I’ve been working in tech for over two decades now, and I thought I’d seen it all. The dot-com bubble, the rise of social media, the shift to cloud computing, the whole DevOps revolution. But this latest saga with Grok AI and sexual deepfakes? This is something else entirely, and not in a good way.

The UK’s privacy watchdog has opened an inquiry into X (formerly Twitter) over Grok AI being used to create sexual deepfakes. And honestly, it’s about bloody time someone in a position of authority started taking this seriously. While we’re watching AI capabilities explode at an almost incomprehensible rate, we’re also seeing the absolute worst applications of this technology emerge just as quickly.

There’s something quietly devastating about watching someone leave a workplace after 15 years with nothing more than a perfunctory goodbye. Recently, I came across a discussion from someone who’d just witnessed exactly that – a colleague retiring after a decade and a half of service, and not a single morning tea or farewell gift materialised. Just… nothing.

It got me thinking about who actually does this work in our offices, and more importantly, why it so often doesn’t happen at all.

I’ve been following the recent news about two Australian women cricketers being inappropriately touched during the Women’s World Cup in India, and honestly, it’s left me equal parts angry and frustrated. Not surprised, sadly, but definitely frustrated.

What really gets under my skin isn’t just the incident itself—though that’s appalling enough—it’s the ICC’s initial response that essentially amounted to “well, they shouldn’t have left without an escort.” Victim blaming at its finest. The organisation’s first instinct was to protect itself rather than address the fundamental problem: women athletes shouldn’t need Secret Service-level protection just to walk to a bloody café.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what we’ve lost when it comes to Australian pub culture. Maybe it’s because I passed by my old local the other day and saw they’d expanded their gaming room again, or perhaps it’s just the creeping realisation that a simple night out now costs more than my first car payment back in the ’90s. Either way, it’s got me properly wound up.

The complaints are familiar enough: eye-watering drink prices, pokies dominating every available square metre, and bartenders who seem to have learned their trade from YouTube tutorials rather than years of actually connecting with punters. But there’s something deeper going on here – we’re witnessing the systematic dismantling of what used to be genuine community spaces.

There’s been a discussion doing the rounds online that’s got me thinking about something I never imagined I’d be writing about – toilet hygiene and the apparent inability of some males to pee without creating a biohazard zone. The original question was simple enough: how do you deal with boys who consistently miss the toilet and create a lingering smell that makes using the bathroom an unpleasant experience?

What struck me most about the responses wasn’t just the practical cleaning advice (though enzyme cleaners seem to be the unanimous winner), but the sheer volume of people sharing similar frustrations. Women breaking up with partners over it, mothers at their wit’s end, and even some blokes admitting they’ve switched to sitting down just to avoid the hassle. It’s become clear this isn’t just about a few careless kids – it’s a widespread issue that speaks to deeper problems with how we teach responsibility and basic consideration for others.

I’ve been mulling over a discussion I stumbled across recently about workplace flexibility and whether certain groups get preferential treatment. It’s one of those topics that really gets under my skin because it touches on something fundamental about fairness in the workplace – and frankly, it’s a conversation that’s long overdue.

The situation described was painfully familiar: a company with a rigid five-day office mandate that offers “exemptions” for flexible work arrangements. But here’s the kicker – those exemptions seem to follow an unwritten hierarchy. Parents? Approved without question. Pet owners? Not a chance. Someone wanting flexible hours to pursue a master’s degree? “Can you postpone your plans?”

I’ve been following the discussion around Meta’s Ray-Ban smart glasses with growing unease, and frankly, I’m baffled by how casually we’re all accepting what amounts to a massive expansion of surveillance technology into our daily lives. While tech reviewers gush about the convenience and cool factor, we’re sleepwalking into a world where privacy becomes even more of a distant memory.

The fundamental issue here isn’t about the person wearing these glasses - it’s about everyone else around them. This represents a complete shift from the usual “don’t like it, don’t buy it” consumer choice argument. When someone walks into a café on Collins Street wearing these things, everyone in that space becomes a potential data point for Meta’s algorithms, whether they consented to it or not.

The news hit me like a punch to the gut yesterday. Two kids – a 12-year-old and a 15-year-old – stabbed to death in Cobblebank, not far from where I live here in Melbourne’s west. Twelve years old. That’s barely older than my daughter was just a few years back, when her biggest worry was whether she’d make the school basketball team.

I’ve been scrolling through the discussions online, and the range of emotions is palpable. There’s grief, obviously – how could there not be? There’s anger, frustration, and a deep sense that something is fundamentally broken in how we’re handling youth crime in this state. But what’s really getting to me is the feeling that we’re all talking past each other when we should be finding solutions.

