Wednesday, April 15, 2026

Hidden Power: AI and the Future of Journalism

 Why you never forget how to ride a bike: The brain stores skills differently than facts, making them harder to forget.


Oliver Kornetzke - Behold. The festering carcass of American rot shoved into an ill-fitting suit

Behold. The festering carcass of American rot shoved into an ill-fitting suit: the sleaze of a conman, the cowardice of a draft dodger, the gluttony of a parasite, the racism of a Klansman, the sexism of a back-alley creep, the ignorance of a bar-stool drunk, and the greed of a hedge-fund ghoul — all spray-painted orange and paraded like a prize hog at a county fair. Not a president. Not even a man.

Just the diseased distillation of everything this country swears it isn't but has always been-arrogance dressed up as exceptionalism, stupidity passed off as common sense, cruelty sold as toughness, greed exalted as ambition, and corruption worshiped like gospel. It is America's shadow made flesh, a rotting pumpkin idol proving that when a nation kneels before money, power, and spite, it doesn't just lose its soul— it sh*ts out this bloated obscenity and calls it a leader.



NYT investigation names Adam Back as Bitcoin's Satoshi Nakamoto



AI and the Future of Journalism

  • The Wrap – McClatchy Journalists Revolt Against AI: ‘It’s a Betrayal’ Sacramento Bee staffers refuse bylines over a new AI tool as colleagues at the Miami Herald and Charlotte Observer harbor concerns..
  • Axios – The New York Times’ editorial union leaders on Tuesday sent a letter to management arguing its artificial intelligence standards are “woefully inadequate” and too vague, which has led to editorial problems and trust issues. 
  • Digiday – CNN builds in-house agent infrastructure as it prepares for AI-driven media trading. CNN is developing an agentic infrastructure as part of a broader roadmap that will see it begin transacting media by the first quarter of 2027.
  • Semafor – Joanna Stern on how AI told her to quit The Wall Street Journal.Joanna Stern, longtime tech columnist for The Wall Street Journal, spent the last year working on I Am Not a Robot, a book about AI — and in the process, used agents and bots in “as many parts of my life as possible.” So when she started considering quitting her newspaper job and striking out on her own, she bounced the idea off of people but then, naturally, turned to ChatGPT. “I sat with you as a human, and you definitely did not give me that advice,” Stern told Semafor’s Ben Smith on the Mixed Signals podcast. “People give you ideas, but they do not tell you what to do. Humans do not tell you what to do, because if you did tell me what to do and it really went wrong, you’d feel really bad, right? But ChatGPT just fully told me … to quit.” “It felt like the one big decision where I actually did trust AI,” she added. “Every human kept being like, trust your gut, trust your gut, you know what to do. And it’s like, no, … my gut just wants a burrito. My gut doesn’t know what to do right now. I’m too overridden with anxiety. But [AI] doesn’t have anxiety.” Stern gave Semafor a preview of what her new tech media venture, called New Things, will bring: “Stunts,” along the lines of her experiments with a Claude-powered vending machine, but also a newsletter, video, events, and potentially more. The idea is to “cover the latest and greatest of consumer tech, but do it through the lens [of] humans — humans that like to have 


How Iran’s Information War Machine Operates Online

The New York Times: “In late March, Iran circulated a shaky video supposedly showing an American F/A-18 under attack. Iranian officials claimed they had destroyed the jet, though the Pentagon denied that. The video quickly earned millions of views online, demonstrating how Iran has exploited the global media ecosystem to propagate an image of military prowess. 

The New York Times reconstructed how Iran was able to use overt and covert global networks alongside unwitting participants to spread its message through social media, state-affiliated news organizations and American influencers. Here is how the claim went from a single post to a global audience of millions in 69 minutes


Stolen Logins Are Fueling Everything From Ransomware to Nation-State Cyberattacks

Security Week: “Like an inverted pyramid, the range of different attack modes are now built on top of the single point of identity abuse. Stolen credentials are a major threat. Legitimate credentials illegitimately acquired provide legitimate access to illegitimate actors. Once inside the network, these bad actors have greater ability to move and act in stealth. The continuing rise in ransomware attacks bears testament. The theft and resale of credentials operates on an industrial scale. Fueled by the rise of increasingly more sophisticated infostealers, stolen credentials are packaged into ‘logs’ and sold to criminals on the black market. Ontinue reports, “Listings tied to LummaC2 alone surged by 72%, with high-privilege cloud console credentials selling for $1,000–$15,000+.” Ransomware has been one of the primary beneficiaries of stolen credentials. More than 7,000 incidents and 129 active groups were tracked through 2025. At the same time, ransom payments decreased slightly from $892M in 2024 to $820M in 2025. This apparent contradiction is actually logical. “Larger targets, with larger payout potential, will have seen the most aggressive corporate investment (process and technology) mitigating exposure to this attack pattern,” explains Trey Ford, chief strategy and trust officer at Bugcrowd. These larger targets are also more susceptible to government pressure to not pay ransoms, and ransomware income has consequently declined. The ransomware groups have responded with more attacks demanding smaller payments from more but smaller companies.  These bad actors have simultaneously increased the pain threshold. Theft of data for blackmail has been growing for several years but is now often supplemented with operational disruption. “Beyond encrypting endpoints, attackers disrupt the ability to operate by wiping systems, deleting backups, sabotaging virtualization, attacking OT/ICS-adjacent services, or breaking identity/administration planes.”…

America’s income tax is progressive

 When you have something to say, silence is a lie.


