#photography #olas365

The horse race ———————- I used make an occasional flutter at the horses. For some time I had been hearing about a horse called Robot. He had a wild track record. Robot was a superficially unassuming nag from an unknown stable, who was racing against distinguished thoroughbreds with names like His Majesty Goldback III and Baron von Basel Reserve. Robot would often leave the other horses in the dust, winning race after race … and handsomely. Sometimes, though he displayed a mind of his own and would turn around and run hard in the opposite direction, so although he had a coterie of admirers, he also drew a lot of ridicule. Most people were afraid to bet on him, despite him winning more often than not. Eventually though, the odds shifted in his favor. Horses with names like Rabbit and Roboto began to appear, offering attractive odds, and might even win a race or two before fading back into obscurity. I bet on some of them thinking that I could spread my risk, but over time I learned that Robot was not like any of the other horses. I also learned that there was a lot of cheating going on in the world of horses. There always had been, but now it was obvious. Meanwhile, Robot kept doing his thing and I started to let a good portion of my bets on Robot ride from one race to another. And now, some of the thoroughbred breeders believe that they might be able to breed Robot with their horses to create the next generation of winners. My money is still on Robot.

I had a Facebook account. I deleted it in 2016. I had a Twitter account. I deleted it in 2022. I have a Telegram account. It's next. I now have a Nostr pubkey, which will exist as long as there is a Nostr protocol.

Agreed. ‘It’s a Nostr app’ instantly suggests to a Nostr newbie that it’s one of several apps that runs on something called Nostr. It’s exciting and open ended. ‘It’s a Nostr client’, suggests something that connects to a Nostr server, which sounds walledgardenesque. View quoted note →

Conversation visiting my Mum in the north of England for Christmas. “Mummy, what’s that yellow ball in the sky?” “Don’t worry, it will be raining soon”

Good morning Nostr. Ghosts of Christmas present.

The only thing certain in finance is tick-tock, next block.

Oh, the joy of zapping at 36,000 feet. (No offense Zeus).