Aneesh Sathe

Tonight we cast our nets  
In foreign waters  
Now we are new  
Tomorrow we’ll belong  
Then the sea'll tug and pull  
Time to be gone  
  
So, let’s  
Kiss the nymphs  
Meet the crabs  
In their bucket games  
Feel their stabs  
  
Our plans are small  
But they are spread  
A thousand ports  
Before we are dead

Image: Sailing off Gloucester (ca.1880) by Winslow Homer.

I don’t have any fun when I use LLMs to write. It may have perceived utility: popping out a LinkedIn article or two everyday. But I bet no one is actually reading. It’s a strip mall for a thumb stroll.

LLMs suck at writing. The summaries that LLMs give with the “Deep Research” are so poor in quality that I start to skim it. Yes, I skim the thing that is already a summary.

Let’s do a small experiment using the  Harry G. Frankfurt Essay On Bullshit:

Here are HGF’s opening lines:

“One of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much bullshit. Everyone knows this. Each of us contributes his share.”

Now here is ChatGPT o3, with the advantage of having HGF in the training data and extra contextualizing from me “theory of bullshit”:

Prompt: write me an introductory paragraph on the theory of bullshit

Result: “Bullshit isn’t just lying gone sloppy; it’s a distinct communicative strategy built on indifference to truth. Where the liar knows the facts and works to conceal or invert them, the bullshitter treats truth-value as irrelevant raw material—selecting, mixing, or inventing claims to achieve an effect (status, alignment, vibe) rather than to inform. The result is epistemic pollution: signals that…”

Look! It’s the secret flag of “content”:  “Blah isn’t just X; Blah is Y”.

I cannot assimilate this, it definitely can’t help me synthesize anything. There is always better human writing even if it is poorly written. It has a certain aliveness, and that aliveness is contagious enthusiasm. Vibe coding I can understand, you can see bad output in the final result. Vibe coding still manages to change something in my mind: knowing what I don’t want.

I don’t mind people using AI at all, I use it alllll the time. Writing with LLMs is no just fun. All this prompting and almost nothing changes in my mind. When an AI rearranges your thoughts it does not rearrange your brain.

In 1986, David S. Landes wrote the essay, ‘What Do Bosses Really Do?’. He argues that the historical role of the ‘boss’ was an essential function for organizing production and connecting producers to markets. Digital platforms have become the new bosses. Platforms have the same functions of market creation, labor specialization, and management, but they have replaced the physical factory floor with algorithmic management. While their methods are novel, platforms are the direct descendants of the merchant-entrepreneurs and factory owners Landes described, solving the same historical problems of production in remarkably similar ways.

So, why am I posting this on my own blog and not on a “platform”? I don’t view writing as a financial transaction. It is a hobby. By putting the financialization lens front and center, platforms are killing the mental space for hobbies. When you monetize tweets, you create incentive to craft tweets that create engagement in particular ways. Usually not healthy ways.

If we think of old media or traditional manufacturing, we can compare them to guilds. Guilds kept up prices and controlled production. With the simplification of tasks factories could hire workers who weren’t as highly skilled but didn’t need to be. Nowadays, why should any newspaper or TV channel’s output be limited by the amount of airtime or page space they have?

Platforms take unskilled and train them. We are in the age of specialization of ideas.  Akin to the “the advantage of disaggregating a productive process”  Platforms leverage this by having many producers explore the same space through millions of different angles. This allows the platform to “purchase exactly that precise quantity of which is necessary for each process” —paying a viral star a lot and a niche creator a little, perfectly matching reward to market impact. Which is to say platforms make money through whatever sticks.

In Landes’s essay, Management became specialized, today management will become algorithmized. Platforms abstract away the issues that factory owners had such as embezzlement of resources, slacking off etc. Platforms don’t care how much or how little you produce, or even if you produce. If you do, the cash is yours (after a cut of course).

This may lead to a visceral reaction against platforms. This week when Substack raised a substantial amount they called the writers “the heroes of culture”. This should ring at least a tiny alarm in your head. The platform’s rhetoric of the creator-as-hero is a shrewd economic arrangement. In the putting-out system, the merchant-manufacturer “was able to shift capital expenditures (plant and equipment) to the worker”. Platforms do the same with creative risk. The writer, artist, or creator invests all the time and labor—the “capital” of creation—upfront. If they fail, they bear the entire loss. The platform, like the putter-outer, only participates in the upside, taking its cut from the successful ‘heroes’ while remaining insulated from the failures of the many.

