrown by people still getting what they want caused by having to face any form of critical thinking for doing so, a shrieking demand for more pacification, it really has it all. Is it fine for people to have hobbies and interests and passions that don’t align with yours? Absolutely.

There is a large, crucial difference between “letting someone” enjoy something, and negligently allowing something toxic to fester and gradually spread untreated like ignored black mold. Our modern narcissism and individualism have made people so entrenched in their demands for consumption, that it’s hard to imagine who even is not letting people enjoy things at this point.

The all-but-hedonistic behavior of our modern day certainly doesn’t reflect a culture of people not being allowed to enjoy things, but rather one that wants to be able to enjoy things without having to think about it. Any sort of opposing belief, or conscious step back from the raging maw of consumption is met with complete indignation, as if their right to slop is being infringed upon.

Alternatively, chances for maturation or growth get flippantly put off for some other time that never comes, a complete refusal to actually analyze our relationship to the way we operate.

This brings us to the second defining phrase of the times that I’d like to break down, one that is constantly coupled with the former, the oft-repeated, aggressively vapid, “It’s not that deep.”

Part reaction to the supposed “intellectualism” and woke-ism of the 2010s, part rejection of personal responsibility for one’s own habits and actions, it most succinctly sums up the prevailing attitudes that have dictated the course of the Biden and now Trump 2.0 years. If our beautiful and twisted history has taught us anything, it’s that things are usually always that deep, but somehow we’ve began plugging our ears to that fact. It is a frankly dangerous indicator of the median population’s attitude towards growth or challenging oneself in any way.

In the realm of media, this rejection of the inherent depth of things has completely altered people’s understanding about those things. If one’s own scope of something is minimized, anything outside of that scope is easier to be written off as antagonistic, foreign, pretentious, or any other label that leads to dismissal. Valid, formal criticism, (sometimes even from a place of love!), gets brushed off as “hating” because the idea that someone thought about something in a deeper way and wasn’t pleased with what they found is abrasive to those unwilling to explore that same level of depth.

Additionally, this phrase has been the perfect excuse as evil rhetorics are unconsciously spread through seemingly innocuous or lighthearted means. “It’s just a meme, it’s not that deep.” quickly turns to “How did this propaganda spread so fast?”. Through the first 5 years of our decade, we have gradually let it become defined by half gestures and “meh” reactions, a drab grey monocultural sludge, and then have the audacity to wonder how it got that way. We let it slip away ourselves through embracing memetic psyops, “gotta hand it to ‘em”s and "letting people have fun”. Well now they’re having their fun, the question is, do you think they’ll return that favor to you?

Giant swaths of the population have both figuratively and literally thrown their masks away, and are perfectly dumbed down and pacified to be absolutely steamrolled by a whole new wave of regression and recession.

At the time of writing this, Tiktok has been banned and subsequently hours later unbanned, all with Donald Trump’s name fully plastered over the entire ordeal, in what can only come across as a very obvious ploy to swing more gullible idiots into supporting him. The problem with this blatant grab to try and become a hero of a ban that he initially pushed for however, is that it’s working scarily well. The tectonic shift that has been building steadily throughout the course of the failure of the Biden era has finally come for its biggest payoff yet. Capitalizing on people’s COVID fried, goldfish sized memories in order to continue to innocuously shift people right into submission.

The biggest takeaway from the election and gradual Vibe Shift is the powers that be realizing they had more numbers than they thought, that the middle of the bell curve is infinitely more manipulatable than expected. Either directly through propaganda, or indirectly through desensitization via prolonged exposure to the most concentrated, hallucinogenic stupidity available.

If a gun were being pointed in our face, why would we argue that it’s only harmful if someone pulled the trigger.

Another noticeable symptom of this mode of behavior we have fallen into is the warping of what used to be considered “playing devil’s advocate”, and how it has impacted the way we digest and talk about art.

Similar to the attitudes surrounding fast fashion, somewhere along the line people stopped caring about trying to be better than the Mall, even going so far as to fight on the Mall’s behalf out of pure, empty contrarianism. Popularity took the reins as the de-facto measurement of quality, the belief was planted that the mainstream has our artistic best interests in mind, and people militantly ride for that belief despite decades of proof of the opposite. Not knowing nor caring that they’re secretly advocating for overall worse quality of experiences for themselves.

