Bookmarked Font weight BOLD using formula in cell (Stack Overflow)

How to style from formula in cell?

Two solutions provided for bolding text in Google Sheets.

The first using SUBSTITUTE of one font to another:


The second solution combines REGEX and UNICODE:

,CHAR(127))), UNICHAR(160))), "select Col1+Col2-1 label Col1+Col2-1 ''",0))))

I prefer the second solution. However, the first is easier to apply to a whole column using the ARRAYFORMULA.

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Naomi, I recently read Clinton Walker’s Stranded, unpacking the Australian music scene between 1972 – 1992. I kind of knew/guessed it was wild, but not sure I really appreciated how wild it was and all so very male. Can only imagine UK was even more so.
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Deb, I dived back into my archive and found the following:

Just not sure when ‘post’-COVID begins?

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Clive, I was listening to Clinton Walker talk about his new book Suburban Songbook. He explained how he went looking for a particular reference and when unable to find it, wrote a book to fill the gap. It reminded me of your post of ‘reporter’s block‘.
Bookmarked Books Become Games by Justin E. H. Smith (Justin E. H. Smith's Hinternet)

On the face of it, the gamification of reality looks like fun. But when everything becomes a game, it turns out, that game ends up dissolving into its merely apparent opposite: work. The dupes of the new ideology, underlain by the metaphor of the game, think they’re giving us life in an arcade —a child’s dream!— but what we’re really getting is life in a global warehouse, monitored and metricized, forced at every turn to devise strategies that maximize engagement with whatever it is we’re putting out there… all in the name of scraping by.

Whether it be reviews written based upon promotional copy, responding to random podcast requests or competing with Amazon ‘study guides’, Justin Smith reflects upon the way in which the the publishing of books has become a game.

This reminds me of Cory Doctorow’s reflection on the challenges of self-publishing, as well as C. Thi Nguyen’s discussion of the problems with the gamification of social media.

It is intriguing how ideas sometimes take time to make sense. I find the lack of the horizon an interesting technique. With art, I always find myself being caught out with things I had not noticed, but once highlighted I cannot help but see, such as the horizon.

“Jason Kottke “ in Claude Monet’s War Paintings ()

Liked Why You Should Think Twice Before Sharing a Covid Diagnosis by Amy Gajda (WIRED)

Based on the data that’s made available about any one of us—information from social media posts about our diagnoses or information from credit card companies about what we like to buy or information from geolocation data about where we like to go—data that could be shared with would-be employers and life insurance companies to name two, it’s not too much of a stretch to say that there are many who would be interested in such a diagnosis, perhaps now but maybe even especially later. Why hire someone who may have a brain abnormality? Why insure that person?

Liked Elon Musk and the Kingdom of Bull by Ian Bogost (

Musk has introduced a new tenor to bullshittery, one that Harry Frankfurt did not anticipate. Most bullshitters can’t close the gap between pretense and reality even if they wanted to. Bullshit used to mean what’s neither true nor false. Now it describes a state where anything, no matter how absurd, has the potential to be true. Call your flamethrower guy. Buy a social network. It’s no big deal—unless it is.

Liked Why does Russia keep poisoning people? The wild history of Moscow’s chemical assassination plots (ABC News)

Billionaire Roman Abramovich is just the latest in a long line of people who suspect they may be the target of a Kremlin poison plot. Russia is well-practised in the art of chemical assassinations, but carrying out a murder using poison is inherently risky. 

Liked It’s Time For “Maximum Viable Product” (

“Minimum Viable Product” is a venerable Silicon Valley concept. It argues that if you’ve got an idea for an app, you should release it early — when it’s got barely just enough features to be useful. Sure, the app might only do one thing. But if it does that one thing well, get it out there.

That way you get ahead of the competition. It also helps you figure out if anyone really wants or needs your product. “Don’t knock yourself adding a ton of features at first — just release the basic idea and see if people like it.”

