A Forbes.com Site

Friday, August 11, 2006

The Wall Street Journal can kiss my ass

Do you believe this shizzle? I am so pissed I can hardly type. We told these idiots -- I mean explicitly told them, in writing, from a lawyer -- that we did not grant them permission to publish an article about us. So what do they do? They go ahead and publish an article. Can you friggin believe it? And what do they say? What's their big news? Oh, Apple is all secretive, they keep all these secrets, there's all this top-secret secrecy, you need a secret badge to get into the secret buildings, and they give new products secret code names. Oh, and we don't tell our customers about our secret products in advance.

Dude, I invented the friggin iPod, okay? Have you heard of it?

Well, seriously, here's the deal. We will no longer sell the Wall Street Journal in our Apple stores. Or any other products made by Dow Jones. Isn't that who owns the Journal? Seriously, they're out. Dead to me. No more reading it either. Anywhere on our campus. Get someone on this. Send out a memo. No Wall Street Journal in our building. I want bags searched at the checkpoints. I want Journal-sniffing dogs and cavity searches. No exceptions. I'm serious about this. By the way can I please get a friggin herbal tea? Is that really asking so much? What do I pay you for? Really!

June 28


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