267 karma · joined September 26, 2022
Towards the end of the piece, the author describes a science professor who, together with his son, lays buried under the rubble of his house after the blast. He ultimately survives but reflects about laying there, thinking: “It was my first time I ever tasted such a beautiful spirit when I decided to die for our Emperor.” How fascinating this is the spin you give to such a traumatising experience. Are we really nation state citizens first, human beings second? Could speaking about the fate of the people of Hiroshima in terms as ‘necessity’ and ‘justified’ be a symptom of the same thinking? How do we get out of this?
The lottery of life gets you born in a place that from one day to the other witnesses the arrival of foreign soldiers speaking foreign languages. They roll in your strees in big trucks with big guns always loaded.
They came for the War Against The Axis of Evil, they say.
Whatever, you think. You try to continue living your life. You grow up, enroll in university, fall in and out of love, graduate, marry, give birth, build a career, establish a family.
You almost forget about the foreign soldiers with their guns always loaded and their War Against The Axis of Evil.
One day you come home from your job and are met by the screams of crying family members who mourn the bodies of multiple of your nieghbours and family members. It could have been you. Instead it's your parents, your best friend, your partner, your kids. You learn they were cold bloodedly shot through the head by the foreign soldiers with their big guns always loaded. They were unarmed, civilians, innocent.
Meanwhile, no one gets punished. No one takes responsibility. Investigations die a slient death. It was the War Against The Axis of Evil, the foreigners say.
Can we imagine it?
Penalties consist of fines up to EUR 35M or 7% of an undertaking's turnover, whichever is higher (article 99, §3 AI Act).
The prohibition will apply only from 2 February 2025 (see article 113 (a) AI Act).
Not a day too early, arguably even too late. Governments of the world, follow suit!
[1] https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=OJ:L...
In the middle of nowhere, festoons are hanging over the streets of a small village. It's a long forgotten village, except for today, when for around 10 seconds, it becomes the stage of a show in which the nation's biggest hero's and antihero's participate.
The noise of the television helicopter coming closer is the sign for the butcher and the baker and their customers to leave their shops and head for the street. Here they line up next to the village's grandads and grandmothers, who are firmly holding the hands of their grandkids, equally excited, eagerly awaiting the caravane of sponsor cars and police bikes that signal the head of the race.
There is nothing quite like the vivid brush of colors of the jerseys of a peloton rustling by at 60 km/hour. The whoosh of two hundred times two 25mm rubber tubes rolling over asfalt, a peloton displacing itself through air as one giant organism, the sound of shifting gears, the shriek of someone hitting the brakes, a shout perhaps to warn for a pothole or the odd street furniture. A sunray hitting the large sunglasses covering most of the faces of the riders, the rest of which give away a familiar mix of concentration and nervousness. The same questions racing through the minds of all the riders. "Did I train enough?" "How much will I be able to suffer today?"
Vamos!! Alé alé! Cries from the spectators at the side of the road, transcending any language, the grandma and the grandkid equally loud. Support, not for a particular team, less for a particular rider. Encouragement that is as much destined for the champion, feeling the pressure, chasing a new record, as for the anonymous rider who tries to make him or herself believe that if everything falls into place, it is possible for him or her to sneak away and grab an upset victory. It has happened.
A rider at the back of the bunch, looking for distraction, his legs hurting more than they ought to, spots a kid at the side of the road and throws his bottle at her feet. Rare will be the moments in her life that she will feel equally much at the center of the world.
Ah, the beauty of cycling. Maybe I misunderstand what it really is.
1. It's worth going through a bit of awkwardness to thank people or tell them what they mean to you while you still can.
2. Never go out on the water (or more generally engage in risky activities) alone.
« I am a husband and father. The reason I was born was to become my daughter’s father. I was wise enough to notice and appreciate at the time, the slow ecstatic joy my child’s early years were giving me. So too have her later years. I will die happy. »
Beautiful.
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2023/07/10/seduced-by-sto...
I really liked notion as a product. This is kind of a wakeup call for me that using the cloud pretty much means giving up control - and not just theoretically.