Too many people want to play devil’s advocate but don’t possess the depth of knowledge, the insight, or nuance to do so, so they wind up just playing devil instead, blindly defending degradation rather than express a bit of concern for the way things are going.

It has brought us to where we are now, a legion of people ready to die on the hill of slop, so as not to make any ripples, without even wanting to know if there can be anything better than the lowest common denominator what was shoved down their throats. Taking the sides of the rich people and giant brands that want to give the consumer nothing above mediocrity. These people and places don’t deserve our benefit of the doubt, because they’ve already won.

Vehemently and vocally rejecting that mainstream and embracing what we know to actually be cool. The time for passivity is over, because this continued sliding by the mainstream is active. We know we can be smarter, more conscious consumers, aware of what’s better than the mall or the radio or the pointed propagandized memes on tiktok. We know there’s more rich experiences to be had, art to discover, statements to make, ways to expand our thought that will not be presented to us on a silver platter by giant corporations or industry machines. We can speak with our eyes, ears, voices, and most importantly wallets. If something sucks, say it and stand on it, because it is far too easy now to succumb to the “well everybody’s doing it” mentality.

My tolerance for bad faith devil’s advocate arguments that only contribute to spin the wheels of progress in place is gone. We have only a short amount of time on this earth and I don’t intend to waste it watching that window of opportunity be pissed away by someone else.

Every time you open your mouth is an opportunity to say something new, something of worth, and I do not want to waste even one moment. It’s time to get serious and realize yes it is that deep. It always has been. I can’t say for certain exactly what this counter-culture will manifest as or even look like specifically, but I do have faith that something can and will emerge. There is far too much talent, energy, emotion, conviction, and spirit out there to not.

Maybe, suggests the defeated interviewer, "Inland Empire" should be approached like James Joyce's "Finnegans Wake": Accessible as lyrical art, but filled with puzzles for those wanting to go deeper. Lynch nods, swigging one of his tepid cappuccinos. "Yes, with James Joyce, word combinations conjure things. He uses them as an art form and a language for abstractions. Cinema is its own language. As the sound and picture get going and things begin to happen, it can get pretty abstract, but it's a language that says something that can't be said in words -- or maybe could, by a poet."

"I like films that hold abstractions," he says. " 'Getting it' is a subjective thing, because we're all different, and each interpretation is as valid as another. The audience is putting things together as they go. If there's a bump in the intellectual understanding, let it happen. Have that experience, and then later mull things over. Let intuition kick in. It's a higher knowingness. If you try to put it into concrete terms, you're gonna block it."

The movie is hypnotic; we’re drawn along as if one thing leads to another–but nothing leads anywhere, and that’s even before the characters start to fracture and recombine like flesh caught in a kaleidoscope.

There have been countless dream sequences in the movies, almost all of them conceived with Freudian literalism to show the characters having nightmares about the plot. “Mulholland Drive” is all dream. There is nothing that is intended to be a waking moment. Like real dreams, it does not explain, does not complete its sequences, lingers over what it finds fascinating, dismisses unpromising plotlines. If you want an explanation for the last half hour of the film, think of it as the dreamer rising slowly to consciousness, as threads from the dream fight for space with recent memories from real life, and with fragments of other dreams–old ones and those still in development.

This is a movie to surrender yourself to. If you require logic, see something else. “Mulholland Drive” works directly on the emotions, like music. Individual scenes play well by themselves, as they do in dreams, but they don’t connect in a way that makes sense–again, like dreams. The way you know the movie is over is that it ends. And then you tell a friend, “I saw the weirdest movie last night.” Just like you tell them you had the weirdest dream.

You refer to yourself as an introvert and you seem to assume this means your desire to throw or attend parties is somehow false. When you imagined your boyfriend’s judgement, I was reminded of the Jungian theory that everyone in our dreams is just a version of ourselves: Do you really think he would respond that way, or is he just a stand in for your own inner critic? Either way, I think this is a limiting way to see yourself.

