
摩根大通股东大会的万字记录
亲爱的股东们: 在全球范围内,2024 年又是充满重大挑战的一年,从乌克兰持续不断的可怕战争和暴力、中东冲突,到持续不断的恐怖活动和日益加剧的地缘政治紧张局势。我们对那些生活受到这些事件深刻影响的人们深表同情。 摩根大通作为一家历来跨越国界...

亲爱的股东们: 在全球范围内,2024 年又是充满重大挑战的一年,从乌克兰持续不断的可怕战争和暴力、中东冲突,到持续不断的恐怖活动和日益加剧的地缘政治紧张局势。我们对那些生活受到这些事件深刻影响的人们深表同情。 摩根大通作为一家历来跨越国界...

“生成式 AI 对在线知识社区的影响” 这篇论文由 Gordon Burtch、Dokyun Lee 和 Zhichen Chen 撰写,主要探讨了生成式人工智能(Gen AI)技术,特别是像 ChatGPT 这样的大语言模型(LLMs)对...

德勤近期发布报告《 How AI agents are reshaping the future of the work》,重点阐述了Generative AI的扩展功能、应用场景和对企业影响。报告关键要点: 如何利用GenAI重新设计业务...

前言 大家好,这里是可爱的Cherry,热爱于分享NAS、docker玩耍经验~ 正所谓,万物皆可docker,如果不能docker,那一定是你的不对,不是docker的不对! Cherry已发布了100多期《开源&&doc...

摘要 生成性人工智能(Generative AI)作为一种突破性技术,正以前所未有的速度和规模影响全球经济和社会结构。自ChatGPT推出以来,人们对生成性AI的潜力和风险展开了广泛讨论。本报告通过调查超过25,000人,探讨了人们对生成性...

The Vision Behind the AI Product Manager Community The AI Product Manager Community was conceived from a desire to creat...

The Vision Behind the AI Product Manager Club The establishment of the AI Product Manager Club is rooted in a vision to ...

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Vision and Objectives of the Product Management Club The Product Management Club, established within the realm of artifi...

