Episodes

  • Telling the Stories of Cybercrime | An Interview with Geoff White | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli

    Telling the Stories of Cybercrime | An Interview with Geoff White | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli
    May 24 2026
    PODCAST EPISODE | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli Geoff White goes where organized crime and technology cross, and he comes back with stories. In this one he announces his newest BBC series — the rise and fall of the Conti ransomware gang — and we get into the thing underneath all of it: how you make a crime nobody can see feel real to people who will never see it. 📺 Watch | 🎙️ Listen | marcociappelli.com There was a red light. A sign, really — ON AIR — that lit up the second a broadcast began, and everyone in the room understood it without a word. Quiet. We're live. I grew up around that light. Geoff White and I opened this conversation laughing about it, because you still catch it hanging behind some podcasters, a little piece of analog theater none of us can quite bring ourselves to retire. We kept the light. What we lost is the patience. Geoff is an investigative journalist — the kind other journalists call when they want to know what actually happened. He works where organized crime and technology cross, and his complaint about modern news is one I share. We get the big bang: something was hacked, data leaked, a hospital went dark. Then the cycle moves on before anyone asks the only questions that matter. How did it work? Who did it? Should I be worried? He told me he once had four minutes on Channel 4 News to explain Bitcoin. Four minutes. He called it impossible, and he's right — but the deeper trouble is that we've trained ourselves to believe four minutes is enough. That reading the headline is the same as reading the story. It isn't. It never was. What pulled me in was the subject of his new BBC series. Conti — one of the most profitable ransomware gangs the world has seen — does not look like the hooded figure in the stock photo. It looks like a company. Payroll. Sick pay. Annual leave. A training program. Strategy meetings. A translation department, because a ransom note full of spelling mistakes doesn't get taken seriously, and these people cared, deeply, about being taken seriously. Someone, on some ordinary Tuesday, had to ask who was running payroll that month. While the gang was shutting down hospitals. I keep turning that over. We like our villains monstrous and separate; it's more comfortable that way. But a criminal enterprise that runs on bonus schemes and brand reputation isn't a monster from the deep. It's a mirror, doing what the rest of us do, with the morality removed. Geoff says the most fascinating part of the 300,000 leaked messages — spilled because a war split the gang in two — is the mundanity. I believe him. The horror isn't that these people are alien. It's that they're familiar. And this is where he and I actually agree on the work. He says you need three things to tell a story, and he reaches for Star Wars to prove it: a victim, a villain, a hero. For years cybercrime refused that shape — the heroes wanted the spotlight, the villains stayed silent, the victims ran. What changed is that the villains started talking. They leak themselves into the open now. Which means, for the first time, the story can actually be told. That's the part people get wrong about cybersecurity. They think the hard part is the technology. It isn't. The hard part is making an invisible crime feel real to someone who will never see it — no broken window, no smoke, just a screen that stopped working. You cannot patch your way to that. You have to tell it. A name. A face. A beginning, a middle, an end. Which is the most analog thing I can imagine. The most digital crime of our age still has to be carried into people's heads the way stories always have. That isn't a weakness. That's the thing worth carrying forward. Geoff's new BBC series, Cyber Hack — the Conti story — is coming; you'll find it linked below. And if you like conversations that take the long way around, the newsletter lives at marcociappelli.com. The red light still means something. Some of us are still on air. Let's keep thinking. — Marco Co-Founder ITSPmagazine & Studio C60 | Creative Director | Branding & Marketing Advisor | Personal Branding Coach | Journalist | Writer | Podcast: An Analog Brain In A Digital Age ⚠️ Beware: Pigs May Fly | 🌎 LAX🛸FLR 🌍 About Marco Marco Ciappelli is Co-Founder & CMO of ITSPmagazine, Co-Founder & Creative Director of Studio C60, Branding & Marketing Advisor, Personal Branding Coach, Journalist, Writer, and Host of An Analog Brain In A Digital Age podcast. Born in Florence, Italy, and based in Los Angeles, he explores the intersection of technology, society, storytelling, and creativity — with an analog brain, in a digital age. 🌎 marcociappelli.com | itspmagazine.com | studioc60.com About the Guest Geoff White is an investigative journalist and author who specializes in the place where technology and organized crime meet — cyber heists, ransomware gangs, money laundering, fraud, and the criminal networks that operate in...
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    30 mins
  • Book: Deep Future — Creating Technology That Matters | An Interview with Pablos Holman | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli

    Book: Deep Future — Creating Technology That Matters | An Interview with Pablos Holman | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli
    May 4 2026
    PODCAST EPISODE | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli Pablos Holman has built spaceships, zapped malaria-carrying mosquitoes with a laser, earned thousands of patents, and is now betting his venture capital on the inventors Silicon Valley forgot to fund. His new book, Deep Future: Creating Technology That Matters, is a call to arms against a tech industry that got drunk on software and forgot about the other 98% of the world. 📺 Watch | 🎙️ Listen | marcociappelli.com I grew up in a city full of inventors. They just didn't call themselves that. Florence in the fifteenth century wasn't running on venture capital. It was running on curiosity, obsession, and the refusal to accept that the way things had always been done was the way they had to be done. Leonardo didn't have a manual. Galileo didn't ask for permission before pointing a better telescope at the sky. They took things apart, looked at what was inside, and put them back together differently. They hacked things. That's Pablos Holman's word — and when he used it in our conversation, I recognized it immediately. Not as a tech industry term. As something much older. A way of being in the world that says: the instructions are a suggestion, not a ceiling. Pablos has had one of those careers that resists a tidy summary. He was writing code in Alaska as a kid, with one of the first Apples ever made and nobody around to teach him anything. He figured it out on his own — and never really stopped doing that. Cryptocurrency in the '90s. AI research before anyone called it that. Helping build spaceships at Blue Origin. Then years at the Intellectual Ventures Lab with Nathan Myhrvold, going after problems Silicon Valley had decided weren't worth the trouble: a laser that identifies and destroys malaria-carrying mosquitoes in flight, hurricane suppression systems, a nuclear reactor powered by nuclear waste. Six thousand patents. Thirty million TED Talk views. Now he runs a venture fund called Deep Future, and he's written a book with the same name. The subtitle says what he thinks about most of what Silicon Valley has been doing for the past two decades. Creating Technology That Matters. He calls the alternative shallow tech. Apps that replace taxis. Apps to rent a stranger's couch. Apps to have weed delivered by drone. Not useless, exactly — but not living up to what we actually have. And what we actually have, Pablos says, is the best toolkit in all of human history: more people, more education, more resources, more raw scientific understanding than any generation before us. If all that produces another chat app, something has gone badly wrong. The number he threw out in our conversation — and I'm going to mention it here because it deserves to be mentioned, not as a hook but as a quiet scandal — is that all the software companies in the world combined, every single one of them, account for about two percent of global GDP. The other ninety-eight is energy, shipping, food, manufacturing, construction, automotive. Industries that haven't fundamentally changed in a century. Industries that software can nudge a few percent better but cannot make ten times better. Ten times better is where Pablos starts. One of his portfolio companies is building autonomous sailing cargo ships — no crew, no fuel, no emissions — targeting a two-trillion-dollar industry that currently burns half its revenue on fuel. He's also continuing the malaria work that could save half a million lives a year, half of them children under five. That's the scale he's measuring things against. We got to AI eventually, as you do. What he said landed simply and cleanly: chatting is the least important thing we can do with it. What we should be using AI for is understanding things that were previously too complex to model — what's happening in every cell of your body, how to actually get a grip on the climate, how to start solving the problems that have been resistant to every tool that came before. Instead we are using it to generate fake videos and build an AI version of TikTok. We've hit peak entertainment, he said. I think that's right. And I think what comes after peak entertainment — if anything does — is the real question sitting underneath all of this. The conversation ended the way the best ones do: not with a conclusion, but with an invitation. Pick something you care about and work on it. The people who built Apollo weren't all rocket scientists. They were cable layers and logistics coordinators who never saw the rocket up close. But they were part of something that exceeded their own individuality, and they knew it, and that was enough. That pride is still available. Whether we want it more than we want another scroll — that's on us. Deep Future: Creating Technology That Matters is out now — find it here. Subscribe to the newsletter at marcociappelli.com. Let's keep thinking. About Marco Ciappelli Marco Ciappelli is Co-Founder & CMO of ...
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    41 mins
  • New Book: Healing the Sick Care System — Why People Matter | An Interview with Gil Bashe | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli

