Little Flying Robots

Lately, I've been spending a lot of time analyzing, reporting on, and researching the horrifying global uptick in the use of small, cheap, short-range drones to intentionally target and kill civilians - a a type of aerial violence that has become exponent…

Over the last two weeks, I've made many improvements to my map of targeted small drone attacks on civilians from across the world.

If I had to pick one overarching theme to describe our current global moment, it'd have to be "shamelessness."

Around the world, armed groups are intentionally killing civilians with small, inexpensive drones.

In early 2020, as the world began to close down in the face of Covid-19, I was taking a shower and had a sudden, terrifying thought: this pandemic will usher in the most terminally online period of history that humanity has ever known.

It's December 23rd, and the USA has officially banned the import of all foreign made drones and "critical components."

To get to drones, we needed to learn to fly first.

There is something deeply rooted in our psyche that is both appalled and fascinated by the prospect of a human being flying like a bird, by this act that is both deeply unnatural and has also become, over the course of about 120 years, totally pedestrian…

Staring into the mysterious depths of a sacred water-filled cup.

There is something creepy about mirrors, an otherworldly and fascinating quality that writers and thinkers have returned to repeatedly throughout the ages.

Humanity has long dreamed of being able to see everything around us.

Back in the 1990s and early 2000s, back when I was a mere dweeby child, there existed a tween-driven online social movement against the cruel practice of abusing pets.

Whenever drones pop up in the news, whenever they buzz unnervingly again into popular perception, people ask me what I think about these latest developments on social media.

In modern times, we have democratized the formerly inhuman god's eye view.

In the early morning hours of July 4th, as the Guadalupe River reached catastrophic heights, city officials in Kerr County, Texas turned to an all-too familiar mechanism for getting the word out to area residents: Facebook.