<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>User-Interface on Notes from the Rabbit Hole</title><link>https://magnus919.com/tags/user-interface/</link><description>Recent content in User-Interface on Notes from the Rabbit Hole</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en</language><copyright>© [Magnus Hedemark](https://github.com/magnus919)</copyright><lastBuildDate>Sat, 31 May 2025 09:30:00 -0400</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://magnus919.com/tags/user-interface/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Rise and Fall of Clippy: From Microsoft's Bold Vision to Internet Legend</title><link>https://magnus919.com/2025/05/the-rise-and-fall-of-clippy-from-microsofts-bold-vision-to-internet-legend/</link><pubDate>Sat, 31 May 2025 09:30:00 -0400</pubDate><guid>https://magnus919.com/2025/05/the-rise-and-fall-of-clippy-from-microsofts-bold-vision-to-internet-legend/</guid><description>&lt;p>I still remember the first time Clippy popped up on my screen. There I was in early 1997, a few years into my IT career, wearing my cheap suit and gaudy tie as young office techies had to do back then, writing documentation for some consulting project. In the middle of all this arbitrary workplace formality, a cartoon paperclip suddenly materialized on my screen like some kind of malware attack, complete with those unmistakable eyebrows, asking if I needed help writing a letter. There was nothing like it at the time—it was simultaneously curious and deeply unsettling. My immediate reaction? &amp;ldquo;Get lost, paperclip.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>