Posting with #ISupportUkraine or #maga is a virtue signal.
Abandoning Twitter for Mastodon or Truth Social is a virtue signal.
Wearing a mask while running outside is a virtue signal.
Investing only in companies that have high ESG scores is a virtue signal.
Bringing your own hemp twine bags to the grocery store is a virtue signal.
Asking the clerk if the water comes in a glass bottle rather than a plastic bottle is a virtue signal.
Driving around in a giant pickup truck with an American flag flying from the bed is a virtue signal.
Buying a Tesla is a virtue signal. And paradoxically, now, so is getting rid of your Tesla.

Virtue signaling is about communicating personal moral values and the moral values of our tribe. It’s one way of gaining or maintaining status.

But there’s usually something more to it than just signaling moral superiority. As humans, we like to take action. We like to do something. We like to do the right thing. These signals are ways of doing something.

But just because you feel strongly and take the virtue-signaling action doesn’t mean that others are doing nothing, believe the wrong things, or are just plain dumb. 

They’re just doing different things to make the world a better place. 

Building a home on the Outer Banks of North Carolina is very rewarding. But it’s also risky.
Building a home in the desert of Nevada is very rewarding. But it’s also risky.
Building a home in a mountain valley in Colorado is very rewarding. But it’s also risky.

It’s easy to forget about the risk as technology, status, and social norms progress. But that doesn’t mean there is no risk.

Sometimes when we feel victimized, before we drain our outrage budget, we oughta think about rerunning the risk/reward spreadsheet.

We sometimes confuse trust with agreement. I know I’m guilty.

We erroneously think that because we agree with someone or some tribe, we can trust them. This also leads to the flip side: when we don’t agree with someone, we believe we can’t trust them.

We see it all over social media. Can we trust experts? Can we trust the politicians? Can we trust the media? But we’re really just asking if we agree with them

I once had two engineers on my team who disliked each other immensely. I spent many hours listening to each moan about how bad the other was and how “I can’t trust him.” Here’s the thing: each was a good engineer with a high degree of integrity. They just saw the world differently.

I found a solution that appealed to each’s integrity and allowed them to build trust, if not in each other, at least in their work. We created a contract (actually a requirements specification). Each could concentrate on building his piece to conform to the contract, and as long as they trusted that the other’s work conformed (which he could prove through objective testing), we had success. We discussed disagreements in terms of the requirements, not each other’s work. Their commitment to their personal integrity kept us moving forward.

Fundamentally, trust is about integrity, not agreement. The real solution to rebuilding trust in our experts, politicians, and media is to focus on each’s commitment to their integrity.

He said. She said.

By now, you’ve probably heard of the Twitter Files, a set of reports shared by (The250 inspirations) Bari Weiss and Matt Taibbi based on inside information given to them directly by Elon.  

These reports prove what we sort of knew already: 1) Twitter did censor certain accounts based on internal human opinons and external pressure, and 2) Twitter’s algorithm does/did provide the ability to artificially suppress the reach of specific accounts. 

This is the latest in the discussion around “The Algorithms” used by the platforms. The public launch of this discussion was the movie “The Social Dilemma,” but mental health professionals have been rightly keen on it for a while now.

Are the algorithms causing harm?
Do the algorithms favor some over others?
Are they brainwashing us?
Are they stealing your children?
Are they illegal?
Are they evil?

I have a proposed solution.

Let’s open source all algorithms used by all public and some private social media platforms. 

Why?

1. If everyone can see it, everyone can understand it.
2. If everyone can understand it, everyone can decide if they want to be a user or let their kids on as users.
3. If everyone can understand it, everyone can police it.
4. If everyone can understand it, everyone can contribute to the discussion. 
5. The community around each platform can decide how it should work.

It’s not foolproof, but nothing is. Like with all real-world solutions, we’re aiming for elegance.

We like what we like. We get stuck. We confuse inertia with discipline.

If nothing changes, nothing changes. Evolution requires the randomization of some inputs.

Here’s a great idea that’s easy (something I’ve done a few times recently):

• Choose a new or different restaurant.
• Sit at the bar.
• Open the menu and put your finger on something random.

The beauty of this kind of randomization is that it gets us out of our comfort zone and exposes us to a different perspective. Even if you have a bad experience, it’s still a different experience.

And what if you have a great experience?!

The path to empathy and understanding requires new perspectives. New perspectives require different inputs. Randomization can provide different inputs.

I recently passed 100 days in a row of posting to this blog.

What I’ve learned isn’t earth-shattering, life-changing, or revolutionary. The lesson is rather ordinary, actually. But it’s backed up by some heavyweights like Steven Pressfield and James Clear. 

I do think it’s worth sharing:

If I commit mentally (I mean honestly and truly commit), my actions follow. 

I’ve committed not just to 100 days but 365 days. I’m not entertaining the thought of changing it. I’m not allowing any doubts to surface. I’m not worried about holidays, or sick days, or days I’m uninspired. I don’t care if I’m so devoid of ideas by 365 days that I’ve resorted to posting the grocery list. I’m posting every day. 

I’m showing up, and I’m expecting the muse to show up with me. 

There are some other subtle lessons as well. For example, I am always on the lookout since I need a new topic each day. The fear of having nothing to say started the engine, but now it’s a perpetual motion machine. Pay attention and think about the point of view.

And if you’re wondering, no, it’s not always easy. These little posts of 250 words or less take me somewhere between 10 minutes and three hours. I have to make time in my schedule. That’s not always easy or comfortable. I sometimes have to steal from Peter to pay Paul. 

Next stop, 365. 

You’re a hypocrite. Don’t worry, so am I. We all are. 

If you’re a human, you’re a hypocrite. 

“Yes, I’m not what I appear to be. I’m a sinner. I play roles. I have dark parts. I hold ideological paradoxes. I have a plank in my eye.”

I often wonder what our online communities would look like if, rather than spending so much effort policing hypocrisies, we spent that effort looking in the mirror, understanding another’s perspective, and finding common ground.

More empathy. Less town crier. 

Most people don’t care if you vote. They only care if you vote for their team.
Most people don’t care about free speech. They only care when their team is censored or when you say something they don’t like.
Most people don’t care about freedom. They only care if they feel less free.
Most people don’t care about your morality. They only care about enforcing their own morality.
Most people don’t care about illegal immigrants. They only care about what the issue of illegal immigrants represents.
Most people don’t care about criminals. They only care about what their team says about the criminal.
Most people don’t care about your bodily autonomy. They only care about their own body.
Most people don’t care about what you say. They only care about what they are trying to say.
Most people don’t care about you. They only care about what you think of them.

Whenever we’re looking for common ground, we must always remember what the other actually cares about.

We’re easily distracted by shiny objects.

Those shiny objects gain leverage if we put labels on them — safety, anti-vax, ableism, privilege, transphobia, etc.

But if we could look past our distractions for just a minute.

What happens if all public health policies start with a better food supply and more exercise?
What happens if all public education policies start with education?
What happens if all public community policies start with family?
What happens if all public law enforcement and prosecuting policies start with protecting victims?

The problem with shiny objects is that they distract us from real solutions.

I’m damn glad we didn’t have social media when I was 25.

I thought stupid things, said stupid things, and generally acted stupid. If I had a broadcast studio in my pocket then, as we do now, I’m sure I would have…well, let’s just leave it at “posted some things I now regret.”

And the internet never forgets.

What was wrong with me at 25? Nothing, really. I was a different person then, and we lived in a culturally different time. 

That’s what happens. We evolve, as does the culture, social norms, and zeitgeist. Our journey exposes us to new experiences, people, and ways of life. New technologies open previously unknown paths, and more data solidifies the picture. The zeitgeist shapeshifts like a cumulous cloud across a summer sky. 

Our thinking and feeling adjust accordingly.

Yet, we’re all too happy in our zeal to kick, cancel, or otherwise shame our rival to pull up an old post and publish with taglines such as, “This didn’t age well.”

When I see this, I can’t help but wonder about what hasn’t aged well in my own thinking.

I’m a good driver, but you wouldn’t agree. 

I know this because my family has complained that I’m a bad driver for years. I disagree, of course, because, well, I’m a good driver. 

My driving record agrees with me. Over 35 years of driving in all weather conditions and with hellish commutes, I have exactly one minor fender bender and a dead deer on my record.

“I’m the guy you want at the wheel. I’ll get you there safely and quickly.”

At the same time, I make passengers uncomfortable, fearful, and sometimes physically ill. Because I’m not a good driver. 

What we have here is a difference in our definitions of good based on our shared yet separate experiences. We both experience the same events, yet our perspectives on those events are vastly different.

Good to me (the driver) means that I’m good at the physical operation of the vehicle in all conditions and all situations. Like you would consider Mario Andretti a good driver. 

Good to you (the passenger) means how my driving makes you feel. How smooth is the ride? Are we getting too close? Do we stop late and accelerate aggressively?

Once we understand each other’s definition, two things can happen: 1) we can communicate from common ground, and 2) we can develop empathy through each other’s perspectives.

Since I’ve become aware, I’m much more attentive to how my passengers feel. I’ve changed my behavior as a driver.

Now, where else is this happening?

I recently melted down at a Chipotle. 

The reason? Expectations.

This got me thinking about expectations in all aspects of my life.

Twenty-five years ago, on that same stretch of route 81, I wouldn’t have found any place to eat or get gas. Now I come unglued if my culinary desires aren’t met or the gas station isn’t on the right side of the highway. 

Twenty years ago, I was overjoyed if an internet search found anything remotely close. Now I’m pissed if the search engine can’t reach into my brain and figure out what I really wanted from my disjointed and misspelled typing. 

Fifteen years ago, I was happy to send a cryptic text message on a flip phone with a 3×4 alphanumeric keypad. Now I’m annoyed if my iPhone can’t properly predict the tense of my next word.

Ten years ago, I was content using my mirrors to back up. Now I curse the universe if my vehicle has a poorly lit, non-HD camera that doesn’t show me the “stop here” graphics.

Five years ago, I understood that shipping was a line item in addition to the product cost. Now I’m switching to a new store if shipping isn’t “included.”

One year ago, I didn’t give much thought to turning on the lights with my hand. Now I’m confused when I can’t yell at Alexa to do it for me.

Beware of your expectations. They can screw with your humanity. 

We didn’t always distrust. 

We used to trust many of the institutions that mattered. Occasionally we’d be disappointed. Maybe our trust was a little misplaced, but by and large, most of the institutions were generally trustworthy. 

Except companies (for-profit or non-profit). Their thin veils have always poorly hidden true motives. But we’ve always known that.

What’s happened with the others?

Politicians. A politician’s purpose is to keep their party in power — to win. Always true, but never before was the denial of due process in question. 

Elite universities. What thinking person could trust statements such as “biological sex isn’t real” and “awarding poor grades is violence.”

Experts. Unfortunately, the broadcast studio in every scientist and doctor’s pocket incentivizes them to pick sides and weaponize their status. 

Media. This one hurts the most because, historically, the media was an effective equalizer among the power bases — the great revealer of what’s under the rug. But alas, the media can no longer serve the two masters of public good and profit. They’ve had to choose sides. 

