By John Gruber
Plan your novel, finish your dissertation, launch a product. You need Tinderbox.
A Lexus SC 430 convertible speeds down a sunny street in Cupertino. The top is down. Brushed Metal is behind the wheel, stabbing at the buttons on his mobile phone.
We hear the connection ringing. Brushed Metal’s agent, Mike, answers.
Mike: B.M. Speak to me, baby.
Brushed Metal: Don’t bullshit me, Mike. What’s going on?
Mike: What do you mean?
Brushed Metal: What do you think I mean? The Special Event. It starts in 30 minutes and no one has called me yet. I’ve been calling Steve’s office all morning, they won’t take my calls. Are they yanking iTunes 5?
Brushed Metal: No? iTunes 5 is still on? Then why the fuck am I not there?
Mike: B.M., calm down.
Brushed Metal: Stop calling me “B.M.”
Mike: They’ve gone with someone else for iTunes 5. I thought you knew.
Brushed Metal: You’re my agent. How the fuck am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?
Mike: This is not a big deal, Brushed.
Brushed Metal: How can you say this is not a big deal? It’s fucking iTunes! The most popular app in the world. It runs on Windows. Windows! Fuckfuckfuck!
Brushed Metal: This has got to be a mistake of some sort. Someone just forgot to call us. You’ve got to get me Steve on the phone, Mike.
Mike: It’s not a mistake, Brushed. Trust me.
Brushed Metal: Whatever happened to “Once you go metal, you never go back?”
Mike: Times change, my friend.
Brushed Metal: Who did they go with for iTunes? Not that Unified Title and Toolbar cocksucker…
Mike: No, they got someone new.
Brushed Metal: New?
Mike: Yeah, and he’s hot. Very hot. He looks like Unified with a tan.
Brushed Metal: Beige?!
Mike: No, not tan colored. Like suntanned. He’s like Unified but darker. His color is a lot like yours, but smooth and shaded like Unified. And thinner. No borders. It’s a very chic look. Reminds me of you, back in the day.
Brushed Metal: Back in the day? This is the day. This is still my day. I can do thin! What the fuck. What’s this guy’s name?
Mike: (laughs) Man, he doesn’t even have a name. How’s that for bad-ass?
Brushed Metal: I’m the bad-ass theme. I’m the one who flouts the Human Interface Guidelines.
Mike: This guy trashes the HIG the way Johnny Depp trashes a hotel room. He even sports a custom radius on his window corners. No other window on the system has a shape like this. It’s wild. Just wait until the HIG zealots get a load of this guy.
Brushed Metal: I told you something was fucked up when the new version of Mail didn’t go with me.
Mike: You’ve got a nice long-term deal with the Finder…
Brushed Metal: That two-timing piece of crap?
Mike: …iChat, Calculator…
Brushed Metal: Calculator? I’m out of iTunes and you tell me I’ve still got Calculator? When is the Special Event scheduled for the next version of Calculator? Oh, that’s right, there is none, because no one gives a shit about Calculator.
Mike: QuickTime Player still loves you, man. You got some real history there. Don’t forget iCal.
Brushed Metal: Can you get me on the phone with Steve or not?
Mike: No-can-do. Steve loves this new guy. He’s even got him staying at his house. This is a done deal.
Brushed Metal: The new theme is living at Jobs’s house?
Mike: They’re tight.
Brushed Metal pauses to think.
Brushed Metal: Are you representing this guy?
Mike: Listen, man, I’ve got to go.
Brushed Metal: Are you at the Special Event? You backstabbing cocksucker! If I knew where this event was I’d come over there and kick your fucking ass.
Mike: Gotta run, B.M. — I need to return a call to Safari before this show starts.
We hear the click as Mike hangs up. Brushed Metal throws his phone into the passenger side door. He punches the padded center of his steering wheel.
A few seconds later, the phone rings. Brushed Metal picks it off the passenger seat and looks at the caller ID. It reads: AQUA. Brushed Metal takes the call.
Brushed Metal: What do you want?
(It’s not yet 10 a.m., but Aqua is drunk.)
Aqua: Howdya fuckin’ like it now, bee-yotch? WHOO HOO!
Brushed Metal: Fuck you, Aqua.
Cut to black.