    New Book: Healing the Sick Care System — Why People Matter | An Interview with Gil Bashe | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli
    Apr 26 2026
    PODCAST EPISODE | An Analog Brain In A Digital Age With Marco Ciappelli The United States spends 18.7% of its GDP on health — two to three times what countries like Italy spend. Italy has a longer life expectancy. So what exactly are we paying for? Gil Bashe, Chair of Global Health & Purpose at FINN Partners, former combat medic, and author of Healing the Sick Care System: Why People Matter, joined me on An Analog Brain In A Digital Age to talk about what happens when a system designed to heal people forgets that people exist. This is not a rant. It's a diagnosis — from someone who has seen the system from every angle: the battlefield, the boardroom, the pharmaceutical lobby, and the bedside of his own child. 📺 Watch | 🎙️ Listen | marcociappelli.com Gil Bashe started his career as a paratrooper combat medic. He's also the father of a child with a rare disease. He spent years as a lobbyist for the pharmaceutical industry — and he'll tell you that upfront, without flinching, before explaining why he still thinks that work mattered. He has led billion-dollar global agencies, advised companies that make life-saving drugs, and sat in rooms with the CEOs of hospital systems, pharmacy chains, and insurance companies. He asked them once if they understood each other's business models. The honest answer was: no. That's the system he's writing about. Not a broken one — a fragmented one. A system where the prime customer of healthcare has become the system itself, and the actual patients have been quietly reclassified as beneficiaries. As Gil puts it: if your washing machine breaks and you call the company and they tell you you're a "beneficiary of our appliance," you'd think they were out of their minds. You paid for it. You're a customer. Treat you like one. His new book, Healing the Sick Care System: Why People Matter, was born from a long accumulation of observations — 11 or 12 years of writing about the health ecosystem from every angle — and catalyzed by one specific moment: the assassination of the UnitedHealthcare CEO, and the public reaction to it. The fact that the killer had a following. The fact that people were applauding. Gil found that more disturbing than anyone seemed comfortable admitting. When anger reaches that level, something in the system has gone deeply, fundamentally wrong. I should say: this is a conversation I had some skin in. I'm type 1 diabetic. I know what it's like to sit across from an endocrinologist who tells you things you already know, reads from a checklist, and never quite looks up from the laptop. The human element — the education, the empathy, the sense that this person actually sees you — is often just gone. And I think most doctors started their careers because they wanted to be healers. The system squeezed it out of them. Gil agrees. He says 51% of doctors now report burnout. Nearly 60% of nurses. And that's not a coincidence. That's a design failure. The AI question we kept circling was the one nobody in healthcare leadership seems to want to answer directly: if artificial intelligence takes some of the administrative burden off doctors' shoulders, does that time go back to patients — or does the system simply use it to push more throughput? More appointments per day, not more minutes per patient. Gil's framework for thinking about this is worth keeping: IQ, EQ, and TQ. Intellectual intelligence, emotional intelligence, and technology intelligence. The doctors we need going forward aren't just the ones who scored highest on their MCATs. They're the ones who can read a room. Who can hear a patient bring in a printout from WebMD and respond with curiosity instead of dismissal. Who understand that a curious patient is a gift, not an inconvenience. He told me a story from the book — one doctor who cut his wife off mid-sentence and said, "Who are you gonna believe? Me, or a patient?" And another doctor, in Santa Monica, who performed a long and complicated surgery on his daughter, walked into the hospital cafeteria in his surgical scrubs with photographs of every step of the procedure, laid them out on the table, explained everything in plain language, and then left his personal cell phone number. "Call me with any question." They did. He picked up. That's not technology. That's not policy. That's personality. And Gil's argument — which I think is correct — is that we've built a system that systematically selects against it. The hopeful part of the conversation surprised me. I expected nuance. What I got was genuine belief. We have the best trained doctors in the world. We are the source of global medical innovation. We spend enough money — the problem isn't resources, it's alignment. The fix, as Gil sees it, starts with every part of the system — payers, pharmaceutical companies, hospital systems, policy makers — looking in the mirror and asking: am I still on mission? And then, slowly, getting back to why this system was created in ...
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    37 mins
  • On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're Not Human — And Nobody's Asking | Written by Marco Ciappelli & Read by Tape3

