RIP, Secret Diary of Steve Jobs

It was hilarious, while it lasted, but now, for unknown reasons, it’s

gone. In memoriam, a post from July 30 which I happen to have cached, after

the jump.

Complete waste of time

Jul 30, 2006, 12:47 PM

by Steve

So the big secret meeting. What crap. It was Bill and Hillary Clinton being

huge a-holes and trying to shake us down for money. I got there late, cause

to hell with getting anywhere early and sitting around waiting, and anyway I

figured this was gonna be another one of John Doerr’s stupid meetings

where he tries to foist off some stupid Kleiner

startup that isn’t working out, like remember Excite At Home? Friggin

Doerr actually shopped that to us telling us how great it was and I was like

Dude if it’s so great why do you want to sell it, right? And like a week

later they went bankrupt. Hey, thanks, dude, I owe you one. Doerr’s house

looks like some drug lord’s palace, with a bunch of black armored SUVs

and I swear to God a helicopter hovering overhead, and all these ape-looking

dudes with the earbuds standing out front, and I’ve been to enough of

these things to know what Secret Service guys look like, so I figure this isn’t

an M&A thing unless maybe Larry Ellison is involved cause he gets off on

the whole James Bond effect. So the chimps frisk me and find a lighter in my

jeans and tell me I gotta leave it with them and pick it up on the way out and

I’m like, Well, there goes my plan to torch the place, but whatever. I

go inside and there’s little Doerr, all 97 pounds of him, with his too-big

eyeglasses and his freako metabolism and his usual stick up his ass.

He takes me to this room where he’s got like 30 dudes from the Valley around

this big table, like Otellini and Ruiz and Rodgers and a bunch of other chip

dudes, plus the Googletards who are playing with Legos, and Ellison, McNealy,

Hurd, Barksdale, Andreesen, and a bunch of random VC a-holes who all look amazingly

lifelike and absolutely identical, as if they’re made in a machine, like cyborgs.

In walk the Clintstones with George Soros. No smiles, no small talk. Hillary

sits down and tells us in this pissed off Tony Soprano voice that there’s

two years till this motherf-ing election but she ain’t gonna f- it up

like Kerry and Gore, she’s gonna lock this motherf-er down now, she’s

goddamn well gonna win and nobody is gonna get in her way, so we can all either

get on the train or get run over by it, and she’s here to tell us how much money

she wants each of us to put in. She says everybody else pays their share, hell

the oil guys pay 5% of net right off the top, meanwhile we’re out here making

our little chips and paying zilch, and that bullshit is gonna stop right here

and right now, okay? And we can all check with George Soros on the way out and

he’ll tell us how to move the money so it can’t be traced, using a bunch of

these phony baloney environmental groups.

She goes right around the table and gives everyone their number and what they’ll

get if they do or don’t play ball. Doerr gets oil prices bumped to a hundred

bucks a gallon so his green tech fund can make him another billion or two. The

Googlefags get net neutrality. McNealy gets a win in the SCO case so Linux gets

made illegal. McNealy says he wants a DOJ case on Microsoft again but Hilary

says no can do cause Gates is putting up half a billion to buy himself a free

pass.

In my case the vig is twenty million bucks — ya, right! — and if I go along,

the feds buy iMacs for every school system in America, but if I don’t, we get

the DOJ raping us over the iPod being a closed system. She says, Ya know, Steve,

the Frenchies ain’t the only ones who can bend you over and put your ass in

the air. So I kinda laugh and go, Well, ma’am, thing is I’m planning to endorse

Al Gore, if he runs, cause he’s like on my board and he’s gonna save the

planet from melting or whatever and he’s gonna make my pal Bono the head of

the Supreme Court or something. She stares at me with this flabbergasted look

as if she can’t believe that someone else actually dared to speak during the

meeting, instead of just genuflecting and doing whatever she tells them, which

is I guess what most people do around her, and then she says, in that stupid

chipmunk accent of hers, You know, I didn’t really come here for a dialogue,

I just wanted to give you information and leave, but since you raised the issue,

let me reassure you, the world isn’t melting, Steve. Honestly. Al made that

f-ing movie to scare people, but if you want to know what’s really scary, it’s

the prospect of having that fat retarded hillbilly in the White House. If you

only knew how much energy we wasted during eight years of stamping out all his

stupid ideas! I mean Kyoto? F- me, seriously. You realize he’s been in and out

of psychiatric hospitals, right? They keep him medicated beyond belief. That’s

why he talks like that. But every so often he’d go off his meds and cook up

some stupid idea and we’d all have to race around and find his shrink and get

him shot up with something or other and put back in his straitjacket. Honestly,

I swear to Christ, if I’m elected first thing I’m gonna do is have that guy

shot in a park like f-ing Vince Foster, I swear to Christ!

So I go, well, like, if Al doesn’t run, then I’m probably going

for Jerry Brown. Or Ralph Nader. She says, Stevie, honey, you can endorse Saddam

Hussein for all I care, you can go stand out on a street corner wearing a f-ing

sandwich board and dance around in your tightie-whities. I just want your f-ing

money, pal. Otherwise, like I told your buddy Gates, I get that old bulldyke

Janet Reno to hold one of her famous dance parties right on your face, okay?

And by the way, what is up with those hippie eyeglasses? There’s these things

called contact lenses now, have you heard of them?

Now I’m the one who’s stunned. I mean nobody makes fun of my John Lennon glasses.

Nobody. I mean, seriously. So for a long time I just sit there, staring down

at my hands, and I feel like my friggin head is gonna explode or something,

and Doerr, who knows how I feel about my glasses, he says, Steve, whatever you’re

thinking, just let it go, okay? Just let it go. But I can’t help myself. I go,

Lady, let me tell you something. I grew up in this Valley, OK? And nobody comes

into our Valley and talks to us like this, okay? You see the guys in this room?

We built the friggin Internet with our bare hands, you understand? Me personally,

I’ve been through hell and back. I got fired from my own company. I survived

cancer. Then I invented the friggin iPod. Have you heard of it? You want our

money, you want to be president, well you come and ask us, nice. You kiss the

ring, like everybody else. You got that straight? And by the way, have you heard

of Pilates? Cause you’ve got a really big fat lumpy ass. Seriously. It’s

like two big balloons full of oatmeal. Scary.

Hilary sits there with smoke coming out of her ears. Beside her, I swear,

Bill is kinda laughing, or trying not to laugh or whatever. The whole room is

silent. Then, way down at the far end of the table, T.J. Rodgers stands up and

starts doing a slow clap, all by himself. Then the others join in. Pretty soon

the whole room is clapping and shouting, Steve, Steve, Steve — except for Doerr,

of course, and the cyborg VCs who are programmed to do exactly what Doerr does

at all times. The Clintstones and Soros make for the door, with Doerr scrambling

after them apologizing and begging them not to leave, but Hilary just says,

F- you, gerbil, don’t call me ever again, and throws us all the finger, but

we all just roar laughing and give her the finger right back. Ha! Thanks for

coming to California, lady. Come back anytime!

Seriously, dudes, do not vote for her. That’s all I’m gonna say. Peace out.