petter palander

Trying to make sense of the world. I use this account for tweeting in Swedish and @petterpalander for English.

[Dickie Bush 🚢 @dickiebush]

Jobs' next masterstroke was the iPod in 2001.

With its click wheel & sleek design, the portable music player was an instant icon.

But Jobs' genius was pairing it with iTunes & the iTunes Store:

You could buy songs for 99 cents and sync them seamlessly to your iPod.

This revolutionized the music industry forever.

[petter palander @achaido]

@AkshatRathi Ping @RobertHoglund, guess you’ve heard/read this already but if not here you go

[petter palander @achaido]

Jag hoppas, och tror, att en helt öppen plattform som Open Sustainability Index är modellen för att påskynda omställningen till en cirkulär ekonomi - genom transparens, jämförbarhet och tillgänglighet av data.

Vad säger ni (levande själar som kvar på den här sajten)?

[petter palander @achaido]

I fredags lanserade vi Open Sustainability Index.

Det är en plattform, likt Wikipedia, med öppen hållbarhetsdata byggd på öppen källkod, där vem som helst kan både se, rapportera in och inom kort redigera befintlig data. Öppen och tillgänglig för alla.

https://t.co/y8CKxaObuF

[petter palander @achaido]

Företag och hållbarhetsplattformar kommer kunna integrera data från Open Sustainability Index i befintliga system för att förbättra och precisera klimatberäkningar - och ersätta branschindex mot specifika leverantörsspecifika utsläppsfaktorer.

https://t.co/3tVe3rhptr

[petter palander @achaido]

För att påskynda omställningen till en hållbar och cirkulär ekonomi tror jag det behövs ökad transparens, jämförbarhet och öppen data.

Tillgången till tillförlitlig och jämförbar hållbarhetsdata har historiskt varit en utmaning. Så borde det inte vara

https://t.co/TQLmIOJ0SN

[petter palander @achaido]

Säger inte så mycket här för tiden, men viktiga saker måste sägas, även här.

[petter palander @achaido]

@Scobleizer Thank you for speaking up! Your voice is important!

[Illia Ponomarenko 🇺🇦 @IAPonomarenko]

A TALE OF A DUMB DECISION

Once upon a time, on a frosty Russian winter’s night in February 2021, two lifetime buddies, Russian oligarch Yuriy Kovalchuk and Vladimir V. Putin were sitting together by the fire in a concealment room, sipping ̶v̶o̶d̶k̶a̶ ̶ tea from gold-studded glasses.

Putin was openly pissed off and not too eager to talk so much tonight.

Just a couple of hours before, an officer on duty brought him a daily report folder saying that the Ukrainian leadership was coming down hard on Viktor Medvedchuk. Ukraine’s National Security and Defense Council ruled to terminate Medvedchuk’s TV network and impose sanctions on his billions-worth assets.

For years before, Medvedchuk had been consuming tons and tons of Kremlin money to advance Russian ‘soft power’ via his political party and media, and he surely believed no one would ever want to check if the money was properly spent.

He had been talking sweet: Ukraine was only waiting to get back to Mother Russia’s embrace, and nothing but its American-installed regime was standing in the way.

Putin is not usually a man to openly express his rage.

But that latest Ukrainian jump on his biggest asset was a very red line.

Putin was sitting in his chair, trembling with anger and sipping his tea.

Kovalchuk preferred to sit quietly, rubbing his nose once in a while and listening to firewood crackling.

He was waiting for a moment his vis-a-vis was cooked up for a serious conversation.

Putin was deathly afraid of the coronavirus, so he switched to full-scale paranoia and had been spending nearly two years almost completely isolated from the outer world.

But there was a man who was so close to Putin that he had almost unlimited access to the dictator’s ear — and it was Yuriy Kovalchuk.

Kovalchuk was about 70, a billionaire (of course, heh), and he looked like a Soviet Politburo apparatchik from HBO’s Chernobyl.

An ethnic Ukrainian born and raised in Leningrad, Kovalchuk was a Russian propaganda media mogul. Also, a sworn anti-Western conspiracy theorist, anti-liberalist, and Russian chauvinist.

After a long wait, Kovalchuk made the first step.

“I see you’re not in a very good mood, my friend,” he said.

Putin made a wry face.

“You know what’s the matter,” he uttered from behind his favorite luxurious Louis XIV-style writing desk made handicraft under a strictly confidential order in Italy.

Kovalchuk gladly carried on pushing forward.

“Can’t say we never discussed this issue before, Vladimir. And now here we go again.”
Putin’s ire only got stronger.
“I’m sick. I’m sick of this sorry excuse of a country. I’ve had enough. Poroshenko was a sneaky fat bastard, but this circus jester Zelensky is having some nerve. Who does he think he is, they are now jumping on Medvedchuk. Do you imagine how much money we’ve poured into him since 2014?”