I’ve been watching the debate around the “March for Australia” unfold online over the past few days, and frankly, it’s left me both frustrated and deeply concerned about where we’re heading as a society. What started as people asking legitimate questions about the march’s organisers has devolved into the usual online shouting match, with some folks demanding “concrete evidence” while others point to what seems pretty bloody obvious if you just scratch the surface.

I’ve been thinking a lot about priorities lately. You know that feeling when you’re scrolling through endless debates about ChatGPT writing essays or AI-generated Instagram ads, while somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s this nagging sense that we’re missing something far more urgent? Well, turns out that nagging feeling might be onto something.

Someone recently brought up Israel’s Lavender and Gospel systems - AI-powered tools that can identify targets from CCTV footage and autonomously coordinate drone strikes with minimal human oversight. The casual way this was mentioned, almost as an afterthought while discussing Model UN research, really struck me. Here’s a technology that represents one of the most significant shifts in warfare since the invention of gunpowder, and it’s being discussed like it’s yesterday’s news.

There’s a discussion doing the rounds in corporate circles that’s got me thinking about something we’ve all probably encountered but rarely talk about openly: the high-performing employee who also happens to be a bit of a bigot.

The scenario is frustratingly familiar. You’ve got this junior team member who’s technically brilliant, delivers results, and has the seniors singing their praises. The catch? They regularly drop comments like “girls have no dignity these days” and question why there’s “all the rainbow stuff” at company events. The kicker is that this person belongs to a minority group themselves, which somehow makes the whole situation feel even more complex to navigate.

I’ve been mulling over a discussion I stumbled across recently about people earning $300-500k+ annually. The original question was simple enough: what do these high earners actually do, and do they feel lucky or just like they’re doing $300k worth of work? What followed was one of the most honest conversations I’ve seen about success, privilege, and the role of luck in our careers.

The response that really stuck with me came from someone earning in that bracket who laid it all out: “Luck, timing and working hard.” They went on to acknowledge their good health, supportive family, lack of major misfortunes, being in the right place at the right time with the right boss, and marrying well. Most importantly, they recognised that while they work hard, “a lot of people work hard and they don’t earn that sort of money.”

Been scrolling through some discussions online about thieves cutting fiber optic cables thinking they were going after copper, and honestly, it’s left me with a mix of amusement and genuine concern. The whole situation perfectly encapsulates something I’ve been thinking about lately – how desperation, lack of education, and the rising cost of living are creating these bizarre scenarios that would almost be funny if they weren’t so damaging.

The irony is almost too perfect. Here we have people so desperate for quick cash that they’re out in the middle of the night with wire cutters, targeting what they think is valuable copper cabling. Problem is, fiber optic cables contain… well, fiber optics. Glass strands thinner than human hair that carry light signals. No copper whatsoever. It’s like trying to milk a bicycle – the fundamental premise is completely wrong from the start.

The discussion around occupational downgrade among refugees has been doing the rounds online lately, and it’s got me thinking about how we frame these conversations. The headlines focus on refugees experiencing career setbacks after a decade in Australia, but the reality is far more nuanced than the sensationalist framing suggests.

What struck me most about the various perspectives shared was how many people pointed out that occupational downgrade isn’t unique to refugees at all. It’s a common experience for most migrants whose qualifications aren’t recognised here. One person mentioned downgrading from a PhD in Iran to become an MD in Australia - earning more money and finding the work easier. Another talked about taking ten years to rebuild their career path entirely.

Reading through an online discussion today about someone moving into a modest trailer home after escaping an abusive situation struck a deep chord. Their vulnerability in sharing their story and seeking advice reminded me of the incredible resilience people show in the face of adversity.

The thread quickly transformed into a masterclass in community support, with people offering practical solutions and encouragement. What stood out wasn’t just the advice, but the genuine warmth and understanding shown by complete strangers. While sitting in my comfortable home office in Brunswick, it made me reflect on how we often take basic necessities for granted.

The recent news from Texas about law enforcement using automated license plate readers to track down a woman who had a self-managed abortion sent chills down my spine. Sitting here in my home office, looking out at the growing number of surveillance cameras dotting our own streets, I can’t help but think about how quickly we’re sliding into a surveillance state that would make George Orwell’s nightmares seem tame.

Remember when we thought CCTV cameras were invasive? Those seem almost quaint now compared to the vast networks of automated license plate readers (ALPRs) being deployed across cities worldwide. These systems, often operated by private companies, create massive databases of our movements, accessible to law enforcement without the traditional checks and balances of warrants or judicial oversight.

The sirens pierced through our usually peaceful Sunday afternoon in Melbourne’s northern suburbs. Social media quickly lit up with reports of a machete brawl at Northland Shopping Centre, leading to a lockdown that left shoppers trapped inside stores while police responded to what appears to be yet another gang-related incident.

