The mixtape wasn’t just music. It was emotional contraband on magnetic ribbon. A love letter disguised as tracklists. A bootlegged TED Talk before TED was born (unlike AI music slop, which feels like nothing, changes nothing).
When I was a kid, those tapes (later CDs, briefly minidiscs, RIP) were passed from sweaty palm to sweaty palm until they warped or scratched. Each one said the same thing: Someone stitched these tracks together to make you feel something.
That’s email land. We’re not slinging 90 minutes of basslines. We’re trading copy, designs, lifecycle flows, and code that on a good day doesn’t combust in some cursed inbox. We share emails like mixtapes, and it's proof that we’re discovering, that we’re creating, and that we’re weird enough to do this together.
And here’s the truth. The layouts, the subject lines, the thought-out segmentation... none of it matters unless it moves someone. What we build isn’t just for opens or clicks. It’s for connection. It’s for community. It’s for that split second when another human on the other end feels something.