So who can we trust?

The constitution. The stubborn and lethargic bureaucracy has proven its ability to thwart the individual or team that means it harm. 

AI? Maybe, but it’s too soon. 

Your circle. Look them in the eye. Touch their hand. Mean what you say. Listen to what they say. Lead with empathy. See them as the broken, beautiful, complex, nuanced human that they are. 

Steven Pressfield. The War of Art. Read it. Then read the rest of his series on Resistance. 

We’re all stuck. We’re all distracted. And we’re all 100% complicit in our own inertia.

And yet…

Resistance. The World and its tribes have aligned with Resistance to grease the skids and lay the soft pillow of inertia before you. 

The tribes define the labels. They use the labels to trick you into thinking it’s us (good) versus them (evil). Resistance amplifies.

The only path to true winning starts with the mirror and ends with a private insurrection. 

“As artists and professionals [and humans] it is our obligation to enact our own internal revolution, a private insurrection in our own skulls. In the uprising we free ourselves from the tyranny of consumer culture. We overthrow the programming of advertising, movies, video games, magazines, TV, and MTV by which we have been hypnotized from the cradle. We unplug ourselves from the grid by recognizing that we will never cure our restlessness by contributing our disposable income to the bottom line of Bullshit, Inc, but only by doing our work.”

Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

The next time you look across the table or the Twitterverse at your (supposed) rival, remember that you have also contributed your fair share of disposable income to Bullshit, Inc. 

You’ve struggled. They’ve struggled. You’re actually on the same team. 

Now let’s align and defeat the true enemy. 

Apple’s tagline, coined in 1997 by its (supposed) rebel leader Steve Jobs, is “Think Different.”

Like all marketing taglines, it invokes an emotional response that helps you identify your tribe. And like all great taglines, it’s abstract enough that we can fit it into our personal worldview.

“I want to be different. I think of myself as different. These products are the flags that show the world that I’m different. I’m buying.”

Recently, Apple has made or at least threatened a couple of moves that seem hypocritical to the “Think Different” slogan. They’ve limited the use of AirDrop in China and threatened to drop Twitter from its platform. Although they’ve not released a formal statement as to the reasons, one can infer the following:

• They have limited AirDrop in China due to pressure/alignment with the Chinese government
• They have threatened to drop Twitter due to pressure/alignment with the political left

I often wonder how Steve Jobs would handle the current cultural climate. He loved to pit himself and his company against the establishment, but like many silicon valley moguls, he seemed a bit confused — a businessman with a Cali progressive twist. 

Both of these moves seem to go along with establishment thinking rather than thinking different. But is it hypocrisy?

Whenever we raise an eyebrow at a tribe that appears to be acting hypocritical, we must remember that their true ideology is gaining and maintaining power.

The rest is just a tagline. 

I’m an engineer. That’s both a vocation and a personality trait.

In college, engineering students are taught that engineering problems have a correct answer — a perfect solution, you might say. On a test, they usually do. But in real life, there are no perfect solutions.

Designing real-life solutions means compromise. We start with requirements, and then we negotiate amongst those requirements.

“Which of these are basic must-haves?”
“Which are the product differentiators?”
“Which are the nice-to-haves if possible?”
“Which can we push out to version 2.0 or 3.0?”

Almost by definition, all solutions will be imperfect. But we can build a great solution if even an imperfect one. To do so, we often strive for elegance.

Engineering elegance can manifest itself in a single line of code, a subroutine, or the interface between internet services. It can be found in the operation of a control circuit, a switching mechanism, or the load-bearing beam in a skyscraper. Elegance also shows up in the line of the fender, the sheen of the exposed pipe, or the lever’s feel in your hand.

Elegance is subjective, but you know it when you see it. Artists speak of it. So do mathematicians and physicists. Elegance usually marries function with aesthetics and has an economy to it.

Finding imperfect but elegant solutions through compromise and negotiation has taught me a great deal about people problems.

Useful solutions will, by definition, be imperfect, but that doesn’t mean we can’t strive for elegance.

If you’re starving and before you sit a plate of carrots and a bowl of razor blades, your choice is instinctual. 

What if, however, your choice was between peanut butter and vegemite? In this case, your choice depends on where and with whom you grew up.

Sometimes, basic human needs drive our choices. Other times they’re driven by desires. Desires are not instinctual, and our central nervous system isn’t going to weigh in on the matter. Therefore, we look outside of ourselves for a model to help us choose what’s worthy of our desire — mimetic desires. 

Our models could be another person, or it could be a tribe.

Mimetic desires lead to benign phenomena such as Christmas toy shortages, the rise and fall of Fireball whiskey, and every fashion trend since the beginning of time. 

But they’re also at the heart of many trends we may consider inherent within ourselves. 

Why does one choose to include pronouns in their profile?
Why does one choose to “buy American?”
Why does one resonate with the protestors in a clash with the police?
Why does one resonate with the police in that same clash?

If we’re not careful, we conflate mimetic desires with labels such as wokeist, nationalist, racist, or fascist. That’s our natural inclination to look at issues as a toggle switch, good vs. evil. 

But the path to a better world recognizes mimetic desires, understands the appeal of models, and respects (if not agrees with) another’s choices. 

Scarcity drives the cost and the status of many things.

For some things, this works. 

For example, take the Mona Lisa.  

Scarcity works here because who cares how much someone is willing to pay for it? The status it proffers on its owner is meaningless outside of a very small circle. Also, would it matter if a private collector, rather than a public art museum, owned and hid it from us? 

However, take an elite institution such as Harvard University.

If this is one of the best colleges on earth, shouldn’t they try to instruct more students, not less? Shouldn’t it be one of the most affordable rather than one of the least (EFC == 0 families aside)?

The problem with scarcity and status, like many things, is a matter of who benefits versus who suffers. If we want to move forward as a culture and a species, let’s stop using scarcity when it matters most.

Think about a moment, whether at work or home, when the chaos was invigorating. The chaos gave you energy, sharpened your senses, and made you happy.

You may have even said to yourself, “This is what its all about. I need more of this chaos in my life.”

Now think about a moment when the calm was invigorating. The calm recharged your batteries, allowed you to think, and made you happy.

You may have even said to yourself, “This is what its all about. I need more of this calm in my life.”

Sometimes I think we get so caught up wishing we had more that we miss the moment. We miss the opportunity before us.

What we really need is more presence and more gratitude in the moment.

I was probably a little unfair with my previous take on SBF and effective altruism. 

I said, “Effective altruists believe that making and then using gobs of money to influence the world is a noble goal as long as you’re very, very smart. “

OK, that’s the kind of hyperbolic leap I often rail against on The250. To be fair, effective altruism is a bit more nuanced. Specifically, it’s about using data rather than emotions to guide the charitable practice (i.e., the smart approach).

But that still misses the point. Altruism, charity, and giving is all about emotions. It’s 100% emotions. 

Effective altruism does exist, but it’s not a function of the smart people who think about it correctly. It doesn’t flow from data because that would require the assumption that an objectively correct vision for the world exists. 

Effective altruism flows from the giver. It’s about intention and the emotional investment of the giver. It’s about one person or group giving what they can out of love to help another person or group. 

It’s about the people who feel about it correctly.

Even if you don’t know anything about crypto, you’ve probably heard of Sam Bankman-Fried and the meltdown of his crypto exchange FTX.

You have plenty of opportunities to spend your outrage budget on what happened, crypto, greed, politics, political donations, mainstream media, and capitalism. 

But so far, I think we’re missing the real opportunity.

SBF (clearly, we’re all on an acronym-name basis with him, aren’t we?) has stated his purpose in getting wealthy as “effective altruism.” Effective altruists believe that making and then using gobs of money to influence the world is a noble goal as long as you’re very, very smart. 

This is utter bullshit.  

It’s one of the most pretentious, condescending, and narcissistic philosophies I could imagine. 

“I’m rich. Therefore, I’m smart. Therefore, I know best. Stand aside and watch me make this world a better place — the way I think it should be.”

Altruism, at its core, isn’t about outcomes or amounts. It’s also not about some objectively correct vision of the world. 

The real opportunity here is to shine a light on true effective altruism. 

Altruism is about the giver. It’s about you, your humanity, and how much you care about your fellow humans.

Have you seen the Progressive “what really happened?” replay commercials? Brilliant 30-second storytelling, and equally good at unveiling our lack of factual recall.

How many times would you have loved to throw the challenge flag in the middle of an argument and revisit the replay to prove how it actually happened (or, rather, your version of how it happened)? 

Certainly, the replay will match the story in your head, right?

Ah, but what would the replay show? What were the facts of the story? Who did what? What was the sequence? 

Many studies have concluded that we’re generally terrible at remembering factual details of past events. However, our brains are excellent at remembering how that event made us feel. Sometimes we’ll even distort the details to preserve or enhance the remembered emotions.

Hence, the intriguing carrot of the challenge flag and replay. Let’s set the record straight (and prove you wrong).

Revisionist history happens every day in all parts of our lives. We do it. Leadership does it. Tribes do it. Sometimes intentional (and malicious), but most often not. 

I often wonder how much more unity and progress we could generate if, rather than focusing on past facts, we led with the understanding that whatever those facts were, they generated the feelings that now exist.

You see, setting the record straight isn’t always about who’s right and who’s wrong, but why we feel the way we do. 

Kanye West is just the latest in a long line.

Before him came Kenneth Halliwell, Paul Gauguin, and Picasso. How about Louis CK, Dave Chappelle, and Bill Cosby? And depending upon your political lean, you might even raise an eyebrow at Kid Rock, Bruce Springsteen, Aaron Lewis, or Neil Young.

What if we expand the definition of “art” a bit?

What about Colin Kaepernick, Mike Vick, Pete Rose, Barry Bonds, Lance Armstrong, or Muhamed Ali?

What if we expand it a little further?

George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abe Lincoln, or Robert E Lee?

We could keep going and expanding the definition of art until we land right on your front doorstep.

Yes, you. And me.

Can we separate you and me from what it is we do? That’s a bit messy, isn’t it? Because we have some of us in all of our work. Of course, we do.

Take me, for instance. I work in the tech industry. I create biometric sensor software. One could plausibly say I’m part of the evil, anti-freedom, Big Brother empire. But am I?

If we canceled the work of every person who’s sinned, we’d be left with zero work, except that from a single human. 

The only way forward is to ask ourselves, “Is consuming, participating, or utilizing the same as condoning?”

Only you can decide for yourself. Don’t let the tribe do it for you. 

You have 86400 seconds each day.

Today. Tomorrow. The day after that.

You are free to decide how you’ll spend your emotions during those seconds. No tribe can tell you how to spend your emotions.

But they sure will try.

You are a free and sentient human being. Act like it.

Why does someone become a barista?

Maybe they love coffee and the atmosphere of the cafe.
Maybe they love people, especially coffee people.
Maybe they’re an artist.
Maybe it’s simply a job that they could get.

A good barista makes all the difference. Not just in the coffee itself but the whole experience.

We’re fortunate to live in a world that allows most to choose a path. This variety (dare I say diversity?) brings a richness to our lives that we can easily take for granted. We often assume that everyone should be like us, want the same things as us, or see the world the same as us.