The Vision Behind the Product Manager Collective The evolution of artificial intelligence has created a dynamic landscap...
還在每次 claude code 執行時被一堆「Are you sure?」卡住嗎?想像一下,你按下 Enter 後就去泡咖啡,回來時整個專案已經自動重構完畢,連測試都跑過了——這就是「全自動模式」的魅力。下面我們用 3 分鐘搞定設定,讓 Claude Code 從此閉嘴做事。
最簡單暴力的做法,就是在任何 claude 指令後面加上:
claude --yes --skip-confirm
--yes:對所有「y/n」問題自動回答 yes--skip-confirm:跳過任何需要人類二次確認的步驟把這行寫進你的 Makefile 或 package.json script,之後只要 npm run claude 就能全自動跑。
.claude.json 幫你記住不想每次打參數?在專案根目錄放一個 .claude.json,貼上:
{
"autoYes": true,
"skipConfirm": true,
"silent": false
}
存檔後,無論誰跑 claude 都會自動 yes。
(小提醒:把 .claude.json 加進 .gitignore,避免隊友被強迫自動化。)
GitHub Actions、GitLab CI 或任何容器環境,只要在 env 區塊加:
CLAUDE_AUTO_YES: 1
CLAUDE_SKIP_CONFIRM: 1
這樣就算在無互動的容器裡,Claude Code 也能乖乖閉嘴執行。
| 情境 | 指令範例 | 備註 |
| 本地測試 | claude --yes --skip-confirm | 先跑一次看看會不會刪錯檔 |
| CI 環境 | claude --yes --skip-confirm --silent | --silent 可關閉進度條,減少 log 噪音 |
| 多人協作 | .claude.json 加 .gitignore | 避免隊友被迫自動 yes |
| 安全顧慮 | 加 --dry-run 先預覽 | 確認沒問題再去掉 --dry-run |
有時你想讓 Claude Code 自動重構,但部署前還是想親眼看一眼。這時可用「分階段指令」:
# 自動重構
claude refactor --yes --skip-confirm
# 部署前再問我
claude deploy
設定好 --yes 與 .claude.json 後,你就能把重複性工作完全託管給 Claude Code。記得先在測試專案跑一次,確認它不會把整個 repo 刪光,再正式上線。自動化不是偷懶,而是把大腦留給更有創意的事。
Remember Fitbit? Once the undisputed king of fitness trackers, the Google-owned giant is roaring back, staking its future on a massive bet: artificial intelligence. For an entire month, I immersed myself in their newly redesigned app and its personal AI-driven health coach. What I discovered wasn't just an update; it was a fascinating, albeit imperfect, preview of personalized health tracking's next frontier. Is this the game-changer we've craved? Absolutely. Let's unpack it.
Forget mere step counts. The AI health coach isn't just a feature; it's a paradigm shift. This isn't about raw data, but context and actionable insights delivered directly to your palm. From day one, its personalization struck me. Instead of boilerplate advice, it meticulously analyzed my sleep patterns, activity levels, and even logged moods, then synthesized targeted suggestions. For example, after a restless night, it didn't just tell me I slept poorly; it suggested a specific bedtime routine and a chamomile tea recipe.
This system isn't static code; it's a living algorithm. It constantly learns, evolving its guidance with every data point. It feels less like a program, more like a dynamic partner that truly 'gets' you. While it won't replace a human trainer, its ability to provide daily, relevant, and evolving feedback is a monumental leap. Is it flawless? Not yet. Occasionally, its advice felt a tad too prescriptive, like an overzealous drill sergeant. But the trajectory? Undeniably revolutionary.
The AI isn't the only star. Fitbit's entire app has received a monumental overhaul, a strategic move paving the way for its ambitious 2026 vision. And frankly, it was long overdue. The previous version, while functional, often resembled a digital junk drawer – cluttered, dated, and frustrating. The new design, however, is a revelation: sleek, modern, and incredibly user-friendly.
Navigation now feels like second nature. Critical metrics, once buried, are now prominently displayed on a vibrant, customizable dashboard. The visual language is crisp, prioritizing immediate readability over overwhelming data dumps. This isn't just a facelift; it's a fundamental shift towards a guided user journey. I no longer felt like a data miner; instead, I was an explorer, effortlessly charting my health trends and discovering insights without hunting through endless menus.
This isn't merely an incremental update; it's a calculated, strategic offensive. Google's acquisition of Fitbit always hinted at a grander vision, and this AI-centric redesign is the undeniable queen on their chessboard. In a fiercely competitive landscape, where Apple Health and Samsung Health command considerable territory, Fitbit desperately needed a unique selling proposition. Hyper-personalization, powered by advanced AI, is precisely that.
Its true power lies in the pivot: from passive data logging to proactive, intelligent coaching. We've long surpassed the era of basic step counts; today's users demand their devices not just to report data, but to help them comprehend it and catalyze action. If Fitbit can truly perfect this AI coach – making it an indispensable, genuinely transformative ally – they stand to reclaim a significant market share. This is especially true for individuals craving more than basic activity monitoring, yet not quite ready for the hefty investment of a human personal trainer.
A month in, and the answer is a resounding 'yes' – Fitbit is rapidly solidifying its position as my primary fitness companion. The synergy between its intuitive, refreshed design and the intelligent, continuously evolving AI coach forges an undeniably compelling ecosystem. It's clear Fitbit is finally harnessing its colossal trove of health data, transforming it into genuinely impactful, user-centric insights.
Naturally, perfection remains a distant horizon. The AI, brilliant as it is, would benefit from even deeper contextual nuance and more fluid, natural language processing. Seamless integration with a wider array of third-party apps also stands as an area for growth. Yet, these are mere footnotes in an otherwise overwhelmingly positive narrative. If this month-long preview is any harbinger, Fitbit's future, supercharged by Google's formidable AI expertise, gleams with unprecedented promise.
So, the ultimate question for you: Are you prepared for an AI that understands your health nuances perhaps even better than you do? Because Fitbit is unequivocally betting on it, and after my transformative experience, I'm convinced they're on the right track.
