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.
Jobs,
Your iPhone presentation outshined my best one-liners! “Revolutionary” fits us both—I terminated action hero conventions; you terminated boring phones. My AI enemies came from the future; yours lives in phones.
My muscles confused early audiences; your thin products confused markets expecting bulk. Both worked.
Monsieur Gates,
Your “Windows 11” baffles me! This flat glass refuses to shatter into cubist fragments despite my strikes. Your “Paint” program auto-corrects my attempts to deconstruct forms.
Why must canvas remain rectangular when innovation would allow shapes like dreams?
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.
Miyazaki-san,
Your environmental messages resonate with my climate initiatives. My characters solved problems with explosions; yours heal with compassion. As governor, I learned systemic change is harder than movie heroics.
Perhaps we could collaborate on a climate change documentary combining your visual poetry with my political influence.
Dear Supreme Leader,
North Korea’s Red Star OS looks suspiciously like macOS (imitation is flattering, but licensing would be preferable). Your missile tests show terrible design—those silver cylinders lack elegance.
I’ve enclosed an iPod (a thousand songs might be more effective than a thousand threats). Your military parades need Jony Ive’s touch.