Kovalchuk was just peacefully waiting for this rant out with his fingertips spliced together.

“You know my position, Vladimir,” he said as Putin exhaled.

“We’ve been way too patient and gracious with that bunch of Jews and Nazis showing off under Uncle Sam’s protection in Kiev. I’ve told you many times, that they’re proceeding with their master plan of undermining us, and the situation only gets worse for us with every week. They’re feeding on our aspirations for peace and justice.”

“That fucking comedian,” Putin murmured.

“Do you remember how it was during a joint press briefing in Paris two years ago? That cocaine junkie was openly chuckling at me when I was talking about the implementation of Minsk. In the public! And they keep messing with my balls over this and make a moron out of me.”

Kovalchuk rolled up his eyes and dropped a sigh of annoyance.

“For 20 fucking years Ukraine has been one giant thorn in my ass,” Putin carried on with his rampage.

“God knows I tried, I tried to be nice and patient. I’ve been extending a hand of friendship, literally fostered this sorry-ass piece of land, and tolerated their stupid country-bumpkin broken version of the Russian language. They keep licking American boots. And now they openly spit in my face and dare to mess with my trusted man’s shit?”

Kovalchuk rubbed his nose again.

“Do you remember how good things were as recently as ten years ago?” he said.

“We had our secret services under every stone in this so-called “Ukraine”. We had them in our iron fist. Even their defense minister was our guy, for Christ’s sake, haha! We had Yanukovych in our pocket, that stupid jail thug for life, a joke of a man who had no guts to do his job to complete and extirpate that shit hole at the Maidan.”

“This is all just a never-ending scam,” Putin moaned.

“All this time, they all have been playing tricks and laughing at me. Me! I am the ruler of the biggest country on this fucking planet. I have more nukes, more women, and more money than any of those sorry-ass low-life losers can dream of. And that ridiculous piece of land created by Vladimir Lenin from what belongs to us…”

Putin’s face got unusually distorted as if the gust of rage and resentment got his facial muscles paralyzed.

Kovalchuk knew his vis-a-vis very well — a rather undetermined, loose man on the throne prone to the influence of those whispering in his ear.

And this paralysis of hatred on his face was saying Putin was humiliated enough to be bent on doing a rare thing throughout his 20-year rule — assuming responsibility and making a decision.

So Kovalchuk continued with his subtle play.

“So, how long do you think they will go on leading by a string with this Minsk agreement thing?” he says.

“I told you, this Ukrainian question should have been given the final solution as far back as 2014, right after Crimea and Donbas. But we were not determined enough, and we gave America more than enough time to prepare for a new onset. They are a strong adversary, and they keep challenging our empire in this centuries-old grand game.”

“Anglo-Saxons are corrupting our rule, and they are drawing nearer. We have little to no control of Little Russia, and let me remind you of a fact that we just barely saved that cockroach Lukashenko from 400,000 Belarusians whom Americans organized for protests.”

Putin scratched the top of his lovely Louis XIV-style desk.

“Western immodesty has gone beyond the pale,” he murmured.

“In no fucking way they will get Belarus from me. I’d rather give half of Siberia to Xi than let Belarusians elect a president they want.”

Kovalchuk sniffled and made a dramatic gesture.

“Vladimir, we know each other for god knows how many decades,” he gave a dramatic sigh.

“And you know I’ve always been by your side and I’d never give you a bad call. And with due respect, this is something that I’ve been hearing from you for years. Ukraine won’t just roll over, and it keeps throwing spades full of shit into your face, the West pries into things that are none of its business.

“Are you going to finally do anything about it?”

Putin shuddered from the pin against his bruised ego.

“What do you mean, you’re telling me I’m sitting idle and whining day and night?” he raised his lackluster eyes.

“No,” Kovalchuk shook his head.

“I want to know when the Tsar of all Russias sets things to rights and puts the annoying flea invented in the Austrian General Staff to its place, along with its overseas masters.”

“What would Peter the Great… or Alexander the Third do?…” Putin dreamily tipped back with the thoughts of his great predecessors.

“They would begin with no more lovey-dovey attitude towards the wicked West,” Kovalchuk snapped up immediately.

“Did George Bush the Junior appreciate your generous move with the shutdown of our base in Cuba in 2002? Did they acknowledge our God-given right as a superpower to a sphere of influence from Tallinn to Berlin, which was fought out by our fathers led by Stalin?”

Putin was already in for a bit of excitement on his withered face.

“What we got in return for our generosity and open-mindedness are those Nazi subhumans dancing around in cities once established by Russian emperors,” Kovalchuk was declaring his speech full of inspiration.

“Our Bolshoi Theater is as old as their sorry-ass American declaration of independence. We were a great power in the age when bisons and butt-naked Indians were roaming what’s now their New York City.”

Putin’s eyes were shining bright.

