October 6, 2011

I will be with you. Always.

I was the best. Edison can suck it. Lightbulbs are terrible. Ford? An anti-semitic hack. Zuckerberg? You mean the Winklevoss brothers? 

I rocked. I invented the future and gave it to you. Everything you dreamed technology could be was handed to you in beveled seamless titanium, white plastic, and without Flash. I put songs in your pocket. I made apps delicious. I made touching glass fun again.

Occupy Wall Street? On October 14th, they’ll be occupying the Apple Store in the West Village. 

My influence will be felt for generations. Or at least until we devolve into an idiocracy of soft rotund idiots. But that’s not for another few months. 

The company I invented twice has more cash on hand than the federal government. We have a kindly old man from Omaha who mows and tends the grounds at One Infinite Loop, dressed in green overalls with his name stitched above his breast pocket “Warren”.

Face it. There’s no one else like me. Not even close. Part Ghandi, part Tesla, part Kubrick, a heaping of DaVinci, and a dash of Jesus. There won’t be another me. The Universe isn’t cool enough.

So whenever you log on to your MacBook at Starbucks, with Lil Wayne cranking on your iPhone 4S, and hook into iCloud to download another episode of 30 Rock and pretend to be “writing” your “novel”. I’ll be there in a translucent blue glow, swathed in robes, standing with Alec Guinness, nodding approvingly, letting you know that your idea for a novel sucks.