Most people still imagine cyber attacks as something obviously suspicious.
Broken layouts, strange email addresses, aggressive warnings, bad spelling.
But the most effective attacks rarely look dangerous anymore.
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Bought an Apple Watch for my daughter. At 9, she doesn’t have a phone yet, but is starting to be a bit more independant, gpoing to park down the road, her friends after school, and social events on the weekends.
Get her a way we can keep in touch and see where she is.
The process of adding the watch to my existing iPhone and being able to control settings has been horrendous. 3 days of set up, and it still isn’t right.
- android
- family link – lacking features
- “my own watch” – uses iPhone for GPS & data
- cannot install apps
- cannot connect & change settings if out of range
- no easy GPS tracker
If it worked for Sherlock Holmes, it can work for you.
I was initially annoyed at the remote that came with my Roku stick, but now I think its a stroke of genius.
It looked cheap. Too simple.
But the thing that annoyed me most was the volume control, and mute button, being placed on the side of the remote.
It felt wrong.
TV remotes aren’t supposed to work like that.
For the first few days, I kept instinctively looking for volume buttons on the front. It felt like Roku had broken an unwritten rule of remote controls.
Then, after a while, I stopped noticing it entirely.
Because the interaction already existed somewhere else: my phone.
Without really thinking about it, Roku had borrowed a deeply ingrained piece of muscle memory from another device category entirely. The side-mounted buttons quickly became usable without looking, almost instinctively.
That’s what makes the design interesting.
The remote doesn’t teach a new behaviour.
It quietly reuses an old one.
And that points to something bigger about good interface design.
A lot of products try to solve usability problems by adding more:
more buttons,
more labels,
more features,
more visible control.
But every additional option creates cognitive overhead, even if only slightly.
The Roku remote does the opposite.
It removes decisions.
There are just enough controls to navigate confidently without thinking about the remote itself. The important buttons are obvious. The shape is comfortable without trying too hard. Even the size feels deliberate. It disappears into the experience remarkably quickly.
That’s probably why it works.
Good design is often mistaken for visible sophistication. But genuinely good products can feel almost underwhelming at first because the complexity has already been dealt with for you.
Most people don’t want infinite flexibility from their TV remote.
They want predictability.
Familiarity.
Confidence.
They want to sit down and use it without friction or confusion.
The Roku remote understands that remarkably well.
It’s not exciting design.
It’s restrained design.
And restraint is much harder than adding more features.
Rising from the top of the hill, this perplexing concrete structure can be seen for kilometers, inspiring an anxious excitement in those laying eyes on it for the first time.
A red star, the symbol for communism, glares over the valley from the top of its 70-meter-high tower. The expansive, spaceship-like base is straight out of an early science fiction movie.
The UFO reference is justified.
Officially named the House-Monument of the Bulgarian Communist Party, but better known as the “Buzludzha Monument,” it’s been attracting urban explorers from around the world since the mid-1990s.
While hundreds of abandoned communist memorials are scattered all over the Balkans, few hold quite as much intrigue.
A journey to the Buzludzha Monument passes through picturesque farmlands and bucolic villages. With no public transport connecting this part of Bulgaria, a visitor’s only option is to make their own way there.
Mare Tranquillitatis /træŋˌkwɪlɪˈteɪtɪs/ (Latin tranquillitātis, the Sea of Tranquillity or Sea of Tranquility; see spelling differences) is a lunar mare that sits within the Tranquillitatis basin on the Moon. It is the first location on another world to be visited by humans.
The mare material within the basin consists of basalt formed in the intermediate to young age group of the Upper Imbrian epoch. The surrounding mountains are thought to be of the Lower Imbrian epoch, but the actual basin is probably Pre-Nectarian. The basin has irregular margins and lacks a defined multiple-ringed structure. The irregular topography in and near this basin results from the intersection of the Tranquillitatis, Nectaris, Crisium, Fecunditatis, and Serenitatis basins with two throughgoing rings of the Procellarum basin. Palus Somni, on the northeastern rim of the mare, is filled with the basalt that spilled over from Tranquillitatis.
This mare has a slight bluish tint relative to the rest of the Moon and stands out quite well when color is processed and extracted from multiple photographs. The color is likely due to higher metal content in the basaltic soil or rocks.[3]
Unlike many other maria, there is no mass concentration (mascon), or gravitational high, in the center of Mare Tranquillitatis. Mascons were identified in the center of other maria (such as Serenitatis or Imbrium) from Doppler tracking of the five Lunar Orbiter spacecraft in 1968.[4] The gravity field was mapped at higher resolution with later orbiters such as Lunar Prospector and GRAIL, which unveiled an irregular pattern.