I’ve been enjoying Derek Thompson’s newsletter lately. His latest is an essay on some of the unintended consequences of a health-obsessed society. This is the Internet so I’m sure everyone will find things to disagree with in a post like this, but it gave me lots of food for thought so I wanted to share. For instance:

Research by Sandra Weintraub of Northwestern University has found that “super-agers” (individuals over 80 with the cognitive function of people decades younger) shared little in common except for an unusually robust history of friendship and other social connections. A 2025 analysis of 500,000 participants in the UK Biobank reported that living with a partner and frequently visiting family had roughly the same relationship with longevity as exercise.

And the kicker:

Our fear of death motivates an all-consuming neuroticism about outrunning mortality, even when the price we pay is putting health optimization above everything else, including other people.

Hard yes to Camille Fournier’s Guidelines for Respectful Use of AI, especially this one:

Don’t ask someone to read/review what you haven’t read or reviewed yourself.

This is one of the most common frustrations I hear amongst people working on AI-heavy teams. Whether it’s code that the owner didn’t really bother to understand before submitting for review, or documents that they generated and didn’t bother to read, too often people try to steal productivity from their colleagues by streamlining their production of work while asking their colleagues to do all of the quality control themselves. […]

It’s easy to get into a loop where you ask the AI some questions, skim the answers, output a document and send it to others. I’m guilty of this myself! But what makes sense when you’re skimming one answer at a time may not make for a good overall document, and there is a big difference between answering individual questions and writing for a human reader. In particular, the context that you have in your own head as you are talking to the AI may not come out at all in the document; if you don’t bother to read it thoroughly before sending it out, you won’t catch the gap in framing.

In a post about slowing down our agent use deliberately to increase quality and understanding Vicki links to Nolan Lawson’s Using AI to write better code more slowly:

If you’re the kind of developer who uses agents to write multi-hundred-line PRs that you barely understand yourself, I’d invite you to slow down a bit and try this other, slower style of “vibe coding.” Ask an agent how your PR works and how it might fail. Have it write Markdown docs with Mermaid charts if necessary. Use Matt Pocock’s /grill-me skill until you understand the entire PR front-to-back.

You might not be more “productive” in terms of raw lines of code. You might burn a ton of tokens just to find out that your entire plan was wrongheaded from the start. But I find this style of coding to be a more super-powered version of the kind of programming I was already trying to do before LLMs: careful, methodical, quality-obsessed, focused on making things better for the next coder.

So take a deep breath, slow down, try this technique, and see if you don’t enjoy writing better code more slowly.

Vicki concludes:

All of these negate the supposed speed up effects of LLM-generated code in the short-term by adding friction, and yet, in the longer term, make me better at using the tool, because they solidify my own foundation instead of the foundation models’.

We should be more tired than the model.

We should be more tired than the model. When I saw the post in my feed I thought I misread the title (or maybe it was a typo). But after reading it I realized that’s already where I’ve been heading organically myself. I went through my “look how fast I can go weeeeee!” era pretty quickly. While it was fun (check out all these side projects!) it was not just exhausting, I also found myself understanding less and less of what I was doing (which sucks all the fun out of the work anyway).

So I’ve been slowing down as well. Reading and editing even more than before. Challenging the agent for longer. Taking the time to close loops to update skills/context documents before moving on to the next thing. Never skipping the “let’s write a design doc and implementation plan together” step.

I do think I am more tired than the model these days. But I also understand and learn more, which not only improves the quality of the output now, but also makes it better tomorrow. I think the speed trade-off is worth it.

Yes, it’s a clickbaity title, but if you read this as an essay about what to care about at work, it has some good reminders like this:

“Care less” is directionally right, but let’s get more specific. The real shift is learning to place your care deliberately — to get good at telling the difference between what’s strategically important and what’s just noisy. A lot of what happens inside companies is frustrating without being important. Reacting to a messy call that you personally wouldn’t have made as if it’s a strategic risk is what drains you. So is holding on to every detail as if it’s existential. Not everything deserves to be treated with equal importance. A gut check that helps: Will this matter in a year? If not, it probably doesn’t deserve much energy now. What’s the worst-case scenario? Often, it’s not that bad.

Oh, this is very good. On the classic take that the core characteristic of outstanding engineers is “laziness”:

The problem is that LLMs inherently lack the virtue of laziness. Work costs nothing to an LLM. LLMs do not feel a need to optimize for their own (or anyone’s) future time, and will happily dump more and more onto a layercake of garbage. Left unchecked, LLMs will make systems larger, not better — appealing to perverse vanity metrics, perhaps, but at the cost of everything that matters. As such, LLMs highlight how essential our human laziness is: our finite time forces us to develop crisp abstractions in part because we don’t want to waste our (human!) time on the consequences of clunky ones.

The best engineering is always borne of constraints, and the constraint of our time places limits on the cognitive load of the system that we’re willing to accept. This is what drives us to make the system simpler, despite its essential complexity.

This is exactly why I practice Fear-Driven Development, and why everything I do in code includes multiple versions of asking Claude Code “do we need this?” and “is this adding bloat?”

Lalit Maganti writes about building a SQLite parser with AI — a project he’d been putting off for eight years, finished in three months. His comparison of AI coding to slot machines is uncomfortably familiar:

I found myself up late at night wanting to do “just one more prompt,” constantly trying AI just to see what would happen even when I knew it probably wouldn’t work. The sunk cost fallacy kicked in too: I’d keep at it even in tasks it was clearly ill-suited for, telling myself “maybe if I phrase it differently this time.”

Also, I agree that this is still true today, but I’m not convinced it will remain true beyond 2026:

AI is an incredible force multiplier for implementation, but it’s a dangerous substitute for design.

Simon Willison has a practical guide on manual testing with coding agents. Two tips I’ve already started using:

It’s still quick for an agent to write out a demo file and then compile and run it. I sometimes encourage it to use /tmp purely to avoid those files being accidentally committed to the repository later on.

And:

If an agent finds something that doesn’t work through their manual testing, I like to tell them to fix it with red/green TDD. This ensures the new case ends up covered by the permanent automated tests.