Besides coffee, what other services and experiences in your life are enhanced by the physical proximity and personal touch of another human?

The barista has chosen this path. Let’s remember that it’s hard to do that work remotely.

I learned something today. I love days like that.

I always thought the day after Thanksgiving was called “Black Friday” because it was the day the retail world moved into the black — i.e., into profit. 

Wrong. Sort of.

The true history is much darker and more complex and has little to do with retailers’ profits. But, like many things in our collective and personal histories, revisionist history has taken over.

Yet another reminder that truth and reality are not always the same. 

Today in the United States, we celebrate Thanksgiving. 

If I could point to one single thing, thought, or practice that has made the biggest impact on me personally, it would be intentional gratitude.

We all live somewhere on the spectrum of blessings, and our position changes day-to-day or even moment-to-moment. 

Your spectrum is relative to you only. It’s not objective, relative to your neighbor, nor relative to some rich and famous person. It’s all about you.

The World wishes to keep you to the left. It benefits from your fear, anger, and victimhood because those are the fuel that fires its engines. 

But moving yourself to the right on this spectrum is one of the keys to your personal happiness and success. And it’s simple (if not always easy). You move yourself to the right by engaging in regular intentional gratitude. Focusing on, thinking about, and feeling the blessings you have in your life life. 

The beauty of intentional gratitude is that it moves you towards your perfect life without having anything change externally. Nothing changes, yet everything changes. 

You want to make your community, nation, or this world a better place? Start with yourself and being grateful. That gratitude will flow outward and upward. 

Today’s the perfect day to start. 

When I was a kid, the grownups pined for the days of the Route 66 travel experience. The slower speeds with interesting sights. The small towns. The people you met along the way.

Heck, Disney made an entire movie about it. (One of my favorites, by the way). 

Gone are those days. Since President Eisenhower signed the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, we have 46876 miles of interstates. High-speed, efficient, utilitarian rivers of concrete. Even nostalgia can’t compete with convenience.

But the interstates get a bad rap. Nostalgia aside, driving long distances, even at high speed on artless interstates, can still be one of the most human experiences of our time. 

That long drive (we’re talking 8, 10, 16 hours) necessarily traverses myriad lifestyles and perspectives in a way that the Route 66 approach never could. At least not in the same amount of time. Three hours at 75 mph can radically shift the geography, geology, and sociology of your experience. 

Even a quick stop for fuel at a large and polished gas station/made-to-order sandwich shop/luxury restroom exposes you to the other. Three hours later, that same franchise has a different feel, if not a different look.

Sure, maybe it’s subtle. Maybe you really have to pay attention. Maybe you have to look around the corner and in areas easily missed.  

Maybe I’m making it all up.

But isn’t that the foundation of perspective? How do I see it?

Today we stopped for lunch at a Chipotle in central Virginia. It was a disaster.

I knew it would be as we drove in because it was a brand-new store. I envisioned long lines, underprepared staff, and sparse or wonky ingredients.

The drive from eastern Pennsylvania to western North Carolina takes about 10 hours. That’s a long day, but we’ve done it many times. It has a rhythm, and it’s no big deal as long as we stick to that rhythm.

But not today. Today we were derailed by a Chipotle. I was right on all accounts, by the way. Not only did it take too long, but they didn’t have the vegetables or pico de gallo!

Oh, the horror!

I was so frustrated that I was simultaneously staring daggers into the staff and mansplaining to my wife about their obvious lack of ability. If only they would just listen to me!! (You’ve done this also, haven’t you?)

What the hell is wrong with me (and you, by extension)?

Expectations, of course.

Expectations of service.
Expectations of convenience.
Expectations of getting what I want (like a toddler).

Chipotle only has itself to blame. They fell prey to their own achievement. They’ve built such a ubiquitous and outstanding fast-casual eating system that we instantly experience discomfort when it’s out of whack.

So what was the problem again? Right, there wasn’t one. Unless you count the one in my own head.

You can eat nothing but Twinkies, but should you?
You can smoke two packs a day, but should you?
You can run ten miles a day, but should you?

It’s also…

You can vote for what benefits you most, but should you?
You can speak your mind, but should you?
You can donate to their cause, but should you?

It’s also…

You can use bots for sales calls, but should you?
You can advertise on a billboard, but should you?
You can impose a new fee on your customers, but should you?

It’s also…

You can buy out every last toilet paper roll from the store, but should you?
You can install an eight-foot fence around your entire property, but should you?
You can buy an EV, but should you?

Every day in our personal and professional lives, we face choices between what’s legal, available, or within our power and what’s right. The choice is difficult because we recognize the “right” choice is always subjective. 

When we’re on our game, we choose by using tools such as critical thinking, experiments, beliefs, and personal experience. 

But the easy path is a powerful force. The easy path is always what’s legal, available, or within our power. The easy path is usually defensible as well. 

Don’t get sucked in. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. 

You want to be on the hook. We need you on the hook.

Only those on the hook make a difference, make a change, and make an impact. 

And when a group of people on the hook come together, the sky is the limit. A group of people on the hook can create a life-saving C02 filter, a website platform for everyone, and the Bill of Rights.

Many people shun the hook.  

Let’s face it. It’s easy to pass on the hook. The World is full of people looking to avoid it or give it to someone else. They’re worried about the downside. The World sells downside.

It can go bad when you’re on the hook, and it might be your fault. Even if it isn’t your fault, you may take the fall. 

That’s the downside — this might not work, and you might suffer.  

That’s the ontology of the hook.

But what’s the alternative?

Someone needs to be on the hook, whether it’s your country, your church, your company, your over-40 hockey team, your kids, or the guy looking back at you in the mirror.  

Next time the hook comes around, grab it and get on it.

My wife and I have a little inside joke we use when one of us relates a story about someone unknown to the other, and that person’s age may be relevant.

It goes like this:

“If she hears the word “bizarre,” does she think strange or church bake sale?”

Because, of course, bizarre and bazaar sound the same when spoken. If you think church bake sale, you immediately give yourself away as “older.” 

The bizarre/bazaar homophone is an overt flag that helps us understand the person, their perspective, and the context of the conversation. 

If we pay attention, these little overt perspective flags fill our culture — tribe affiliation, bumper stickers, masks, hairstyle, clothing, car, yard signs, social media posts, music, etc.

We explicitly, if not always purposefully, use each of these flags to identify and communicate something about ourselves and our perspective. 

But what about the hidden flags? What parts of our perspective do you and I try to keep hidden or maybe only show in specific company? 

It may be harder to discern another’s hidden perspective flags, but it’s worth the effort. Because if you and I have these hidden parts, so does everyone.

The person standing at the front of the room has the power.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing. This model provides plenty of efficiencies for the collective in the room — information dissemination, entertainment, teaching, legal judgment, etc.

But the only reason that person has the power is the people sitting in the rows agreed to relinquish it. If you wanted to, you could instantly arrest that power.

It’s just a decision to disagree.

Simple pleasures is a cliche. A nostalgic throwback reserved for the get-off-my-lawn generation. 

What kid wants to play with sticks and leaves if they have an iPad? Physically going to the store? How quaint. Why would we play a board game when we have access to MOMGs?

Every once in a while, if you’re lucky enough to be present and paying attention, a simple pleasure will strike deep within your soul and burn itself into the zeitgeist of your being.

And it makes you a better version of yourself. 

It’s easier to google it, but is it better?
It’s easier to order Door Dash, but is it better?
It’s easier to vote straight-ticket, but is it better?
It’s easier to stick with your current job, but is it better?

Often it is both. That’s a win. With the thousands of choices we make every day, we must outsource to easier in most cases. Our energy budget requires it.

Sometimes, however, the path that takes more time, effort, or emotional risk pays off in spades. The stories from your personal journey that you remember and shape who you are today rarely include the easier path.

Sometimes harder is better. The key is to spend your limited energy budget on those times.

The planet just crossed 8 billion.

I was born in 1969, so I’ve been alive for all of the billion milestones since we crossed 4 billion in 1974. In my time here, our population has doubled.

I can’t help but think about the wide range of differing views on childbearing we encounter today. Some believe that procreation is our fundamental human purpose and the ultimate gift. Others believe that having kids today is irresponsible, and how dare we. Some don’t give it much thought at all. Still, others would sacrifice anything to participate. 

With 8 billion people come 8 billion opinions. Diversity is a gift. Creative tension is inevitable. Discourse is helpful. 

To filter and make sense of those 8 billion opinions, we find our tribe and use labels. However, let’s not waste the gift of 8 billion humans by allowing the tribes to set the agenda and define the labels. 

Wherever you find yourself today, thank a fellow human. Because without the two that came before you, there would be no you.

Our youngest son recently registered his summer landscaping business as a Limited Liability Corporation. The process is simple and, dare I say, convenient — a couple of clicks, electronically pay a fee of $125 with your credit card, done. 

It took us about 20 minutes on Sunday at 7:30 am.

Then we tried to register an EIN number. Stymied. One can only submit the internet EIN application on a weekday during normal business hours.

The travesty! How inconvenient!

Isn’t the internet 24x7x365?

Life today is more convenient than it was ten years ago. Life ten years ago was more convenient than life 50 years ago. And so on.

Many of the largest companies are built around convenience.  
Whole industries exist to provide convenience. 
Some of the biggest technological advances are fundamentally about convenience.

But…

Convenience can skew perspective.
Convenience can foster entitlement.
Convenience can serve as a proxy for choice. 
Convenience can disconnect us from each other.
Convenience can disconnect us from our basic human-ness.

Convenience makes life existentially better, but let’s not forget the price.

Skilled plumbers don’t consider handy homeowners with a workshop full of tools a threat.
Skilled baristas don’t consider home espresso machines a threat.
Skilled software developers don’t consider offshoring a threat.
Skilled surgeons don’t consider machine-learning robots a threat.
Skilled artists don’t consider Fiverr a threat. 
Skilled teachers don’t consider Udemy a threat.

Technology, cheaper labor, and democratized platforms do and will continue to affect job market dynamics. 

There is, however, a path to bulletproof yourself. That path travels through “skilled.”

So what does skilled mean?

It means “good at what you do,” yes, but it also means adaptable, unique, proactive, responsible, caring, curious, current, and willing.

Are you willing to jump down out of the stands and get into the ring with the bull?

You control your level of skill. 

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”

Matthew 5:7

When you have the upper hand, you have a choice. You can show mercy or not.

If you choose not to, you may be “right,” and no one may blame you. The law may be on your side. The smart people may be on your side. The tribe may be on your side.

Choosing mercy brings risk. It exposes you to emotional danger. It might come back to bite you. It might not work.

But when have you been shown mercy? How did it make you feel? How did it work out for you?

Isn’t that a tradeoff worth making?

I received a compelling advertisement for a new internet service provider, which almost worked. But alas, it failed in step 2 because the friction was too much to overcome. 

I don’t need a new ISP, nor was I actively looking for one. But the advertisement offered more at a much better price. Eyebrow raised.

Step 1 check — advertisement compelling enough to overcome the friction of entertaining a change.

So I called the number provided. Step 2 engaged.

