Is the God of Hosts my God?
In a burning world, the Church still carries a God who orders genocide. From Marcion to Netanyahu, the problem of the Old Testament has never been resolved.
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Marghera: 37 engineers fired. And Italy still debating cookies.
AI isn't stealing our jobs. We're giving them away. A few weeks ago, on the other side of the ocean, something happened that could never have happened in Italy. Not because Italians aren't capable—but because someone usually stops them first. Dario Amodei, CEO of Anthropic—the company that…
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The Army of Professionals with Folded Arms
Arms folded, a proud look, a neutral background: LinkedIn profile photos are all the same. An ironic, psychological analysis of a disappearing identity.
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It's 2026. We have everything. And it's still not enough.
Reflections on the paradoxes of a humanity capable of reaching the stars yet incapable of waiting in line in peace. It's 2026. We produce enough food to feed 12 billion people, and there are only 8 of us. We're preparing to return to the Moon and plan a colony on Mars. We have clean energy, life-extending medicines,…
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Anthropic and the Middle Finger to Trump: Are AI Ethics Worth $200 Million?
There's a specific moment when Silicon Valley's grand declarations of principle collide with reality, and that moment usually takes the form of a multi-figure check. In this blog, we often talk about how generative AI is changing art, music, and creativity—just look at our…
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Many things, but giving the best: because being multifaceted is a choice and not an excuse
Last night, on the stage of the Ariston Theatre, a man in an elegant dark suit moonwalks down Italy's most famous stairs. He doesn't stumble. Almost perfect. And before anyone can even decide what to think, he opens his mouth and says, "Better to do many things badly than one well." Pause. Laughter. And I, from the couch, did that...
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Mirano Market: when the past embraces you among the stalls.
Last Monday, thanks to a car service and a day off work that almost by chance fell into place, I found myself in Mirano for the weekly market—a leap into the past that took me straight back to the Wednesdays in Abano, when as a child I accompanied my mother or grandmother in that pagan rite that was much more than just…