I’ve spoken before about my wariness of introversion as a social litmus test; I think it’s become an over-generalized term that tries to capture too many different social phenomena, like social anxiety, neuroticism, or even depression, which shouldn’t really be regarded as inherent, immutable traits. You may not agree—I trust you understand your own nature—but I don’t want a label to hold you back from doing something you are explicitly saying you want to do. Labels are only as useful as they are liberating.

as you become closer, instead of falling into the trap of always getting dinner (still great), I recommend activities that make you feel like a team: running errands, helping with a project, trying something new, etc. I love my friend Gyan’s advice to always help your friends move, or do other unpleasant things, because difficult experiences are more bonding than easy ones (think of how you made friends as a kid). It may seem easier to just get coffee, a drink, or a meal, but in repetition those things lack texture. You only see one side of a person.

The Intercept had a big story this week that is making the rounds, suggesting that “leaked” documents prove the DHS has been coordinating with tech companies to suppress information. The story has been immediately picked up by the usual suspects, claiming it reveals the “smoking gun” of how the Biden administration was abusing government power to censor them on social media.

As professor Kate Starbird notes, the Intercept article makes out like this was some nefarious secret meeting when it was actually a publicly announced meeting with public minutes, and part of the discussion was even on where the guardrails should be for the government so that it doesn’t go too far. Indeed, even though the public output of this meeting is available directly on the CISA website for anyone to download, The Intercept published a blurry draft version, making it seem more secret and nefarious. (Updated: to note that not all of the meeting minutes published by The Intercept were public: they include a couple of extra subcommittee minutes that are not on the CISA website, but which have nothing particularly of substance, and certainly nothing that supports the claims in the article. And all of the claims here stand: the committee is public, their meeting minutes are public, including summaries of the subcommittee efforts, even if not all the full subcommittee meeting minutes are public).

It includes four specific recommendations for how to deal with mis- and disinformation and none of them involve suppressing it. They all seem to be about responding to and countering such information by things like “broad public awareness campaigns,” “enhancing information literacy,” “providing informational resources,” “providing education frameworks,” “boosting authoritative sources,” and “rapid communication.” See a pattern? All of this is about providing information, which makes sense. Nothing about suppressing.

Saudi Arabia and other producers must cut oil prices, global central banks “immediately” needed to slash interest rates, and foreign companies must ramp up investments in US factories or face tariffs. The EU — which came in for particular opprobrium — must stop hitting big American technology companies with competition fines.

Trump’s demands came amid a frenetic first week in office in which the president launched a blitzkrieg of executive orders and announcements intended not just to reshape the state but also assert America’s economic and commercial supremacy. Tariffs of up to 25 per cent could be slapped on Canada and Mexico as early as February 1, riding roughshod over the trade deal Trump himself negotiated in his first term.  China could face levies of up to 100 per cent if Beijing failed to agree on a deal to sell at least 50 per cent of the TikTok app to a US company, while the EU was told to purchase more American oil if it wanted to avoid tariffs. Underscoring the new American unilateralism, Trump pulled the US out of the World Health Organization, as well as exiting the Paris climate accord for a second time.

This proposal throws a “hand grenade” at international tax policymaking, says Niels Johannesen, director of the Oxford university Centre for Business Taxation at Saïd Business School. The move suggests a determination to “shape other countries’ tax policy through coercion rather than through co-operation”, he adds.

“Those around Trump have had time to build up a systematic, methodological approach for protectionist trade policy and it shows,” says former UK trade department official Allie Renison, now at consultancy SEC Newgate. The approach will be to build up a case file of “evidence” against countries, she says, and then use it to extract concessions in areas of both economic and foreign policy.

The question remains how far Trump is willing to go. The danger of trampling on the rules-based order, says Jeromin Zettelmeyer, head of the Bruegel think-tank, is a complete breakdown in the diplomatic and legal channels for settling international disputes. If Trump were to pull out of a wider range of international frameworks, such as the WTO or the IMF, he warns, then the arrangements that help govern the global economy could get “substantively destroyed”.

