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The original duck tape had no glue at all. The name comes from the Dutch word doek, a heavy woven cloth, and around 1902 strips of it were wrapped around the Manhattan Bridge's steel cables to protect them from salt air. The sticky version arrived in 1943, when ordnance plant worker Vesta Stoudt saw that the wax-dipped paper tape sealing ammunition boxes cost soldiers precious seconds under fire. Ignored by her supervisors, she wrote directly to President Franklin D. Roosevelt.
This episode follows what happened next. Roosevelt forwarded her letter to the War Production Board, and the Revolite division of Johnson and Johnson produced a three-layer tape of cotton duck cloth, polyethylene, and rubber adhesive that tore by hand and shed water. After the war it turned silver, got wrapped around heating ducts, and picked up a new name, even though it is terrible at that job. The story runs from suburban basements to the Moon and to the panic buying of 2003.
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In 1946, Douglas Engelbart was a young Navy radar technician in the Philippines when he read Vannevar Bush's essay As We May Think in a Red Cross library. Bush imagined the Memex, a microfilm desk that linked documents by association, the way the mind works. Engelbart carried the idea into a world of punch cards and batch processing and concluded that computers should do more than calculate. They should augment human intellect, so people could manage problems growing faster than their brains could.
This episode traces that conviction from his Augmentation Research Center at the Stanford Research Institute to the stage in San Francisco on December 9, 1968. There, in 90 minutes, he showed the mouse, overlapping windows, linked documents, and live collaborative editing with video. It also follows what came after: an industry that applauded and went back to batch processing, a team that scattered to Xerox PARC, and a founder who watched his tools get sold without his purpose.
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Digg launched in 2004 as an experiment by Kevin Rose, Jay Adelson, Owen Byrne, and Ron Gorodetzky: take the front page away from editors and hand it to the crowd. Users submitted links, then dug them up or buried them. Creative director Daniel Burka's little yellow thumb with a number beside it became the ancestor of every like button. By 2008 the site drew over 236 million visitors a year, and a front page spot could melt a target site's servers.
This episode follows the twenty year arc from that rise to a spectacular fall and an unlikely revival. It covers the paid promoters and voting blocs who gamed the algorithm, the 2007 revolt over a leaked HD DVD encryption key, and the 2010 Version 4 redesign that removed the bury button and drove users to Reddit. It ends in 2026, with Rose and Reddit's Alexis Ohanian relaunching Digg, only to see open voting overrun by bots.
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The dark web is smaller and stranger than its reputation. It accounts for just 3 percent of daily traffic on the Tor network, and its single biggest hidden service is Facebook. This episode starts with the architecture: the difference between the deep web and the dark web, and how onion routing passes data through three servers, each able to unlock only one layer, so that no single node ever knows both who sent a request and where it is going.
From there it maps the economy that anonymity produced. After Silk Road proved the concept in 2011, darknet markets copied mainstream shopping sites, complete with vendor reviews, escrow, and dispute mediation. Cybercrime now runs as a supply chain of ransomware developers, affiliates, and initial access brokers, with Bitcoin tumblers to launder the proceeds. The episode also weighs the grim reality of abuse networks against the myths, and shows how police catch people the math cannot expose.
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Creepypasta takes its name from 4chan slang around 2007: a horror version of copypasta, the blocks of text users copied and pasted across message boards. Its roots run back to 1990s chain emails and to Ted the Caver, a 2001 story formatted as a personal web journal with dates and photographs. By 2005 anonymous users were crowdsourcing a monster called the Rake, inventing fake historical documents such as a 1602 mariner's log to prove it existed.
This episode follows the genre from its 2010 peak, when the Creepypasta Wiki and Reddit's NoSleep forum launched, through its favorite tricks: first-person narrators, embedded links and doctored images, lost episodes of beloved cartoons, and haunted video games like Ben Drowned and Sonic.exe. It also confronts the real violence tied to these stories, and how Hollywood and the Library of Congress came to treat them as the defining myths of the early internet.
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In early 1995, Craig Newmark was a newcomer to San Francisco sending a manually typed email list of local tech events to a handful of acquaintances. Inspired by the community spirit of the Well, MindVox, and Usenet, he assumed people wanted parties. Instead, subscribers asked for job postings, then more categories, then a website. By June 1995 he had installed Majordomo to automate subscriptions, and craigslist.org followed when users demanded a web interface.
