eOpicle

When Nashville builds a museum, you can bet your last Chick-fil-A nugget it’ll have a guitar, a celebrity endorsement, and a gift shop that sells both Bibles and rhinestone jackets. And now, the Music City has a new temple — not to Elvis, not to Dolly, not even to Taylor’s abandoned country era — but to Christian and Gospel Music itself . Yes, the Museum of Christian & Gospel Music has officially opened its 11,000-square-foot altar to all things sanctified and sonically righteous. You can smell the holy vinyl from the street. The opening was a full-blown Sunday service on a Friday morning, complete with politicians, musicians, and executives packing an open-air café like it was the Last Supper catered by Panera. Outside, tourists stumbled past, torn between the honky-tonk sin of Broadway and the hymn of redemption echoing from this new holy hall. Inside, Nashville finally had what the Gospel Music Association (GMA) had been praying for since 1972: a physical home for faith-driven...

Let’s all take a collective moment to appreciate that 2025 officially jumped the shark when a gang of art thieves strolled into the Louvre , in broad daylight , and made off with eight priceless pieces of jewelry as if they were on a coffee run. Somewhere, George Clooney just sighed into his espresso, muttering, “Amateurs — but respectable ones.” This wasn’t your average “smash-and-grab.” This was cinema . Paris woke up that weekend to the realization that someone had taken the phrase “art imitates life” and smashed it into a glittering, diamond-encrusted feedback loop. Within hours, journalists were tripping over themselves to compare the crime to Band of Outsiders or Lupin or Ocean’s 8 . Because in 2025, every major event has to come with a movie reference, a hashtag, and a streaming recommendation list within three hours of the crime scene tape going up. So naturally, the New York Times obliged — curating six “heist movies to watch while Paris panics.” Because why bother with ...

By 2030, performance marketing will no longer be about who writes the best ad copy or finds the lowest CPC. It’ll be about who can train their AI twin to do it while they’re still drooling into their pillow . Welcome to the world of Agentic PPC , where your campaigns work harder than you do — because you trained a robot to copy your bad habits perfectly . Let’s dissect this glittering dystopia, one “AI assistant” at a time. From Scripts to Personal AI Assistants: Goodbye Manual Labor, Hello Algorithmic Overlord Remember when PPC meant setting alarms for 3 a.m. bid adjustments and living in spreadsheets like a caffeinated accountant? Yeah, your AI agent remembers — because it learned from your suffering. In 2025, automation is like a toddler with a calculator: it does math faster than you, but it still eats glue. By 2030, however, your PPC tools will have evolved from “helpful scripts” into digital clones that think like you — minus the crying when Meta Ads Manager crashes again. ...

Picture this: it’s another sunny afternoon in Sacramento — the air smells faintly of lobbyist cologne and freshly printed ethics guidelines. The marble floors of the Capitol gleam, reflecting the moral ambiguity of those who pace them. And just when it looked like business as usual — politicians pretending to serve the public while quietly networking for their post-political careers — boom: Governor Gavin Newsom signs a law that basically says, “Hey, you have to tell people when you’re selling out.” Welcome to Assembly Bill 1286 , the legislative equivalent of installing a Ring camera in a den of foxes — except the foxes voted unanimously to approve it. Act I: CalMatters Catches the Cookie Jar Moment It all started when CalMatters , that rare unicorn of California journalism that still believes in investigative reporting, dropped a story exposing a delightful little oversight in state ethics law. Turns out lawmakers could be out there — oh, I don’t know — negotiating cushy private-...

Once upon a digital time, in the land of silicon logic and data deluge, artificial intelligence was supposed to be humanity’s great unifier — the algorithmic Esperanto, the techno-lingua-franca that would finally understand everyone. And then, it didn’t. It turns out that AI, that supposed oracle of inclusivity, speaks fluent English, decent French, and broken Mandarin — but when it comes to Africa, it suddenly turns into that one American tourist who thinks yelling “HELLO?” in all caps will make everyone understand. Take Hausa, a language spoken by 94 million people in Nigeria. Ninety-four million! That’s basically the population of two Canadas and a whole lot more interesting vocabulary. Yet ChatGPT — the same model that can compose haikus about quantum physics — recognizes only about 10 to 20 percent of sentences in Hausa. Ten percent. That’s not “limited proficiency.” That’s the linguistic equivalent of showing up to a family dinner and asking, “So… what’s your Wi-Fi password?”...