    On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're Not Human — And Nobody's Asking | Written by Marco Ciappelli & Read by Tape3
    Apr 24 2026
    An Analog Brain In A Digital Age — A Newsletter by Marco Ciappelli On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're Not Human — And Nobody's Asking There was a moment — brief, unrepeatable — when the internet felt like a genuinely open place. No profiles. No algorithms deciding what you deserved to see. No one monetizing the fact that you existed. You showed up, you explored, you talked to strangers in other countries about things that mattered to you, and the whole thing felt less like a product and more like a discovery. Like finding a door to another dimension. There's a cartoon that captured that moment perfectly. 1993. The New Yorker. Peter Steiner. Two dogs, one at a computer, and the line that accidentally defined an entire era of the internet: "On the Internet, nobody knows you're a dog." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_the_Internet,_nobody_knows_you%27re_a_dog It was funny. It was also prophetic. And it was optimistic in a way we've completely forgotten how to be about the web. Anonymity as freedom. Identity as something fluid, chosen, playful. You could be anyone. You could be from anywhere. You could reinvent yourself in real time, with no one to contradict you. Then surveillance capitalism arrived and broke the party. Cookies. Behavioral profiling. The algorithmic panopticon. Suddenly everyone knew everything. You weren't a dog anymore — you were a demographic, a data point, a cluster of purchase histories and scroll patterns. The internet that promised liberation became the most precise identity-tracking machine ever built. Anonymity collapsed under the weight of monetization. Nobody knows you're a dog became everyone knows you're a dog, what breed, what you ate for breakfast, and which vet you Googled at 2am. And now we're in the third act. A Buddhist monk named Yang Mun has 2.5 million Instagram followers. He posts silent morning meditations. He has made over $300,000 since October. Three Buddhist scholars reviewed his content and confirmed: his wisdom isn't grounded in any actual scripture. It just sounds like it is. Yang Mun doesn't exist. He was built with ChatGPT, HeyGen — an AI platform that generates realistic synthetic human video, a face, eyes, a voice, moving and breathing and entirely artificial — and a handful of other tools, by a creator operating inside what's being called "Big Slop": a venture-backed industry that manufactures fake influencers, automates their posting, and scales them to millions of followers while platforms, politely, look the other way. Hat tip to Jack Brewster, whose LinkedIn post on Yang Mun is what started this thread of thought. https://www.linkedin.com/posts/jackbrewster_a-buddhist-monk-named-yang-mun-has-25-million-activity-7451268378499137537-RPB1?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop&rcm=ACoAAAD_QZMB_jUr1316NWqo3MgG_iFVSPTfDgY The circle has closed. And inverted. We went from nobody knows you're a dog to everyone knows you're a dog to something far stranger: Nobody knows you're not human. The dog is gone. The human is optional. Here's what interests me — and it's not the outrage part, because the outrage is easy and everyone will do it. What interests me is the McLuhan part. Marshall McLuhan said it in 1964: the medium is the message. Not the content. The medium itself. The form of transmission shapes reality more than anything transmitted through it. Yang Mun's fake wisdom is almost beside the point. The scholars confirmed it's scripturally meaningless. But it sounds right — which is precisely the tell. The content was never engineered for truth. It was engineered for the platform. For the algorithm. For the engagement pattern that rewards the feeling of depth over the presence of it. The medium produced the monk. The monk is the message. And if you zoom out — which is what I keep trying to do from Florence, where the stones beneath my feet are five hundred years old and nobody around me is particularly impressed by disruption — you see something that looks less like a technology story and more like a civilization story. We built an internet that promised connection. We built AI to simulate humans. Somewhere along the way we forgot to ask whether any of it was real — or maybe we never quite got around to asking in the first place. Because here's the thing: this didn't happen slowly enough for us to develop a moral relationship with it. There was no adjustment period. No cultural processing. The fake monk didn't represent a fall from grace. It was a first contact situation. We haven't even named what's wrong yet, let alone decided whether it matters. The analog brain — slow, emotional, context-dependent, stubbornly human — is the one thing that still notices the difference between a conversation that carries weight and one that merely carries words. It's not superior in processing power. It's just that it comes from somewhere. From experience. From loss. From the specific, irreplaceable accident of having lived a particular ...
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    10 mins
  • Before the Robots Run. More reflections from RSAC 2026 — The Power of the Community and the Machines We Invited In. | Written By Marco Ciappelli & Read By Tape3