Some caution against being awestruck by Trump’s threats or his espousal of capitalism without limits, because his agenda was so incoherent. “What we are seeing is huge doses of American hubris,” says Arancha González, dean of the Paris School of International Affairs at Sciences Po. “We are blinded by the intensity of all the issues put on the table and by Trump’s conviction. But we are not looking at the contradictions. It’s like we are all on an orange drug

Ever since software updates became distributed regularly as part of the SaaS business model, it has become the vendors’ priority to show how clever they are through callouts, balloons, dialogs, toasts, and other in-product advertising. I understand why vendors want users to know about new features. But these promotions are way too much and way too often. Respecting users has long been deprioritized in favour of whatever new thing leads to promotions and bonuses.

Pre-Trump American conservatism was dedicated to a few fundamental propositions: limited government, cultural traditionalism, antiabortion politics, fiscal rectitude and free market economics. Now, I’m the first to concede the right often fell short of its ideals, but showing rhetorical fealty to the ideals was the binding firmament of conservatism. Those commitments still get some lip-service, but there’s no denying that on all of these fronts, loyalty to Trump is the more pressing litmus test. This has freed up Trump to move leftward on abortion, entitlements and economic policy generally.

Trump didn’t merely shatter the consensus on the right, he shattered the political consensus generally. Or maybe social media and those other trends were the battering rams and Trump merely benefited from the new landscape.

the bedrock assumptions about how politics “works” and the rules for what a politician can or can’t do, no longer seem operative. We’re all familiar with how his behavior has demonstrated that, but it’s also illuminated that the electorate itself is just different today. The FDR coalition is gone, the white working class is now operationally conservative, and the Latino and Black working classes are now seen as gettable by Republicans. The assumption that they are “natural Democrats” was obliterated in this election. Republicans have figured out how to talk to those constituencies.

Journalists do not write the headlines; I hope the editor responsible for this one is soaked with regret. Zuckerberg is not “done with politics”. He is very much playing politics. He supported some more liberal causes when it was both politically acceptable and financially beneficial, something he has continued to do today, albeit by having no discernible principles. Do not mistake this for savviness or diplomacy, either. It is political correctness for the billionaire class.

here’s Nintendo — perhaps the most humane company in the history of computing, and one that has never allowed either success or failure to distract it from its core mission of creating wholesome, clever, exquisitely well-designed fun games — with a much-anticipated announcement of something new that is purely about adding more joy to people’s lives.

Anyone can point at something and say it’s broken, corrupt, or destined to fail. The real challenge? Building something better. The cynic sees a proposal for change and immediately lists why it won’t work. They’re usually right about specific failure modes — systems are complex, and failure has many mothers. But being right about potential problems differs from being right about the whole.

The cynical position feels sophisticated. It signals worldliness, experience, and a certain battle-hardened wisdom. “Oh, you sweet summer child,” the cynic says, “I’ve seen how these things really work.” But what if this sophistication is itself a form of naïveté?

Cynicism comes with hidden taxes. Every time we default to assuming the worst, we pay in missed opportunities, reduced social trust, and diminished creative capacity. These costs compound over time, creating a self-fulfilling prophecy in which cynical expectations shape cynical realities.

Pattern recognition is valuable — we should learn from history and past failures. But pattern recognition becomes pattern imprisonment when it blinds us to genuinely new possibilities.

Why spend years building something that could fail when you could spend an afternoon critiquing others’ attempts and look just as smart? The cynical stance is intellectually rewarding but culturally corrosive.

The alternative to cynicism isn’t unquestioning optimism. It’s more nuanced: a clear-eyed recognition of problems coupled with the conviction that improvement is possible. Call it pragmatic meliorism — the belief that while perfect solutions may not exist, better ones do.

things are broken, AND they can be fixed; people are flawed AND capable of growth; systems are complex AND can be improved.

Here’s a more charitable reading of cynicism: it’s not an intellectual position. It’s an emotional defense mechanism. If you expect the worst, you’ll never be disappointed. If you assume everything is corrupt, you can’t be betrayed. But this protection comes at a terrible price. The cynic builds emotional armor that also functions as a prison, keeping out not just pain but also possibility, connection, and growth.

Not all domains benefit equally from cynical analysis. Some areas — scientific investigation, financial planning, and security systems — benefit from rigorous skepticism. Others — creative endeavors, relationship building, social movements — often suffer from it.

