As was pointed out to me yesterday, I misreported the sob-inducing price you can’t get an apartment for in San Francisco: it is $3,200, not $32,000. Though to be honest, the difference between 3,200 and 32,000 is a hypothetical no man’s land to me at this point.

You know if The New York Times says that, with Trudeau and Nu-Bieber and Sexy-Gosling, Canada is hip, it’s a tend. Add it right next to filament light bulbs and farm-to-table roasted brussels sprouts on my personal hipster list. That’s right kids, I was Canadian before it was cool.

On a not-as-polite note, Recode has an excellent description of what can happen to startup employees who purchase their shares when everything is rosy and wonderful, paying taxes like good little employees should, only to find out that their supposed Unicorn is nothing more than a dashing donkey with a headband. So those shares that companies dangled in front of you in lieu of a better salary or work-life balance become a multi-thousand dollar liability.

When I left a startup, I neared the end of the three month period in which I could purchase my shares. I remember being pressured by management to buy them, and worrying about whether I was going to miss out on the career lottery of a lifetime, if my long hours managing endless pivots could end up paying for a master’s degree or something. I trusted my gut and didn’t buy the shares, and needless to say, the company did not end up disrupting anything, enduring a quiet acquihire before fading away.


And speaking of end of days, Palin endorsed Trump and The New York Times deliciously scooped it,

With that, I’m retreating to my mountain bunker wherein I’ll get my basket-weaving masters on Udemy and never have to speak to another human again. You’re all welcome to join if you’d like.