Reason 53 Why Wikipedia Is Better Than Mainstream Media: They Actually Fix Their Mistakes

A few days ago, we did a post about an absolute train wreck (spaceship wreck? Hyperloop wreck?) of a book review/essay in The New Yorker that somehow managed to connect the late–19th-century interest in Martian life with the press’s handling of the Epstein files — all while including a stunningly ill-informed take on Elon Musk.

As bad as the piece was, one line managed to stand out from the rest in terms of sheer awfulness:

"Musk, of course, named his car company after Tesla"

Elon Musk has spent the past 20 years trying to retcon himself as the founder of Tesla, but the facts are a matter of historical record: Tesla was named by the two real engineers who founded the company six months before Musk had any involvement whatsoever. This is not a point of dispute — even Musk apologists will concede it if directly challenged. Even the most cursory research would have uncovered this mistake. Nonetheless, it made it past the writer, the editor, and the magazine's vaunted fact-checking department.

Longtime readers will know that this isn’t the first time we’ve caught the New Yorker being sloppy with details and slow with corrections.

For years now, various experts on Buster Keaton and/or the legendary comic strip Pogo (“We have met the enemy and he is us”) — including the Keaton biographer who was their primary source — have been trying to get The New Yorker to correct its claim that Walt Kelly, the cartoonist, was the brother-in-law of the great filmmaker. (It turns out there was more than one Walt Kelly.)

Years before that, we fact-checked an article on the music of 1960s spy shows that was so riddled with errors it took an entire post — plus a post script — to catch them all, including the misattribution of some of the most famous pieces by legends like Jerry Goldsmith. As with the other two examples, these mistakes went uncorrected for years and, as far as I know, are still there.

Now let’s talk about an experience I had recently with Wikipedia.

A couple of weeks ago, I finished Nothing to Lose, one of the Jack Reacher novels (weaker than Echo Burning as a mystery, generally stronger as a thriller, in case you’re considering picking up a copy). I’ve gotten in the habit of checking Wikipedia after finishing a book or movie — sometimes for interesting trivia, sometimes for follow-up suggestions.

In this case, what was supposed to be a quick glance at the plot summary turned into multiple rereads as I tried to figure out what the hell they were talking about.

It wasn’t that the description was incoherent; it just seemed to be about an entirely different book. The locations and character names were the same, and the first paragraph sort of matched the opening 50 pages. After that, it was like the writer had lost their copy and decided to make up their own version from memory.

If I had to guess, I’d say it was done by something like ChatGPT — partly because of the way it read, and partly because I can’t imagine why anyone would put that much time into writing a plot summary for a book they clearly hadn’t read.

I’m not registered to edit Wikipedia, so I made a fairly detailed list of the factual errors — enough to show this wasn’t just a case of getting a few details wrong — and posted it to the talk page. The next day, I checked back and found the old summary had already been replaced with a much more accurate capsule version from Sherryl Connelly of the New York Daily News.

Then I clicked on the talk page and found the following:



The timestamp showed that, despite this being a very minor Wikipedia page, the editors had addressed the problem and removed the original contributor’s edits from this and several other pages — all within less than five hours.

Next time you see journalists writing long, pretentious think pieces about why the public has lost faith in them, feel free to send them a copy of this post. 

More from the vaunted fact-checkers of the New Yorker

[See here and here for previous examples of us watching the New Yorker watchmen.]

Calling to mind the great Dianne Wiest line from Parenthood, there is so much to dislike about this recent New Yorker book review by Jon Allsop that it’s difficult to pick just one thing. There’s the general lack of knowledge about the subject, the misinformed treatment of Elon Musk (which cites the disastrous GQ interview), an attempted comparison between the turn-of-the-century interest in Martians and the Epstein case—an analogy so tortured the writer might as well have attached electrodes to its testicles.

Time permitting, I may come back and address some or all of these, but for now I’m just going to focus on one example which, though relatively small, is both egregious and indicative of a larger journalistic failure that has caused no end of harm.

"Musk, of course, named his car company after Tesla"

I probably don’t have to tell this to anyone reading the blog. I certainly shouldn’t have to tell it to anyone writing about Tesla in a major publication. But Elon Musk not only did not name the company—he had nothing to do with it until it was about six months old, at which point he brought in a substantial chunk of money, entrenched himself in the operation, and began working to get himself named retroactive founder (because in the 21st century, that’s a thing).

