Entry 121, year five complete, streak intact. This one’s dated the 20th because the 25th belongs to family and the 30th to Zelda; seniority is knowing your own load limits. The closing fortnight compressed the whole year: net neutrality was repealed on the 14th as scheduled (the slow-boil forecast now on the clock); Bitcoin kissed ~$19,783 on the 17th and is already wobbling (if that was the top, let the record show the top smelled like my barber’s price targets); and The Last Jedi opened to a fascinating split, critics elated, a vocal fan-segment furious, which mostly taught me that beloved legacy systems can’t be refactored without someone filing a grievance about the original architecture. (I liked it. The Luke arc is the brave design choice.) ...

The most 2017 sentence ever written, and I get to write it: trading of cartoon cats has congested the Ethereum network. CryptoKitties (collectible, breedable, blockchain-native cats) launched last week and immediately became the largest consumer of gas on the “world computer,” at points comprising 15-20%+ of all network traffic, backing up transactions globally and spiking fees for everyone trying to do, you know, finance. People have paid over $100,000 for a single virtual cat. The serious take hiding in the absurdity: this is the first organic consumer dapp product-market fit, and it instantly hit the scaling wall. Ethereum does ~15 transactions per second, total, planet-wide, and one viral toy saturated it (the whole chain is one hot partition, by design). Every scaling roadmap conversation (sharding, layer-2, state channels) just got its forcing function, and its mascot. Thundering herds (drink) now come in kitten form. ...

The FCC formally scheduled the net-neutrality repeal vote for December 14th, and the outcome is not in suspense: the 2015 victory gets rolled back on a party-line vote almost three years to the season. Logging my calibrated take alongside the outrage: the apocalypse scenarios (per-site tolls tomorrow) are overwrought on day one, because ISPs read headlines too; the real erosion will be slow, boring, and bundled, zero-rating here, interconnect leverage there, each individually defensible, compounding like the frog’s bathwater. Infrastructure rarely fails loudly when it can fail gradually (this is the whole genre of my job). The courts and states get the next moves. ...

Hamilton won the F1 World Championship, his fourth title, in a dramatic Mexican GP that included a first-lap collision with Vettel that dropped him to the back of the grid and aged every Mercedes engineer a fiscal year. For Hamilton, a decade on from the rookie heartbreak of 2007 and the last-corner title of 2008, the fourth cements him among the legends. The team-build story is pure engineering-org porn, too: Mercedes built a data-first power unit system that experts predicted would dominate the turbo-hybrid era, and they shipped exactly on the roadmap. The most audacious long-term engine refactor in motorsport, delivered to spec. (Retention is architecture; so is planned demolition.) ...

DeepMind published AlphaGo Zero this week, and the result reorganized my priors more than the original did. The first AlphaGo learned from 30 million human expert moves, then surpassed us. Zero learned from nothing: the rules, a board, and self-play. Three days: it beat the version that beat Lee Sedol, 100 games to 0. Forty days: it beat every AlphaGo ever built. Along the way it rediscovered centuries of human joseki (opening theory), used them for a while, and then discarded some in favor of moves we’d never found in three thousand years. Human knowledge, it turns out, wasn’t the ladder, it was scaffolding, and load-bearing bias. The bitter arithmetic: our accumulated expertise was worth about three days of self-play. I’ve retold Move 37 as “the machine surprised us”; Zero’s lesson is stranger, that we were the constraint being optimized away. Centaurs-over-engines needs an asterisk I don’t have words for yet. Ask me again in ten years, again. ...

Opening with the somber: the Las Vegas shooting is days old and processing hasn’t finished; the tech-adjacent note, again, is safety-check systems and blood-bank logistics doing quiet essential work. Take care of your people. Onward, because onward is the format. Yahoo (now buried inside Verizon) revised its breach disclosure this week: not 1 billion accounts. All of them. Three billion, every Yahoo account that existed in 2013, the largest breach in history, upgraded via footnote four years later. Breach numbers only ever revise upward; initial disclosure is a floor, never a ceiling (Equifax’s count has already crept too). Assume the ceiling on day one. ...

Equifax. 143 million Americans (SSNs, birthdates, addresses, the immutable keys to whole identities) exfiltrated from a company most victims never chose to do business with. The failure chain is a full curriculum: a known Apache Struts vulnerability, patch available in March, unpatched through July (the WannaCry sermon re-preached with the entire adult population as congregation); a breach discovered in July and disclosed in September; executives who sold stock in between (they say unknowingly); a response site that was itself so sketchy that browsers flagged it; and, my personal favorite artifact of the whole disaster, their Argentina portal reportedly secured with admin/admin. You cannot rotate your SSN. The data model of American identity assumes secrets that half the internet now holds. The real fix isn’t Equifax-shaped, it’s architectural: identity systems built on credentials that can be revoked. ...

Mayweather-McGregor postscript, exactly as prophesied: the pay-per-view infrastructure buckled again. Showtime’s streams stuttered and 500’d at fight time, the start got delayed for buffering buyers, and a class-action lawsuit about stream quality was filed before the bruises faded. Same failure, different year, bigger check: flat-fee mega-events create vertical demand walls that elastic infrastructure can catch. Mayweather-Pacquiao was 2015, the eclipse was two weeks ago and NASA handled it fine, the playbook exists, and PPV economics keep not buying it. The fight itself over-delivered (McGregor was genuinely competitive for nine rounds before the inevitable), and Mayweather retired 50-0, the rarest thing in sports: a system that never once went down in production. ...

Yesterday I stood in a field in Oregon, the bucket-list flight I’d been saving toward since the streak began (PTO hoarded, visa stamped, two conference friends recruited), with cardboard glasses, and 200 strangers, and watched the moon eat the sun. Totality is not a percentage experience: 99% partial is a neat dimming; 100% is a hole in the sky wearing a crown of fire, planets visible at midday, birds going to bed confused, humans involuntarily screaming. The temperature dropped like a deploy going wrong. Two minutes that recalibrated my sense of what “rare event” means. The whole country stopped and looked up together, which 2017 needed more than any of us admitted. ...

Adobe announced Flash will die in 2020, an execution date, published three years out, for the technology that was the fun internet of my adolescence. Newgrounds, Homestar Runner, every browser game that ruined my GPA, YouTube’s original player: all Flash. It also was a security hellscape (this blog’s archives contain a decade of “patch Flash now” by implication), a battery vampire, and the subject of the most consequential product memo of the mobile era, Jobs’ 2010 “Thoughts on Flash,” which everyone called spite and which turned out to be a roadmap. HTML5 won by becoming boring and universal. The deprecation lesson, for the file: platforms don’t die when the replacement is better; they die when the replacement is default. And three years of scheduled hospice is a gift; the average internal system gets killed by a Friday email. Announce your deprecations like Adobe; migrate like it’s 2019. ...