In a disappointing turn of events for the fledgling project, create a more robust alternative to Apple’s Mail.app called Letters.app has dissolved over “irreconcilable differences”.
“The egos involved were simply too big, Daring Fireball auteur felt continually nitpicked by back-seat drivers.
“Nobody sees my vision!” screamed Gruber, stabbing out his clove cigarette, taking a sip from a $10 beer in a can and adjusting his beret. “Only I know which fonts are appropriate! Only I know which menu items go where! Only I know which controls are controlliest! And I refuse to have my ideas, my concepts, my passion be questioned by Philistines!
“It is as if you asked Stanley Kubrick to direct a dinner theater production! Or asked Joe Torre to manage the Nationals! It cannot be done!”
Others associated with the project, meanwhile, blamed Gruber himself for its failure.
“I am an artiste!” cried Panic Software‘s Cabel Sasser, flinging his scarf around his neck. “If anyone knows about making softwares that are beautiful to the touch, it is I, not this pixel-pushing lout of a man whose personal grooming is also suspect!”
Most simply blamed everyone but themselves.
“Imbéciles!” exclaimed Brent Simmons, inexplicably speaking in French. “Je ne peux pas travailler avec ces imbéciles!”
Technical lead Gus Mueller has reportedly taken the existing source code – currently nothing more than five lines of comments and one IBAction – and renamed it CrunchMail.app. Mueller hopes to have a working product of his own personal design some time next year, but right now is more concerned with fulfilling the obligations of his tell-all book deal with O’Reilly.
Wow Huh?, you kinda asked for that one…
I’ll take a double too, Brother.
Oh yeah, now you chime in miss iMoo… (sorry… Mrs. iMoo)
And Ace, I think you just might be right. Time for my Pantsâ„¢ to go on a diet.
Yo, Bro…
The man writes a good piece and I sincerely compliment him. That’s my sole interest and intent. Thanks and all that, but no compliments or suggestions are necessary. Â
Brother, twat the heck are you talking about? (Or aboot for our Canadian friends.)
Hah! Genius, Steve.
And panic not, Benny. John demands that we take the mickey out of him on CARS. It’s The Law. We are, after all, merely an encore to Mother Nature.
In that respect, we have adopted John as a pseudo-Brit. Over here, getting slaughtered verbally is something of a compliment: we only insult our mates. Everyone else gets ignored or punched. Or both.
Nxxx probably does something unmentionable thereafter, but you’d have to ask him about that. He’s probably got a diagram somewhere to help explain. Or a flowchart. In various shades of red.
Well I guess I don’t have to spend the weekend fuigirng this one out!
No panic, here, Bro… I always abide by those large friendly letters on the cover. Thanks for the transoceanic perspective.
Hah – cheers, Benny.
And just to prove we like taking the mickey out of mates, I’m going to take my life in my hands and ask Nxxx if he watched the ‘rugby’ on Saturday….
BroMu,
If they keep playing like that, I’m either going to end up as the World’s greatest blues saxophonist or stepping off a high rise.
Beginning to wish my ancestors were the Welsh who could swim when the Romans came but turning Irish is a definite step too far.
p.s.:-Is Moltz Irish?
Essays like this are so important to broadening peploe’s horizons.
I think Moltz could be Oirish, rather than Irish.
You know – ‘D’yeh need a bit ‘o werk doin?’ Oirish.
That’s why he runs a Mac website. He got it confused with Tarmac.
I put ‘rugby’ in inverted commas in the previous post because the match bore [sic] only a passing resemblance to that sacred pursuit. I can believe England were that bereft of ‘ooompf’ (they’ve got form over the last year, clearly), but find it harder to slot Wales into that lowly category. Where was the passion? Very disappointing. If I didn’t know better I’d think an English waitress had spiked their food (ahem…). Obviously I love it when we beat you, but not like that. Pffft. If Sunday’s France turn up against Saturday’s England I may yet join you on the high-rise. Either that or re-claim my own Oirish inheritance (because my ancestors couldn’t doggy-paddle out of trouble fast enough . . . and then half of them reversed the journey a couple of thousand years later when the scoff ran out).
BroMu,
Could it be the “Professional” game is responsible? Realise it was shamateur previously but something to believe in for a financially deprived nation.
Bloody hell, serious on CARS.
I don’t know, really. Wales have played with plenty of passion previously in the professional period.
Man, that’s a lot of alliteration.
A friend reckons Twickenham ‘spooked’ them, but that has to be rubbish, surely? But it’s true they just didn’t seem to settle. They didn’t even get sustained ball for about 15 minutes, which was partly due to some tight England play, but also down to some uncharacteristic timidity at the turnover. All very odd. And then that stupid trip (which is more the kind of thing we’re used to from our very, very dense (despite their numerous degrees and expensive private education) England muppets). Maybe things will warm up next match? I’d imagine they’ll have got a bit of a rocket from Gatland, so we’ll see.
Hmmm, ‘a rocket from Gatland’. Not sure it gets much more serious than that. Except possibly one from Johnson.
BroMu,
Regional rugby has taken away the close relationship between the Welsh town and its side coupled with much better defence strategies, making it sometimes necessary to wonder, “Is this Union or League I’m watching?”.
Wonder if I’ll snuff before any British national team takes the All Blacks again?
Brother,
I have never (ever!) been so hopelessly lost in a sports discussion as I was reading your description of whatever it is you’re talking about.
I’m fairly certain that’s the reason, but it could also be excessive snow-induced insanity.
We are not discussing a sport, this is about a religion.