The tech world is buzzing with Google’s latest release of PaliGemma 2, and frankly, it’s about time we had something this substantial in the open-source vision language model space. Running my development server in the spare room, I’ve been tinkering with various vision models over the past few months, but this release feels different.

What makes PaliGemma 2 particularly interesting is its range of model sizes - 3B, 10B, and notably, the 28B version. The 28B model is especially intriguing because it sits in that sweet spot where it’s powerful enough to be genuinely useful but still manageable for local hardware setups. With my RTX 3080 gathering dust between flight simulator sessions, the prospect of running a sophisticated vision model locally is rather appealing.

Recently, I stumbled upon an online discussion that perfectly captures one of those universal workplace fears - the dreaded bathroom incident. Reading through the comments about someone’s unfortunate encounter in their office bathroom brought back memories of similar awkward moments in various corporate buildings around Collins Street.

Let’s be honest - bathroom etiquette in corporate settings is a minefield of unwritten rules and social anxieties. The modern office bathroom, with its fancy door locks and private rooms, somehow manages to be both more sophisticated and more prone to embarrassing mishaps than the old-school cubicle setup.

Reading through recent online discussions about retirement and pensions has left me both frustrated and bewildered. There seems to be an endless parade of posts from wealthy retirees seeking advice on how to maintain their pension benefits while sitting on substantial assets. The mental gymnastics some people perform to justify this behaviour is truly remarkable.

Picture this: someone with a million dollars in assets wondering how to keep receiving government benefits. It would be comical if it weren’t so concerning. These aren’t isolated incidents either - they represent a broader mindset that views the pension as an entitlement rather than what it truly is: a social safety net.

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 tech industry just got a lot more complicated. China has announced a ban on exports of rare earth metals to the United States, specifically gallium, germanium, antimony, and superhard materials. This move comes as retaliation to the US chip ban, and it’s sending ripples through the global technology supply chain.

Reading through various online discussions about this development, I’m struck by how many people are rushing to “future-proof” their tech purchases. While panic buying might seem like a logical response, the reality is more nuanced. These materials aren’t just about our gaming PCs and smartphones - they’re crucial components in military equipment, semiconductor manufacturing, and various critical technologies.

Geoffrey Hinton’s recent comments comparing open-source AI models to selling nuclear weapons at Radio Shack have stirred quite a debate in the tech community. The comparison is dramatic, perhaps overly so, but it’s sparked an important conversation about who should control advancing AI technology.

Sitting here in my home office, watching the rain patter against my window while pondering this issue, I’m struck by how this debate mirrors other technological control discussions we’ve had throughout history. The nuclear analogy isn’t perfect – I mean, you can’t exactly download a nuclear weapon from GitHub (thank goodness for that).

The recent DoorDash and Amazon Prime collaboration has been creating quite a buzz online. Two years of free DoorDash Pass sounds brilliant on paper, but like many digital deals these days, it’s turning out to be a bit of a digital obstacle course for some users.

Let’s be honest - food delivery services aren’t exactly synonymous with frugal living. The markup on menu items, combined with service fees and delivery charges, can turn a simple meal into quite an expensive affair. However, there are times when convenience trumps cost, like those late nights working from home in Brunswick when cooking feels like climbing Mount Everest.

The internet has once again revealed a fascinating cultural divide. While pulling Christmas crackers and donning paper crowns might seem as natural as a Boxing Day barbie to us, apparently this beloved tradition draws blank stares from many around the world, particularly our American friends.

Reading through online discussions about Christmas crackers sparked memories of countless family gatherings around the dining table. The satisfying snap of crackers being pulled, the groans at terrible jokes, and the inevitable debate over who actually won the larger half. Then there’s that moment when everyone adjusts their paper crowns, trying to find that sweet spot where they won’t immediately slide off.

The other day, my parents handed down their vintage cocktail shaker during their downsizing effort. It’s a beautiful piece - heavy, substantial, with that classic design that speaks of countless martinis and memorable evenings. There’s just one small catch: the inside looks like it’s seen better days.

Looking at this tarnished beauty sitting on my kitchen counter, I’m struck by how objects like these carry stories. The slight wear marks, the patina of age - they’re not imperfections but chronicles of family gatherings and celebrations past. Still, that scuzzy interior definitely needs addressing before I mix my next Manhattan.

The other day, scrolling through social media, I stumbled upon a photo that perfectly encapsulates our city’s uniquely dark sense of humour. Someone had spotted a hearse, painted completely in matte black, parked outside what appeared to be a goth-themed café. The comments section exploded with typically Melbourne wit, from Monty Python references to quips about “ride or die” relationships.

Living in a city that embraces both the gothic and the absurd, this kind of sight barely raises an eyebrow anymore. We’re the same people who turned our ‘Yellow Peril’ sculpture controversy into decades of jokes and transformed a simple public art installation of upside-down purple rain poles into a beloved landmark. Dark humour is practically woven into our cultural DNA.