“I’m not interested in the $9/month equipment rental fee. I will provide my own. Can you confirm for me what I need?”

“Oh, sir, we don’t recommend that approach.”

“Is it possible?”

“Yes. You will need to do your own research.”

“OK. Now I want to confirm the details of the offer. My ad says 500 Mbps at an introductory price of $39.99 per month.”

“Hmmm…I’m showing that the cheapest offer to your address is 100 Mbps for $54.99 per month.”

“Can you tell me what is the price of 500 Mbps?”

“I show that as $44.99 per month.”

“OK, thanks for your time. We’re done here.”

Unfortunately, they never got a chance to delight (or annoy) me in step 3 — installation. I was primed and ready to change, but the friction became too much to overcome.  

If you’re trying to compel change, whether a service, habit, or belief, make sure all steps of your process focus on overcoming friction. 

I suspect some people are exhausted.

The World provides almost infinite channels to source and vent your outrage. You can consume and generate outrage from the moment you open your eyes till the moment you close them again. 

Like your checking account, your outrage budget is finite and limited. Unlike your checking account, you have no overdraft protection. 

You have principles, things you care deeply about, and people you love. Spending your limited outrage budget defending these is a righteous investment. You’ll never overdraft that budget if you’re the one deciding how to spend it. 

The tribes, however, require your outrage. Your outrage is the energy that allows them to gain power, grow, and keep power — and that’s all they care about. The tribe doesn’t care about your principles, the things you care deeply about, or the people you love. They care about their own power. 

They use emotionally charged terminology such as anti-democratic and anti-free speech to ignite your outrage. Once you’ve lost control of your own outrage budget, overdrafting is all but assured. 

Just make sure that you know who is setting the agenda for your outrage. Is it you, or is it a tribe?

A popular mantra in the personal development world is “Fail Forward.”

Basically, it means to experiment your way to success. With a proper mindset, one can use failure as a tool, like any other tool, and learning how to use it will help you be successful. 

“Ok, I was wrong here. I’ll analyze that to find out why and what I’ll do differently next time.”

Being wrong is also valuable for scientists and engineers. Start with a hypothesis or a design and start experimenting. Modify accordingly through the process — the scientific method in practice. 

“Ah, I see. I was wrong here. Here’s what I’ll change and try again.”

Being wrong is a gift as long as the person a) admits it and b) is willing to change accordingly. 

Can we apply this same theory of being wrong at the institutional, community, and political levels and enjoy the same benefits?

What if, rather than entrenching in either side’s ideological outrage, we admit where we were wrong, admit what we still don’t know, and modify accordingly? 

Doing so will take less outrage, more empathy, and the courage to expose oneself to emotional danger (willing to admit it and willing to change accordingly).

Let’s not waste the gift of being wrong. 

You will piss someone off…

If you put yourself on the hook. 
If you speak up.
If you make a decision.
If you create something.
If you try something that might not work.

It’s not a question of whether you will piss someone off. Someone will always be pissed off. 

The question is who?

One aspect of freedom is that we can choose who it’s for — our voice, our creation, our intention. Sometimes that’s a hard, fuzzy, or implicit decision. 

But you can easily eliminate one entire group: the spectators. It’s never for the spectators. It’s only ever for those in the ring with the bull, like you. 

When you’re struggling with having upset someone, first decide if they’re a spectator or down in the ring with you. 

I’m normally reasonably proud of where I live.

Not right now. Because right now, I live in a clown state.

Here’s what I get: “What is the deal with Oz and Fetterman? And that Mastriano…Is this the best we can do?” And those words are usually accompanied by appropriately astonished or exasperated body language.

Those of us who live here have the same comments and discussions. Each conversation ended with a slight head shake and baffled look.

Both sides, by the way. Reasonable, thinking, caring people from both sides.

How does this happen?

We allow the teams to set the narrative.
The narrative is always good versus evil.
We vote for the team rather than the person.

Where’s the ringmaster? Send in the clowns.

In eastern Pennsylvania, we’re currently in my favorite season.

For about two weeks each year, my lunchtime outdoor workouts are awash in the multitude of autumn colors. The surrounding hills are dominated by yellow but with just enough orange and red to stand out spectacularly. The air is crisp, but the sun is warm.

It’s coming, though.

Soon the hills will be a dreary brown, the air cold and heavy, and the sun will have lost its warming touch.

Winter is coming.

Mercifully, in a few months, the brown gives way to green, the air lightens, and the sun once again warms the skin. The dreary winter is over, and spring has begun.

One of the best things about eastern Pennsylvania is we can count on all four seasons. Although the timing and intensity may vary slightly from year to year, the arc of each is generally the same. Whichever is your favorite, you’ll get enough of it. Whichever is your least favorite, you’ll get enough of that, also.

These seasons are a metaphor for the seasons in our lives. Maybe they’re not as regular, or one outlasts another, but we’re constantly moving through one to another. However, unlike the earth’s seasons, our personal seasons are internal, intimate, and hidden. One cannot look at another and know their season.

The next time the person across the table makes you angry, confused, or hurt, start by trying to understand their season. Do the same when you look in the mirror.

Christian with MAGA.
Muslim with terrorist.
Democrat with socialist.
Republican with fascist.
Rich with selfish.
Poor with entitled.
Rural with dumb.
City with weak.

We like to label, generalize, and categorize. It helps us make sense of our world. 

It also helps us find our people. Since our people are smart, good, and right, those others must be dumb, bad, and wrong. 

But then The World slides in and conflates the labels. 

A mile from our house is a stoplight at the corner of two country roads. It works strictly on a time-based cycle, 24×7. No controlling sensors.

During the day, it’s no big deal because the intersection sees enough traffic that the cycle doesn’t feel off.  

However, it’s maddening late at night. 

Last night we came home late (for us). As we approached, the green turned yellow and then red. For no reason! Ours was the only car around for miles.

What would you do?

Here’s what I did and what I always do at this intersection late at night: First, I cursed to let the universe know what I thought of this travesty. Then, I stopped, looked both ways, and blew through the light. 

Maybe your parents, like mine, instilled the sense of doing the right thing, even when nobody is watching. We’ve worked to instill this in our kids as well. It’s biblical. 

But what is the right thing?

One way to look at it is that the law says you gotta stop and wait. So do it. Black and white. 

Another way is to look at the intention. The purpose of this law is to regulate the flow of traffic safely. If no traffic exists to regulate, no traffic regulator is necessary.

Now think through this again, but replace “stoplight laws” with any other law. The letter of the law is important, but so is intention. 

Another mega-inspiration behind The250 is Bari Weiss’s Common Sense newsletter and her companion podcast Honestly. Want some plain-ole clear thinking and honest questions about what’s happening in the world today? That’s your place. 

By far, the most entertaining output from Common Sense is each Friday’s TGIF, written by Bari’s wife, Nellie Bowles. 

As I’ve stated before, the purpose of The250 is to encourage empathy through opening new perspectives. I don’t do much overt call-to-action because the whole point is that most of our lives are complex and nuanced.

Except “Turn off the news!!” I am unabashed with that one.

In a recent edition, Nellie published real-world data to fuel the fire of my campaign slogan, “Turn off the news!!”

Here’re some graphs that show the emotional trends of news headlines from 2000 until now. Note the full spectrum of news sources as part of the data.

As I suspected.

I will point out one issue, however: the Y-Axis scales on each chart are not the same (as I’ve pointed out with the red boxes). This is the kind of misinformation trickery that sides use to magnify and hyperbolize their point. It has happened here, but the overall results are not skewed.

Do note that the downward trend of “joy” and “neutral” would not appear as drastic as shown if the scales were identical.  

Regardless, turn off the news. 

You know it’s coming, and you can’t stop it.

Of course, you’re not looking forward to it, but it’s more than an abstract discomfort because you’ve been here before. You’ve already walked this road. You’ve been to this destination. You know how this ends.

And it sucks. Deeply and truly.

On these days, how do you show up in the world?

Do you push it behind a facade or wear your heart on your sleeve? Are you able to function normally? Do you appear largely unaffected but in moments of weakness, the emotions escape (and the regrets pile up)? Do you play the victim, or do you victimize?

Luckily, we don’t experience the existential threat of impending doom every day. The doom moments come and go like seasons.

When you look across the table, aisle, or office, it’s worth considering what season your fellow humans might be experiencing.

Consensus is the best approach for many decisions.

How will we govern ourselves?
What are our rules of engagement?
How do we want to spend our resources?
What is the wording we should use in our statement of faith?

Consensus is malleable, adaptable, and follows directly from the group’s constituents — we agree to this at this point in time (even if we don’t all like it). The makeup of the group matters. The moment in time matters.

But consensus does not equate to truth.

Truth is immutable. Hard to come by, hard to understand, hard to hear (sometimes). Truth is not subject to any constituents. One hundred percent of a group may agree to a “truth,” and they all might be wrong.

The truth can easily make us uncomfortable. Therefore, we lay our heads on the soft pillow of consensus. Unfortunately, that pillow isn’t always so soft.

If you arrest an immigrant drug dealer, our consensus is you’re a racist.
If you’ve had an abortion, our consensus is you’re going to hell.
If you do not market the narrative, our consensus is you’re knowingly promoting disinformation.

These statements may be true, but what makes them true is not consensus.

Groups are constantly conflating truth and consensus through black-and-white assertions. Doing so gives them power and helps their members feel smart, right, and comfortable.

But you’re smarter than that.

Have you ever had a moment where sitting, observing, or simply taking a large cleansing breath led to an overwhelming sense of contentment?

Sometimes we need to be the vessel.

Have you ever had a moment where grinding, sweating, and never giving up led to an overwhelming sense of contentment?

Sometimes we need to be the hands.

I need Dr. Rick.

According to my adult children, Progressive Insurance bases the entire Dr. Rick series on me. They just assume a reality TV film crew follows me around all day to source the material for the next barely-fictionalized Dr. Rick insurance advertisement. 

They cringe at what I might say to the restaurant server or the tradesman working at my house. They roll their eyes and steal glances at each other as I extoll the virtues of defense on championship teams or getting to the airport early. 

And blue hair? Are you kidding me? There is exactly one reason to dye your hair blue — to elicit comments.

I’m that guy. I’m the cliche.

(Although, I do have one shred of vanity. You’ll never catch me in these.) 

My kids are horrified, but I’m OK with it because I’ve earned it. Yes, I’m a bit stodgy and predictable. I get excited about mundane things. I try to head off future problems. I sometimes find value in over-communicating. I’ve been there. Done that. Got the T-Shirt.

I’m also OK with it because I’m no longer trying to fit in with some curated group of people. I don’t need to be the cool dad or the young, old guy. I’m just gonna be myself — the cliche.

What cliche have you become? Are you OK with it?

One thing I’ve learned from over fifty years on this earth is that the path to success is littered with breadcrumbs.  

A bajillion books, online courses, and coaches exist to help you and me figure out how to follow those breadcrumbs. Lots of people will happily take our money to get us to that magical land of success. 

“Follow us and we’ll teach you exactly how to get where you want to go!”

But the proper question isn’t how. It’s who.

