There are only two kinds of people in the world

I was watching Vir Das: Fool Volume on Netflix the other night, hilarious, and in the middle of all the jokes, he drops this line:

“There are only two kinds of people in the world, assholes, and people who deal with assholes.”

I laughed, then paused, then rewound, then just sat there staring at the screen like... that’s uncomfortably accurate.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been the first kind. I used to be the asshole. Not because I wanted to hurt anyone or be toxic or whatever, but I thought being blunt, quick, and always “right” meant I was being smart. I thought I was being efficient, but looking back, I was just being difficult, impatient, sharp in all the wrong ways.

But life has a way of softening your edges. It throws people in your path who don’t react, don’t fight, don’t get rattled. People who don’t play the game. They just smile, say what needs to be said, and get on with it, while you’re still fuming in the corner. That’s when I realized the real power isn’t in being loud or fast. It’s in knowing how to deal with people who are, you know...

Over time, I changed. I started learning how to handle the first kind instead of being one. I became more patient, more grounded, less reactive, and honestly, life got a bit easier, less drama, better relationships, fewer mental spirals at night.

But, and this is important, every once in a while, someone shows up who’s not just your regular everyday asshole, they’re a moronic asshole, and when that happens, I feel the old me creeping in. The version of me that doesn’t want to breathe and count to ten. The one who wants to go straight to war. So yeah, I slip, I lose it, I go back to square one.

And maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe we don’t permanently become the second kind of person. Maybe we just try to spend more time there than we used to, because at the end of the day, growth isn’t linear. You don’t magically become a better person and stay there forever. You evolve, you relapse, you reflect, and you try again.

So yeah, maybe Vir Das is right, but maybe it’s not black and white. Maybe most of us are just trying to spend less time being the asshole and more time figuring out how to deal with them, even when one of them is us.

The Iceman: A GOAT Without Multiple Titles

When people talk about the greatest Formula 1 drivers of all time, names like Senna, Fangio, Lauda, Prost, Schumacher, Hamilton, and Vettel always come up. And fair enough, their numbers speak for themselves. But for me, there’s another name that always deserves a seat at that table, even if his stats don’t scream “GOAT.”

That name is Kimi Räikkönen, the Iceman. Cool, calm, ridiculously fast, and criminally underrated.

On pure driving talent, Kimi could go toe-to-toe with any world champion. His car control, his feel for the road, and his ability to pull out unbelievable performances with minimal fuss made him one of a kind. And yes, he did win a title in 2007, but honestly, he deserved more.

Wrong Time, Wrong Team

A big part of why Kimi didn’t rack up more championships comes down to timing. He was at McLaren from 2002 to 2006, a period when the team had speed but couldn’t keep the car reliable. He could’ve easily been champion in 2003 or 2005 if the car hadn’t let him down so often. The raw pace was there. The wins were there. The titles slipped away.

Then came Ferrari. He won the championship in 2007 (still one of the tightest and most dramatic title wins ever), but the car began to decline afterward. By 2009, Ferrari wasn’t in the fight anymore.

Compare that to Schumacher, who helped build Ferrari into a winning machine, or Hamilton, who moved to Mercedes right before their era of dominance. Kimi never got that perfectly timed golden era. He always seemed one step behind the ideal team-car combo.

Not a Political Player, And That Cost Him

Kimi wasn’t interested in playing the political games that often come with being a lead driver in F1.
He didn’t fight to build a team around himself, didn’t engage in mind games, didn’t chase media love or internal favoritism. He just wanted to drive, and honestly, I love him for that.

But the truth is, F1 isn’t just about who’s fastest. It’s about influence. Schumacher, Hamilton, Vettel, they all knew how to influence a team, a strategy, a season. Kimi stayed out of it, and in this sport, that can cost you.

Passionate, But Not Obsessed

Let’s not ignore the mental side. After 2007, it felt like Kimi had achieved what he set out to do, and he never really chased more titles with the same hunger. He even left F1 entirely for a couple of years (2010–2011) to go rallying and have fun elsewhere.

That’s not a knock, it’s just Kimi. He raced because he loved racing. He didn’t care about records or becoming the face of a generation. He was a driver in the purest sense. But in a sport where obsession and legacy often go hand-in-hand, that put him on a different path.

The Sport Changed, Kimi Didn't

Kimi thrived in the era where driving was all about raw pace, tire feel, and instinct. But modern F1 became more complex, with energy recovery systems, fuel saving, team radio micromanagement, and endless tire strategy.

Drivers like Hamilton and Vettel embraced this. Kimi adapted, sure, but he never enjoyed that side of the sport. He wanted to race, not manage energy flows or be a co-engineer. And while he stayed competitive into his 40s, the F1 world slowly moved away from what he loved most.

Still a Legend, Just Not on Paper

Look, numbers matter in F1. But they don’t tell the whole story. Kimi Räikkönen was a world champion, a 21-time Grand Prix winner, and held the record for most race starts. But beyond all that, he was a rare character in a sport full of PR-polished personalities. Quiet. Honest. Deadpan. Fast.