Top tax frustrations for Americans: Feeling that some wealthy people, corporations don’t pay fair share

With the annual IRS filing deadline approaching, majorities of Americans continue to be bothered by the feeling that some wealthy people and corporations do not pay their fair share in federal taxes.



Billionaires get paid in stock worth billions.

They use that stock as collateral to borrow billions. They use those borrowed billions to buy everything, including media outlets which then pump bullshit like this to keep you in the dark about the tax loopholes designed just for them


America’s income tax is progressive

The rich already pay more than their fair share.


Supporters of progressive income taxation should be happier than they seem to be every April 15.

Despite whining from politicians and activists that the rich don’t pay their “fair share,” the United States federal income tax is extremely progressive.

Consider: There were 30,382 tax filers with incomes of $10 million or more in 2023, the latest year IRS data is available. That includes all sources of income. This tiny group of people, less than 0.02 percent of all tax filers and 10,000 fewer than fit into Nationals Park, made 5.9 percent of all income — and paid 10.9 percent of all income taxes.


The 101,509,107 tax filers who made under $75,000 together made 21.9 percent of all income and paid 7.3 percent of all income taxes.

Income is unevenly spread across the population, and the income tax burden is even more skewed — toward the top.


Zoom out from the extremely rich to just the well-off, and it becomes more apparent how much higher earners are shielding lower earners from a greater income tax burden.

Just 25.6 percent of tax filers had incomes of $100,000 or more. They paid almost $9 out of every $10 (87.4 percent) that the federal government collected from income tax.


People making under $100,000 are not freeloaders. They pay federal payroll taxes and state sales taxes. If they own a home, they pay property taxes directly. If they rent, they pay them indirectly. They also indirectly bear the burdens created by tariffs and corporate taxes.

If the federal government wanted to raise more money from income taxes, lower earners shouldn’t bear the additional burden, but the very highest wouldn’t be good targets either.

The upper-middle class is where more of the less-taxed money is located. Filers with incomes between $100,000 and $500,000 make 49.7 percent of taxable income, yet they pay just 43 percent of all income taxes.

This fact is tremendously inconvenient for revenue-hungry politicians in a country where tens of millions of people are upper-middle class, and even more people want to become upper-middle class. Republicans promise not to raise income taxes on anyone, and Democrats promise not to raise income taxes on anyone making less than $400,000 — which is almost everyone.


The IRS uses $500,000 as a cutoff rather than $400,000, but the basic point stands. Filers with incomes of $500,000 or more had $3.4 trillion of taxable income in 2023. Filers with incomes between $100,000 and $499,999 had $5.8 trillion. There’s more juice to squeeze there.

But squeezing it would make the income tax less progressive than it is right now and reverse the long-term trend of the income tax’s increasing reliance on the very highest earners. That’s politically untenable.

In 1980, the top 1 percent of income earners paid 17 percent of federal income taxes. In 2022, they paid 40 percent, according to the Congressional Budget Office.

High earners shoulder an income tax burden far in excess of their proportion of the national income, while the bottom half of earners pay very little. Any conversation on changing the tax code has to start with this fundamental truth, rather than the misbegotten notion that high earners get off scot-free. Expect a lot of the 2028 presidential candidates to pretend otherwise.


Kidman: Grief Doesn’t Follow a Script

 Lost in the wilderness of grief, we seek our own paths to healing. 

– Melvina Young

 

There is no timeline for grief, no template for healing, no guideposts to follow. There is only our heart letting us know when we’re ready to heal in our own way and time. 

– Melvina Young



Nicole Kidman reveals she is training to become a death doula to ‘provide solace and care’ to dying

Australian actor says the death of her mother in 2024 inspired the new direction




A death doula reflects on the many ways people process loss — even when tears don’t come.

Missing someone is sadness wrapped in the blessing of having known them

Marcus sat down beside me at a hookah lounge in Los Angeles and asked something to the effect of: “Ain’t you that guy that helps people die?”

I’m a death doula. I support people throughout the dying process, so I said what I always say when I get this question: “Yeah, but not in the sense of killing them.”

Marcus chuckled, introduced himself, then said, “I know, but do you also help the family after the person died?”

This was the kind of place where friendly approaches happen easily, but Marcus later confessed he knew who I was because I had once helped the mother of someone he knew transition, and that man had taken to calling me the “messenger of death.”


I could tell Marcus needed to talk, and I figured we’d need to take up space at the booth he was sitting in with his girlfriend, instead of the noisy one with friends who’d dragged me out that night. So Marcus and I headed over, and I told him that I do help the families after the death, if they want my help.