Just figure out the minimum number of things a product should do, and begin there.

… and make it “Maximum Viable Product”

Read Stranded: The Secret History Of Australian Independent Music (Expanded) by Clinton Walker

One of the very gratifying things for me about the book coming out again now 25 years after its original publication is that it perhaps finally puts paid to a lot of petty carping that has long dogged it. The two main gripes always were that a) the author himself is present as ‘I’ in the narrative, and b) the author’s choices, in terms of the emphases the book places. Well, umm, a) like you’ve never heard of the new journalism, and, umm, like, the author wasn’t a player in this story? This criticism, as Des Cowley put it in Rhythms, was “outdated even [in 1996], given the so-called ‘new journalists’ like Hunter S. Thompson, Joan Didion, Norman Mailer and Robert Christgau had been doing it for years. Having long been a part of the independent music scene as a journalist, Walker was well-placed to write about this music from the inside…[his] proximity to his subjects is a fundamental strength of his book.” As for my choices and emphases, I think for most people who didn’t like them it was because they were my choices and not theirs. And besides, I will still argue, the prescience of those emphases have been borne out…

Clinton Walker provides an insight into the Australian music between 1976 and 1992 beyond the pub rock scene and Countdown. Walker also created a series of playlists to go with it on YouTube and Spotify.

I have written an extended review of the book here.


In fact, it was this extension of one of the few rules the Velvet Underground had—as Lou Reed recounted many times: ‘No blues licks’—it was this abandonment of the last shreds of the blues that so distinguished punk rock, that and the fact that its song lyrics avoided opulence and riddles of the Dylan type in favour of the spare gutter poetry of the aforementioned Reed or Iggy. So there, by default, is a definition of punk as a genre.

This is in the nature of history, or rather historiography: it is an ongoing enquiry, and at every step of the way, it goes or should go beyond the previous step, even if sometimes it has to take a step back or sideways for every two forward. This is what has happened in the further investigation of this field via the flood of books, films and other documents I mentioned earlier.

Stranded is, for better or worse, simply my version of a history.

It’s hard to convey now just how hard it was to hear a lot of this type of music at that time. Bob Farrell rang everybody up to announce the news, and I went round to his place to hear it, as did Ed Kuepper. I think it was one of the Tate brothers who first turned up a copy of Funhouse. The Velvets’ Verve albums and Loaded were actually still readily available on import in the early ’70s; I’ve still got my peelable-banana copy of the first album and black-on-black embossed copy of White Light/White Heat. But everything else was all but impossible to get your hands on. It was only when I hitchhiked to Melbourne in 1975—saw Lou Reed there on his second Australian tour (now with natural dark, curly short hair)—that my mate Russell and I found a little cache of buried treasure at Batman’s record store, multiple copies and so we both got the first copies we’d ever even seen of the Velvets’ third album (a UK copy on MGM) and the MC5’s Back in the USA (still-shrinkwrapped American Atlantic cutouts). I also picked up a copy of Love Revisited. I’d never heard of Love but quickly fell in love with them. Russell picked up a couple of the Pretty Things’ mid-’60s albums on Philips. I was dead jealous. When I cottoned on to buying records by international mail-order, the first delivery I got from San Francisco included copies of the first Stooges album, Kick Out the Jams, and one of the early Flamin’ Groovies’ albums, must have been Teenage Head. They weren’t even expensive, because no-one wanted them at the time. Subsequently got the other Groovies’ albums, and other records, like Troutmask Replica, I remember having an impact on me. Others I can’t remember because they had less impact. But that’s how much you had to scrabble around back then to just hear this music that went against the grain, before punk incited an explosion of reissues.

Pioneers get arrows in their back—never was that cliché more apposite.