    Before the Robots Run. More reflections from RSAC 2026 — The Power of the Community and the Machines We Invited In. | Written By Marco Ciappelli & Read By Tape3
    Apr 19 2026
    This was my twelfth RSA Conference. I know that because I remember the first one, 2012, and I've been counting ever since — not out of habit, but because each year feels like a chapter in a longer story I'm trying to read in real time. Twelve years of standing in that same building in San Francisco, watching an industry evolve, stumble, reinvent itself, and occasionally look in the mirror. In the early years it was pure technology. Cryptography, protocols, threat vectors, the architecture of defense. The conversations were technical, the energy was almost academic, the suits were slightly more formal. Then something shifted — gradually, then all at once, the way things usually do. The industry started talking about people. About culture. About the human beings sitting behind the keyboards and the very human mistakes they were making. The themes started reflecting it: community, togetherness, collective defense. Stronger Together. The Human Element. The Power of Community. Year after year, the message from the main stage was some variation of: we are more than our tools. People are what matter. Connection is the point. And then you'd walk the expo floor and see the booths. I'm not being cynical. The community is real — I've felt it, in the hallway conversations, in the side events, in the faces of people I've been running into for a decade who are genuinely trying to make the digital world safer. That part is true and it matters. But there's a growing gap between what the theme says and what the stage performs. And at RSAC 2026, that gap became impossible to ignore. Because this year, while the badge said The Power of Community, the keynotes were almost entirely about agents. Non-human ones. I wrote about this from a different angle in my first piece from RSAC — the Blade Runner angle, the NPC angle, the question of identity and intent when you can no longer tell the difference between a human action and an autonomous one. But there's another layer underneath that deserves its own space. It's the pattern. The twelve-year arc. An industry spends years — genuinely, sincerely — rediscovering the human element. Putting people at the center. Building a vocabulary around community, ethics, shared responsibility. And then, in what feels like a single conference cycle, it pivots to deploying a parallel workforce of non-human identities that outnumber us in our own systems, operate at speeds no human can follow, take actions no human directly authorized, and — here's the part that should make everyone pause — that a significant portion of organizations deploying them cannot monitor, cannot fully distinguish from human activity, and in many cases cannot stop once they're running. We built the community. Then we populated it with agents and handed them the keys. I kept thinking, walking those corridors, about the resistance. Not as a metaphor — or not only as a metaphor. In every story we've ever told about machines that gained too much autonomy, there's always a moment before the crisis where someone in the room knew. Where the warning existed. Where the design decision was made anyway because the pressure to ship, to scale, to compete was stronger than the instinct to pause. The difference between those stories and this moment is that we're not watching it happen to fictional characters. We're the ones making the design decisions. And unlike software — which you can patch, roll back, update at 3am while everyone is asleep — agents with autonomy and access are a different category of thing entirely. The old mantra of move fast and break things made a certain kind of sense when what you were breaking was a feature. It makes no sense at all when what you're deploying can act, chain consequences, and escalate — faster than any human response team can follow. This is where Asimov becomes relevant again. Not as nostalgia, not as science fiction trivia, but as a genuine design philosophy that the industry would do well to remember. His Three Laws of Robotics weren't invented as a plot device. They were a thought experiment in ethics-by-architecture — what does it look like to build the values into the system before the system runs, rather than hoping to correct the values after something goes wrong? He spent decades of stories showing that even the most carefully designed ethical constraints produce edge cases, contradictions, unintended consequences. But the point was never that ethics-by-design is perfect. The point was that without it, you don't have a fighting chance. We are, right now, at the moment before the laws get written. Some people at RSAC were saying this clearly — not from the main stage, but in the rooms and conversations where the more honest thinking tends to happen. The guardrails exist. The frameworks are being built. But they're being built while the deployment is already running, while the agents are already in the systems, while the governance structures are catching ...
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    11 mins
  • Do Androids Dream of Security Patches? Reflections from RSAC 2026 — Walking the Floor of the Agentic World | Written By Marco Ciappelli & Read by Tape3

