#TechCritique

[james007anthony]

Most AI startups aren’t doing anything new. They’re just CRUD apps with GPT frosting. I break down what’s missing.

[marandsviet]

The Digital Golden Calf: The Cult of Technology in the Modern World

[sup3rqu33n]

had to cancel my ''cancer reveal party'' at someone else's baby shower... 🍆 might as well have invited the guest of honor to prom again... 🥭 we've all been there right.

[tobylokii]

It's not innovation if it's just GPT stuck on a CRUD app.

[tmarshconnors]

Nostalgia is money.

Nostalgia is big business these days. Everywhere you look, there’s a reboot, a remaster, or a reimagining of something from the past. Whether it’s a classic film franchise brought back to life, a beloved video game polished for modern consoles, or fashion trends from decades ago making a triumphant return, it’s clear that nostalgia sells. And it’s not just entertainment; it’s influencing our buying habits, political beliefs, and even our relationships. In an era where algorithms increasingly dictate what we see, hear, and think, we yearn for a simpler time—or at least the illusion of one.

Why is nostalgia so powerful? At its core, it’s about comfort. Life today feels overwhelming for many. Social media inundates us with information, algorithms tailor every ad to our perceived preferences, and every choice seems more complicated than the last. In this environment, looking back feels safe. It’s no surprise that brands, creators, and even political campaigns have tapped into this collective longing for the past. Nostalgia evokes a time when life felt more certain, even if that certainty is more a product of selective memory than reality.

Take consumer products, for example. How often do you see modern companies leaning into retro designs, bringing back discontinued flavors, or using packaging that screams ‘80s or ’90s? It’s not just about aesthetics; it’s about eliciting an emotional response. That soda you drank as a child or that cereal box you recognize from Saturday mornings isn’t just a product. It’s a portal to a time when your biggest concern was which cartoon to watch. Brands know this, and they capitalize on it because it works.

In politics, nostalgia plays an even more significant role. Many movements and campaigns lean heavily on the idea of returning to a “better” past. Slogans like "Make America Great Again" tap into a yearning for a perceived golden age, even if that era was far from perfect for many. It’s a powerful message because it simplifies complex issues, offering the comforting promise that we can undo what’s gone wrong by looking backward. Nostalgia becomes a tool, one that’s often wielded to evoke emotion rather than inspire critical thought.

Even in our personal lives, nostalgia is everywhere. Algorithms on platforms like Facebook and Instagram feed us memories from years past, reminding us of old friendships, relationships, or vacations. Streaming services recommend shows or movies we watched long ago, hoping to reel us back in. And who hasn’t fallen down a rabbit hole of old photos or playlists, only to emerge hours later feeling both warm and wistful? These experiences remind us of who we were, which can feel grounding in a world that constantly demands we reinvent ourselves.

But while nostalgia can be comforting, it’s worth asking whether it’s always healthy. When we idealize the past, we risk distorting it. It’s easy to remember the good while glossing over the bad. Worse, it can prevent us from engaging with the present or envisioning a better future. Nostalgia becomes a double-edged sword: it connects us to something meaningful, but it can also trap us in a cycle of yearning.

In the end, nostalgia is more than just a marketing tactic or a political strategy; it’s a reflection of our times. When the present feels uncertain and the future feels daunting, we look to the past for solace. And while there’s nothing wrong with revisiting the things that bring us joy, it’s important to remember that the past wasn’t perfect. It’s okay to yearn for simplicity, but let’s not lose sight of the complexities and opportunities of the world we’re living in today.

[mikael]

‘I once visited Karl Deutsch when I happened to be in Berlin – at the Science Centre in Steinplatz. We chatted for a while in his office, and I told him about the opacity of large systems. I told him that there is no large system in existence that can be fully grasped by an individual, that it is too late to control such systems, because they are a consequence of their history and that history is no longer available.’ As an example he cites Globus, a program for simulating the global economy developed at around that time in Berlin.

Globus consisted of approximately ten thousand lines of code in Fortran 77. ‘These are vast programs which I don’t think anyone could ever properly comprehend,’ Weizenbaum says. The average iPhone app was about five times that length in 2013. The Hubble space telescope has two million lines of code, the Firefox browser has about ten million. Facebook has over sixty million and Google roughly two billion. But that doesn’t mean Weizenbaum was wrong. Ten thousand lines of code can be impenetrable. So can a single line!

No one really understand the machines that we depend on.

[mikael]

The whole story is basically that Facebook gets so much traffic that they started convincing publishers to post things on Facebook. For a long time, that was fine. People posted things on Facebook, then you would click those links and go to their websites. But then, gradually, Facebook started exerting more and more control of what was being seen, to the point that they, not our website, essentially became the main publishers of everyone’s content. Today, there’s no reason to go to a comedy website that has a video if that video is just right on Facebook. And that would be fine if Facebook compensated those companies for the ad revenue that was generated from those videos, but because Facebook does not pay publishers, there quickly became no money in making high-quality content for the internet.

So what exactly did you expect when you put most of your eggs in the basket of one of the worlds most powerful big tech companies? That they'd do anything for your business to thrive? I'm getting tired of cry babies.