In an era of media training and team politics, Kimi showed up, did his job, and walked away, often literally, mid-interview. And that’s why fans loved him. That’s why I loved him.

Final Thoughts

The Iceman didn’t need multiple titles to prove his greatness. He raced with heart, stayed true to himself, and gave us some of the most memorable moments in F1 history, without ever caring about the spotlight. That kind of authenticity is rare.

So yeah, maybe he’s not the most decorated. But in my book? He’s one of the greatest, no question.

Ferrari: Where World Champions Die!

The Angry Man and His Dog

There’s something about the story of a lonely, angry man who has no one left but his dog. It always works. No matter how many times we’ve seen it, it still hits a nerve.

Why?

Because deep down, most of us have felt a version of that. Maybe not as extreme, but we’ve all had moments where everything feels pointless, where the world feels like it’s turned its back on us. And in that chaos, having one being, just one, that sticks around and loves you anyway, that’s powerful.

The man is broken, tired, maybe even dangerous. But he still feeds the dog, still protects it, still talks to it like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. And often, it is.

The dog represents the last bit of his humanity. No judgment, no expectations, just presence. And that’s enough to keep him from going completely off the edge.

Also, the anger isn’t just anger. It’s grief. It's disappointment. It’s all the stuff he never got to say or fix. And the dog doesn’t need him to explain any of that. It just stays. That loyalty breaks us. Every single time.

What makes it even better is how simple the whole thing is. It’s not about the plot. It’s about the feeling. One man. One dog. And a world they both stopped trusting. But somehow, together, they still move forward.

In the end, it’s about love. Not the loud kind. The quiet one that just stays, no matter what.

Why “Work Smart, Not Hard” Sends the Wrong Message

The phrase "Work smart, not hard" is often shared as advice to encourage efficiency. While the intent behind it is understandable, I believe it conveys a fundamentally flawed message.

The reality is that success demands a combination of smart and hard work. Focusing exclusively on "working smart" risks undermining the value of dedication, perseverance, and effort, the very traits that drive long-term achievements.

Consider the importance of relentless commitment to a goal, solving real challenges, and inspiring a team through action. These elements go beyond just "working smart" and require consistent hard work to bring ideas to fruition.

Hard work creates the foundation for learning, growth, and mastery. It teaches resilience and adaptability, qualities essential in a rapidly evolving tech landscape. Meanwhile, smart work, using the right tools, strategies, and prioritization, amplifies the impact of that effort.

In our pursuit of success, let’s not forget that hard work is not an outdated concept. It’s a cornerstone of innovation and excellence. When paired with intelligence and strategy, it becomes unstoppable.

So, the better mantra might be: “Work smart and hard.” That’s how we build lasting success, for ourselves, our teams, and our organizations.

Remaining Relevant!

The reality is that, at some point in your life, if you can't train others with the knowledge you've gained, you will start to become irrelevant.

You might continue doing what you're doing now, but as you get older, your mind won't be as sharp as it once was, and acquiring new knowledge will become more difficult. You have a choice: either risk becoming irrelevant or share the knowledge you've gained, be humble, inspire passion in others, and hope that some will learn from you and remember your guidance.

Cycle of Life!

I feed and care for stray dogs and cats as much as possible. This morning, a new stray showed up in front of my place. He's old, his eyes are red, and he's clearly sick. I've seen him a couple of blocks away with another group of dogs. I think as he got older, his group rejected him. Interestingly, my group accepted him, and I hope it remains that way. I plan to feed him and take care of him.

No matter how useful or important you are, at the end of the day, when you get old, you're often no longer needed. It's the cycle of life!

My Learnings

1. In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on. - Robert Frost
2. Such is life. - Winston, John Wick
3. I always say, the way a man treats his car is how he treats himself. - Tarconi, Transporter
4. If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid. - Epictetus, Dean Kansky, Serendipity
5. You know the Greeks didn't write obituaries. They only asked one question after a man died: "Did he have passion?". - Dean Kansky, Serendipity
6. You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. - Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight
7. Tomorrow millions of people will curse me, but fate has taken its course. - Bruno Ganz, Downfall
8. The notion of yours is merely an illusion. - Rajiv Hassan
9. Love is the absence of judgment. - Dalai Lama XIV
10. I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof. - Sherlock Holmes, A Scandal in Belgravia
11. As the philosopher Jagger once said, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need". - Dr. Gregory House, House
12. We're going to hell, so bring your sunblock. - Ari Gold, Entourage
13. Silence, it's golden. - Ari Gold, Entourage
14. Opinions are like arseholes - everybody has one. - Old Adage

Dreams!

A Dog Has Died

BY PABLO NERUDA
TRANSLATED BY ALFRED YANKAUER

My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with sex.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.

So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it.