
Hosted by Pete + Amanda · EN

In today's episode, we're going to make an argument that is going to make some of you uncomfortable. The argument is this: Miles Davis, the most influential musician of the twentieth century - did not become extraordinary because he mastered his craft. He became extraordinary because he kept destroying it. Every time he reached the top, he walked away from the sound that got him there and started over from nothing. We are going to talk about the music, the five or six times he blew up his own career on purpose, and what the jazz world, the critics, and his audiences did to him every single time he did it. We’re going to talk about what all of it says about a much bigger question: do we actually let the people we love change? Or do we only love them for who they already were? He would have turned 100 this month. This is not a tribute episode. It is a question about what we do with genius - and whether we deserve it.

You've heard the advice. Follow your passion. Do what you love. The money will follow. But here's what nobody tells you: passion isn't something you find - and the people giving that advice probably didn't find theirs either. So why has one idea made an entire generation feel broken for not knowing what they want? This week we dig into the myth, the science, and the reframe that changes everything. Plus: why the word passion comes from a Latin word meaning "to suffer" - and what that tells you about how this actually works.

You go to a coffee shop. You walk up to the counter. The barista turns the iPad around. There are four options. Eighteen percent. Twenty percent. Twenty-five percent. And then, in tiny little letters, in the bottom corner - no tip. And you feel like a monster for even looking at it. Like you just kicked a dog in public. That feeling (that little electric jolt of guilt and social shame) that didn't happen by accident. That was engineered. And today, we are going to talk about how America took a polite little European custom, pumped it full of steroids, attached it to a touchscreen, and turned it into the most passive-aggressive financial transaction in human history. Welcome to the world of tipping.

You've seen the pictures. The outfits. The stairs. But here's what nobody tells you about the Met Gala: it's technically a fundraiser for a public museum. One that anyone can walk into. So why does getting in cost $75,000 - and require the personal approval of one woman who has banned at least one former president and counting? This week we dig into the history, the power, and the weird American bargain at the center of fashion's biggest night. Plus: why Beyoncé showing up after a ten-year absence is a bigger deal than it sounds.

In 1976, a 62-foot wooden canoe left the coast of Hawaii carrying a crew of fifteen people and zero instruments. No compass. No GPS. No sextant. No radio. The navigator was a man from a tiny island in Micronesia who had never been to Tahiti and had no map of how to get there. And 2,500 miles later (33 days at sea) he sailed directly into the harbor. Like he'd done it a hundred times. Using nothing but the stars, the swells, the wind, and the birds. This is the story of the Hōkūleʻa. It’s not just a sailing story. It's a story about what happens when a culture almost disappears - and then decides not to.

In today's episode, we're going to make an argument that is going to make some of you uncomfortable. The argument is this: Michael Jackson - the most famous entertainer who ever lived - did not die because of a corrupt doctor, or a broken family, or his own demons, although all of those things were real. He died because of us. Because of what fame does when millions of people decide that a human being belongs to them. Because of what happens when the world builds a person into an icon and then cannot forgive them for being a person. We are going to talk about the music, which was genuinely extraordinary. We are going to talk about the allegations, which were genuinely complicated. We are going to talk about the $155 million film that exists at least partly, because we feel guilty. And we are going to talk about what all of it says about us - the audience - and what we actually owe the people we turn into gods.

In today's episode, we're talking about a race that is literally 2,500 years old - that started with a soldier running himself to death, that almost didn't have a standard distance until a queen decided she wanted a better view, and that somehow went from an ancient Greek battlefield to your coworker's Instagram at six in the morning. This one is about the marathon. Where it came from, why it got weird, why it got longer than it needed to be - and why in 2026, more people are signing up to run 26.2 miles than at any other point in human history. So lace up. This one's a good one.

In today’s episode, we’re talking about an ancient idea that some cultures understood thousands of years ago - and why the rest of the modern world is only now starting to catch up. This isn’t really about environmental policy or activism; it’s about a deeper question of responsibility, belonging, and the quiet assumption many societies once held that the land wasn’t something you owned, it was something you cared for. We’ll explore where modern environmental thinking actually came from, why movements like Earth Day changed how people think about the planet, and how Indigenous cultures practiced forms of stewardship that modern science is only beginning to understand. So grab a drink and let’s talk about the oldest lesson some societies never forgot and why the rest of us are still learning it.

In today’s episode, we’re talking about why the most romantic love story in America might be hiding in a baseball stadium and why this game has almost nothing to do with sports and everything to do with longing, memory, and the slow burn of anticipation when time refuses to hurry. This isn’t about stats or scoreboards; it’s patient, nostalgic, and quietly intimate - even for people who swear they don’t like sports. We’ll break down what actually happens in those still moments between the pitcher and the batter, why the absence of a clock changes everything, and why baseball isn’t just a summer pastime, but the place where hope lingers long enough to matter. So grab a drink and let’s talk about the game that feels suspiciously like falling in love.

Highlights of this episode include unpacking the surprising upside, psychological shift, and cultural disruption driven by artificial intelligence - the restless digital apprentice quietly reshaping how we work, think, and create value. We’ll explore why the real threat isn’t automation but mediocrity, how every major technological leap has expanded opportunity rather than erased it, and why AI is exposing who can interpret, judge, and lead (and who was simply producing on autopilot). From the printing press to today’s algorithmic co-pilots, this episode will help you see AI everywhere - and sound sorta sophisticated at your next dinner party.