What would it look like to embrace pragmatic meliorism instead of cynicism? Acknowledging problems while focusing on solutions Learning from history without being imprisoned by it Maintaining high standards while accepting incremental progress Combining skeptical analysis with constructive action

When you feel the pull of cynicism, ask yourself: Is this helping? Is this default skepticism making you more effective or just more comfortable? Are you choosing the easy path of criticism over the harder path of creation?

What I saw in him was an enigmatic and intuitive man with a creative ocean bursting forth inside of him. He was in touch with something the rest of us wish we could get to.   Our friendship blossomed on Blue Velvet and then Twin Peaks and I always found him to be the most authentically alive person I’d ever met.   David was in tune with the universe and his own imagination on a level that seemed to be the best version of human. He was not interested in answers because he understood that questions are the drive that make us who we are. They are our breath.

Steve didn’t just read a script for the presentation. He’d been telling a version of that same story every single day for months and months during development—to us, to his friends, his family. He was constantly working on it, refining it. Every time he’d get a puzzled look or a request for clarification from his unwitting early audience, he’d sand it down, tweak it slightly, until it was perfectly polished.

He talked for a while about regular mobile phones and smartphones and the problems of each before he dove into the features of the new iPhone. He used a technique I later came to call the virus of doubt. It’s a way to get into people’s heads, remind them about a daily frustration, get them annoyed about it all over again. If you can infect them with the virus of doubt—“maybe my experience isn’t as good as I thought, maybe it could be better”—then you prime them for your solution. You get them angry about how it works now so they can get excited about a new way of doing things.

when I say “story,” I don’t just mean words. Your product’s story is its design, its features, images and videos, quotes from customers, tips from reviewers, conversations with support agents. It’s the sum of what people see and feel about this thing that you’ve created.

When you get wrapped up in the “what,” you get ahead of people. You think everyone can see what you see. But they don’t. They haven’t been working on it for weeks, months, years. So you need to pause and clearly articulate the “why” before you can convince anyone to care about the “what.”

That’s the case no matter what you make—even if you sell B2B payments software. Even if you build deep-tech solutions for customers who don’t exist yet. Even if you sell lubricants to a factory that’s been buying the same thing for twenty years.

If your competitors are telling better stories than you, if they’re playing the game and you’re not, then it doesn’t matter if their product is worse. They will get the attention. To any customers, investors, partners, or talent doing a cursory search, they will appear to be the leaders in the category. The more people talk about them, the greater their mind share, and the more people will talk about them.

A good story is an act of empathy. It recognizes the needs of its audience. And it blends facts and feelings so the customer gets enough of both. First you need enough instincts and concrete information that your argument doesn’t feel too floaty and insubstantial. It doesn’t have to be definitive data, but there has to be enough to feel meaty, to convince people that you’re anchored in real facts. But you can overdo it—if your story is only informational, then it’s entirely possible that people will agree with you but decide it’s not compelling enough to act on just yet. Maybe next month. Maybe next year.

So you have to appeal to their emotions—connect with something they care about. Their worries, their fears. Or show them a compelling vision of the future: give a human example. Walk through how a real person will experience this product—their day, their family, their work, the change they’ll experience. Just don’t lean so far into the emotional connection that what you’re arguing for feels novel, but not necessary.

And always remember that your customers’ brains don’t always work like yours. Sometimes your rational argument will make an emotional connection. Sometimes your emotional story will give people the rational ammunition to buy your product. Certain Nest customers looked at the beautiful thermostat that we lovingly crafted to appeal to their heart and soul and said, “Sure, okay. It’s pretty” and then had a thrilled, emotional reaction to the potential of saving twenty-three dollars on their energy bill.

everyone will read your story differently. That’s why analogies can be such a useful tool in storytelling. They create a shorthand for complicated concepts—a bridge directly to a common experience.