The rise of alternative radio in the ’80s went hand in hand with the emergence of independent music. FM radio was first called for in Australia in the late ’60s. In 1971, the ABC introduced Chris Winter’s ‘Intelligent non-commercial pop’ show Room to Move, a response to scattered commercial stations’ forays into ‘album music’. This sowed the seeds of 2JJ. At the same time, Rod Muir programmed 2SM in the tighter format of US radio. This sowed the seeds of commercial FM radio. The commercial AM stations had hoped to step straight over to the FM band. But Australian classical music lovers, aware that in America FM radio was as much the province of public stations as commercial, formed Music Broadcasting Societies in both Melbourne and Sydney to lobby for space. 2MBS and 3MBS were granted the first FM licences in 1974, and went to air just a few weeks after 2JJ was launched in Sydney in January 1975.

Robert Forster: The climate changed to suit me. I was interested in songs, I was interested in impact, I was interested in energy, just a concept, which wasn’t based on how much gear you had or how big your lightshow was. It was ideas based.

Michael Gudinski has admitted that two of the gaffs he regrets most in his long career lording it over the Australian music industry were that he didn’t sign either Cold Chisel or Men At Work. But surely it was a greater gaff—and a more costly one in the long term—to have signed Nick Cave but then to have let him go! Gudinski is one of the sacred cows of Australian music and there is no doubt he did an enormous amount to make the industry what it became, but like his good mate Molly Meldrum, he was also a prohibiting force—he stymied a lot of music, too.

Putting on and taking off blinkers is a perpetual process.

They say that if you remember the ’60s you can’t have been there. So much about the ’80s I can’t remember either. My journalism brings a lot back; I can’t help wondering if the rest isn’t best forgotten.

Drugs, I can say, fucked up that band, they’ve fucked up every band I’ve ever been in actually. Every single one. Still fucking them up. Anyway, so the Bush Oysters dissolved, and that’s when I got Thug together.

In contrast to Nick Cave’s growing up in public, Dave Graney is a self-made myth. Talk about media manipulation; Dave cunningly co-opted the media into playing the game the way he wanted by feeding it headlines and appellations it finds irresistible: ‘The Golden Wolverine’. ‘The Son of the Morning Star’. ‘As Dave Graney as I wanna be’. . . Dave’s monologues became infamous. On TV talk show appearances, his musings far too far out for the masses, he was often cut short.

It took time before my analysis of grunge came together, before I could see what had been under my nose all along—that its roots were Australian as much as anything! That’s perhaps why it never did much for me, because I’d sort of heard it all already. Grunge, the defining Sub Pop/Seattle Sound of Mudhoney, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam and Nirvana, was basically the sound of Australia’s ’80s underground—the Scientists, the Cosmic Psychos, even the Birthday Party, and bands like Feedtime, Grong Grong, Lubricated Goat and Bloodloss—mixed up with classic early metal, classic early punk and, I’d now add, AC/DC and Neil Young’s Crazy Horse.

In music, as in so much else in life, we are perhaps forever trying to recapture that feeling, that exhilaration of the first time. Which is, of course, a futile pursuit. But for me, a new band like the Dirty Three that sounds like no other came close.

Stranded doesn’t offer much by way of critique or analysis of the music itself: because anyone can do that, it’s just opinion. I see that quite clearly now, but even then I must have intuited that I could offer something much more valuable, because I was in a (privileged) position to do so—I could tell the backstories behind the creation of that legacy. Because I suppose I assumed that the legacy would eventually get its due. When I wrote the book in the mid-’90s, when the jury was to an extent still out on this legacy (one reason for the book’s partly hostile reception back then), I still believed strongly in the worth of this sidelined music that had started twenty years earlier in the late ’70s. I was convinced that the world would sooner or later catch up . . .

Bookmarked The Hot List: The Rise and Fall of the Singles Chart (

From Vera Lynn to Ed Sheeran, the past 50 years of the music industry wouldn’t have been possible without the singles chart. It was more than just a list; it was the beating heart of music culture in an era when the limitations of physical distribution meant that the chart could create a shared experience out of the passionate, tribal world of pop music.

