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A browser-based RSS reader that stores everything locally. There’s also a directory you can explore to get you started.
A browser-based RSS reader that stores everything locally. There’s also a directory you can explore to get you started.
Hand-coded, syndicated, and above all personal websites are exemplary: They let users of the internet to be autonomous, experiment, have ownership, learn, share, find god, find love, find purpose. Bespoke, endlessly tweaked, eternally redesigned, built-in-public, surprising UI and delightful UX. The personal website is a staunch undying answer to everything the corporate and industrial web has taken from us.
Start a blog. Start one because the practice of writing at length, for an audience you respect, about things that matter to you, is itself valuable. Start one because owning your own platform is a form of independence that becomes more important as centralized platforms become less trustworthy. Start one because the format shapes the thought, and this format is good for thinking.
I really like it when people post their end-of-year music round-up. Colly, Jon, and Naz have all posted about music they listened to in 2025.
I recognise almost none of the albums that they’ve listed. That’s because my musical brain has been almost entirely conquered by Irish traditional music.
2025 was a year filled with music for me. Mostly it was music that I was playing. I think I might’ve spent more time playing music than listening to music this year. I like that ratio.
Brighton has a healthy session scene. Most weeks I get to play in more than one. Even better, I had some great tunes outside of the pub environment, calling around to people’s houses or having them over for a nice cup of tea with some jigs’n’reels.
Most of my travel in 2025 was music-based. The Willie Clancy Summer School in County Clare. Belfast Trad Fest in Northern Ireland. The Cáceres fleadh in Spain. The inaugural Namur Irish Music Festival in Belgium.
There’s nothing better than being in a good session, and I enjoyed some great ones this year. I think my mandolin-playing has benefited from it too.
I also got hold of some albums released in 2025…
The second Copley Street album is, unsurprisingly, excellent.
The second volume of Mná na bPíob is, also unsurprisingly, also excellent.
But I think my favourite album of 2025 is Òran na hEala by Maurice Bradley. Terrific tunes, superb piping, and equally superb fiddle playing.
I’ve been in a session two with Maurice Bradley during previous tradfests in Belfast. I was looking forward to seeing him there again this year to tell him how much I like the album. Alas, he passed away shortly after the album was released. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam. A great loss to Irish music.
Oh, I did get one album released in 2025 that isn’t traditional Irish music, and it’s really, really good:
Deep Black Water by Salter Cane.
Okay, that’s cheating because I’m in the band, but honestly, I think the album is genuinely excellent. Every track is a banger, in my somewhat-biased opinion. Have a listen for yourself and see what you think.
My wish for 2026 is that I’ll have plenty of opportunities to play those songs live. In between all the sessions.
Great minds think alike! I have a very similar HTML web component on the front page of The Session called input-autosuggest.
In an Irish session, tunes are almost never played in isolation. They’re played in sets.
A set of tunes might be as few as two. More usually, it’s three or more.
It’s unusual to change from one tune type into another. You tend to get a set of jigs, or a set of reels, or a set of hornpipes. But it’s very common to change key within a set. In fact, that’s often where a good set really stands out. There can be a real joy at that moment of switching. You might get a “Hup!” from someone listening to the session at that changeover.
So how do you decide what tunes to play in a set?
There are no real rules to this. Some people make up the set on the fly. Or you might try playing a set that you’ve heard other people play, maybe on a recording you like.
On the one hand, you’re looking for contrast. You probably don’t want to play three tunes all in the same key. On the other hand, it’s nice when there’s some kind of connection between the tunes—something about the phrasing or emphasis perhaps.
Pairing tunes for sets always reminds me of pairing typefaces. You don’t want the body copy and the headlines to be too similar, but you do want them to share some quality.
In his classic book, On Web Typography, Jason says:
When it comes to choosing and pairing typefaces, I keep two things in mind: distinction and harmony. To keep the system you’ve created for visual communication properly balanced, you need to choose typefaces that don’t compete too much with each other, but aren’t so similar as to be indistinguishable.
