my deep dish confessional
what do you say we stop being coworkers and start being co-people. –Ron Burgandy one of the luxuries of my job is that I seldom have to actually give two shits about what people think. which affords me the autonomy of triggering nuclear meltdowns, telling people I dislike that their work sucks, telling people that […]
Last updated: Probably years ago. Who’s counting?
I don’t care about your data. I’m not trying to harvest it, hoard it, or sell it. I’m not building a digital empire. I just wanted to make a website and eat tacos in peace.
Whatever your browser coughs up by default.
Maybe a cookie or two, because some widget thought it was clever.
If you willingly send me your info, that’s between you and your life choices.
I don’t, unless the software forces my hand.
I’m not optimizing anything. There is no marketing funnel here.
I have no interest in “leveraging your behavioral patterns.” I barely leverage my own.
No. That sounds like effort.
Also, I’m not Mark Zuckerberg. I don’t even own sunscreen that strong.
Possibly me. Briefly. If I’m awake.
A bored server somewhere in Europe, probably running on existential dread.
That’s it. There is no “team.”
Of course. Just send an email or whisper it to the wind.
I’ll delete it faster than I can drop a taco on my keyboard.
I use basic security. No Fort Knox here.
If someone’s desperate enough to hack this site, they clearly need a hobby.
Might be there. Might not.
Feel free to block them. I won’t even notice.