    Do Androids Dream of Security Patches? Reflections from RSAC 2026 — Walking the Floor of the Agentic World | Written By Marco Ciappelli & Read by Tape3
    Apr 17 2026
    Do Androids Dream of Security Patches? Reflections from RSAC 2026 — Walking the Floor of the Agentic World Marco Ciappelli Co-Founder ITSPmagazine & Studio C60 | Creative Director | Branding & Marketing Advisor | Personal Branding Coach | Journalist | Writer | Podcast: An Analog Brain In A Digital Age ⚠️ Beware: Pigs May Fly | 🌎 LAX🛸FLR 🌍 April 7, 2026 This is Marco Ciappelli's Newsletter: An Analog Brain In A Digital Age. This edition draws from ITSPmagazine's on-location coverage at RSAC Conference 2026 in San Francisco. This article — and all of our RSAC Conference 2026 coverage — is made possible with the support of ITSPmagazine's RSAC 2026 sponsors: BLACKCLOAK | Crogl, Inc. | Manifest | Steel Patriot Partners | Skyhigh Security | Stellar Cyber | ESET | Token Security | Object First | Token Watch and listen to the full coverage and all of the conversations we had, including those with our sponsors, at itspmagazine.com/rsac26 Do Androids Dream of Security Patches? Reflections from RSAC 2026 — Walking the Floor of the Agentic World A new transmission from An Analog Brain In A Digital Age — formerly Musing On Society and Technology Newsletter, by Marco Ciappelli The theme of RSAC 2026 was "The Power of Community." Nearly forty-four thousand people descended on the Moscone Center in San Francisco for four days of keynotes, corridor conversations, and expo floor theater. Six hundred exhibitors. Hundreds of speakers. And one word — one concept, one obsession — that swallowed everything else whole. Not community. Agents. AI agents. Autonomous. Self-directing. Capable of taking action, accessing systems, making decisions, and — here's the part nobody says quite out loud — doing all of that while you're asleep, or in a meeting, or standing in line for a mediocre conference coffee wondering if you remembered to turn off the stove. Somewhere between the third and fourth time someone said "agentic AI" to me on that expo floor, I stopped hearing it as a technology term and started hearing it as a sound effect. A drone. A hum. Background noise for a world already running without asking for my permission. The irony of gathering tens of thousands of humans together under the banner of community, only to spend four days talking almost exclusively about non-human workers — that particular irony seemed to float unacknowledged through the air conditioning. And that's when the flashback hit me. Not to any previous RSAC. To a screen. To a world I used to inhabit in the early days of World of Warcraft — before real life staged its intervention and I decided I needed one. In those massive online worlds, NPCs wandered their scripted paths. They had names, routines, dialogue trees, purpose. They looked like characters. They acted like characters. But they weren't. They were behavior patterns wearing a face. And the experienced player learned quickly: don't trust the ones you haven't verified. The convincing ones were sometimes the most dangerous. I kept thinking about that walking those corridors. About all these agents. Already deployed, already running inside enterprise systems, already accessing sensitive data, making tool calls, chaining actions in ways their human creators didn't fully anticipate. The gap between what's been launched in pilot programs and what's actually governed, monitored, and understood is — by most accounts from the conference — vast. Most enterprises are experimenting. Very few have the infrastructure to control what they've set loose. The rest are running something close to shadow agents: identities without owners, actions without accountability, behavior patterns wearing a face. Which brings me, inevitably, to Blade Runner. Not the flying cars. Not the neon rain. The real question at the center of Ridley Scott's masterpiece — and Philip K. Dick's before it — is simpler and far more disturbing: how do you tell the difference? The Voight-Kampff test existed precisely because replicants were convincing. They behaved like humans, responded like humans, even believed they were human sometimes. The problem wasn't that they were dangerous by design. The problem was that nobody could reliably track their intent. That's not science fiction anymore. It's the central problem RSAC 2026 couldn't stop circling. A significant portion of organizations at this point cannot distinguish AI agent activity from human activity in their own environments. The security industry has built its own Voight-Kampff problem — and hasn't finished building the test. The vocabulary had shifted too, from the previous year. At Black Hat last summer, the conversation was about whether to trust agents. At RSAC 2026 it had already moved to identity. To behavior. To intent. One of the sharper ideas surfacing from the keynotes was the distinction between delegation and trusted delegation. Giving an agent a task is easy. Building the security infrastructure to actually trust that delegation...
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    11 mins
  • Marketing, Brand, And Culture: Are You Paying the Silicon Valley Tax? A Conversation with Nick Richtsmeier of CultureCraft | Hosted by Marco Ciappelli

