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.
Jobs-san,
Your passing left our world diminished. I write as one craftsman to another, across the veil. Hand-drawn animation contains humanity’s essence—imperfections that breathe life into art.
The iPad you created has become a tool for my younger animators. How strange that what I once resisted now preserves our traditions.
Hey Mario,
My DeLorean’s flux capacitor blinks red making “wah-wah” sounds (Doc’s MIA). Plus, a spiky fire-breathing turtle keeps finding me even at 88 mph! Your pipe expertise is needed.
Since you travel between locations and handle angry turtles daily, could your plumbing skills fix my temporal issues? Is jumping on his head REALLY the best strategy?
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.
Murakami-san,
Your novel “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running” resonated deeply. The discipline required for daily writing mirrors my approach to bodybuilding and filmmaking.
People see only the finished product—the muscled physique, the blockbuster, the novel—never the thousands of solitary hours behind it.
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.