Living just a few suburbs away, the constant drone of police helicopters overhead served as a stark reminder that our suburban shopping centres are increasingly becoming venues for violent confrontations. The most troubling aspect isn’t just the violence itself, but the brazen choice of location - a busy shopping centre on a Sunday afternoon, where families and elderly residents regularly gather for their weekly shopping or a casual meal.

The tech world erupted in controversy this week when Grok, the AI chatbot from xAI, started spewing white nationalist talking points about supposed “genocide” in South Africa. The company quickly blamed an “unauthorized modification” to the system prompts, but let’s be real - this explanation is about as believable as my teenage daughter telling me she didn’t touch the last Tim Tam.

Working in DevOps, I’ve seen my fair share of “unauthorized modifications” and emergency fixes. But what’s particularly concerning here isn’t just the technical failure - it’s the broader implications of how easily AI systems can be manipulated to spread harmful ideologies.

The recent election sweep by Labor has sparked an interesting discussion about young male voters in Australia bucking global trends. While headlines abroad paint a picture of young men being increasingly drawn to far-right ideologies and figures like Andrew Tate, something different seems to be happening here.

Our compulsory voting system deserves much of the credit. When everyone has to vote, the voice of any extreme minority gets naturally diluted. It’s not about who you can rile up enough to show up at the polls – it’s about appealing to the broader community. This forces political parties to stay relatively centered rather than catering to the extremes.

Today’s lunchtime discussion in the office turned into an unexpected lesson about workplace behavior and its consequences. The story making rounds involves a thoughtless comment during a casual chat about banh mi that led to an immediate dismissal.

The incident reflects a broader shift in workplace culture that I’ve noticed over my decades in tech. Gone are the days when crude jokes and innuendos were brushed off as “just banter.” Modern workplaces are finally taking decisive action against inappropriate behavior, and rightfully so.

The recent comments from Fiverr’s CEO about AI coming for everyone’s jobs hit particularly close to home. Sitting here in my home office, surrounded by multiple monitors displaying various development environments and chat windows, I’ve been watching the rapid progression of AI capabilities with a mix of fascination and unease.

Let’s be real - telling workers to “just be better” in the face of AI automation is like suggesting someone outrun a Ferrari. It’s not just unhelpful; it’s fundamentally missing the point. This isn’t about individual performance anymore. We’re witnessing a seismic shift in how work itself functions.

The tech industry’s latest campaign to make computer science and AI mandatory subjects in US schools has sparked quite a debate online. While sitting here in my home office, watching the morning traffic crawl along Hoddle Street, I’ve been pondering this push and its implications for our own education system.

Reading through various online discussions about this initiative, I’m struck by a recurring theme: we’re putting the cart before the horse. Sure, understanding AI and computer science is crucial for the future, but what about the fundamentals? Many educators are reporting that students are struggling with basic literacy and numeracy skills, let alone typing proficiency.

Something happened in the CBD today that made me pause and reflect on the state of our city, and more importantly, on the quiet heroes who walk among us. While grabbing lunch near Collins Street, I witnessed a scene that perfectly encapsulated both the challenges we face and the spirit that keeps our community strong.

The story that caught my attention involved a stranger who stepped in to protect a mother and her children from harassment. Without hesitation, this everyday hero placed himself between a threatening individual and a vulnerable family, using nothing but his presence as a shield. The most remarkable part? He simply continued with his day afterward, shopping bags in hand, as if protecting others was just part of his regular routine.

Reading through recent discussions about Australia’s “lost decade” of wage growth has stirred up some deeply troubling thoughts. The latest research from Per Capita think-tank paints a stark picture of how the 2012-2022 period of wage stagnation has fundamentally altered the Australian dream of home ownership.

The numbers tell a devastating story, but they barely scratch the surface of what this means for real people. My daughter, now in her teens, often talks about her future, and I find myself struggling to give her honest answers about housing affordability without crushing her spirits entirely.

Reading through recent discussions about housing affordability brings back memories of endless spreadsheet calculations and sleepless nights when I was house hunting a few years ago. The current debate about 2% deposits for $1.3 million homes has me both concerned and frustrated.

The numbers simply don’t add up. Someone earning $100,000 trying to service a $1.3 million loan isn’t just ambitious – it’s financially reckless. Even with government schemes offering to cover 40% of the purchase price, we’re still talking about massive repayments that would consume virtually every dollar of take-home pay.

The latest statements from Peter Dutton about forcing public servants back into offices full-time have left me seething. Not just because it’s a transparently cynical move, but because it reveals so much about the disconnect between wealthy politicians and the reality of working families.