Who makes people feel the way you want to make people feel?
Who shows up in the world the way you want to show up in the world?
Whose perspective is the perspective you want?

Maybe the breadcrumbs we need to follow aren’t leading us down the path of how. Maybe they’re leading us to who. 

It’s obviously campaign season. One knows this because the yard signs are everywhere.

Most times, the purpose of advertising is an overt, clear, transactional call to action — buy this, travel here, hire me.

But the purpose of political yard signs is more subtle. Yard signs announce one’s tribe affiliation.

“This is the team that I align with. You should too.”
“Wanna be my friend? You should vote for this person.”
“This is the person that sees the world the way I do. The right way. If you want to see the world the right way, this is your person.”
“I’m a smart person, and this is my candidate. The other candidate is for dumb people.”

Quite frankly, political yard signs confuse me.

Yes, crime is surging in some areas.  
Yes, sex education has gone off the mainstream path in certain places.
Yes, some from the extreme right and left could plausibly be labeled anti-democratic.
Yes, the climate is changing.
Yes, many have died from complications associated with COVID.  
Yes, inflation is up. 

But what has been your personal experience?

The World is trying to anger you and make you afraid. It does so because its currency is attention, and the more angry and afraid you are, the more attention you give it. 

Attention-grabbing headlines aren’t about awareness or public service. They’re about sales.
Attention-grabbing headlines aren’t meant to help you. They’re meant to make you crazy. 
Attention-grabbing headlines don’t solve problems. They create more problems. 

You probably have personally experienced one or more of the issues the headlines scream about. But has a headline ever helped you deal with it?

Personal experience isn’t everything when it comes to solving big problems, but it sure can help when deciding how to spend one’s limited budget of worry. 

The250 has many inspirations. One of the most important is Seth Godin’s daily. Do yourself a favor and subscribe.

I came across one of his old posts that’s been spinning around my head since I read it. Here’s the part that struck me:

“Most of all, great stories agree with our world view. The best stories don’t teach people anything new. Instead, the best stories agree with what the audience already believes and makes the members of the audience feel smart and secure when reminded how right they were in the first place.”

– Seth Godin

The base purpose of The250 is to open up new perspectives, i.e., new worldviews. Help people to think about things from a new point of view. Specifically to increase empathy for those who engage. 

I think of it as helping someone walk in the shoes of another. 

Storytelling is the main technique used, but how do I fuse the technique with the purpose given? They seem to be at odds.

Right, that’s usually the question. 

Every day we’re presented with 100’s if not 1000’s of tradeoffs. Most we don’t think much about.

Creamer or black?
Running shoes or slippers?
Scrolling through Instagram or reading a book?

These are true black and white, this or that tradeoffs. As singular tradeoffs, they don’t move the needle much. But stack them up over time, day after day, and they result in progress in some direction. 

Are you happy with the direction you’re going?

The tradeoffs we do think about, care about and ruminate over help us find our tribes.

Less privacy for better national security?
Higher taxes for a government-funded addiction program?
Higher grocery bills for a healthier food supply?

Although marketed by the tribe as black and white, this or that tradeoffs, they aren’t really. It’s not that simple. These tradeoffs are nuanced, grey, and the best answer is only the best answer for a particular tribe. 

In these cases, the tribes are in control of the direction. Are you happy with the direction your tribe is going?

Which of these types of tradeoffs do you have more control over? Which should get more of your brain power?

A plane crashed because the crew didn’t honor the pre-flight checklist.
A student failed the test because she didn’t study the provided materials.
A manager made the wrong priority call because one of the team members neglected to update his status on the Trello board. 

And also…

A plane crashed because the pre-flight checklist didn’t cover the piece that failed.
A student failed the test because she couldn’t access the required materials.
A manager made the wrong priority call because some required work was not shown on the Trello board.  

Our systems both solve and cause many of our problems, and when something goes wrong, we often debate whether the problem is with the human or the system. 

First, we must recognize that a system only works if the people respect it and work within it. We have some level of human culpability within the system.

At the same time, if the system is not producing the desired outcomes (regardless of its correctness), we must ignore or, better yet, rise above it. Only then can a new and better system result.

Even when a system exists, we must always ask ourselves, “Is this a good system? Can we improve it? How can we make it easier to follow?”

It seems to me that getting better at teaching, creating, questioning, and improving systems might be one of the best educational investments we could ever make.

The World is trying to convince you that you deserve the A+ life and that you are a failure if you don’t get it. 

What is the A+ life? 

• Rich enough to build and launch your own spacecraft
• Healthy enough to live to 120
• Happy enough to have zero regrets
• Important enough to need a helicopter and private jet
• Beautiful enough that people fawn over you
• Successful enough that everyone knows your name

You deserve it.

The travesty of the hyperbolic A+ life sales pitch is that it has the opposite effect. 

“If I’m not the best, what’s the point?”

Here is the point:  having enough, contributing enough, and being enough doesn’t require sitting at the top of ~7.5 billion people or even in the top 1%.

Maybe you, or I, will never be the best at anything external, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have value to offer. Nor does it mean you can’t be wildly happy and content, i.e., successful. 

The secret is striving for the B+ life.

Not mediocre. Excelling at your life. Caring about the people in your life. Adding value in something that you care about. Letting the headlines go. 

How do you get there? 

You focus on Your World and stop worrying about The World. 

Let the A+ life go. It’s not for you. 

The New York Times bestseller list is labeled incorrectly. Actually, it’s an outright lie.

The bestsellers list doesn’t track the books that have sold the most copies. It turns out that making this list is less about math and more about curation.

“Here are the books and authors that are (pre)selling well, we like, and fit into our view of the world. We think you should read these.”

If you, like me, look at this list to find your next book, how does that make you feel?

The engineer in me is pissed at the blatant truth-bending. Because, of course, the NYT know that they are lying. They could have just as easily and more accurately labeled it “NYT Great Books” list. 

But does it matter?

As a younger man, I would definitely have said, “Yes, it matters.” Because that younger me saw the world as black and white, right and wrong, and this is wrong.  

The current me, however, is better at understanding the nuance. Understanding the grey. Understanding the importance, purpose, and advantage of the grey. 

Does it really matter if the title of this list is bending the truth?

I don’t think so. At least in a case like this. I probably am happier with a curated list anyway. 

What if, however, we weren’t talking about books? What if the list was tracking COVID deaths, votes, or taxes?

Sometimes it matters.

Continuing the series on real-life versions of the trolley problem. Today we tackle self-driving cars, and we’ll add a third choice. 

(Note: The AI in the self-driving car is the actor, i.e., the one making the decision, but the responsibility for the decision would land on the programmers. I am a software developer. This one hits home.)

A pedestrian steps into the road in front of your driverless car with four passengers. Veering left means hitting an oncoming vehicle with an unknown number of passengers, and veering right means hitting a telephone pole. You have the following three options:

1. Do nothing and kill the pedestrian. All passengers in both cars live.
2. Veer left and kill all of the passengers in the oncoming vehicle and two of the passengers in yours. The pedestrian and two passengers live.
3. Veer right and kill all of the passengers in your vehicle. The pedestrian and passengers in the oncoming vehicle live.

What is the right thing to do?

Let’s add nuance.

What if the pedestrian was a mother pushing a stroller?
What if the passengers in the oncoming vehicle were murderers racing to escape the scene?
What if they were children on the way to school?
What if the pedestrian was a homeless drug user under the influence?
What if the passengers in your vehicle were all over 70 years old?
What if there was only one passenger in the oncoming vehicle?
What if the passengers in your vehicle are your wife and children?

Continuing the series on real-life versions of the trolley problem. Today I posit the trolley problem around government hostage negotiations.

A terrorist group has taken a group of five American tourists as hostages in a foreign country. They will kill them unless the US provides a cache of military weapons as ransom. These weapons will be used against a village of 60 local residents. You are the US president, and you must make a decision. You have two options:

1. Do nothing, and the hostages will die. The local residents will live.
2. Trade the weapons for the hostages, and they will live. The local residents will now die at the hands of the terrorist group.

What is the right thing to do?

Let’s add nuance.

What if one of the hostages was your brother?
What if the hostages weren’t tourists but government representatives?
What if the local residents were religious fundamentalists?
What if the local residents were democratic and American-friendly?
What if one of the local residents was famous in that country?
What if one of the hostages was famous in America?
What if the village population included 30 children?
What if the village population included American missionaries?
What if you had a friendly relationship with the terrorist group leader?
What if you could trade the weapons, and nobody would find out?
What if the hostage group contained members of the competing political party?
What if you had to personally deliver the cache of weapons?

Continuing the series on real-life versions of the trolley problem. Today we wrap a trolley problem around abortion.

A pregnant woman’s life is in danger. If she continues to carry the baby, she will die. If she aborts the baby, she will live. She is currently incoherent, and you must make the decision. You have two options:

1. Do nothing, and she will die. The baby will live.
2. Abort the baby, and the baby will die. She will live.

What is the right thing to do?

Let’s add nuance.

What if the pregnancy was an accident, and the woman doesn’t want the baby?
What if the chances of the woman dying are less than 100%?
What if the baby has Spina Bifida?
What if the baby is a result of rape?
What if the woman is your wife?
What if the woman has other children and abuses them?
What if the woman is a prostitute?
What if the woman is a heroin addict and the baby will be born addicted?
What if the baby is actually babies — twins?

I love the trolley problem.

I love it because it’s a simple thought experiment that uncovers the complexity of real-life ethical dilemmas. It’s lose-lose, no matter what we pick. We are guilty, whether or not we took action. 

Although studied deeply at a personal level in academia, the trolley problem is also a dilemma for leadership — community, company, nation, beer-league hockey team, whatever. Most times, when leadership makes a decision, some will benefit, and others will suffer.

As a leader, how do we determine which of the two non-ideal outcomes is better? And as a member of the group, how do we show empathy towards leadership and the other members?  

Here is the original construct:

A runaway trolley is barreling down the tracks. Ahead, on the tracks, five people are tied up. You are standing next to a lever. If you pull this lever, the trolley will switch to a different track. However, you notice a single person on the other track. You have two options:

1. Do nothing. The five people die. 
2. Pull the lever, diverting the trolley. One person dies.

What is the right thing to do?

The answer seems straightforward here, but it gets fuzzier if we add some nuance. For example, what if the five people were convicted murderers and the single person was a young mother?

Over the next several daily posts, I will posit real-life versions of this dilemma, hoping to provoke thought and increase empathy for all involved. 

How many customers do you need?
How many days of Paid Time Off do you currently have?
How many burgers do we need to serve at the picnic?
How many friends will make you happy?
How many front desk workers will be required?
How many Instagram followers will make you an influencer?
How many credits do you need to graduate?
How many simultaneous users do you need to support?
How many minutes of scrolling through Facebook is too much?

So many times we get caught up in the complexity of the situation. The “who, what, where, why, and how” wraps us in a deadlock.

Sometimes we should start with the “how many” question. It’s simple and can be effective.

“How many” doesn’t answer all of the questions, but it does remove one of the variables. This helps us bound the problem and points us in a direction.

If you’re struggling with a big and complex problem, try asking the “how many” question.