This isn’t just printing the legend; it’s printing the lie. And while this detail is minor, it’s part of a myth that has done extraordinary damage over the past 25 years: the myth of the Silicon Valley Visionary, the Tech Messiah.

It’s a myth that has justified God knows how many crimes. It has elevated some of the most reprehensible people imaginable to positions of unprecedented wealth and power while convincing most of the media that they should be treated as sages and modern-day prophets.

In particular, the legend of Elon Musk is virtually the sole justification for a market cap that made him the richest and one of the most powerful men in the world—and is about to make him considerably richer still. That valuation is inflated by well over one and quite possibly two orders of magnitude for a shrinking niche car company with a toxic brand and nothing but sci-fi vaporware in the product pipeline.

If journalists can’t catch even the most basic, widely debunked lie about Elon Musk, how can they possibly dig through the layered falsehoods and impossible claims on which he has built his fortune?

One of the most challenging parts of living in profoundly abnormal times is avoiding a false sense of normalcy.

 

 

We’ve said before that it’s essential to take note of these Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether moments—not only because of their real significance, but because making a habit of acknowledging them keeps us aware of just how insane these times are. We’ve mentioned, for instance, the federal government taking the position that vaccines are potentially dangerous and that climate change is a hoax, while holding up toxic chemtrails and secret weather-control machines as areas requiring serious investigation.

The most recent example may not be quite as surreal as that, but it’s still bizarre—and even more significant—having a huge impact on government, the economy, and the lives of every American.

Put bluntly: the United States is now down to two and a half branches of government.

Assuming the House of Representatives actually follows its proposed schedule (something many political observers are highly skeptical of), it will have gone just a couple of days short of three months without being in session.

As we’ve advised before, this is one of those moments when you have to stop and give yourself a minute to absorb both the magnitude and the absurdity of what you’re seeing.

 

Having robots follow criminals around to prevent all crime sounds like a perfectly workable plan that's not at all dystopian

One of these days, we need to have a long, hard discussion about the extent to which the establishment press (The New York Times, The Atlantic, and too many others to count) enabled this mess—first by building up the mythology of the Tech Messiah, and more recently by going all-in on the sane-washing of techno-optimism as “abundance.” 

Tesla says shareholders approve Musk's $1 trillion pay plan with over 75% voting in favor
Lora Kolodny

Tesla said shareholders voted in favor of CEO Elon Musk’s almost $1 trillion pay plan, with 75% support among voting shares.

Board members recommended shareholders approve the pay plan, which they introduced in September. Top proxy advisors Glass Lewis and ISS recommended voting against it.

Results of the vote were announced on Thursday at the company’s annual shareholders meeting in Austin, Texas.

 

A few points we’ve made before, but which bear repeating:

It is impossible to justify Tesla’s current market cap—let alone the proposed compensation package—based on the company’s existing lines of business. The only plausible arguments rest on the assumption that Tesla will achieve monopoly or near-monopoly control over multiple new technologies that will prove profitable beyond precedent.

Two of these—autonomous vehicles and humanoid robots—would each have to exceed even the most optimistic serious estimates of their potential market. The case for large-language-model generative AI is somewhat more controversial, but even that doesn’t matter because…

Tesla is far behind its competitors in all of these fields, with no credible plan for catching up. It is, at best, a distant second to Waymo in the robo-taxi market and continues to fall further behind. It’s probably in fourth or fifth place in generative AI (unless you count pornography, where it does seem to have taken the lead). In robotics, it’s arguably even lower in the rankings. Across all of these sectors, its competitors have a considerable lead in both technology and talent.

Despite all this, Musk’s claims have grown even more grandiose—now constantly tipping into the delusional. He is explicitly promising to end all human want, to satisfy all of our material desires and physical needs, up to and including having robot housekeepers that can also perform delicate surgeries—presumably between cooking dinner and vacuuming the living room.

As commentators have (perhaps too) eagerly pointed out, receiving that full trillion-dollar payout requires meeting a number of highly unlikely conditions. But it’s important not to forget that Elon’s current compensation package is obscene; the company’s valuation—which is the source of most of his wealth—defies all rules of business, logic, and mathematics. And perhaps most importantly, even meeting some of those conditions will unlock mind-boggling amounts of money.

Ed Niedermeyer (who literally wrote the book on Tesla) was there and taking notes.