He began telling me about the giant who was his father. Keith was a Southern Black man raised on old-school principles, meaning he not only knew everyone in the vicinity by name, but he also asked how their parents were doing when he stopped them to talk.

Keith understood the importance of cooking too much food for dinner. No one went hungry in the sticks of South Carolina where he was from, as long as they knew where he lived and how to get there.

He sat on the porch and yelled to the neighbors, letting them know how nice the tomatoes they were growing looked, and he stood up at every family reunion to let people know his world-class fried whiting was ready to eat and to thank everyone for coming.


Marcus’s account of Keith was filled with stories of endless patience, sage advice, love expressed through food and kisses on the top of their heads no matter how old his children got.

Keith was a pillar, and having experienced him as a father and later in life as a friend, Marcus wanted to know why he hadn’t yet grieved.

As a death doula, I hear this question often. It’s one of the most common concerns people have when they don’t sob or feel like they’re being crushed in a stampede of sadness.

But grief doesn’t follow a set script, and just because someone’s not openly mourning doesn’t mean they aren’t feeling the weight of loss. We often have ideas about how it’s supposed to look because of how we’ve seen others experience it. But, trust me, grief is there — it just shows up in ways we don’t always recognize right away.


And in a quiet corner of this lounge, I asked Marcus something we don’t ask enough: “What does grieving look like?”

Marcus told me he expected the same sadness and anger he felt when, at 12, his best friend died. He wondered what happened to the tears he thought would come at Keith’s funeral and then again randomly while showering. He didn’t get anxious, lose sleep or build a moat around himself — all things he’d done when losing someone he loved deeply.

He felt guilt, but not the kind that normally comes with grief — about things left unsaid and undone. Marcus’s guilt was about its absence. It couldn’t possibly be that everything he wanted to say to his father had been said. To him, that’d never been done in the history of fathers and sons.

Marcus stopped talking and looked down at the hand he’d placed in his girlfriend’s. Then he looked over at me with his eyebrows raised, as if to say, “Know what I mean?”


I knew exactly what he meant. So I shared what I’d learned about grief from other grievers who had asked me to sit with them.

I told him about Alisha — who still hasn’t cried about the death of her favorite aunt (at least since the time I last spoke with her). From her, I learned that grief sometimes looks like gardening. Some mornings, before getting ready for work, Alisha gets her hands dirty in soil, planting new flowers, pulling weeds, and tending to her thyme, cucumbers, collards and strawberries.

Before she died, her aunt called her every morning to pray for her; to make sure she was having breakfast; and to talk about the plants and flowers hanging around her house — the ones she was struggling to keep alive, the ones she named after her favorite TV characters, and the ones that secretly gossiped about the others.

When Alisha got the news of her aunt’s sudden passing, her first thought was “What’s going to happen to Virgil Tibbs, the succulent?” She started a garden the next day, knowing nothing at all about gardening, and she said each new addition was a conversation with the woman who taught her to love the earth.


When Carlton got the call that his best friend died in a motorcycle accident, he did something he’d never done: He went running. He was in dress shoes, having just left work, but it was only a run around the block.

When he walked back in the house, winded and with sharp pains in his calves and ankles, he searched marathons online instead of focusing on with the tragedy, knowing there’d be plenty of time to deal with that later.

After seeing the total distance of a marathon, Carlton looked up local 5Ks and left the house, left his phone on the counter, and bought a pair of running shoes.

Every mile he covered was a mile closer to grappling with the pain he thought he was putting off. He told me he’d get a text about funeral plans or see a “Sorry for your loss” message on social media, and he’d lace up his shoes and run. Each step, he said, brought memories.


After the wake, Carlton ran. After the funeral, Carlton ran farther. And on the day of his first 5K, he crossed the finish line, exhausted, overwhelmed and completely in tears, laughing at how stupid his best friend would say he looked at that moment.

From Carlton I learned that grief also looks like running; it looks like sweating and laughing simultaneously.

Marcus sat there, listening and nodding as he stroked his beard.

“Grieving is more than one thing,” I told him. It’s the sadness, the anger, the tears, the guilt, the anxiety, the complete numbness. But it’s also laughter and singing and buying annuals to plant in your yard, thinking “annuals” means they’ll grow back next spring, too.

And there, in that booth with too many hookah burn marks, Marcus realized the neighborhood potluck he puts together when he goes back to his hometown, the smiling at old-timers while driving through the neighborhood and his efforts to keep things as his father left them — that was grieving, too.


It’s often painted in heavy, dark strokes, but it doesn’t have to be. It is more than just sadness; it’s the way we continue to live, laugh and remember. It’s in the quiet moments when you make your grandmother’s famous pie recipe, even if it’s just for yourself. It’s in the way you play the song that reminds you of your best friend, singing out loud in the car.

Grief is a part of love, and love isn’t just sadness — grief can be full of life.

Excerpted from “Never Can Say Goodbye” by Darnell Lamont Walker and reprinted with permission from HarperOne, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Copyright 2026.