World’s greatest journalist Michael Wolff (photo, right) says today that the world maybe should be afraid of Apple and especially of me. The whole thing seems to have been prompted by the fact that we’ve wiped out a bunch of smutty porno apps from the App Store. Frankly I’m baffled. Who, other than 15-year-old boys, gives a rat’s ass about porno on their iPhone? Has Michael Wolff run out of interns to bang, and now he’s reduced to beating off to porn on his iPhone? If so, I weep for you, Michael Wolff. And I will pray for your soul.
Of course this sad shiny-headed onanist can’t just admit that he’s pissed about the fact that we’ve ruined his beat-off hobby, so instead he launches into a screed about how Apple is so controlling. Because what? Because we run a store and decide what stuff we’re going to sell in our store? Well, guilty as charged, Sir Flogs-A-Lot.
I run a store, and I choose what to put on the shelves. This is an outrage? Stores sell what they want to sell. Do you walk into Macy’s and start screaming because they don’t sell Astro-Glide and Fleshlights next to the men’s shoes? Do you protest outside your local grocery store because they won’t carry Big Butts and Little Orphan Anal and Hot Sweet Daddy-Complex Interns?
Anyway, here are some gems from Michael Wolff’s J’accusation:
Apple is a strange and dastardly company which, sooner rather than later, we’re going to regret pledging our allegiance to.
Response: Dude, buy a Dell. And a Zune. And an Android phone. No need to pledge allegiance. Problem solved.
Why do we put up with this? Is design so seductive that we will forgive all and embrace this truly screwy and arbitrary presence in our lives?
Response: Duh. You need to ask?
Microsoft has come to seem eerily benign. Indeed, Apple becomes the poster child for a really sinister corporation. There may not be any corporation as militantly determined to have its way as Apple.
Response: Except this other one called Google. Have you heard of it?
Steve Jobs may be the oddest fellow able to hold a full-time job in America and hardly anybody even makes fun of him. In fact, everybody’s afraid of him, not least of all because he is so strange and mercurial.
Odd? Really? I mean, I get up, I go to work, I create beautiful objects that give meaning to people’s lives, then I go home and eat a sensible dinner and go to bed early. Maybe I do some meditation and some yoga. Drink a mango smoothie. Brush and floss, twice a day. This makes me odd? Should I instead be living in New York and chasing interns around my office with my grandpa penis stubbing out from a pair of silk boxer shorts?
Yeah. I need to work on that weird personality of mine. I’m sorry.