This episode traces how that list became a company earning an estimated $1 billion a year with a staff of around 50, a plain text design, and almost no ads. It covers the abandoned List Foundation nonprofit plan, incorporation as a for-profit in 1999, and the arrival of Jim Buckmaster, who rose from lead programmer to CEO within 2000. It also examines the eBay lawsuit, crime on the platform, and the laws that forced Craigslist to close whole sections.
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The Global Positioning System began with a Soviet satellite and two curious physicists. In 1957, William Guier and George Weiffenbach of the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Lab tuned in to Sputnik 1 and noticed its radio pitch shifting as it crossed the sky. Using the Doppler effect and the lab's UNIVAC computer, they mapped its orbit. Deputy director Frank McClure then asked the inverse question: if you know exactly where a satellite is, can it tell you where you are on Earth?
This episode follows that question through the Navy's Transit system, Cold War submarine targeting, and the 1973 merger of rival military programs into GPS. It credits Roger Easton, Ivan Getting, and Bradford Parkinson, along with Gladys West, whose geodetic model mapped Earth's lumpy gravity, and Elizabeth Essex-Cohen, who studied how the ionosphere bends radio signals. It also explains trilateration, relativity, and how a classified military tool ended up guiding everyday life.
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Inside Microsoft, the developers building the Office Assistant gave it a code name, TFC, whose first word is unprintable and whose last word was clown. This episode is a full biography of Clippit, the paperclip everyone called Clippy. His roots lie in 1990s Stanford research by Clifford Nass and Byron Reeves, who showed that people treat computers as social actors. Microsoft took the finding literally and put a face on its software. Designer Kevan Atteberry drew the googly-eyed winner, and Bayesian algorithms watched your keystrokes to guess when you needed help.
Released in 1996 with Office 97, the assistant interrupted focused work with offers to help write a letter, and it never learned that its user was no longer a beginner. The episode traces the backlash, the alternate assistants from Einstein to Shakespeare, and the 2001 Office XP campaign in which Microsoft mocked its own creation. It then follows Clippy's afterlife: parody, Easter eggs, an emoji, and an unexpected role in a 2025 protest over data harvesting.
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Claude Shannon's garage held a flame-throwing trumpet, rocket-powered frisbees, a Rubik's Cube solving robot, and foam shoes for walking on water. The same man laid the mathematical foundation of the digital world. Born in 1916 in Gaylord, Michigan, he strung a half-mile telegraph along barbed wire fences as a boy. At MIT, working on Vannevar Bush's differential analyzer, he saw that a switch being open or closed matched the true and false of George Boole's algebra. His 1937 thesis turned circuit design from trial and error into a science.
This episode follows the ideas that came after. At Bell Labs during World War II, Shannon worked on anti-aircraft fire control and cryptography, proved the one-time pad unbreakable, and talked computing over tea with Alan Turing. In 1948 his paper A Mathematical Theory of Communication separated information from meaning, introduced the bit, and set the limits for compression and error correction. Then came a maze-learning mechanical mouse, computer chess, and decades of serious play.
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Lorem ipsum fills design templates, broken WordPress themes, and brochure mockups everywhere, and it reads like a mystical Latin incantation. It is in fact a butchered passage from a first century BC treatise in which Cicero weighs the extremes of good and evil and argues that people must sometimes rationally accept pain for a greater good. This episode explains why designers need dummy text at all: readers recognize whole words by reflex, so real copy pulls attention away from typeface, spacing, and layout. Even the name is an amputation, the back half of dolorem, the Latin word for pain.
The detective work belongs to Richard McClintock of Hampden-Sydney College, who before 1982 traced the gibberish to Cicero by hunting one rare word, consectetur, through a concordance. His 1994 letter to Before and After magazine also claimed that printers scrambled the text in the 1500s. The episode follows the evidence to a far later source, then to Letraset transfer sheets in 1966, Aldus PageMaker in the 1980s, and the default templates of the modern web.
From the publisher's feed
pplpod is a podcast about people, places and lots of other stuff. Each episode takes a deep dive into the lives, choices, and legacies of fascinating figures from history, culture,…
Thoughtful, engaging, and story-driven, pplpod explores what makes these lives extraordinary—and what we can learn from them today.