The same could be said for pairing tunes in sets!
Jason also says:
As another approach, opt for typefaces that share the same maker.
That can work for sets of tunes too. While most tunes are traditional, with no known composer, the really good composed tunes have entered the canon.
I’ve taken Jason’s advice for typefaces and applied to sets by playing a set of tunes by Junior Crehan or a set of tunes by Vincent Broderick.
Mostly though, there’s no real system to it. Or at least, not one that can be easily articulated. Like Jason says:
And we’re back to that old chestnut about rules: there are many right answers, and no answers are really wrong; there are just different degrees of good.
Maureen has written a really good overview of web feeds for this year’s HTMHell advent calendar.
The common belief is that nobody uses RSS feeds these days. And while it’s true that I wish more people used feed readers—the perfect antidote to being fed from an algorithm—the truth is that millions of people use RSS feeds every time they listen to a podcast. That’s what a podcast is: an RSS feed with enclosure elements that point to audio files.
And just as a web feed doesn’t necessarily need to represent a list of blog posts, a podcast doesn’t necessarily need to be two or more people having a recorded conversation (though that does seem to be the most common format). A podcast can tell a story. I like those kinds of podcasts.
The BBC are particularly good at this kind of episodic audio storytelling. I really enjoyed their series Thirteen minutes to the moon, all about the Apollo 11 mission. They followed it up with a series on Apollo 13, and most recently, a series on the space shuttle.
Here’s the RSS feed for the 13 minutes podcast.
Right now, the BBC have an ongoing series about the history of the atomic bomb. The first series was about Leo Szilard, the second series was about Klaus Fuchs, and the third series running right now is about the Cuban missile crisis.
The hook is that each series is presented by people with a family connection to the events. The first series is presented by the granddaughter of one of the Oak Ridge scientists. The second series is presented by the granddaughter of Klaus Fuch’s spy handler in the UK—blimey! And the current series is presented by Nina Khrushcheva and Max Kennedy—double blimey!
Here’s the RSS feed for The Bomb podcast.
If you want a really deep dive into another pivotal twentieth century event, Evgeny Morozov made a podcast all about Stafford Beer and Salvadore Allende’s collaboration on cybernetics in Chile, the fabled Project Cybercyn. It’s fascinating stuff, though there’s an inevitable feeling of dread hanging over events because we know how this ends.
The podcast is called The Santiago Boys, though I almost hesitate to call it a podcast because for some reason, the website does its best to hide the RSS feed, linking only to the silos of Spotify and Apple. Fortunately, thanks to this handy tool, I can say:
Here’s the RSS feed for The Santiago Boys podcast.
The unifying force behind all three of these stories is the cold war:
I suppose it’s not clear to me what a ‘good’ window into unreliable, systemically toxic systems accomplishes, or how it changes anything that matters for the better, or what that idea even means at all. I don’t understand how “ethical AI” isn’t just “clean coal” or “natural gas.” The power of normalization as four generations are raised breathing low doses of aerosolized neurotoxins; the alternative was called “unleaded”, but the poison was called “regular gas”.
There’s a real technology here, somewhere. Stochastic pattern recognition seems like a powerful tool for solving some problems. But solving a problem starts at the problem, not working backwards from the tools.
The promise of AI – the promise AI companies make to investors – is that there will be AIs that can do your job, and when your boss fires you and replaces you with AI, he will keep half of your salary for himself, and give the other half to the AI company.
That’s it.
That’s the $13T growth story that MorganStanley is telling. It’s why big investors and institutionals are giving AI companies hundreds of billions of dollars. And because they are piling in, normies are also getting sucked in, risking their retirement savings and their family’s financial security.
Now, if AI could do your job, this would still be a problem. We’d have to figure out what to do with all these technologically unemployed people.
But AI can’t do your job. It can help you do your job, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to save anyone money.
