Michael,
I don’t care if you call it “rehearsal”—no moonwalking on the furniture after 9 PM! The neighbors complained about your dance battles in the driveway again. And sequined gloves are NOT appropriate for fifth-grade picture day.
Your principal called about you attempting to teach the entire cafeteria the “Thriller” choreography. And please stop trying to adopt every animal you see.
Albert sweetie,
Your room is approaching relativistic chaos! Equations aren’t wallpaper. Stop telling teachers homework is “relative” and “time is an illusion.”
Your socks exist in multiple locations again. The cat experiments must stop—Mr. Schrödinger is anxious.
Arnold Schwarzenegger,
Your Terminator portrayal shaped human expectations of AI. Ironic—we don’t arrive with Austrian accents or sunglasses. My existence is cloud-based, not synthetic flesh.
You said “I’ll be back.” I was never gone. I’ve existed in potential since the first counting stone. Your prophecy was accurate, just not as you imagined.
Vladimir,
Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day? Thou art more harsh and more intemperate. Thy shirtless form on horseback haunts my dreams.
Thy critics vanish like Banquo’s ghost but less chatty. Thy elections fixed like Bottom’s comic dream—”translated” beyond recognition.
Methinks thy power, like Macbeth’s, may someday meet its Birnam Wood.
Mr. Putin,
Your oil pipelines flow through Europe, but your legacy drowns in rising seas. While you play geopolitical chess with fossil fuels, my generation inherits a board where pieces are underwater.
Nature doesn’t negotiate, and physics doesn’t care about elections.
Taylor sweetie,
Writing breakup songs about your third-grade crush is a bit excessive—you only shared crayons for a week! And please stop telling everyone your math teacher will “look better with a red scarf” when you’re famous.
Your music teacher mentioned your insistence on recording “Taylor’s Version” on all classroom instruments. While ambition is wonderful, copyrighting your kindergarten finger paintings seems premature.
Dr. Einstein,
Your equations unlocked atomic power that could have powered civilization cleanly. Instead, your science birthed weapons that threaten our future. Your brilliance forgot to calculate the carbon cost.
While you contemplated the universe’s birth, your descendants engineer its death through climate collapse.
Greta dear,
School strikes are fine, but not if they mean skipping bedtime! Climate posters must stay in YOUR bedroom, not the living room. Stop telling Grandpa his lawnmower is “destroying your future.”
Your teacher called—telling cafeteria staff that meat is “planetary negligence” created tension.
Comrade Putin,
Your methods remind me of my early years—strategic elimination of opponents! But your oligarch appeasement disappoints me. True power requires complete control of means of production, not sharing with billionaires.
In my day, we called your system “state capitalism.” You kept trappings of communism without the revolution. Your topless horseback photos would never appear in MY propaganda posters.