As the way we listen to music changes, from charts to playlists, we might be losing not just the chart, but this shared experience as well.

Matt Locke dives into the way in which the notion of the ‘singles chart’ was concocted in association with advertising. In time, it came to stand as a measure for success, leading to a focus on gaming the count.

Within a decade of its invention, the music industry would be focused around achieving chart success, with entire teams spending millions of dollars to try to make sure their artists reach that coveted number one spot. What was it that made the chart, this simple list, so economically and culturally significant?

Overtime, this measurement has morphed to adjust the changing medium. This is something Matthew Ball discusses in regards to SoundScan the change that it brought about in 1991.

Locke also starts the piece with an nice quote about culture:

he actions that define culture are rarely deliberate. Culture is, in many ways, an accumulation of accidents, small gestures and stumbles that somehow end up sticking together like a giant snowball rolling down a hill. Every successful band has the moment when they almost gave up just before their breakthrough; every artistic movement has its rejections, arguments, and fistfights; every book has a graveyard of characters and scenes that were killed to make way for the story. The end result may look neat — libraries of books ordered alphabetically, artworks organized into linear chronologies — but the process of making culture is anything but.

Bookmarked How Twitter Gamifies Communication (

Twitter doesn’t just provide a speaking platform, nor are its effects confined to algorithmic filtering. Twitter shapes our goals for discourse by making conversation something like a game. Twitter scores our conversation. And it does so, not in terms of our own particular and rich purposes for communication, but in terms of its own pre-loaded, painfully thin metrics: Likes, Retweets, and Follower counts. And if we take up Twitter’s invitation and internalize those evaluations, we will be thinning out and simplifying our own goals for communication.

> Twitter gamifies communication by offering immediate, vivid, and quantified evaluations of one’s conversational success. Twitter offers us points for discourse; it scores our communication. And these game-like features are responsible for much of Twitter’s psychological wallop. (Page 1-2)

C. Thi Nguyen discusses how Twitter gamifies communication. He explains that games are about creating agency within a contrived structure.

Games, I’ve argued, are the art form that works in the medium of agency. The game designer doesn’t just create characters, stories, and environments. The game designer sculpts the temporary agency that the player will occupy during the game. They design, not only a world, but who the player will be in that world. I do not just mean that the game designer provides a fictional backstory for a character. They design the essential agential structure of the in-game actor. They designate what the in-game agent’s abilities and affordances will be — whether they will be a jumper, a shooter, a builder or an information gatherer. And, most importantly, the game designer sets the in-game agent’s motivations by setting the goals of the game. (Page 8)

In contrast, gamification is about adding goals to real-life activities:

But gamification is an entirely different matter. In gamification, the designers are instrumentalizing the goals of our real-life activities. FitBit, by gamifying exercise, invites us to change our goals for our health and fitness. And Twitter, by gamifying discourse, invites us to change our goals for conversation, communication, and declaration. Instrumentalizing one’s goals is fine in striving games, because the goals in games were never valuable, in and of themselves, in the first place. But in real life activity, the goals are often independently valuable. So when we gamify those activities and instrumentalize those ends for the sake of pleasure, we risk losing sight of the real importance of the activity. Twitter’s gamification changes our communicative goals away from understanding, connection, and the collective pursuit of truth, and bends them towards something much more impoverished. (Page 30 – 31)

Nguyen raises the question whether gamification really is an ‘unalloyed good’:

In McGonigal’s picture, gamification is an unalloyed good: it simply removes drudgery and adds pleasure. But her optimism depends on believing that gamification can achieve these psychological goods while adequately preserving the value of the activity. (Page 7)

With gamification, the focus then becomes about the greatest number:

We will prefer those communications that appeal to the greatest number — even if that appeal is marginally positive — rather than those communications that might reach a smaller number more deeply. (Page 13)

The problem with such a focus is that things like slow appreciation of ideas and diversity of perspectives is often overlooked in light of the short term instant focus:

Slow appreciation is far less likely to be captured by the system and be counted towards that tweet’s score. (Page 12)

Along with this, the focus is also on what can be counted.

a life of gamification will tend to draw us towards those activities which have clearly measurable goals, or can be transformed into something with clearly measurable goals. When we demand the pleasures of gamification in our activities, then the range of activities available to us diminishes – and the degrees of freedom we have within the activity also diminishes. (Page 17)

Focusing on what can be counted tempts users to change their goals to match.