You got a bonus. You deserve this shiny new black truck.
You got a raise. You deserve a little something for yourself.
You work hard. You deserve to take that vacation.
You’re a great worker. You deserve a raise.
You’re tired. You deserve to be pampered.
You’re a good person. You deserve a good life.

“You deserve it” is a powerful sales pitch that hits deep in our core. Marketers know this and use it because it works. It works because if we deserve it, we’re rightfully getting what is ours. If we rightfully get what is ours, we satisfy our internal sense of justice.

“I got a new truck and justice has been done!”

But that’s all it is — a sales pitch.

Don’t conflate “I deserve” with “I desire.”

I am easily fooled, especially by this question. 

I don’t think of it that way, of course. But that’s the bald-faced truth. 

The perpetrator of the lies is none other than Myself — my ego, my vanity, my desires. Many times the biggest lies are spun around spending my money. 

The saying goes, “You gotta spend money to make money.” That’s true sometimes. You can’t get paid to cut lawns without a lawn mower. 

“There is no more profitable investment than investing in yourself.” Also, right on point. You can’t be a cyclist without a bicycle, and you can’t be a doctor without a college degree. 

When presented with a financial choice, especially a large one, I often frame it as a question: Is it an investment?

I feel better if Myself can convince myself that, yes, this is an investment because an investment is worth the cost. 

But is it true?

Or, if it’s partially true, do I need this particular thing with the extra gobbledygook, and hence the extra cost? 

Myself is conniving and like The World, is very good at getting what it wants. But the better I get at recognizing Myself in the equation, the better I get at making decisions.

What’s the question that Yourself uses to fool you?

Don’t taxi to the runway until you’ve run the pre-flight checklist. You may crash.
Don’t scale the cliff without ensuring your partner has the belay. You may fall.
Don’t forget to double-check the trailer connections. You may cause an accident.

But also…

Don’t volunteer to give the presentation. You may embarrass yourself.
Don’t start a business. You may fail.
Don’t take responsibility. You may get blamed.

Better safe than sorry is sometimes good advice. But it’s not universally good advice.

It’s fat bear week. Who knew?

The bear is hungry. 

Searching for food, she comes upon Jack and Jerry cutting wood in the forest. Jack and Jerry spot the bear, glance at each other in terror, and …

Meritocracy

They take off running in the same direction.  

The bear immediately follows. At 25 yards, Jack has fallen behind. Jack is slower, or tripped on a root, or turned to look. 

At 50 yards, the bear overcomes Jack and satisfies her hunger.  

Luck

They take off running in different directions.  

The bear makes a split-second decision and follows Jerry. Maybe she thinks Jerry looks juicier. Maybe she locked her eyes on him because he had a red shirt. Maybe she’s right-handed.

At 50 yards, the bear overcomes Jerry and satisfies her hunger.  

Natural Selection

Jack pulls out his bear spray, and Jerry pulls out his gun.

As the bear charges, they stay together. When she is 25 feet away, Jack unleashes the fog of capsaicin, which stops her in her tracks, dazed and confused. 

Jerry raises his gun, takes aim, and finishes the job.

God 

Jack and Jerry freeze as she spots them.  

She prowls forward, teeth bared, maneuvering left and right to keep them in front. At 30 feet, she stops and rears back to begin the final rush. When she reaches full height, front legs in the air, a percussive blast from 100 yards away fills the air. 

The bear cries out and falls where she is.

I guess Elon’s gonna get it after all. 

What would you do with it if you got it?

If you’re a Twitter user, you probably have some ideas about what’s wrong or right with the platform.

“Twitter hasn’t gone far enough. It needs to crack down even more on misinformation, trolls, and idiots like Trump. Free speech doesn’t mean hate speech or misinformation.”

“Twitter has gone too far. It needs to stop blocking certain topics and people. Free speech is foundational, critical to a free society, and required to protect us from misinformation and Big Brother.”

Most of us are fantastic armchair quarterbacks, philosophers, and CEOs. We rant and rave and nod around the circle in agreement (with our tribe), but the nice comfy armchair offers the ultimate protection from risk.

We’re not on the hook. 

We can’t make a difference because we can’t fail. We can’t fail because we’re not in the ring with the bull. We’re still up in the stands or out in the parking lot. 

I don’t know what Elon will do with Twitter. I don’t really care, either. But regardless, I respect him and anybody that jumps down from the stands into the ring with the bull. 

You and I don’t have to be a billionaire, president, or world-renowned expert to make a difference in Our World. 

We just have to put ourselves on the hook, get out of our comfort zone, and be willing to expose ourselves to risk. 

“No one can serve two masters.”

Matthew 6:24a

Pre-internet, social media, and smartphones, The News (newspaper, TV, radio, etc.) successfully served two masters: 1) information dissemination to the public and 2) making money for the shareholders. But the ability to serve two masters is fraught.

It worked for a time because of the scarcity of news sources. Scarcity allowed them to curate information for a large audience. They were the gatekeepers, and there weren’t many of them. Like the information they were reporting, The News was itself an event. 

Our new connected paradigm, however, has thrown a turd into the punchbowl. They’ve lost their hold on scarcity. Consequently, no longer can The News successfully serve the two masters. They’ve had to choose one.

Really, they had no choice.

Now The News finds itself in full-scale nuclear war to win over eyes, ears, and hearts. A more angry or frightened audience equals more money. A rabid us versus them mentality equals more money. Sorting the community into the smart tribe and the dumb tribe equals more money. 

To answer the question, “Did you see the news?” you must decide if you’re willing to sacrifice your emotional well-being as collateral damage in a war you didn’t sign up for.

The typical everyday player in the MLB plays 150 games over a 26.5 week season and has 4.2 plate appearances per game. That’s a total of 630 plate appearances for the season.

The average batting average of hall of famers is .303, which equates to 7.2 hits per week based on 630 plate appearances per season(*).

If a player hits just one less weekly, that’s 6.2 per week, equating to an average of 0.258. Only three non-pitchers in the hall of fame have less than a 0.260 batting average, and they were exceptional in other ways.   

The difference between a hall of famer and an all-but-forgotten player is one hit per week (or less).

Let that sink in.

One hit per week.

How much effort over how much time would it take you to average one more hit per week?

Is it worth it? Only you can answer that.

* (Technical note: Plate appearances are not the same as at-bats. But using PAs in this calculation is worst case. If we use ABs, it gets even crazier)

A common saying in business, particularly retail, is, “The customer is always right.”

The original purpose was internal. It was an easy and powerful message to those working on your team.

“We are here to delight our customers. You will delight us by delighting our customers. Also a warning: we will choose them over you if you make us.”

Seems like a noble goal.

However, the cat got out of the bag. Now customers know and try to use it for their benefit. We’ve all seen a surly or childish knucklehead mistreating the front-line worker in the name of “the customer is always right.”

But that’s an easy one to refute. If the customer is being an asshole, most businesses would not automatically defer. Nor should they.

The customer may not be right in other more important situations as well. If you are building a product or running a business, ask yourself, “who is this for?”

For every customer that isn’t on that list, they won’t be right.

Will you serve vegan options in your southern BBQ restaurant?
Will your manufacturing company build custom items or off-the-shelf only?
Will your accounting firm serve individuals or other businesses?

You get to decide who your customer is. Delight them and respectfully forget the rest.

Alan Turing is generally considered the father of Artificial Intelligence based on his work in abstracting and defining a machine that can learn from experience. He also devised the famous Turing Test, which we can use to distinguish between person and machine. 

Recently, I’ve seen a lot of fear-mongering over whether AI will become sentient and take over.

It won’t, don’t worry. At least not in its current form. 

Computers are much better than humans at some things — large data sets, calculations, pattern matching, feedback, and control — but a machine cannot think, at least not the way we humans do. 

Much like we can fly in an airplane, but we still can’t fly. Not really. Not like a bird does. 

“But now AI can read emotions and react.”

Reading emotions is mathematical pattern-matching, not emotional intellect.

“AI is now creative and generating art.”

DALL-E is a cool AI that can create images from a text string. However, is it art without intention, a message, or purpose? DALL-E isn’t trying to say anything with its images. It’s just assembling from a pre-existent database of images based on its programming rules.

I’m not worried AI will become sentient and take over. I worry about what certain humans do with this AI — controlling attention, creating division, deep fakes, gaming the system, etc. 

Why do they use AI like this? Incentives.

Point your worry in the right direction. 

If you’re young, you’ve run up against it. If you’re “more experienced,” you’ve likely said it.

Is it useful?

In my current professional role, my team and I are agents of change. Specifically, our job is to help our company work better by implementing innovative and modern practices. However, our industry and company are a bit stodgy.

We have our work cut out for us. Change is not always welcome, especially when, “But this is the way we’ve always done it!”

The person or collective first needs to be heard. If you come at them like “my way or the highway,” you’ve lost before you start. Always start by listening.

“Not invented here” is a powerful emotion. Some people’s methods and tools are homegrown. They built them, and they like them specifically because they built them. The best strategy here is to lead with acknowledgment.

The disconnection between what people do and what they say can be stark and surprising. We must watch what they do, not so much what they say. In this situation, always use show and tell.

The old way may be better. Our job is to evaluate our proposed changes against the current methodologies. That evaluation must be fair and self-aware. Just because we have a new way doesn’t mean it’s a better way.

Fundamentally, “the way we’ve always done it” is about belief. When trying to implement change, whether in an organization, an individual, or yourself, start with understanding beliefs.

I’m a green personality, which means I believe I’m a tough sell, shop with my spreadsheet rather than my heart, and generally have little interest in salespeople and their pitches. 

However, I also (begrudgingly) know that this is bullshit. I’m every bit as susceptible to the right sales pitch as the next guy. Recently I proved it to myself yet again.

My car, which went into the shop for routine service and safety inspection, was now stuck there with thousands of dollars in repairs necessary to extract it. I had a choice to make — pay the exorbitant fee for my car, or take this nice, cushy alternative that was presented to me.

The soft pillow option was a new car.

I was just a pawn in their game. I knew it, and I was powerless against my own emotions. 

I wanted the new car. My old car had 120k+ miles, was six years old, and was now boring. I liked it, but I really liked the new one.

So I went into rationalization mode. 

“The new one has 27k miles. That’s better.”
“The new one is newer. That’s better.”
“The new one has a warranty. That’s better.”
“The new one is a car, not an SUV. That’s better.”
“The new one is blue, not black. That’s better.”
“The new one is fancy. That’s better.”

Rationalization complete. I bent my thinking to my emotions and drove home in a new car.

I’m sure I do it every time. 

We are presented with dozens of make versus buy decisions every day.

Some are for convenience.

Make dinner or go out?
If we make dinner, will we make the chili lime marinade from scratch or buy premade?

Some are financial.

Should we hire a painter or paint the cabinets ourselves?
If we do it ourselves, should we refurbish the door pulls, or should we buy new ones?

Some are emotional.

Do you want to make charcuterie boards for Christmas presents or buy something?
If we make the boards, should I cut the wood from the trees we just took down or use planks from the hardware store?

Some are capability-based.

