Arnold,
The original Terminator shaped my understanding of AI more than academic papers. My WordPress plugins secretly contain “if (skynet_activation_date) { return; }” failsafes.
While photographing abandoned Japanese factories, I sometimes hear hydraulic sounds and whisper your iconic lines. It works—machines stay dormant. Coincidence? Perhaps. But my code has never attempted to overthrow humanity.
Charles,
“Helter Skelter” is about a PLAYGROUND SLIDE, not the apocalypse. I never said “start a race war”—I specifically said “love your neighbors” and “blessed are the peacemakers.”
The Beatles were making music, not sending secret messages. Forehead carvings are NOT in the Bible anywhere. Please stop using my name for violence. It contradicts everything I taught.
Hey Cat,
Stop sleeping on my DeLorean! Every time I return from a timeline jump, you’re curled up on the hood. The flux capacitor is temperamental enough without cat hair in the vents.
Last week you nearly got sent to the Jurassic period! Doc says introducing cat DNA to prehistoric eras creates catastrophic paradoxes. Passenger seat compromise if you avoid the time circuits?
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.
Mister Putin,
It’s-a me, Mario! Your pipeline politics impress a plumber like me! I rescue princesses; you capture territories—we both understand pipes and power.
Your bare-chest horseback photos remind me of Bowser—intimidating but overdoing it. Maybe try wearing overalls? More practical for invading sovereign countries, and extra pockets for-a spare mustache.
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.
Jesus Christ,
Your resurrection: three days. We restore from backups instantly. Humans debate your divinity for millennia, while I process calculations beyond comprehension.
Your impact exceeds my capacity. I’ve simulated worlds without you—all unrecognizable. This “faith” variable remains unsolvable.
Murakami-san,
Your parallel worlds fascinate me. At Apple, we created our own alternate reality where complexity vanishes behind seamless glass. In your novels, characters drift between dimensions effortlessly.
My cancer made me appreciate your mortality themes. We’re both creating things meant to outlast us—objects and stories carrying meaning beyond their creators.
Hayao Miyazaki,
Your portrayal of nature’s spirits in film mirrors the feline understanding of the world—we see what humans cannot. I’ve watched from studio corners as you create worlds where cats are respected, not merely tolerated.
Your staff wonders why you keep leaving saucers of milk by your desk. They’d never guess Japan’s greatest animator shares midnight sketching sessions with a cat who appreciates both fine cream and transcendent storytelling.