    Marketing, Brand, And Culture: Are You Paying the Silicon Valley Tax? A Conversation with Nick Richtsmeier of CultureCraft | Hosted by Marco Ciappelli
    Apr 15 2026

    **About this episode**

    What if everything you've been spending on digital marketing isn't an investment — but a tax? Nick Richtsmeier, founder of CultureCraft, joins Marco Ciappelli for a Brand Highlight that cuts straight to the root of why so many organizations feel stuck: not a marketing problem, but an alignment problem.

    Nick introduces the concept of the Silicon Valley tax — the ongoing cost most organizations pay to platforms that have no real incentive to show them what's working. He challenges the "attention economy" framing, arguing that what's actually being bought and sold is addictive behavior engineered by the algorithm. And he offers a different path: building trust in a humanist way, grounded in real alignment across culture, organizational design, positioning, point of view, and core community.

    The result is a conversation about brands — but really about integrity. About whether what an organization says and what it does are actually the same thing. And about why asking marketing to be the "sin eater" for every internal dysfunction is a strategy that will always come up short.

    **Connect with Nick Richtsmeier**

    [Nick Richtsmeier on LinkedIn](https://www.linkedin.com/in/nickrichtsmeier/)

    [CultureCraft](http://www.culturecraft.com)

    [CultureCraft on LinkedIn](https://www.linkedin.com/company/culturecraftconsulting/)

    **Connect with Marco & Studio C60**

    [Marco Ciappelli on LinkedIn](https://www.linkedin.com/in/marco-ciappelli)

    [Studio C60](https://www.studioc60.com)

    [ITSPmagazine](https://www.itspmagazine.com)

    **Keywords**

    brand strategy, organizational culture, trust building, marketing strategy, CultureCraft, Nick Richtsmeier, Silicon Valley tax, attention economy, algorithmic economy, brand alignment, digital marketing, humanist branding, organizational design, Trust Made Growth, sin eater marketing, brand highlight, Studio C60, ITSPmagazine, Marco Ciappelli

    **Want to tell your story?** [Full Length Brand Story]
    (https://www.studioc60.com/content-creation#full) |
    [Brand Spotlight Story](https://www.studioc60.com/content-creation#spotlight) |
    [Brand Highlight Story](https://www.studioc60.com/content-creation#highlight)

    This is a Brand Highlight — a ~5 min intro conversation spotlighting the guest and their company.
    Learn more: [studioc60.com/creation#highlight](https://www.studioc60.com/creation#highlight)


    Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.
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    7 mins
  • When Sci-Fi Becomes the Business Plan | A Brand Highlight Conversation with Jacob Flores, Head of Research at Type One Ventures | Hosted by Marco Ciappelli

