More than a century ago, blue-collar workers fought for a limited workday with an activist anthem: “Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, eight hours for what we will.” It’s a heritage that, this Labor Day, we need to restore.
Fies perfectly captures my own ambivalence about the future, the sense that we tremble on the verge of an age of miracles and an age of disasters. Or both. He plumps for a happier ending that I generally do, but that’s OK, as I’m delighted to discover people who aren’t as pessimistic as I am about these things.
My News Feed took on an entirely new character in a surprisingly short amount of time. After checking in and liking a bunch of stuff over the course of an hour, there were no human beings in my feed anymore. It became about brands and messaging, rather than humans with messages.