Most of the Tesla shareholder proposals are like "Tesla is an incredible company, but maybe we should make sure we have some basic accountability or make sure we aren't exploiting child labor" and the board recommends against all of them

— e.w. niedermeyer (@niedermeyer.online) November 6, 2025 at 1:40 PM

"But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot If you ain't got the do re mi. "

Giving the devil his due, good story from the New York Times on how Silicon Valley used the narrative that promised unlimited opportunities for those who learned coding to create an oversupply of potential tech workers. As always, with their reporting on these types of stories, there is a huge hot dog suit guy element -- the NYT very much played a role in this -- but that doesn't take anything away from Natasha Singer's work here.

The underlying strategy of creating the false impression of unlimited demand to generate an oversupply of labor isn't exactly new, nor is it the first time it centered on the Golden State.

"Indefensible on any artistic level but..."

 Picking back up on our film criticism thread—specifically, critics versus reviewers. As previously discussed, the defining difference between criticism and reviews is the intended audience. Criticism is (or at least should be) directed at people who are, to some degree, familiar with the subject. Reviews, on the other hand, are primarily intended to provide information for those who are considering watching, reading, or listening to a work of art. I previously mentioned that the best movie reviews came from the team behind the Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guide—back when that was still a thing. Here's one of my favorite examples, which also ties into our earlier discussion about art versus good trash.

 

With Eraser, a critic has little to work with. There's nothing to talk about here thematically or aesthetically. There's no attempt to push the medium, no psychological insights, no social commentary. To the extent that important issues are touched upon, it's strictly for the purpose of providing convenient situations and stock villains. Everyone in front of and behind the camera turns in solid, professional work, but, with the possible exception of the stunt choreographers, there are no interesting or unexpected artistic choices.

We could always play film school dropout and analyze what does or does not make a given scene effective -- if we wanted to go down that road, we could probably kill half an hour just on the airplane sequence -- but in terms of criticizing this movie as a work of art, there's simply nothing to say—and that's okay.

So how about the other side? Is there something a reviewer should say about Eraser?

Yes. Exactly what they wrote. Not a word more, not a word less. This is a perfect review. It tells potential viewers exactly what they're in for—and not in for—and gives them a clear sense of whether or not they'll enjoy the film.

 And I love that closing sentence.

If Mamdani wins, please keep your think pieces to yourself

Another big endorsement for Andrew Cuomo. And it only cost $959 million in tax breaks.

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— Zohran Kwame Mamdani (@zohrankmamdani.bsky.social) November 3, 2025 at 2:23 PM

 

When trying to make sense of complicated events, we have to accept that we’ll probably never know exactly what caused what—or to what degree. The data will always be murky. That said, we can make reasonable assumptions about causality based on common sense, particularly if we’re wary of politicians and pundits trying to force their personal hobby horses into the race. Though not foolproof, you’ll generally do well to limit your speculation to the simple and obvious—if those things are enough to explain what you’re seeing.

The primary focus of discussion around the race has been ideological. Based on various headlines and opinion pieces, you might get the impression that free bus rides and some modest rent control represent the final stages of the great Marxist revolution. The second-biggest theme has been ethnic and demographic, despite little evidence showing those factors as major drivers. Commentary has also spent a great deal of time insisting that Mamdani tells us something important about national political trends—despite New York City’s long history of being a beast of its own.

As with so many major political stories, the NYC mayor’s race has mainly been an excuse for people to make arguments they already wanted to make. We’ve seen this from both the left and the right. We’ve also seen—almost entirely from the pro–Andrew Cuomo crowd—a lot of “it’s not really about the hunting, is it?” think pieces. These almost inevitably come from pro-establishment types (with The New York Times, of course, looming large) who are desperate to talk about anything other than the establishment’s responsibility for pushing this walking embarrassment onto the voters of the country’s largest city.
(I am contractually obliged at this point to remind everyone that there are more Angelenos than New Yorkers, but since we’re specifically talking about cities here, NYC does hold the crown.)

If we put aside the hobby horses and the disingenuous arguments and limit ourselves to things that are almost certainly hurting Andrew Cuomo, what do we come up with?