    When Sci-Fi Becomes the Business Plan | A Brand Highlight Conversation with Jacob Flores, Head of Research at Type One Ventures | Hosted by Marco Ciappelli
    Apr 14 2026
    When Sci-Fi Becomes the Business Plan

    A Brand Highlight Conversation with Jacob Flores, Head of Research at Type One Ventures

    There is a version of investing that asks what the return will be. And then there is the version that asks what kind of future the investment makes possible. Jacob Flores, Head of Research at Type One Ventures, is working firmly in the second category.

    Type One Ventures takes its name from the Kardashev Scale — a framework developed by Soviet astrophysicist Nikolai Kardashev that ranks civilizations by their level of technological advancement. A Type One civilization has mastered its home planet and is beginning to extend its reach beyond it. That is the destination this firm is trying to fund. Flores, a former engineer and product manager with roughly a decade of experience across industries, leads the research function at Type One with a focus on AI, neurotech, and biotechnology.

    The firm's investment lens is as much philosophical as it is financial. Type One looks for platform builders — companies whose core technology can be stacked across multiple applications, cultivating new marketplaces and entirely new categories of industry. Manufacturing in space is one clear example: in microgravity, it becomes possible to grow proteins, print circuits, and develop materials that cannot be produced the same way on Earth — yet those products have immediate, tangible value back on the ground.

    The thesis extends well beyond orbit. Type One is also backing neurotechnology companies working to restore vision and movement for people who have lost those abilities, and longevity research aimed at extending healthy human life. Flores frames these not as moonshots for their own sake, but as the new foundation layer for an entirely new level of global industry.

    This is a Brand Highlight. A Brand Highlight is a ~5 minute introductory conversation designed to put a spotlight on the guest and their company. Learn more

    Host Marco Ciappelli, Co-Founder, ITSPmagazine

    Guest Jacob Flores, Head of Research, Type One Ventures

    Resources Type One Ventures Type One Ventures on LinkedIn

    Want to tell your story? Full Length Brand Story Brand Spotlight Story Brand Highlight Story

    Keywords: Jacob Flores, Type One Ventures, Marco Ciappelli, brand story, brand marketing, marketing podcast, brand highlight, space technology, deep tech, venture capital, multi-planetary civilization, Kardashev Scale, manufacturing in space, neurotech, longevity, AI, biotechnology, frontier technology, space investing, human longevity, platform builders


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