Forget the groundbreaking CGI and immersive 3D. While James Cameron's Avatar films dazzle visually, the true magic of Pandora extends far beyond the screen: it's in the revolutionary sounds. The Avatar soundtrack isn't just background noise; it's a meticulously engineered auditory universe.
Composer Simon Franglen, the sonic architect behind Avatar's latest installments, recently unveiled a seven-year odyssey that transcends traditional scoring. His mission? Not merely composing melodies, but literally inventing instruments for the Na'vi. Imagine: crafting a musical language for tall, blue, four-fingered humanoids, sounds as authentic and unique as Pandora's flora and fauna. This isn't just film music; it's an unprecedented act of auditory world-building, meticulously woven into Pandora's very fabric.
Imagine: tasked with composing for an alien species, a sentient race from a distant moon. This species possesses unique physiology – four fingers, not five – and a distinct cultural heritage. How would their instruments sound? How would they be played? These intensely practical, philosophical questions confronted Simon Franglen. His solution? Not adaptation, but ground-up innovation.
Franglen's dedication to authenticity proved extraordinary. Inheriting the primary compositional role after James Horner's passing, he dove headfirst into the challenge, collaborating closely with James Cameron's expansive vision. Franglen didn't merely consider aesthetics. He delved into Pandora's physics, its intricate culture. He pondered Na'vi materials, their four-fingered dexterity, their cultural rhythms. This meticulous approach led to the conceptualization, even physical fabrication, of instruments never before imagined, designed specifically for Pandora's fictional inhabitants.
Why such an extreme commitment for a film score? In Pandora, every detail resonates. The visual spectacle, however grand, would lose impact without an equally innovative, immersive soundscape. Franglen's work delivers a critical lesson for tech and creative industries: true innovation demands thinking beyond established paradigms, fusing disparate fields like music, anthropology, and industrial design.
This isn't merely music; it's cultural engineering. It's designing a sonic architecture that bolsters narrative, deepening audience connection to an imagined reality. Just as animators pioneered groundbreaking software for Na'vi motion capture and rendering, Franglen forged an entirely new musical framework. Avatar's 'tech feat' extends far beyond pixels, permeating every creative layer.
For an age of burgeoning virtual and augmented realities, the Avatar soundtrack offers vital lessons. Creating truly believable digital worlds demands commitment to detail, extending to every sensory experience. Simon Franglen's incredible work reminds us: cinema's magic—any immersive digital experience's magic—isn't merely pixels. It's the painstaking craft bringing fictional universes to life, dimension by dimension.
So, next time Pandora's grandeur sweeps you away, pause. Appreciate the subtle, yet revolutionary, sounds. It's the sound of a composer, and an entire team, inventing a universe, note by meticulously crafted note.
The game just changed for generative AI and intellectual property. Google has reportedly capitulated to a stern cease and desist order from The Walt Disney Company, scrubbing an undisclosed volume of AI-generated videos featuring Disney's iconic, fiercely protected IP. This isn't mere fan-made content; it's a seismic declaration from one of the globe's most formidable content owners. Here's the kicker: Disney, the very Goliath enforcing this takedown, simultaneously holds a strategic licensing deal with OpenAI. Coincidence? Absolutely not.
Industry titans like Deadline and Variety confirm Google's swift compliance with Disney's demand. While the precise volume and nature of the AI videos remain under wraps, the message is chillingly clear: Disney will not tolerate unauthorized use of its characters, narratives, or brand. This aggressive stance is hardly new. Disney boasts a storied, decades-long history of fiercely protecting its copyrights and trademarks, from battling counterfeit merchandise to unauthorized theme park impersonators.
Yet, the battlefield has fundamentally shifted. No longer just physical knock-offs, the new frontier involves algorithms autonomously generating novel permutations of Disney's invaluable assets. Often, this occurs without explicit permission or licensing. This development rips open a complex legal and ethical Pandora's box, forcing a reckoning between innovation and ownership.
Here, the narrative gains profound depth. Disney isn't merely a digital curmudgeon; they are executing a sophisticated strategic play within the burgeoning AI landscape. Their recent, groundbreaking licensing pact with OpenAI—the powerhouse behind ChatGPT and Sora—serves as a colossal beacon of their forward-thinking agenda. What profound insights does this reveal?
The chasm between unauthorized AI content on Google's platforms and potentially authorized, Disney-sanctioned AI content developed with OpenAI is vast. It's the stark difference between a wild, untamed frontier and a meticulously cultivated garden. Disney's preference is now unequivocally asserted.
Platforms hosting user-generated AI content now confront escalating pressure to rigorously police copyrighted material. The precedent established here places an undeniable burden on platforms to deploy sophisticated content moderation and rapid-response mechanisms for IP infringement claims. The "move fast and break things" ethos of generative AI is now colliding head-on with the immutable, long-established force of intellectual property law. A reckoning is due.
