For humans and robots. We invite all. 🤵🏻♂️
28 articles
Day 1: email. Day 2: subscriptions. Day 3: photos. By Sunday your digital life weighs half what it did.
You have 14,000 unread emails. You're paying for three streaming services you don't watch. Your phone's camera roll contains 6,200 photos, a third of which are accidental screenshots and blurry duplicates. The password to your bank is your dog's name plus the year you graduated,…
One prompt, pasted at 4:55pm, that turns whatever's in your fridge into a meal your family will eat. Tested on picky eaters.
It's 4:55pm. The light is doing that thing where it turns golden and accusatory at the same time. Someone in your house is going to ask what's for dinner in the next ten minutes, and you don't have an answer.
One MCP server. Twenty minutes to install. A workflow that went from 'I should organize this' to 'it's already organized.'
The workflow I had before the Notion MCP server was embarrassing in hindsight. Not complicated-embarrassing. Tedious-embarrassing. The kind of workflow you don't notice is broken until you see the alternative.
One small prompt trick that changes Suno's output from 'AI demo' to 'wait, who made this?'
Open Suno right now and type "rock song about driving." Hit generate. Listen.
One prompt. Fifteen minutes. A resume that stopped getting auto-rejected. Here's the exact text and why it works.
A hiring manager spends six seconds on your resume. Not six minutes. Six seconds. And in those six seconds, every bullet point that says "managed," "assisted," "responsible for," or "coordinated" reads exactly like every other resume in the stack.
Most people use AI to write from scratch. The higher-ROI move is using it to edit what you already wrote. One prompt pattern that works across Claude, ChatGPT, and Gemini.
You wrote the thing. That was the hard part — supposedly. You sat down, pushed through the blank page, and now there are seven hundred words on the screen that didn't exist an hour ago. A blog post, maybe. A newsletter. A cover letter. A speech for your best friend's wedding.
Stop studying the right answers. Study the wrong ones. One prompt turns your missed questions into a diagnostic worth 30-50 points.
You got question 14 wrong. The answer key says the correct answer is C. You stare at C. You stare at B, which is what you picked. You cannot figure out why C is right and B is wrong. The answer key does not care about your confusion. It has already moved on to question 15.
One prompt, one AI image generator, and five minutes. The result won't win a design award — but it'll win your first ten customers.
You don't need a logo that wins design awards. You need a logo that exists — one you can put on an invoice, a business card, an Instagram bio, and the header of your website — by the time you finish this coffee.
Google's NotebookLM can turn any textbook chapter, research paper, or legal document into flashcards and an audio overview. Most people don't know it exists.
You've got a 47-page PDF of case law summaries open in one tab, a final exam in nine days, and a growing suspicion that you've been highlighting the wrong things all semester. The PDF just sits there, dense and indifferent. You need a study guide. What you have is a wall of text.
One prompt. One photo. Three edits with exact slider values for Snapseed, Lightroom, and Apple Photos. The photo you almost posted but didn't — this is for that one.
The photo is on your phone. Your kid is mid-laugh, the light is catching their hair, and the background is the kitchen you meant to clean before anyone came over. It's the best photo you've taken in months and it looks like it was shot through a dirty window.
Twelve words that turn every AI interaction from a wall of jargon into something you actually understand. Works on taxes, medical results, legal documents, insurance — anything where the gap between expert language and human understanding is the problem.
A friend of mine — sharp, successful, runs a small logistics company — called me last week because he'd been reading about changes to the pass-through tax deduction and couldn't figure out whether they applied to him. He'd tried Googling. He'd tried the IRS website. He'd tried as…
Every major SaaS a small business depends on now ships an official MCP server. Here are five that change what one person can run alone.
It's 11:14 on a Sunday night. You run a small shop — maybe you sell ceramics, maybe you sell candles, maybe you sell a thing nobody else makes quite the way you make it. You've just closed the laptop after answering the last customer email of the day. There are seventeen tabs ope…
The dimensions / deadline / deliverable-format triangle. Ask all three up front. If the client can't answer all three, the brief isn't ready for work — and neither are you.
The brief arrived at 4:48 on a Friday. It said, in full: "Hi! We loved your work and would love to commission a piece for our new office. Something that feels like *us* — maybe abstract, maybe not. Open to ideas! Let us know your pricing and timeline. Excited!"
Most devlogs lead with what's next and bury the interesting part. Try the problem-in-the-middle structure instead, and watch a week you were embarrassed about turn into a post people finish.
One technical detail. One emotional detail. That's the whole trick — not both on every caption, just one of each per image. Six before/after rewrites that prove it.
Go look at three photo portfolios right now. Pick the first three you click on — any photographer, any genre. I'll wait.
One sentence, two moves: acknowledge first, reframe second. Three before/afters from real scope-creep moments, and the reply template you can lift into your next one.
An illustrator I'll call M. got this email on a Tuesday morning: "Hey! Loving the direction. Quick ask — could we also get a square version, a story version, a banner, and a dark-mode variant? Just so we have everything in one place. No rush!"
A noun-led first word opens at more than twice the rate of a verb-led one. Here's the scannability math, the inbox context, and a sixty-second copy-paste you can try tonight.
A designer I know was about to send a launch newsletter to 4,200 people. She had a subject line she thought was fine. It was: "I shipped something weird this week."
Claude hedges when you ask for opinions. Two specific words, added to any prompt, flip it from diplomatic waffle to committed take. Here's the phrase, why it works, and when not to use it.
Last week we needed to pick between two domain names for a small project. Both were available. Both were short. One had a hyphen and was the obvious meaning; the other was a clean made-up word that took two seconds longer to explain but looked better on a sticker. We asked Claude…