 

It says Cuomo went to a senior center but apparently they don’t know how many casualties there were yet

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— Point Blank Sandwich Hat (@kenwhite.bsky.social) October 29, 2025 at 7:32 AM

He’s a disgraced and scandal-ridden former governor. His death toll during COVID would normally be enough to end a political career. His history of sexual harassment is so long and well-documented it has its own Wikipedia page. His qualifications for both governor and mayor seem largely limited to being the son of a famous father. (Question for current and former New Yorkers in the audience: how well-loved or even remembered is Mario Cuomo? As far as I recall, he was best known for teasing the press about presidential runs, but back in Arkansas we didn’t follow New York State politics all that closely.)

His campaign strategy seems modeled after the scene with Sideshow Bob in the field of rakes.

His displays of entitlement...

 

and incompetence

Omg 😭

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— starmanjr.bsky.social (@starmanjr.bsky.social) October 31, 2025 at 3:28 PM

 

have been stunning even by nepo-baby standards.

Plus, he just comes off as a racist asshole.

Andrew Cuomo’s campaign just posted — and quickly deleted — this AI-generated ad depicting “criminals for Zohran Mamdani.” Features a Black man in a keffiyeh shoplifting, an abuser, a trespasser, a trafficker, a drug dealer, and a drunk driver all declaring support for Mamdani.

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— Prem Thakker ツ (@premthakker.bsky.social) October 22, 2025 at 5:08 PM

By comparison, Mamdani is charming, personable, and has run a strong, sure-footed campaign. There’s nothing mysterious about him being ahead in the polls, nothing that requires convoluted explanations or close readings of the political and analytical tea leaves, no need for 10,000 words on what this says about Americans' attitudes toward socialism or youth or even Trump. Just the opposite.

As mentioned in a previous post: 

There's an exaggerated (but not all that exaggerated) account of the death of Rasputin that goes something like this: the controversial monk was, within the space of a few hours, poisoned, shot, bludgeoned, shot again, and then dumped into an icy Russian River where he drowned. 

There’s a corollary to the famous definition of news as “man bites dog”: unusual events merit coverage. 

The same can be said for unexpected or seemingly unlikely events. We might say it’s not news that Rasputin died; it would’ve been news if he had survived. Same goes for Cuomo.

 

I don't think the administration is going to try to suppress the vote in L.A. (because I don’t think they can).

 

L.A. County is home to more than nine million people, spread over 4,000 square miles. Registered voters received their ballots a month ago. As soon as they arrived, voters could drop them in the mail or deposit them at one of more than 400 secure, 24-hour drop boxes located across the county. Within a couple of days of being received, voters with email accounts were notified that their ballots had been properly counted. According to the city, more than half of residents vote by mail in a typical election,  and there are reasons to expect early voting to be higher this time. 

For those who preferred or needed to show up in person, early voting centers have been open for some time. The state has also maintained a strong presence to ensure no one interferes with the process.

I doubt even this administration could be so stunningly ignorant of the facts on the ground as to believe it could have any real impact — at least not in its favor — on the vote (though that may be a weak spot in my argument). It's possible that this is an attempt to drum evidence of "irregularities" or it might be nothing more than another attempted display of dominance, reacting to a real counterblow with empty bluster.

This ties into a couple of larger points that don’t get the attention they should:

First, as Krugman and Marshall have pointed out, the playbook Trump is using is largely modeled on that of strongmen like Putin and Orbán, who were riding high in popularity and overseeing rapidly recovering economies. There’s no reason to believe these techniques will be as effective under current circumstances — and considerable reason to think they might backfire.

Second — and this is the one no one talks about — the United States is a big country, both geographically and demographically. Despite the impression given by movies like Red Dawn, it would be extraordinarily difficult to impose anything resembling sustained martial law over even just the blue states, especially when the majority in those regions oppose the government.

A group that controls all three branches of the federal government and has abandoned any pretense of following the Constitution or the rule of law can, and likely will, do horrifying things — but it can’t do everything it wants. It’s essential to remember, when fighting back, that though the side in power may have huge advantages, it still faces real constraints.

The worst mistake the opposition can make is imagining them as omnipotent.

Twelve years ago at the blog -- a Halloween themed repost

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Martians and metadata

 

Just in case you don't know the story:

The War of the Worlds is an episode of the American radio drama anthology series The Mercury Theatre on the Air. It was performed as a Halloween episode of the series on October 30, 1938, and aired over the Columbia Broadcasting System radio network. Directed and narrated by actor and future filmmaker Orson Welles, the episode was an adaptation of H. G. Wells's novel The War of the Worlds (1898).