We aim to express what we think of as true, and to question and challenge each other’s expressions, as part of our quest to understand the world. But gamification tempts us to change our goals — to aim at expressions which maximize our score, rather than those which aid our collective understanding. And it promises to reward us for that change with pleasure. Twitter tempts us to subvert the activity of earnest conversation for hedonistic reasons. (Page 25)

First, Twitter’s makers are designing for gamification for the sake of profit, which they pursue by making their design seductively pleasurable to its end-users. And second, those users are accepting the seduction, and gamifying their discourse for the sake of pleasure. At both levels, we find people willing to forsake the original goals of discourse for some other end. (Page 34)

Overall, Nguyen summarises the situation by comparing gamification, moral outrage porn, and echo chambers with junk food and nutrition.

Gamification, echo chambers, and moral outrage porn go together like junk food. Different kinds of junk food are unhealthy in different ways — some are too high in salt, some too high in fat, some too high in sugar. But the reason they are often consumed together is that they are all likely to be consumed by somebody who is willing to trade off health and nutrition in return for a certain kind of quick pleasure. The same is true of gamification, moral outrage porn, and echo chambers. They are all readily available sources of a certain quick and easy pleasure, available to anybody willing to relax with their moral and epistemic standards.

Echo chambers instrumentalize our trust; moral outrage porn instrumentalizes our morality; and gamification instrumentalizes our goals (Page 37 – 38)

This reminds me of danah boyd’s questions about the merit and meaning of measuring endless amounts of stats online.

Stats have this terrible way of turning you — or, at least, me — into a zombie. I know that they don’t say anything. I know that huge chunks of my Twitter followers are bots, that I could’ve bought my way to a higher Amazon ranking, that my Medium stats say nothing about the quality of my work, and that I should not treat any number out there as a mechanism for self-evaluation of my worth as a human being.

It is also interesting to consider this whole discussion of numbers in regards to education and what discourse looks like in places like Twitter.

Liked Web3 Is Going Just Great (

A timeline of some of the greatest hits in cryptocurrencies, NFTs, and other web3 projects since the beginning of 2021

Molly White has created a site collating examples of how Web3 is not going as well as suggested.

“Bill Fitzgerald (he/him)” in Bill Fitzgerald (he/him) on Twitter: “I just discovered from @molly0xFFF and I am both embarrassed it took me this long to find the site and overjoyed the site exists.” / Twitter ()

Listened CM 211: Liz Wiseman on Standing Out at Work from

If someone asked what they should do to succeed in their job, you’d probably have a quick response. You might say something like, just do what you’re asked, get your work done on time, or don’t step on anyone’s toes.

But what if the question wasn’t about how to succeed, but how to stand out as the best of the best?

These are the high performers Liz Wiseman calls “impact players.” They’re the ones who leave an indelible mark on their work and the people around them. Liz spoke with nearly 200 top professionals, and she uncovered 5 behaviors that set them apart. Her findings inform her latest book, Impact Players: How to Take the Lead, Play Bigger, and Multiply Your Impact.

