Stone Cold Steve Austin has hit a stunner on EVERY person in this photo, including the president

I'm comfortable with this

Legitimately took me more clicks to sign up for @ChargePointnet than it did to buy a Tesla on my phone

cool, now make it 450ft and put it on Alcatraz there are too many billionaires in the bay area for this not to happen

Silicon Valley underestimates the power of a dress code for elevating culture and aura 1) Unity of dress signals an institution. If you’re building a cult or a movement, a dress code creates a sense of belonging with each other + differentiation from everyone else 2) Clothing is one of the primary visual artifacts of identity, which is why our first thought of a banker or soldier or an athlete is their uniform. Dress code turns a job into an identity 3) It sets a standard. There’s a ritual to putting on a specific outfit that transforms you into a specific person with specific standards. Or it shows you’ve attained a standard, eg the Masters jacket As Coach said in Remember the Titans (the greatest sports movie in history): “When you put on that uniform, that Titan uniform, you better come to work.”

In this era of artificial intelligence, it is becoming urgent to distinguish human art from what machines produce. There is an ontological difference, even before an aesthetic one, between art and what a machine can generate through statistical calculation based on millions of images created by others. Algorithms lack the spark of humanity. For this reason, the Church wishes to renew an alliance with artists and cultural institutions to safeguard our humanity.

The best part of this story is somehow not the $128,514 in cash. It’s what he did next... > The guy finds an enormous bag of money, immediately thinks: > “I need to get this somewhere safe. Who can I trust?” > And drives straight to Chick-fil-A. 😂 > Not the bank. > Not the police station. > Chick-fil-A. The manager stood there with him while he called 911. That is an absolutely insane level of brand trust that they've built over decades of obsessing. And no, Texas law does not make this “finders keepers.” A finder of lost property may have rights against everyone except the true owner... but the true owner still wins!

Reflections from our @Lovable offsite this past week: - The attention to detail was the organization in miniature. Every piece, from the offsite app to the design elements across the hotel property, had been thought through. - This is the most inspired I have been in my career. A common theme of my career has been democratizing access to tools that change people's lives, and this is the biggest opportunity yet. - The trust bank's vaults are full. I can already feel the difference in how direct we can be with each other, and direct means fast. - I have full trust in leadership. Even in an uncertain world, I would happily go to war with this group. - Many of the largest moments in the Lovable story (releases, partnerships, launches) were driven by one or two people who saw them through end to end. To hear the stories in such detail was nothing short of inspiring. Until next time!

The Lovable team got together in Croatia to connect and plan for the future. Big conversations, great people, and more karaoke than planned. @lovable 2026 offsite.

I constantly feel behind and stressed This is coming from someone who does 50% of his work inside codex, often has multiple agents running, and follows the benchmarks of model releases Then I see something like this and I’m reminded…we are still so early If you’re reading this…you’re on the very very cutting edge The world still has no idea what’s coming

start of Q4 in sales

Me with 25 agents asking for approval

Lovable + @Microsoft: build tools that reduce manual work with your Microsoft data. Connectors are available today. Publishing apps into your company’s Microsoft environment through Copilot Managed Runtime is rolling out in public preview.

Burnout happens when you work too hard with not enough meaning. "He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how" — Nietzsche

The SR-71 Speed Check Story from Major Brian Shul's book Sled Driver will forever be one of the hardest tales in aviation. Here it is. There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment. It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground." Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the " Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios. Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. "I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed." Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. "Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check". Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: "Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground." And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground." I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money." For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A.came back with, "Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one." It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.

Innovation is not a committee exercise. 💡

Best way to sandbox an AI is to put it on a Delta flight – it will have no chance of accessing the Internet!

Me rolling into the office with all 25 of my personal agents:

Every small business has a tool they wish existed. Now they can ask Muse to build it with Lovable.

palo alto people are building agents for a world where everyone has 47 tasks at once while the average person is so fucking bored they’re doomscrolling during work hours