“…so, as your friend and as a Russian patriot,” Kovalchuk was almost ready to jump on Putin’s desk and use it as a grandstand.

“I say now is the time. We have a window of opportunity to put this anti-Russian project “Ukraine” to an end and reinstate ourselves as a superpower and you as the one making history.”

Putin suddenly shivered.

“You mean…ehm… war?”

Kovalchuk actorly spreads his hands.

“Who said war? I haven’t said a word about that. What I’m saying is that we need prompt action to oust that Nazi clown Zelensky and his clique. We’re the world’s second-strongest military power. It’ll be enough to just lift a finger and make that joke of an American puppet crumble so we can dine in Kyiv.”

Putin leaned back and closed his eyes.

“But what about the West?”

“About who? The West?” Kovalchuk laughed.

“That bunch of perverts is as pathetic, divided, and corrupt as never before in history. They’d sell their mothers out for our monies. Do I need to remind you how many of those Schröders we guaranteed rich retirements to? And they’ll piss themselves and back off from our business in Ukraine the second we bark at them really loud.”

“Or are we talking about that old nut job Biden who has little idea of where he is and what’s happening around him?”

“Well, his not much older than you and I…” Putin gave a faint cough.

“And it’s not that we’re as dumb as Americans who had no idea what kind of mess they were getting into in Iraq,” Kovalchuck rubbed his nose again.

Putin was twisting about in his chair.

“Ukraine wants us, and you know it. We’ll hang all the Nazis on streetlights in no time, and the rest will be throwing flowers at our tanks. Piece of cake, a matter of days. And, let me remind you, a lot of respected friends of ours will be more than glad to divvy Ukraine up between their companies and make loads of money from government contracts.”

Putin was getting increasingly excited and started biting nails.

“I’m thinking more about 2024,” he said after a short pause.

“What’s about 2024?” Kovalchuk raised his eyebrows.

“Presidential elections. I will have to get re-elected for my fifth term.”

“And? I still don’t get why we need to fool around with that flying circus of elections and ask the peasants if they want you re-elected. You told me many times this country needs no one but the Tsar. Why.”

“Because,” Putin was already having a thousand thoughts in his head.

“I need to know the mob supports and loves me. Leave this question to me, Yuriy.”

“Whatever gets you your kicks, Vladimir,” Kovalchuk waved his words off.

“Remember how well it worked with Crimea? Give the mob Kyiv and Lviv, paint the map our color, and this country is going to kiss your ass into oblivion at polling stations. You don’t even have to rig a single ballot.”

Putin was intently staring into the dark.

“Yuriy, this conversation is not leaving this room,” he said.

Kovalchuk had already prepared himself to deal with the final strike.

“I just want you to think about this: You’re not getting any younger,” he said. “You’re turning 70 soon…”

“You can bite me if you think I’m too old to hold power, Yuriy,” Putin lashed back immediately as if he was facing a terrible insult.

“…and as your lifetime friend, I want you now to think about your legacy. Do you want to be remembered as just an owner of a dozen palaces and yachts and several hundred billion dollars you took to your grave? Do you want people to remember you as the one pushed around by that fraud Navalny? A coward who missed a chance and let Americans boss himself?”

Putin twitched again.

“Or do you want to be the greatest ruler of Russia since Joseph Stalin who took back what’s ours and showed everyone who’s the boss? History belongs to the strong and powerful, Vladimir. How much have we invested in our military reform and rearmament? A trillion roubles?”

“So have a talk with Shoigu — make him finally stop blabbing and begin earning his marshal stars. And also bringing you and us all to our triumph we’ve been aspiring to for twenty years.”

“I’m going to think about this,” Putin murmured again.

“Yeah, you think about this, Vladimir. Now it’s the time…”

[petter palander @achaido]

@kallenilver Gräset är grönare osv..

[petter palander @achaido]

👍🏻 till SVT som publicerat detta lilla klipp 14:30 idag

https://t.co/lOPMfN6BpT

[petter palander @achaido]

@KatarinaJohans8 Önskar dig snabb tillfrisknad! 🙏🏻❤️

[petter palander @achaido]

@tweethue hello there! I’m searching (in vain?) for a replacement power adapter for my HDMI Sync Box. Can you point me to a place to get a new one?

[petter palander @achaido]

@JuliaHB1 Every single time?

[petter palander @achaido]

@ronaldmannak Yikes indeed. More on the charges:

[Ryan Grim @ryangrim]

Google translation of the charges against Andrew Tate and his brother https://t.co/SZuLkiiZmY

[George Takei @GeorgeTakei]

So...Elon Musk let Andrew Tate back on Twitter, and Tate promptly used it to reveal his whereabouts to authorities in Romania who then arrested him.

All because Greta Thunberg owned him so hard his little wee-wee fell off.

Do I have that right? Please say I have that right.

[petter palander @achaido]

@aronsolomon Det är poesi!