[Written primarily by Howard Koch who went on to do some other interesting work, but nobody talks about the writer.* ]

The first two thirds of the 60-minute broadcast were presented as a series of simulated news bulletins, which suggested to many listeners that an actual alien invasion by Martians was currently in progress. Compounding the issue was the fact that the Mercury Theatre on the Air was a sustaining show (it ran without commercial breaks), adding to the program's realism. Although there were sensationalist accounts in the press about a supposed panic in response to the broadcast, the precise extent of listener response has been debated.

In the days following the adaptation, however, there was widespread outrage and panic by certain listeners, who had believed the events described in the program were real. The program's news-bulletin format was described as cruelly deceptive by some newspapers and public figures, leading to an outcry against the perpetrators of the broadcast. Despite these complaints--or perhaps in part because of them--the episode secured Welles' fame as a dramatist.

Of course, no one who heard the whole broadcast panicked. The first line listeners heard clearly spelled out what was about to come: "The Columbia Broadcasting System and its affiliated stations present Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre on the Air in The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells."

But most of the people who were listening when the show ended hadn't heard the beginning of the show. They had been listening to one of the highest rated acts on radio, a ventriloquist named Edgar Bergen (you might want to take a minute to reflect on the concept of a radio ventriloquist before continuing). About fifteen minutes into the hour, the show cut to a musical interlude and people started channel surfing.

Though we don't normally think of it in those terms, the title of a program is data, as is the author. We feed it into the algorithm we use to interpret what we see, or in this case, hear. People who didn't hear the words  "The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells" tried to impute the genre based on the information they heard when they first tuned in to what seemed to be a reporter covering a disaster.

Check out the first few minutes and think about what you'd conclude.



PBS has a special commemorating the anniversary, but I'm staying loyal to the original medium and recommending this radio documentary produced for KPCC.



* Welles' relationship with Koch in some ways foreshadowed the controversy over Citizen Kane. Here's Pauline Kael's summary.

The Mercury group wasn’t surprised at Welles’s taking a script credit; they’d had experience with this foible of his. Very early in his life as a prodigy, Welles seems to have fallen into the trap that has caught so many lesser men—believing his own publicity, believing that he really was the whole creative works, producer-director-writer-actor. Because he could do all these things, he imagined that he did do them. (A Profile of him that appeared in The New Yorker two years before Citizen Kane was made said that “outside the theatre … Welles is exactly twenty-three years old.”) In the days before the Mercury Theatre’s weekly radio shows got a sponsor, it was considered a good publicity technique to build up public identification with Welles’s name, so he was credited with just about everything, and was named on the air as the writer of the Mercury shows. Probably no one but Welles believed it. He had written some of the shows when the program first started, and had also worked on some with Houseman, but soon he had become much too busy even to collaborate; for a while Houseman wrote them, and then they were farmed out. By the time of the War of the Worlds broadcast, on Halloween, 1938, Welles wasn’t doing any of the writing. He was so busy with his various other activities that he didn’t always direct the rehearsals himself, either—William Alland or Richard Wilson or one of the other Mercury assistants did it. Welles might not come in until the last day, but somehow, all agree, he would pull the show together “with a magic touch.” Yet when the Martian broadcast became accidentally famous, Welles seemed to forget that Howard Koch had written it. (In all the furor over the broadcast, with front-page stories everywhere, the name of the author of the radio play wasn’t mentioned.) Koch had been writing the shows for some time. He lasted for six months, writing about twenty-five shows altogether—working six and a half days a week, and frantically, on each one, he says, with no more than half a day off to see his family. The weekly broadcasts were a “studio presentation” until after the War of the Worlds (Campbell’s Soup picked them up then), and Koch, a young writer, who was to make his name with the film The Letter in 1940 and win an Academy Award for his share in the script of the 1942 Casablanca, was writing them for $75 apiece. Koch’s understanding of the agreement was that Welles would get the writing credit on the air for publicity purposes but that Koch would have any later benefit, and the copyright was in Koch’s name. (He says that it was, however, Welles’s idea that he do the Martian show in the form of radio bulletins.) Some years later, when C.B.S. did a program about the broadcast and the panic it had caused, the network re-created parts of the original broadcast and paid Koch $300 for the use of his material. Welles sued C.B.S. for $375,000, claiming that he was the author and that the material had been used without his permission. He lost, of course, but he may still think he wrote it. (He frequently indicates as much in interviews and on television.)