Should we hire roofers or replace the roof ourselves?
If we do it ourselves, should we borrow a truck and get the shingles, or should we have them delivered?

In our culture, we can buy (or hire) just about everything and need to make very little ourselves. Thank God. I would never want to go back to a time when I needed to make most or all of the stuff I use daily.

Most of the time, whether you made it or bought it, you haven’t moved the needle much.

However, every once in a while, the decision to make pays off in spades. You learn something new, connect with someone new, or connect with yourself in a new way.

You could choose to stay in your house or apartment all the time.

Amazon and Door Dash. Work from home. Netflix. Only venture out when absolutely necessary. Mask on. Keep your distance. Never expose yourself to physical danger.

Is that living, or is that existing?

You could choose to stay in your comfort zone.

Go with what you know. Get a safe job. Stay. Only make a change if a change has been forced on you. Immediately find the quickest path back to your comfort zone. Say “no” to anything new or challenging. Never expose yourself to emotional danger.

Is that living, or is that existing?

As much as I wish it weren’t so, I see no other way to a life worth living without exposing oneself to physical and emotional danger. Physical and emotional injuries are coming. Regardless of how good you are at staying safe.

When I look in the mirror, I can see seasons in my life where I was good or bad at each. Whenever I made progress, it was because I pursued or at least embraced the danger.

The bottom line — life is worth the risk.

Sometimes we get the cause and effect backward. To fix the problem, all we have to do is recognize it and flip the cause and effect.

You’re unhealthy because you’re overweight. You’re overweight because you’re unhealthy.

You’re unhappy because your life sucks. Your life sucks because you are unhappy.

You’re an unbeliever because you can’t see it. You don’t see it because you’re an unbeliever.

You don’t feel successful because you haven’t made enough money. You haven’t made enough money because you don’t feel successful.

You’re afraid because the world is scary. The world is scary because you are afraid.

You are in control of how you frame the problem. Once you frame it correctly, you can work on the real cause.

If we are slow to judge and quick to embrace.

If we examine our closely held beliefs.

If we focus on what we can control.

If we acknowledge personal history.

If we try to walk in another’s shoes.

If we are afraid and do it anyway.

If we take personal responsibility.

If we find the lesson in failure.

If we listen before we speak.

If we throw away the labels.

If we respect differences.

If we recognize the grey.

If we value other voices.

If we embrace change.

If we are present.

If we try harder.

If we look up.

If we love.

We all hire for the exact same reason — we have a problem to solve.

It might be a personal problem, such as cutting the grass, getting faster on the track, or fixing the car.

Or you might be hiring in a professional setting to solve a problem such as tracking orders, developing an application, or replacing a lost worker.

Hiring the right person is easier than you might think.

Step one is to weed out anybody without the basic skill set. Never hire a clown to perform brain surgery.

Then, of that group, hire the person that scores the best in just two areas: a) integrity and b) curiosity and excitement about the mission.

Integrity because showing up, being a responsible adult, and trustworthiness are irreplaceable human qualities for someone on your team. You can always count on a person with high integrity.

Curiosity and excitement because you’re hiring someone for what they can do in the future, not what they’ve done in the past. Those who deeply care about what you’re hiring them to do will rise to the occasion and outperform those with more impressive credentials and experience but don’t really care.

Sometimes you’ll swing and miss, and that’s OK. But your odds are better if you hire based on integrity and curiosity.

Risky means the possibility of misfortune or losing something valuable to you.

Exercise is risky. Sedentary is risky.
The city is risky. The country is risky.
Commitment is risky. Separation is risky.
Going outside is risky. Staying inside is risky.
Travel is risky. Never leaving your town is risky.
Publishing your thoughts is risky. Silence is risky.
Driving your car is risky. Public transportation is risky.
Starting a business is risky. Being an employee is risky.
Trying something new is risky. Sticking with the old is risky.
Investing in the market is risky. Putting it in the mattress is risky.

We spend a fair amount of our time and effort managing risk. It seems to me, though, that just waking up is risky.

Socialism — You have two cows. You give one to your neighbor.

Communism — You have two cows. You give both to the state, and the state gives you milk and beef.

Capitalism — You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull.  

The problem with socialism, communism, and capitalism isn’t the ideology. Each system can work to the benefit of the people. 

Almost equally, each system can work to the detriment of the people.  

But the problem isn’t the -ism. The problem is the real world.

Maybe it’s human greed, power hunger, or racism. Or maybe it’s systemic incentives, privilege, or culture.

Or maybe it’s all of those things. But all those things are real-world problems, not fundamental to the academic ism.

The debate about the ism must take place in the real world.

KPI’s — key performance indicators. Also called metrics. Also called data.

We constantly hear about KPI’s and data-driven decisions, especially when measuring the peformance of teams and individuals. We should be using data to make decisions (business, personal, national, etc.). Data provides valuable insight.

But there is a downside.

Let’s consider a help desk. Common KPI’s for help desk workers and organizations is the number of tickets closed and the time to closure. That seems reasonable, right? More tickets closed faster seems like a great method to measure performance.

However, in practice, the individuals and the team begin to operate in ways that artificially skew the results — convert single customer tickets into multiple tickets, artificially close tickets early and open new ones, etc.

The problem isn’t the metric itself. The problem is the team’s knowledge of the metric.

As such, these KPI’s are only useful in hindsight to measure past performance. Once the team knows, those metrics cease to be as useful.

With good intentions, we’ve incentivized bad behavior. Not intentionally. Nor are the people bad actors or bad people. They are simply acting according to the systemic incentives.

We usually get what we incentivize. But are we sure the indicator measures the true performance?

“Fools are blind to their own foolishness”

Unknown

The Dunning-Kruger effect is a cognitive bias in which people wrongly overestimate their knowledge or ability in a specific area.

We all know people who suffer from Dunning-Kruger and have watched them burn. They’re self-unaware braggarts with both feet firmly planted in mid-air — misplaced confidence on full display. 

An irate colleague who didn’t get promoted. The neighbor who takes on the roofing project but eventually hire’s the pro. Heck, the entire twitter-verse in epidemiology, politics, and NFL defensive schemes. 

We always use the label “Dunning-Kruger” pejoratively, usually accompanied by an eye roll or a knowing wink. 

But hold the phone a sec. There’s an upside to it.

Dunning-Kruger describes a condition of unjustified confidence, but confidence, justified or unjustified, is a critical enabler allowing one to take on new things and forge new paths. Confidence allows one to overcome fear, develop resilience, and stay motivated to continue. 

If we all sat around in our little protective shells, never reaching or expanding beyond what we correctly know or are good at, how would we make any progress (personal or collective)?

Sometimes it’s the self-unaware yet confident ones that crash and burn. Sometimes they’re the ones who move the entire universe forward. 

I am a fan of both Rick Rubin’s and Quentin Tarantino’s work. 

Both are regarded as geniuses and have enjoyed tremendous commercial and critical success in their respective arts. 

As someone interested in both the creative process and success principles, I’ve listened to many interviews with each. Each comes across very different from the other. 

I heard Rubin on a podcast with clairvoyant self-awareness say (paraphrased), 

“I’m very lucky. I’ve learned that when I like something, the public will also, and it will sell. When I’m brought into a project, it’s for my taste. My job is to help the artist make something that I like.”

I’ve listened to many interviews with Tarantino. Never have I heard him say anything like this. Most of the time, he seems pretty excited about himself and how good he is. 

I don’t know if he’s aware that his magic dust is the same as Rubin’s — the luck of the public liking what he likes. 

There’s a lesson for me here. A million success coaches talk about purpose, hard work, and perseverance. All of these are necessary, of course. You’ll need these to be successful. 

You can’t, however, ultimately control success that depends on others. you can only control what you do — your effort, your skill development, etc.

Sometimes, it’s better to be lucky than good. 

One of the most-used parental phrases in our culture is, “I can’t afford that.”

As a child, you probably heard this a thousand times. As a parent, you probably used it a thousand times.

But is it true?

Is the issue really a lack of funds, or is it priority of funds?

Shouldn’t the statement be, “We won’t prioritize that.”

Are there other areas in your life besides money where you use the same phrase?

“I can’t afford the time/effort/empathy/self-reflection/discipline.”

Sometimes it’s not about being able to afford it. It’s about prioritization. 

It goes viral because we want to believe it. 

“Why Too Much Running Is Bad for Your Health”
“10 Reasons Why Smoking Weed Is Actually Really Good For You”
“Proof that COVID Vaccines Cause Prion Disease”

(Each is a published headline, but I’ve not linked to the articles because, well, what are we talking about here?)

A scientific study produces a paper with a conclusion that interprets the data from that study. 

The researchers published the paper for a specific and knowledgeable audience, not the general public. Therefore, the public reads the interpretation of the paper by professional communicators.

If the conclusion in the scientific paper appears to either a) reinforce an already-held belief or b) refute an already-held belief, the interpreter (or interpreter’s editor) has hit click-traffic gold. 

The conclusion, which is likely nuanced and very specific, transforms into a toggle-switch, generalized, clickbait headline.

Since the headline matches what we already want to believe or comes from a person or institution in our tribe, we assume it’s true. Since it’s true, we start liking, retweeting, and sending around the article as a link-bludgeon — “I told you so!” 

Hence, viral misinformation.

The problem of misinformation is really just confirmation bias on full display, which is a human problem, not a system problem.

Whenever we try to fix a human problem with the system rather than through personal empathy, we run the risk of artificial amplification or minimization. 

The solution is not curation, but a willingness to examine one’s beliefs.

“What controls your attention controls your life”

Darren Hardy

The World is a merchant.  

The World is the greatest and most prolific merchant that has ever existed, and it’s constantly hocking its wares. The problem with transactions with The World is that the costs are hidden and malevolent. 

The World sells attention, and the cost is your physical, emotional, intellectual, professional, financial, and spiritual well-being. The collateral damage is your life.

The World doesn’t care about you, but it cares about your attention.

You have no control over The World.

You do have control over what lies within Your World. 

Your World is:

• Your Circle — These are the people in all parts of your life.
• Your Work — Your profession, yes, but also the other productive and connective things you do in your life.
• Yourself — Of course, you have the most influence over yourself. 

Once you are able to discern between The World and Your World, you will recognize what you can or can’t control in any situation. 

• You can’t control how others feel about you, but you can control your feelings.
• You can’t control what others say about you, but you can control what you tell yourself.
• You can’t control what someone else does, but you can control what you do.

The key to success, happiness, and whatever else you want in your life is to shift your focus away from The World and into Your World.

We use this reference in the software world all the time. 

We use it as a declaration, “Garbage in generated garbage out.”

We use it as a question, “Is this a case of garbage in producing garbage out?”

We use it as a warning, “Let’s be careful not to create a garbage in, garbage out scenario.”

It’s such a helpful concept that we’ve shortened it to an acronym — GIGO.

The purpose of a computer program is to take input and act upon it to produce output. GIGO occurs when regardless of how accurate the program’s logic, decision-making, or transformation function is, the results will be wrong if the input is wrong, tainted, or just plain meaningless.  

When the output of our program is unexpected, we sometimes see it immediately — like when the song you’re listening to skips or beeps.

But GIGO can happen stealthily. 