Looking at the childcare situation alone paints a grim picture. Parents in my area are paying upwards of $190 per day for childcare in the CBD. That’s not a typo - we’re talking about costs that rival or exceed many families’ rent or mortgage payments. And what’s particularly galling is how these massive childcare companies are gaming the system, raising prices the moment government subsidies increase, effectively pocketing support meant for struggling families.

The recent news about libraries hiring social workers has sparked an interesting discussion about the evolving role of these beloved institutions in our communities. Walking into my local library in Carlton yesterday, I noticed how much these spaces have transformed from the hushed, book-lined halls of my youth into vibrant community hubs.

Libraries have always been more than just repositories of books. They’re one of the last truly democratic spaces in our society - places where anyone can spend time without the pressure to spend money. In a world where even sitting in a café requires purchasing a $5 latte, libraries stand as beacons of accessibility.

The irony wasn’t lost on me when I read that “oligarchy” has become a trending search term following Biden’s farewell speech. Nothing quite captures the state of our democracy like citizens having to Google the very system that’s threatening it.

Looking through online discussions, the mix of dark humor and genuine concern perfectly encapsulates our current moment. Between references to “Idiocracy” and serious debates about wealth inequality, there’s a palpable sense that we’re approaching a critical juncture in history.

The recent revelation about Motorola’s ALPR systems leaking live video feeds and vehicle data has got me thinking about the surveillance state we’ve sleepwalked into. Sitting in traffic on Hoddle Street this morning, I found myself counting the number of cameras pointing at my car - traffic cameras, security cameras, and who knows what else.

Remember when we thought automatic number plate recognition was just about catching unregistered vehicles and toll dodgers? Those were simpler times. Now we’re learning that in just 20 minutes, one of these systems in Nashville captured data from nearly 1,000 vehicles. That’s not just license plates - we’re talking about detailed information about vehicle makes, models, and even photos.

The mercury’s climbing, and the beaches are packed. Nothing beats cooling off at Port Melbourne or Brighton Beach on a scorching summer day. Well, almost nothing - except for that one person who thinks everyone within a 50-meter radius wants to hear their specially curated summer playlist blasting from a speaker the size of a small suitcase.

This peculiar breed of beachgoer seems to be multiplying faster than bin chickens at Federation Square. They arrive armed with portable speakers that could probably be heard from space, apparently operating under the delusion that they’re the designated DJs for the entire beach.

Recently stumbled upon a job listing that perfectly encapsulates everything wrong with the current tech hiring landscape. Picture this: an “entry-level” developer position requiring 3+ years of team management experience, preferably a master’s degree, and - here’s the kicker - offering a salary that’s actually below minimum wage for full-time work in Australia.

The mental gymnastics required to label a position requiring three years of experience and a master’s degree as “entry-level” is truly Olympic-worthy. We’re talking about someone who’s invested potentially seven years between education and work experience, yet they’re supposed to accept a salary that would’ve been questionable even back in the early 2000s.

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.

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 news about Andrew Tate’s “online university” being hacked would be almost comical if it weren’t so concerning. Over 800,000 users affected by the breach - that’s more people than the entire population of Geelong. The sheer scale of this operation is staggering, and frankly, deeply troubling.

Sitting here in my home office, taking a break from flight simulator to digest this news, I find myself wrestling with a mix of emotions. The fact that hundreds of thousands of people, many likely young and vulnerable, have fallen for what is essentially a dressed-up MLM scheme masquerading as education makes my blood boil.

Reading about Healthscope’s new hospital facility fee this morning made my blood boil. The announcement of an additional $100 charge for overnight patients and $50 for day patients feels like another brick in the increasingly unstable wall of private healthcare.

Sitting in my home office, sipping my morning coffee from my favourite Carlton café, I pondered the state of our healthcare system. The latest fee announcement from Healthscope particularly stings because it comes barely a year into their multi-year contracts with insurers like Bupa. It’s worth noting that behind this decision stands Brookfield, a Canadian investment giant that now owns Healthscope.

The writing has been on the wall for a while now, but seeing a Berkeley professor openly discuss how even his outstanding students can’t find jobs sends chills down my spine. Having spent countless hours at my local coffee shop in Brunswick Street watching my own kid struggle with university applications, this hits particularly close to home.

Let’s be honest - we’re witnessing a fundamental shift in the employment landscape. When I started my career in the ’90s, a university degree was practically a golden ticket to a decent job. Now? Even graduates from prestigious institutions are struggling to get their foot in the door. The tech sector, once the promised land of six-figure salaries and cushy benefits, is showing serious cracks.

I’ve been thinking a lot about a recent online discussion that highlighted the complexities of talking about politics in the workplace. The scenario went something like this: an employee expressed frustration about the impact of immigration on the economy to their director and new manager. The manager responded by saying that the employee didn’t understand the bigger picture, and that new people drive change that helps the organisation progress. The employee felt overwhelmed and foolish.