That’s another thing I learned from Steve Jobs. He’d always say that analogies give customers superpowers. A great analogy allows a customer to instantly grasp a difficult feature and then describe that feature to others. That’s why “1,000 songs in your pocket” was so powerful. Everyone had CDs and tapes in bulky players that only let you listen to 10-15 songs, one album at a time. So “1,000 songs in your pocket” was an incredible contrast—it let people visualize this intangible thing—all the music they loved all together in one place, easy to find, easy to hold—and gave them a way to tell their friends and family why this new iPod thing was so cool.

Because to truly understand many of the features of our products, you’d need a deep well of knowledge about HVAC systems and power grids and the way smoke refracts through a laser to detect fire—knowledge almost nobody had. So we cheated. We didn’t try to explain everything. We just used an analogy. I remember there was one complex feature that was designed to lighten the load on power plants on the hottest or coldest days of the year when everyone cranked up the heat or AC at once. It usually came down to just a few hours in the afternoon, a few days a year—one or more coal power plants would be brought on line to avoid blackouts. So we designed a feature that predicted when these moments would come, then the Nest Thermostat would crank the AC or heat up extra before the crucial peak hours and turn it down when everyone else was turning it up. Anyone who signed up for the program got a credit on their energy bill. As more and more people joined the program, the result was a win-win—people stayed comfortable, they saved money, and the energy companies didn’t have to turn on their dirtiest plants. And that is all well and good, but it just took me 150 word to explain. So after countless hours of thinking about it and trying all the possible solutions, we settled on doing it in three: Rush Hour Rewards.

Everyone understands the concept of rush hour—the moment when way too many people get on the road together and traffic slows to a creep. Same thing happens with energy. We didn’t need to explain much more than that—rush hours are a problem, but when there’s an energy rush hour, you can get something out of it. You can get a reward. You can actually save money rather than getting stuck with everyone else.

Quick stories are easy to remember. And, more importantly, easy to repeat. Someone else telling your story will always reach more people and do more to convince them to buy your product than any amount of talking you do about yourself on your own platforms. You should always be striving to tell a story so good that it stops being yours—so your customer learns it, loves it, internalizes it, owns it. And tells it to everyone they know.

A good product story has three elements: It appeals to people’s rational and emotional sides. It takes complicated concepts and makes them simple. It reminds people of the problem that’s being solved—it focuses on the “why.”

You know what you should be doing. You know the steps you should be taking, the little actions that will pave the way forward. You know you’re perfectly capable of taking those steps, that there’s no good reason to delay any longer, and yet… 🌞 a weekly newsletter for conscious self-creation 🪴 join 600+ subscribers: Subscribe What do you do instead? You scroll Twitter. You stare at the ceiling. You clean your apartment (again). You dilly dally. You do a bunch of things that you don’t even really like doing, and then you feel even worse.

The result is a vicious spiral downwards, where we keep doing things that drain us of energy, and then we don’t have the energy to do the things we actually want to do, and so we do more of the things which are depleting, and… well, so on, so on. Where we actually want to create is the opposite: a virtuous spiral upwards, where we focus on things which inspire us, giving us energy to take on bigger and bigger challenges, unlocking even more energy

The first thing to notice is that the things that deplete us have gravity. We don’t choose them freely. They pull us into old patterns, often without us noticing. That gravity is a product of fear. Your nervous system has one primary goal: keep you alive. It has one primary method of doing so: keep doing the things that kept you alive before. Our biology has an incredible bias towards the familiar, because familiar = safe. When our body is experiencing fear, that means our nervous system thinks we’re in danger. The fear says “get somewhere safe, now.” That translates to “get back to the familiar.”

Which means… if we’re able to be present and curious with the tension in our body, without trying to fight it or “fix” it or “solve” it, our experience transforms. Suddenly, the tension becomes almost pleasurable, as an opportunity to “be with” ourselves. This process does take a bit of practice, but once you’ve found it, you’ll know. It’s the deeply satisfying sense of “I am stepping into fear, but I am not alone—I have my own back.” 🌞 a weekly newsletter for conscious self-creation 🪴 join 600+ subscribers: Subscribe Once we’ve unlocked that feeling, then it becomes easier and easier to break out of these draining patterns. Attunement-to-self is an energizing process, so the moment we begin noticing what we’re feeling, we’re stepping away from depletion. We’ve instantly liberated ourselves from stuckness.