In a conversation with Gayle Allen, Liz Wiseman talks about her new book Impact Players. According to Wiseman, impact players look to how they can make a difference, rather than just play a roll. Most people aspire to make a difference and have a contribution. She shares five characteristics of an impact player:

  • Useful – what’s important now
  • Step up and step back – leading without it being a land grab
  • Finish strong
  • Ask and adjust
  • Make work light – removing the phantom work

Allen and Wiseman discuss the questions to consider when trying to hire an impact player:

  • How do they handle messy problems?
  • Leadership problems?
  • Roadblocks?
  • Moving targets?

Wiseman explains that the book does not serve as a recipe, but rather the start of a conversation. WHat matters most is creating the right conditions.

The best leaders … create both safety and stretch.

Wiseman also discusses the current challenges of remote work. She touches on the breakdown of chains of impact, explaining that when we are apart we often fall into a habit of going from task to task.

We burnout not from too much work, but too little impact.

This all reminds me of something that David Truss recently wrote about improvising:

The world is your stage. The play is your playground. Improvise your roles as best as you can. And remember that others are improvising theirs roles too. Work with your fellow actors to create the best performance you can. But remember it’s all an act, and if you aren’t playing a role that works, change the role or change the way you act in it. All the world is an improv stage, and so you get to write the script as you go. Enjoy the performance, you only get one.

Listened from

James Murphy (LCD Soundsystem) joins Lol and Budgie on this episode of Curious Creatures. Budgie and Lol discover that James knows all about the English Doom. They discuss the Power of newness. Limitations are good now, everyone thinks they’re cool. James says he loves Lol and Budgie (and they love him back). Later Lol and Budgie discover leather pants.

In an interview with Lol Tolhurst and Budgie on the Curious Creatures podcast, James Murphy discussed how when he started out, he would begin his sets with an instrumental during which he would do soundcheck. This made me think about Damian Cowell’s discussion of prog rock and the place of equipment in music.
Replied to

Ben, I am intrigued on your QUERY / MATCH combo. Have you written about adjusting the columns? I would love to see a full formula. I have long tried to make a formula that allows me to select which columns to include via a checkbox. However, I can never quite get it to work.
Bookmarked What should ‘digital literacy’ look like in an age of algorithms and AI? Neil Selwyn – DigiGen (DigiGen)

Algorithmic literacy is a complex and opaque area, where even computer scientists and software developers responsible for developing these systems can be unsure how they actually work. So, this is an area of education that requires adults and young people accepting that they all have lots to learn, and then being comfortable learning about it together.

Neil Selwyn argues that we need to reframe our discussion of digital literacies to focus on algorithmic literacy.

As such, this calls for rethinking what might have been previously talked about as ‘digital literacy’ as a form of ‘algorithmic literacy’. Some components of this might include:

  • recognising when data-driven automated systems are being used;
  • having a basic understanding of how these data-driven automated systems work – what Tania Bucher describes as an ‘algorithmic imaginary’;
  • knowing how to work with algorithmic systems – for example, writing with a natural language processing tool so that it helps (rather than hinders) your creativity;
  • knowing how to work around algorithmic systems – for example, using obfuscation tactics to avoid dataveillance;
  • recognising when human input and outsight is required – for example, knowing when to override an automated decision, or push back against algorithmic bias and automated discrimination.

Personally, this is what I like about Doug Belshaw’s eight elements, it provides framework to continually review the skillset and mindset associated with digital literacies.

In regards to what engaging with artificial intelligence in the classroom, Jackie Gerstein has shared some activities that she has done with her students:

Students explore the following Generative AI technologies:

Replied to All the world is an improv stage (

The world is your stage. The play is your playground. Improvise your roles as best as you can. And remember that others are improvising theirs roles too. Work with your fellow actors to create the best performance you can. But remember it’s all an act, and if you aren’t playing a role that works, change the role or change the way you act in it. All the world is an improv stage, and so you get to write the script as you go. Enjoy the performance, you only get one.

Dave, your discussion about acting and the unknown reminded me of a series of posts written by Tom Critchlow exploring Keith Johnstone’s book Improvisation and the Theatre and the analogies between the improv actor and the consultant.