 

Halloween Deep Cuts

Having gone off on content farms, I should probably explain why,  despite cranking out a ton of videos What Culture is actually one of the good guys, but it's late so, for now, you'll just have to take my word on it.

The following is a prime example, a great list of obscure and unfairly forgotten horror films ranging from recent releases to Universal (Son of Dracula) and Hammer (Captain Kronos). These guys genuinely know their stuff. 

"Back in my day, the internet was really something."

The fundamental challenge of the internet has always been a variation on the old Steven Wright line: “You can’t have everything. Where would you put it?” Or, in this case—how would you find it? Given the vast quantity of content, how do you connect users with what they're looking for? 

Even when things were working as they were supposed to, this was an increasingly daunting problem: ever-growing content, link rot, and even before AI slop, content farms flooding algorithms with SEO-optimized garbage. Add Sora and ChatGPT to the mix, and you have a scenario where the good new content (and yes, it’s still flowing in) is lost in a tidal wave of crap.

This might not be so bad if the gatekeepers were stepping up to the moment, but instead we’re seeing the opposite. Alphabet’s Google—and in particular YouTube—turn a blind eye to content farms that violate their standards and even endanger their audience (such as recommending a fun kids' activity involving using plastic straws to blow bubbles in molten sugar).

[Even if you have no interest in cooking, you should check out all of food scientist Ann Reardon’s debunking videos.]

5-min crafts DESTROYED my microwave! 

They aggressively push AI slop even when no one seems to be clicking. (I have no idea why the algorithm thinks I would be interested in any of these but my feed is full of them.)

Worse yet, search functions on major platforms are declining in both functionality and quality.

From Matthew Hughes’ highly recommended What We Lost

 Allow me to confess something that will, for many of the readers of this newsletter, make me seem immediately uncool. I like hashtags.

I like hashtags because they act as an informal taxonomy of the Internet, making it easier to aggregate and identify content pertaining to specific moments or themes. In a world where billions of people are posting and uploading, hashtags act as a useful tool for researchers and journalists alike. And that’s without mentioning the other non-media uses of hashtags — like events, activism, or simply as a tool for small businesses to reach out to potential customers.

You see where this is going. A few years ago, Instagram killed the hashtag by preventing users from sorting them by date. In its place, Instagram would show an algorithmically-curated selection of posts that weren’t rooted in any given moment in time. It might put a post from 2017 next to one from the previous day.

What happens if you just scroll through and try to look at every post with the hashtag, hoping to see the most recent posts through sheer brute force? Ha, no.

Instagram will, eventually, stop showing new posts. On any hashtag with tens of thousands of posts, you’ll likely only see a small fraction of them — and that’s by design. Or, said another way, Instagram is directly burying content that users explicitly state that they wish to see. Essentially, your visibility into a particular hashtag is limited to what Instagram will allow.

Additionally, users can’t refine their search by adding an additional term to a hashtag. If you type in “#EvertonFC Goodison Park,” it’ll reply with “no results found.”

Premier League, and Goodison Park is the stadium it used until this year. There should be thousands of posts that include these terms. It’s like searching for “#NYYankees Yankee Stadium” — something that you’d assume, with good reason, to have mountains of photos and videos attached to it.

Additionally, when you search for a hashtag on Instagram, the app will show you content that doesn’t include the hashtag as exactly written, but has terms that resemble that hashtag. As a result, hashtags are effectively useless as a tool for creating taxonomies of content, or for discoverability.

Most of the points I’ve raised haven’t been covered anywhere — save for the initial announcement that Instagram would be discontinuing the ability to organize hashtags by date. And even when that point was mentioned, it was reported as straight news, with no questioning as to whether Instagram might have an incentive to destroy hashtags, or whether the points that Instagram CEO Adam Mosseri would later make (that hashtags were a major vector for “problematic” content) were true.

When Moseri would later say that hashtags didn’t actually help drive discoverability or engagement, that too was repeated unquestionably by a media that, when it comes to the tech industry, is all too content to act as stenographers rather than inquisitors. It’s a point that’s easily challenged by looking at the Instagram subreddit, where there are no shortage of people saying that the changes to hashtags had an adverse impact on their businesses, or their ability to find content from smaller creators.

We should probably talk about the decline of Google search at this point but that needs a post of its own. 

 

It's important to note these Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether moments

One of these days, we’ll have to have a serious, extended discussion about the complex dynamics and interlocking ecosystems of conspiracy theorists and the world of pseudoscience — about how fundamentalists, MAGA types, and techno-optimists find common ground, and how the feelings of paranoia and persecution rampant in these groups create such a fertile breeding ground for all this craziness.