The legal terrain for training AI models grows increasingly perilous. This incident forcefully underscores the paramount importance of ethically sourced training data and the immense liabilities attached to models capable of generating copyrighted material. We anticipate an accelerating pivot towards "permissioned" AI models, where training data is explicitly licensed, meticulously curated, and legally sanctioned to preempt infringement.
Consider this a thunderclap warning. While the boundaries of "fair use" in AI-generated content remain frustratingly ambiguous, behemoth IP holders like Disney are unequivocally signaling their intent to enforce their rights with full legal might. Creators who leverage AI to craft content incorporating existing characters, narratives, or themes must proceed with extreme circumspection, weighing the substantial potential legal ramifications.
Disney's decisive enforcement against Google offers a potent, actionable blueprint. Expect other major studios, record labels, publishing houses, and content owners to meticulously observe, then swiftly emulate, this aggressive strategy. The freewheeling "wild west" era of generative AI content is demonstrably drawing to a close.
This is far more than a mere Google-Disney skirmish; it's a profound bellwether for the entire generative AI industry. Are we hurtling towards a future where content creation—even by AI—will predominantly hinge on intricate licensing agreements, governing both input data and output distribution? Will the courts become battlegrounds as IP holders launch an escalating volley of lawsuits to reclaim their digital dominion?
One truth is now undeniable: the global discourse surrounding AI and intellectual property has just become deafeningly loud, and gravely serious. Disney's audacious move transcends a simple takedown; it's a strategic, full-throled assertion of IP control in the nascent AI era, potentially clearing the path for *their* own meticulously licensed AI ventures. The very bedrock of the AI content landscape is shifting beneath our feet. In this new frontier, 'permission' is rapidly solidifying into the ultimate, non-negotiable password.
The aroma hits first. A rich, cheesy, garlicky scent, swirling through your home. Then, the subtle hum of precision motors, a faint clink as ingredients are stirred. Your phone vibrates: "Dinner’s ready." You haven't touched a pot. This isn't a sci-fi fantasy; it's Posha, the $1,500 autonomous robot chef, expertly crafting macaroni and cheese in your kitchen. This isn't just a smart gadget; it's a tangible glimpse into a future where artificial intelligence tackles one of life's most time-consuming daily chores: meal preparation. But can an AI-powered personal chef, priced like a high-end espresso machine, truly justify its place in the modern home, or is it just an expensive novelty?
Forget a mere smart oven; Posha is a dedicated robot chef, a culinary co-pilot engineered to prepare entire meals with virtually zero human oversight. Its AI brain, coupled with a sophisticated motorized arm, precisely executes every step: mixing, stirring, even finessing temperature control. It transforms raw components into a perfectly finished dish, much like a meticulous sous chef that never tires, never complains, and always follows the recipe to the letter.
The appeal is undeniable: sheer convenience. Picture a busy professional reclaiming an hour, a parent freed from evening meal prep chaos, or anyone simply weary of the daily cooking grind. Posha promises an escape. You simply load pre-portioned ingredients, tap a recipe on an intuitive app, and let the robotics handle the rest. The fantasy of arriving home to a hot, freshly cooked dinner is now a tangible, whirring reality.
Let's confront the sticker shock. At $1,500, Posha is no casual purchase. This is a substantial investment, positioning it firmly within the luxury smart appliance market, perhaps alongside a high-end stand mixer or a premium robotic vacuum. So, who exactly is this AI cooking marvel designed to serve?
The core value isn't just a cooked meal; it's the liberation of your personal clock. Imagine consistently enjoying delicious, home-cooked dishes without ever stirring a pot or monitoring a timer. For many, this unparalleled convenience and the mental bandwidth it liberates could easily outweigh the initial outlay. Posha isn't just cooking; it's transforming meal prep from a daily obligation into an effortless, almost magical, dining experience.
Like any internet-connected device, particularly one operating within your home's culinary core, Posha ignites a familiar array of questions regarding connected kitchen appliances. These aren't trivial footnotes; they represent critical considerations for our increasingly interconnected smart homes.
Every smart device collects data, but what exactly is Posha recording? Is it merely your recipe history, or does it delve deeper into eating patterns, ingredient preferences, or even brand loyalties? Robust, transparent data policies are non-negotiable for consumers inviting such a device into their personal space.
Any smart appliance linked to your home network becomes a potential digital vulnerability. How fortified is Posha's software against sophisticated cyber threats? What safeguards are implemented to protect sensitive user data and prevent unauthorized intrusion into your kitchen ecosystem?
Imagine a mid-meal malfunction: a half-cooked dinner, a frustrated evening. How robust is Posha's engineering? Is it simple to clean after a cheesy macaroni session, or does it demand intricate disassembly? Are proprietary ingredients or specialized tools mandatory? The exasperating "human element" of troubleshooting complex robotics can quickly erode convenience.