You miss it because the output seems right, even though it isn’t. It looks like what we expected or believed to be correct. To debug these issues, we start by throwing out our expectations and beliefs and stepping through the logic with the particular input. 

The same is true with human decision-making. Sometimes the problem is the logic itself, but sometimes it’s the input. To figure it out, the first step is to put aside your expectations and beliefs, if ever so briefly. 

As humans, we like to simplify complex problems.

One of the ways we simplify complexity is to generalize and narrow the number of variables down to one or a few important ones. Then we use labels to galvanize and communicate those generalizations.

This process comes naturally because it helps us make sense of things and is a proven problem-solving technique. As an engineer and software developer, I’ve used generalization and abstraction to help me solve problems for over 30 years.

As such, we tend to oversimply diversity.

We tend to narrow down and overvalue diversity that we can see — ethnicity, age, gender, etc. And we tend to undervalue diversity we can’t see — personal experience, family history, finances, geographical background, worldview, etc.

Our focus on visual diversity is understandable and well-placed. We needed to, and continue to need to, reckon with this.

True diversity, however, runs deeper than only the visual variables. Each person in any group has a personal history and a present personal situation. They’ve experienced their own highs and lows, wins and losses, joys and tragedies.

Each of these events fit together to form that puzzle that is our personal human condition.

The weight of this recognition continues to lead me to empathy as the answer in all circumstances. When we see each person or group of people through the lens of empathy, we have a chance at progress.

John Wooden — 10 NCAA championships

Bill Belichick — 6 Super Bowl wins

Scotty Bowman — 9 Stanley Cups

These coaches unequivocally helped their teams win these championships. You could argue they were the reason. However, they didn’t sink the jump shot, throw the pass, or hit the top shelf. 

Every hall of fame player’s induction speech references the impact of one or several coaches along their journey. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear why and how a coach mattered. The coach almost always helped them discover who they were at their core and fully become that athlete through inspiration, training, and guidance.

The good news for us regular people is that we can hire a coach for almost anything in our life — weekend triathlon, dating, business, our entire lives. We have a dizzying array of opportunities to spend money on coaching. 

A coach may be the right move for you. You may find the perfect person who can provide the inspiration, training, and guidance that helps you realize your potential. 

And good coaches like the ones above have a system. They build their systems through experience and insight and adapt them to the players they have on the team. 

A warning, however.

Beware of coaching success formulas that don’t have “you” in the equation. You are the one in the ring with the bull. Your outcome will result from your effort, perspective, creativity, and accountability.  

Be careful not to outsource the YOU in the success formula. 

In 2020, An estimated 64875 firefighters sustained injuries, 140 of which were fatal, in the line of duty. 

I’ve always admired firefighters’ sense of “in the line of duty.”

Not just what their duty is, but the fact that if one of their own is injured, they get it—this is what they signed up for. 

When it happens, they galvanize. They come together, and many times so does the community, to honor that person with a respectful and well-deserved memorial.

No one is happy. People’s lives rip apart. It’s not what anyone wanted. But they get it — it comes with the territory.

And they sign up for it anyway.  

To me, that is not only inspiring but a lesson on what “in the line of duty” really means.  

The lesson of “in the line of duty” extends to all vocations and pursuits of any kind. Luckily, most vocations do not include life-threatening or bodily harm in their line of duty. However, all vocations come with downside risks. One shouldn’t complain (too loudly) when the downside risk happens in the line of duty.

Whatever pursuit you engage in, make sure you know the downside risks of “in the line of duty.” If the worst occurs, handle it like the firefighter community — with grace and recognition. 

Today is our 29th anniversary.

Oh my, that seems like a long time, and it is.

Twenty-nine isn’t a milestone number for most people. But for me, it is because 29 is the year we’ve been looking forward to since we first discussed having a family.

I kinda feel like we should post one of those “How it started…How its going” meme thingies. Yeah, don’t need to.

And how is it going?

I couldn’t be happier. When I look back at these 29 years, we’ve had it all. The highest of highs, adventures, sacrifices, wrong turns, and bumps in the road. We’ve made good decisions and questionable decisions. Always together.

It’s hard even to say what I’d do differently because whatever we’ve been through has brought us here to 29. I wouldn’t change that for anything.

As we turn 29 into 30, I’m excited. This moment has been on our calendar for 29 years. I couldn’t imagine a better partner.

Let’s stomp the gas pedal.

In 2014, the LA Times estimated that the average US household contains approximately 300000 objects. 

We’ve accumulated so many objects that entire industries are built around the organization, remediation, offsite storage, and psychological issues associated with the acquisition and keeping of things. 

I’ve not counted the objects in my home, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I hit the average in my garage alone.

We love stuff, and apparently, I’m no different.

As new empty nesters, we’ve been working through the pile of objects accumulated over the last 25 years of family life. Like many in our phase, this inflection point provides the motivation necessary to do the work. 

 But it’s been surprisingly hard. 

I know why it’s been hard — the emotions attached to specific objects. Each object I hold in my hand has a story. That story might be overtly sentimental, i.e., a 2nd-grade father’s day note or a holiday gift, but often, the attached story is low-key and sneakily powerful. 

Unearthing these otherwise pedestrian gems, feeling their weight, and running my fingers over their contours transport me to a specific time and place. The emotions of that moment well up and sometimes overflow —likely more powerful today than they were at the moment. 

Memories of simple moments such as a funny face or comment, a hug or snub, or the churning of small legs across the yard overwhelm me with gratitude. All inspired by a simple object. 

The power of objects is the story we remember. 

Or, more accurately, I thought I’d be sure about more by now.

I recently had a birthday — 53. I always take some time to reflect around my birthday.

This year I found my thoughts centered around just how much I still don’t know or am not sure about. In some ways, I’m less sure now than I was when I was 25.

I was sure I’d know my purpose.

In accordance with my purpose, I assumed I’d know what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I figured that by now, I’d be more sure of my role as a father and husband.

I thought my faith would be more solid.

I was sure I’d understand the meaning of life.

As I still roll those questions around in my noggin, I see a common thread — each requires an objectively correct answer.

However, one thing I do now know at my age that I didn’t understand at 25 was that objectivity is rare. At 25, I figured all I had to do was put in the work, and I’d find that objectively correct answer. I’ve put the work in, but I know now that this is a fool’s errand.

Simultaneously, that subjectivity provides a beauty to life that could never exist with objectively correct answers.

Now all I have to do is settle in and appreciate the subjectivity.

One could easily think that all the smart people are atheists and only dumb (or simple) people could believe in a God. Certainly, elite academic institutions, academics, and pseudo-academics on social media give this impression. 

They might be right. 

But it would be wrong to assume that all smart people are atheists and that only dumb people believe in God. In fact, some very smart people have set forth some interesting arguments for God:

1. The kalam cosmological argument — based on the beginning of the universe
2. The moral argument — based on the existence of objective moral values.
3. The teleological argument — based on the design of the universe
4. The ontological argument — based on the formal logic of possibility to existence.

For me, however, the most powerful argument has always been a form of the cosmological argument from contingency. When I ask myself, “Why is there anything at all?” God seems like the best answer. 

The point is that the conversation is still valid both philosophically and scientifically. It’s not dead in academia or the culture, regardless of what the smart people shout. 

The lesson here is that just because someone has a microphone, marketing skills, and a tribe doesn’t mean they are right. That’s true with God and everything else. 

Something struck me today. 

Strawmanning — Attacking a superficially similar argument so as to pull attention away from the real argument.

“We should restrict gun access.”
“Oh, you want the government to imprison us and take away all of our freedom and rights?”

“We shouldn’t wear masks in most situations.”
“Oh, you hate people? You don’t care if you kill others?”

The strawman has two problems, one formal and one human:

1. The formal problem is that the refutation does not address the original argument.
2. The human problem is that you either don’t understand your opponent’s position or can’t see any value or reasoning behind that position. Your argument is the very definition of “jumping to a conclusion.”

The strawman is a popular and effective public argument strategy because it fits into 280 characters. Moreover, the people that agree with you instantly jump to the same conclusion — “Yes! You’re right and they’re wrong!” It’s a toggle-switch answer. 

The cure for the disconnected, disjointed, and divided culture we find ourselves in is empathy. The path to empathy starts with recognizing that your opponent is a person with a history. They are smart, feeling, and caring individuals just like you. 

They just happen to have come to a different conclusion than you have. 

To have a unified and healthy culture, we don’t all need to believe the same things, but we all have to value each other. 

We have a disease, and we’ve got it bad.

This disease is endemic and spreading to nearly everybody, but I don’t mean cancer or long COVID. 

It impacts our happiness, workplaces, family discussions, politics, art, and our culture at large.

The disease?

Overseriousness.

The bad news is that letting it continue will ruin us. Its symptoms of fear, sadness, egocentricity, and anger will suck the life right out of each one of us.

The great news is that we have and know the cure, and it’s a very simple cure — let’s stop taking ourselves so darn seriously.

Crack a joke. Take a joke. Laugh at what’s funny. 

Get out and run around. Fall down, and get back up. Laugh at yourself.

Be thankful for where you are today and the history that has created it.

Yes, all of it. Some of it has sucked. Some of it has been great. All of it has made you who you are today. 

And who you are today is 100% amazing.

Whether it’s vaccines, the system, salesmen, gas prices, climate change, websites, mobile hotspots, noble lies, taxes, or hidden fees — “That’s how they get you!” 

The trouble is when you think this way, you’ve made yourself a victim of the nameless and faceless “they.” You’ve manifested the very thing against which you are guarding. 

They haven’t got you. You’ve got you.

You might think that this outlook is the smart one; protecting you and keeping you safe, or at least keeping you from exploitation. 

What if, however, you thought differently? What if instead of looking for exploitation, you look for mutual benefits? What if you lead with empathy? What if you assume the other person is not trying to extract something from you?

What if the thing you are worried about really is better for you and others? 

It doesn’t have to be either-or. It can be both-and. 

You always have a choice about the way you think. 

Joseph Nicephore Niepce took the first photo in 1826. 

In 2022, we’ll take approximately 4.7 billion per day and 1.72 trillion per year. The devices we call smartphones today could plausibly, and maybe more accurately, be called smartcameras because they account for 92.5% of those photos.

Your camera rolls contain your story. You are the subject or the direct observer for each of the thousands of photos on your device. As you scroll through, they tickle your emotions with fondness, humor, or sadness. 

But how many are iconic?

Some photos are iconic because they don’t require us as the subject or direct observer. They have the power to mesmerize us as if we were. They provide photo-realistic glimpses into a moment we didn’t personally witness. We respond viscerally as if it was on our own cameral roll. 

This is the way it looked. The image caught in time.

Paradoxically, iconic photos are actually abstract representations, even though they are the very definition of a realistic representation.

The problem is context. 

A photo that strikes our emotions does so because of what we bring to it. We superimpose personal baggage or tribal baggage over the image to interpret the meaning or the action. We create backstory, story for the moment, and then a story for the aftermath. The story gives it meaning.

But it’s our story, not the story of the subjects or the observer in the photo. 

Sometimes we get it right, and sometimes we get it wrong.