So what do platforms really do? They have resurrected the essential role of the boss for the digital age. They are the merchant-manufacturers who build the roads to market, and they are the factory owners who discipline production—not with overseers, but with incentive algorithms. By casting the creator as the hero, they obscure their own power and shift the immense risks of creative work onto the individual. While appearing to be mere background IT admins, they are, in fact, the central organizers of production, demonstrating that even in the 21st century, the fundamental challenges of coordinating labor and capital persist, and solving them remains, as it was in the 18th century, a very lucrative role.

What Do Bosses Really Do?, David S. Landes, The Journal of Economic History, Vol. 46, No. 3 (Sep., 1986), pp. 585-623 (39 pages). https://www.jstor.org/stable/2121476

A few days ago I wrote about the beauty of great documentation; this is the evil twin post.

The spectrum of meaning across the words hack, hacky, and hacker form a horseshoe when thinking about postures toward life. On either ends are the most difficult options. Being either a hack or a hacker requires dedication and both approaches narrow your world. Being hacky, taking imperfect shortcuts, in the world is immensely satisfying. It is play disguised as problem solving.

A successful hack takes tremendous effort and dedication just to pretend to be great at something. Humans are great at spotting and discarding hacks. It takes a true master to fool a large enough population and build financial columns under the smoke. Being a hack is constant desperation, there is no play. It is no way to live.

On the other end of the same horseshoe as the hack, is hacking. Here, you are actually achieving something difficult enough to require mastery. “Playfully doing something difficult, whether useful or not, that is hacking.” says Richard Stallman. Now, I’m all for the playful, the difficult, and the useful, but not the “or not”. At minimum hacking should be in service of a prank. Doing things just because is like felling a tree in a forest when no one is around. At least a jump scare is a sine qua non (the dictionary is working :P).

Most systems, especially computers are designed by people for people like you and me who are neither very bright nor very invested in the thing. We want to not have the problem. You can always walk away but that is neither fun, nor useful, and certainly not hard. My favored way is to take the Nakatomi Tunnel through problems. Be hacky. Try enough approaches, push buttons that may do the thing you want until the alignment is just so and you slip through. Effectiveness here = solving many real-world problems quickly while preserving playful momentum.

I want to draw a distinction here from the oversubscribed idea of jugaad. Jugaad was once framed as creative improvisation. It is not. I do not care for jugaad. To make something substandard and expect people to accept it is no way to be in the world. Build good stuff, be hacky route through the small issues.

A hacky mindset is a foxy mindset and not just in the Hendrix way. The Hedgehog and the Fox is a great essay by Isaiah Berlin where he talks about the two kinds of people in the world. Hedgehogs, are great at one big thing. Foxes are mediocre at many things. Foxes thrive on lateral moves and opportunistic shortcuts, you know, hackiness. The hacky, foxy approach to life is more my style.

Breadth, speed, and joy beat fakery and fixation every time

Yesterday I wrote about good documentation opening doors to options you didn’t realize you had. In the book On Writing Well Zinsser mentions how one of his key tools is the dictionary. That got me curious about the limitations about the dictionaries available to us. This is not just about the dictionary on the bookshelf but the ones that we have in-context access to. The ones on our computer and phones.

In my searches I came across this post by James Somers who references another great writer John McPhee and his article Draft No. 4. McPhee shows us how the dictionary is to be used. The crux is that modern dictionaries have taken all the fun out and left all the crud in. The old way is the proper way to play with words.

J.S ends with instructions on how to install the (apparently perfect) 1913 version of Webster’s dictionary. Unfortunately, his instructions are a little out of date. Which is to be accepted since he’s talking to people 10 years in his future. Luckily for us Corey Ward from speaking to use from just 5 years ago had updated instructions for MacOS that mostly still work.

I’m updating Corey’s instructions below:

1. Get the latest release for Webster’s 1913 from the Github Releases page for WebsterParser. Download the file: websters-1913.dictionary.zip and unzip it. You will see a folder like file with the extension .dictionary.
2. Open the Dictionary app on your computer, and select File > Open Dictionaries Folder from the menu, or navigate manually to ~/Library/Dictionaries.
3. Unzip the file, and move the resulting websters-1913.dictionary file into the dictionaries folder that you opened.
4. Restart the Dictionary app if it is open (important), then open Dictionary>Settings (⌘,). At the bottom of the list of dictionaries you should see Webster's Unabridged Dictionary (1913) in the list. Check the box, and optionally drag it up in the list to the order you’d like.

The dictionary is also available online if you don’t want to install.

The best option is probably the OED . It’s expensive, but you may get access through your library.

Wordnik also cool.

Through J.S. I also discovered this interesting site: Language Log. They get really deep into language. I mean how much can you write about Spinach, apparently a lot.

I’d love to get back to a world where the internet was used in its raw form. If you are reading my posts, please do comment, share your site/blog and your posts. Social media is also good. More from Somers.