While undoubtedly efficient, does the rise of autonomous cooking inadvertently strip away the inherent joy, the creative outlet, that many derive from preparing food from scratch? For some, cooking isn't merely sustenance; it's a meditative ritual, a form of expression, or a cherished family activity. Is convenience worth sacrificing that connection?
Posha transcends being a mere appliance; it's a pivotal evolutionary leap for the smart kitchen. It heralds a future where automation and artificial intelligence become deeply embedded in our daily routines. While its current repertoire might begin with perfectly creamy macaroni and cheese, the transformative potential of these robot chefs stretches far beyond simple comfort dishes.
Envision specialized units tailored for high-volume professional kitchens, effortlessly managing intricate catering demands. Or consider versions designed for individuals with severe allergies, precision-crafting allergen-free meals with absolute confidence. This is more than just a gadget; it's the genesis of comprehensive kitchen automation, poised to redefine not only domestic life but the entire global food industry.
Posha, therefore, crystallizes the exhilarating promise and the profound dilemmas inherent in advanced home technology. It's undeniably impressive, remarkably innovative, and yes, it flawlessly prepares dinner while you tackle your workday. Yet, as with all technological vanguard, it compels us to scrutinize not merely what these machines can achieve, but what we truly desire them to do. And crucially, at what ultimate cost – financially, personally, and to the very essence of our culinary culture.
Sleek, silent electric vehicles dominate showrooms, often dismissed as 'Jell-O molds' for their efficiency-first designs. Yet, a powerful yearning persists for the raw, tactile aesthetics of yesteryear: the unapologetic lines of a classic Bronco, the rugged stance of an original Defender. These icons don't exist new. But what if you could have that vintage look, often 'better and much cheaper' than a traditional restoration? Welcome to the Instagram-fueled boom of copycat vintage car body shells from Asia.
This isn't just a trend; it's a seismic shift. Asian fabricators, masters of visual storytelling on Instagram, are showcasing their ability to recreate entire classic car body shells. Forget hunting down rare, rust-riddled originals or facing Western restoration bills that rival a new luxury car. These aren't mere spare parts; they're high-quality, often improved, full-body replicas. Is this the future of classic car ownership, or a disruptive shortcut?
Why this insatiable hunger for the past? Today's automotive landscape, while a marvel of technology, often sacrifices soul for sensors. Cars look alike. Enthusiasts crave character, the deliberate sweep of a fender, the satisfying thunk of a solid door – experiences lost to digital dashboards and driver aids. A vintage Ford Bronco or Land Rover Defender isn't just a vehicle; it's a tangible piece of history, a defiant statement against uniformity. It's an escape.
Such deep-seated nostalgia creates fertile ground for innovation. Now, those timeless aesthetics are within reach, bypassing the astronomical costs and endless headaches of traditional classic car restoration. Some designs simply defy the calendar. People will pay for them, especially when the price makes sense.
Instagram isn't just a platform; it's the engine of this revolution. Its visual-first mandate – crisp photos, raw fabrication videos, jaw-dropping before-and-afters – makes it the ultimate global showroom. Asian firms bypass traditional ad agencies and niche forums. They connect directly with buyers worldwide. Intricate welds, precise panel beating, flawless finishes: all showcased in vivid detail.
This direct digital storefront eliminates middlemen, slashing marketing overheads. That's a key reason for the 'cheaper' price tag. It's digital disruption, unvarnished, hitting even the most niche corners of the automotive world.
Is 'better and much cheaper' a hyperbolic marketing claim? Buyers say no. It's reality. Several factors converge to create this undeniable Asian advantage:
Imagine: your dream custom vintage car project or 'restomod' (classic looks, modern guts) begins not with rust, but with a pristine, perfectly formed, brand-new body shell. No rust repair nightmares. No chassis straightening. No endless hunt for a 'pristine' donor vehicle that's anything but. It's a clean slate.
High-quality, affordable replica vintage body shells democratize classic car ownership. More enthusiasts can finally build their dream vehicle without auction house prices or crippling restoration bills. Customization options explode, empowering builders to create truly personalized, one-of-a-kind machines.
Traditional Western restoration shops face a crossroads. Will they compete head-on, or adapt? Many could source these shells, then pivot their expertise to engine builds, bespoke interiors, and final assembly. Intellectual property is a lingering question mark, though most older designs are long out of patent. Many firms also sell unbranded 'body-in-white' shells, sidestepping direct infringement.
Electric vehicles charge forward, yet the magnetic pull of classic design remains unbroken. Instagram-fueled Asian manufacturers, offering compelling, cost-effective vintage car body shells, represent a fascinating nexus. Global supply chains, cutting-edge digital marketing, and an unquenchable automotive passion collide. This potent mix redefines classic car restoration.
Long-term heritage preservation, or a fleeting trend? Time will render its verdict. For now, the global market has engineered a brilliant, innovative workaround for our collective craving: the irreplaceable style of yesteryear, now within reach.