For now, though, we just need to stop and acknowledge how far things have gone.

According to the federal government, AM radio talk-show theories about toxic contrails and secret hurricane-making machines merit serious inquiry while vaccines and global warming are now dangerous fringe science.

EPA Commissioner Lee Zeldin announces his agency is launching a major investigation into the right-wing conspiracies about chemtrails and weather manipulation to get to the bottom of it.

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— Ron Filipkowski (@ronfilipkowski.bsky.social) October 23, 2025 at 9:24 AM

Notes on Mr. Arkadin

 [The world's second richest man may be buying yet another storied Hollywood studio so I've been working through the Warners catalog, particularly their Janus/Criterion collection in case I need to cut ties with another streaming service. I thought I'd jot down some impressions along the way. -- MP 10/8/25]

 

Clearly a low-budget effort with a few notable character actors but no name stars other than Welles himself. In what I assume was an effort to save money, Welles apparently hired only cameramen under 4 ft tall, which explains why most of the interior scenes that aren’t full-face close-ups were filmed from waist height.

In general, the direction feels almost like a parody of Orson Welles, with dutched cameras, scenes shot through latticework, expressionistic shadows cast on the walls, etc. A contemporary review of Dumbo said that it had more camera angles than Citizen Kane. Mr. Arkadin has more camera angles than Dumbo.

The main problem with the movie isn’t the budget; it’s the script. Pretty much everyone agrees Welles actually wrote this one, and his limitations definitely show through. That’s not to say there isn’t a great deal of good stuff here — scenes, bits of dialogue, ideas that could have been first-rate had he worked with a collaborator who was sharp enough to see what was worth saving and strong enough not to be pushed around.

The result is absolutely essential for a true Orson Welles fan, a sharp pass for the general public, and somewhere in the middle for the rest of us. 

Boyle's slightly less pessimistic take on the Gen AI bubble.

We've been beating the AI bubble quite a bit lately, partially because the widespread belief that there's a bubble is a story in itself and partially because I find most of the argument from the nothing-to-worry-about crowd unconvincing and motivated (they mainly come from AI true believers).

That said, there is a bit of gray area between the two extremes and we haven't done a very good job capturing that part of the debate. To address that, here's a more nuanced take from Patrick Boyle.  

Remember that quote from Citizen Kane?

"You're right, I did lose a million dollars last year. I expect to lose a million dollars this year. I expect to lose a million dollars *next* year. You know, Mr. Thatcher, at the rate of a million dollars a year, I'll have to close this place in... sixty years." *

Microsoft, Meta, and Alphabet have lots of money and can keep this rate of spending for a long time. There’s some question as to whether even they can maintain the growth rates being projected by some in the industry, but as long as the big guys remain reasonably committed, the bubble has at least some protection from implosion—if not from deflation.

The current situation is not sustainable. At some point in the near to nearish future, unless these products and services go from losing money to being enormously profitable, the major players will cut their losses and it's going to be ugly whether it happens fast or slow. 

* This line was taken almost verbatim from George Hearst's response to people telling him about his publisher son's profligate spending.

"Did you hear the one about the huge bubble threatening to take down the economy?"

Normally, you would expect investors to be more easily spooked as talk of a bubble became increasingly ubiquitous, but whatever the investors of 2025 are, it is certainly not skittish. Even the worst economic or political news only chases them away for, at best, a day.

Of course, this is not a normal bubble in any sense. Its magnitude dwarfs even the dot-com bubble. It was preceded by a level of gods-or-ashes hype unlike anything I've ever seen. The people behind it have unprecedented wealth and power. It is hitting a market that has run out of “next big things” and is desperate for the next one. Perhaps most important, the executives running the world's largest companies have decided to pump trillions of dollars into the technology.

Whatever the reason, we have now reached the point where the idea that OpenAI, Nvidia, etc. are a bubble has become so widespread that you can see it everywhere—from stories in The Wall Street Journal and The Financial Times to segments on late-night talk shows.

 

For fans of Adam Ruins Everything, Adam Conover also covers much of the same material bu in greater depth. 

In the late 1920s, having your doorman offer stock tips was famously an indicator that it was time to get out of the market. Perhaps in the 2020s it's having comics use the bubble as a punchline.