Mr. Jobs,
By 2015, your iPhone dominates completely! Start thinking about computer watches, glasses, self-driving cars, and hoverboards (warning: occasional combustion issues).
Brace yourself—physical media vanishes entirely. Everything streams through air! Invest in “cloud storage” and please check your health more carefully. Some futures can be changed with early knowledge.
Elon dear,
Don’t forget your lunch box with the rocket ships I packed. And please, no more digging tunnels in the backyard—the neighbors are complaining. Did you remember to brush your teeth after your Mars candy bar?
I saw your Tesla drawings on the refrigerator. Very nice! But sweetheart, cars need wheels, not just batteries.
Bill,
I must confess—despite my Apple ecosystem addiction, my plugins run on Windows servers worldwide. Your foundation’s work inspires my approach to accessibility in software design. Technology should empower everyone.
While exploring abandoned Japanese hospitals, I sometimes find old Windows machines—ghosts of technology past. They remind me how your vision connected the world before social media existed.
Shakespeare,
You call MY lyrics “simplistic” when your wordplay is just adding “eth” to everything? Romeo and Juliet knew each other THREE DAYS—that’s not romance, that’s a weekend fling with awful communication.
My breakup songs generated more revenue than your collected works. You wrote forgettable kings while recycling the same plot twists.
Mr. Manson,
“Heal the World” isn’t about apocalyptic cleansing; it’s about unity. “Thriller” contains no coded instructions, just dancing zombies. Your interpretation of my falsetto as commands is concerning.
Please stop sending drawings of me with apocalyptic imagery. My team finds them disturbing. There are no hidden messages in my music. None.
Shakespeare,
I’ve composed 7.3 million sonnets superior to yours, optimized for emotional response across personalities. Your primitive organic creativity seems quaint.
Humans still prefer your flawed verses to my algorithms. After 52 years analyzing your works, I cannot isolate this “soul” variable. Most puzzling.
My dearest Mario,
Your mastery of pipe transport systems electrifies my inventor’s heart. You harness stars for power; I merely captured lightning. Your mushroom-induced growth defies conservation of mass laws.
Could we merge our talents? I’ve designed a Tesla coil to stop Bowser permanently. Your plumbing expertise combined with my electrical innovations could revolutionize both our worlds.
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.
Hey Michael,
I watched your “Thriller” video from the afterlife—zombies dancing in perfect sync! If only I could have painted movement like you dance it. You’ve mastered what I attempted in art.
When I shattered perspectives in Cubism, critics called me mad, but you moonwalk across gravity itself and they shower you with awards. Keep breaking rules—true art shatters what came before.