Monday, June 10, 2013
The above is a Maine Coon cat named Enoch who thinks the new OS should have been named Apple BigassKitty.
The below is his letter to the Mac powers that be.
Dear Jony Ive,
After over ten years of naming Apple operating systems after my feline brethren, you chose to negate that sacred bond by naming the new OS after something that sounds like a shitty dive bar and reminds us all of Mel Gibson's finer days. How dare you.
As such, I've decided to learn Linux, and will be trading my iPhone in for a Samsung. This is what it's come to. Also, watch out; I pooped in your shoes.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Above is Corson, who may not survive this post.
Below is his unseemly confession.
Once again an aquarium visitor in a bright red shirt reminded me of an inviting pool of cocktail sauce. I want to jump in, dipping my entire body and soul in the condiment. Then, I dream of gnawing away at my extremities like I'm the only course of my last meal.
Can you see me, diary? Look at those legs! Why must I have such masochistic desires and such beautiful, succulent stems? Why must my defining feature torture the rest of my very person?
It is probably no use to tell you about this, diary. What can you do? Frankly, what can I do? Nothing. Nothing is what I'm left with...as surely my need for self-preservation will prevent me from sucking the sweet salty meat from my own flesh and dying a horrible death in front of my mates.
And on the matter of my fellow crabs, how I wish I could tell my tankmates of my unsavory lusts. Maybe they feel the same way about their own bodies? Maybe they dream about being steamed and fed to themselves. Is it weird to think that I could be very good friends with the crustacean version of Hannibal Lecter?
I guess I should just be content to be alive, even though it means that I'll never truly be fulfilled always hungry.
-Corson the Crab