Eric Meyer and Brian Kardell chat with Jay Hoffmann and Jeremy Keith about Shadow DOM’s backstory and long origins
I enjoyed this chat, and it wasn’t just about Shadow DOM; it was about the history of chasing the dream of encapsulation on the web.
Whenever anyone states that “AI is the future, so…” or “many people are using AI anyway, so…” they are not only expressing an opinion — they‘re shaping that future.
Belfast TradFest have republished this blog post of mine and I must say, I really like the photo they’ve used—doesn’t my mandolin look lovely!
I’ve come to realize that statements about the future aren’t predictions: they’re more like spells. When someone describes
somethingto you as the future, they’re sharing a heartfelt belief that thissomethingwill be part of whatever comes next. “Artificial intelligence isn’t going anywhere” quite literally involves casting a technology forward into time. How could that be anything else but a kind of magic?
As part of their on-stage banter, The Dubliners used to quip that “All the books that are banned in Ireland should be published in Irish, to encourage more people to learn their native tongue.”
There was no shortage of banned books back in the day. I’m reading one of them now. The Country Girls by Edna O’Brien.
About halfway through the book, I read this passage:
The parcels for the Halloween party were coming every day. I couldn’t ask my father for one because a man is not able to do these things, so I wrote to him for money instead and a day girl brought me a barmbrack, apples, and monkey-nuts.
Emphasis mine, because that little list sounded so familiar to me.
Back in 2011, I wrote a candygram for Jason. It was called Monkey nuts, barmbrack and apples.
It’s not exactly Edna O’Brien, but looking back at it fifteen years on, I think it turned out okay.
Machine learning is amazing if … the value of a correct answer is much higher than the cost of an incorrect answer.
Related to Laissez-faire Cognitive Debt:
And that’s where I start to get really annoyed by a lot of the LLM hype. It’s pushing machine-learning approaches into places where there are significant harms for sometimes giving the wrong answer. And it’s doing so while trying to outsource the liability to the customers who are using these machines in ways in which they are advertised as working. It’s great for translation! Unless a mistranslated word could kill a business deal or start a war. It’s great for summarisation! Unless missing a key point could cost you a load of money. It’s great for writing code! Unless a security vulnerability would cost you lost revenue or a copyright infringement lawsuit from having accidentally put something from the training set directly in your codebase in contravention of its license would kill your business. And so on. Lots of risks that are outsourced and liabilities that are passed directly to the user.
I think of Cognitive Debt as ‘where we have the answers, but not the thinking that went into producing those answers’.
Lately, I have started noticing examples of not just where the debt is being accrued, but who then has the responsibility to pick it up and repay it.
Too often, an LLM doesn’t replace the need for thinking in a group setting, but simply creates more work for others.
I always enjoy reading Jay’s newsletter, but this was a particularly fun trip down memory lane.
There’s a link to an old post by Jeff Atwood who said:
A blog without comments is not a blog.
That was responding to an old post of mine where I declared:
Comments should be disabled 90% of the time.
That blog-to-blog conversation took place almost twenty years ago.
I still enjoy blog-to-blog conversations today.
The generative AI industry only exists because some people decided that it’s okay for them to take all this work with no permission, let alone compensation for the original creators, and to charge others for the privilege of using the probabilistic plagiarism machines they’ve fed it to.
England is criss-crossed by routes that were originally laid down by the Romans. When it came time to construct modern roads, it often made sense to use these existing routes rather than trying to designate entirely new ones. So some of the roads in England are like an early kind of desire path.
Desire paths are something of a cliché in the UX world. They’re the perfect metaphor for user-centred design; instead of trying to make people take a pre-defined route, let them take the route that’s easiest for them and then codify that route.
This idea was enshrined into the very design principles of HTML as “pave the cowpaths”:
When a practice is already widespread among authors, consider adopting it rather than forbidding it or inventing something new.
Ireland never had any Roman roads. But it’s always had plenty of cowpaths.
The Irish word for cow is bó.
The Irish word for road is bóthar, which literally means “cowpath”.
The cowpaths were paved in both the landscape and the language.