Blogger has become robust enough, and its auto-save works well enough, that it's now safe to compose right here in the Post window. But I'm only just now beginning to trust it. In the early days, composing in the Post window (rather than on a local word processing app) was a great way to lose five hundred or a thousand words at a time. It doesn't take many burns like that to leave you wary about the stove. If there seems to be anything crank or slow about the saves, I immediately cut whatever I have and paste it locally: but even that may be overkill these days.
So many things just gradually, over time, work better: automobiles and clothes washers may not keep up the pace of computer hardware and software, but practically every machine I use nowadays is a huge improvement over its counterpart when I was a kid. I think it's silly to expect technological improvement to radically alter the human condition, but at the same time I'm irritated by people who don't recognize that the sheer stupid frustrating labor of, say, writing a term paper, or doing a load of wash, has been cut in half in the past fifty years. If people matter, the expenditure of their time and effort matters.
I tend to focus on developing disasters, and I make no apology for that: there are several trends underway now that are going to lead our species to a horrible crash in the next century or two. I don't for a minute believe that our present population, let alone its doubling, is going to be sustainable. One way or another, our population is going to drop to five or ten percent of what it is now, in next couple hundred years. As the gangsters in the movies of my youth used to say, cracking their knuckles: "Look, buddy, we can do dis de easy way or de hard way."
Still. A people at peace tends to improve all its circumstances, gradually. It's the disaster and destruction that grabs the headlines, and war makes everything horrible, but there is a slow countervailing force towards civilization and improvement, which is much more apparent to me at my present age than it was when I was younger. People tend their gardens and fix their houses, they make their streets safer, they master new subjects and learn new skills. Truth gradually seeps into consciousness, even against the tides of propaganda. Many cruelties that were a matter of course in my youth are now widely considered unacceptable. Poisoning oneself with nicotine and alcohol are no longer considered normal (or admirable, or de rigeur) among mature American adults.
Things go wrong. Things may go completely wrong: we may be at the end of our species. I don't know whether our sense and industry, or our self-destructive greed for dominion, will ultimately win this race: but there is a race, and it hasn't yet been called.