According to sources close to Senior Vice President of Worldwide Marketing Phil Schiller, the Apple executive had a wild weekend as he followed the San Jose Sharks go from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat.
“Friday night was awesome!” Schiller told his moderately interested coworkers. “The Sharks were down five times and rallied back each time! I just about lost it when Pavelski tied it up in the last minute of regulation.
“And when Setoguchi scored the winning goal… well, me and my hockey buddies — Donnie, Automatic Tony and the Spaz — well, we just went berserk.”
Schiller sheepishly admitted he may have had a little too much to drink on Friday night.
“We partied hard after that one! After we left the [HP] Pavilion, we just hit one bar after the next! But we were on cloud nine, I tell you what. Most of that night’s a complete blur! Ha-ha! I seem to remember a goat and some clowns or… no, mimes! Oh, my god, it was mimes! Ha-ha!
“Whoo-eee!”
The man in charge of Apple’s global corporate marketing efforts said he spent most of Saturday “sleeping it off” but then was back at it to watch Sunday’s Sharks loss with his friends in C & J’s, a Cupertino sports bar.
“Sunday was a major letdown and we had to drown our sorrows. We drank until C & J’s closed and then walked along the railroad tracks, drinking some more. The Sharks are in a hole now so they’ll just have to go out there and give it their best. That’s all they can do. That’s all any of us can do.”
Schiller paused before continuing.
“Me and my buddies, we’ve followed the Sharks through some tough times. Donnie’s divorce. When Tony got laid off at the mill. The Spaz’s repeated suicide attempts. My LASIK surgery. Tough times.
“Watching the Sharks and blowin’ off steam, that’s just how we do.”
Schiller fell silent for a moment, looking reflective on the sport and what it says about the human condition.
Suddenly his hand felt for his pocket.
“Wait…
“Anyone seen my phone?”
First?
Foist!!!
The Wild Thing!
Hah! Third then…
At least his phone ain’t stuck in Europe, ’s all I’m sayin’
Five!
Phil, you crayzee guy!
I think he gave it to Gizmodo.
Yes. We have all seen it.
Phil Schiller is John Gruber.
Wait, I mean John Moltz is John Gruber.
Funny.
Why al the fuss? Calm down, everyone.
Best line in the Gizmodo writeup: “it feels even nicer in your pants.”
I’m Blighty-Bred, so clearly didn’t understand any of that.
Especially the bit about mimes.
No-one understand mimes.
Or admits to it, certainly.
Thirteeeeeeeeen.
First Tiger, now Schiller.
Can’t anybody keep their junk in their pants anymore?? (Huh? is excepted from that…)
W
Those Canadians are always passing the puck. Well, I’m telling you, the puck stops here!
Sixteenth!
I tell ya, those hockey fans…
17th.
Schiller Rules!
A paltry nineteenth, oh the shame.
Having read this gripping instalment, to us Brits, HP is a delicious brown sauce. Goes with anything except jellied eels.
But don’t have HP on the same plate as tomato ketchup.
Oh dear. It’s just not done.
Like having the Montagues *and* Capulets over for tea.
That was seriously funny. Even my Pantsâ„¢ thought so.
What I can’t believe, is that iMoo beat me to the post. Well, actually, I can. But no more In-N-Out for you iMoo!!!! MWUHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
hahaha!
haha….
sniff….
@ Huh?
Prototypes are now being formulated. Results to follow.
@iMoo
*snicker*
Oh, ok.
*snicker, snicker*
Well, here, in France, I wait for my MacBook Pro. Bur planes won’t fly.
Why couldn’t they make planes roll all the way from China ?
I agree with the impossibility of HP and ketchup on the same table. And none is acceptable with foie gras.
And I don’t even have an iPhone, prototype or plain.
Also, don’t be fooled by the poor import version of HP here in the States. It’s just not the same…
Better than HP is Daddy’s Sauce but that might be a doubtful joke.
A mention on CARS regarding one of our fine local sporting teams? I am so proud!
What’s next? An admission that Steve is a ‘Quakes fan perhaps?
I thought about it, Nxxx . . . but then I realised that children may be reading.
Or certainly childish.
And child-like. Mentally.
Or rather, intellectually.
It’s a tough call between Daddy’s and HP on the brown, but not so much between Daddy’s and Heinz on the ketchup. Daddy’s always tastes so day-glo motorway cafe.
Agreed Bro Mu but it does not possess the traditional tethered tea spoon authenticity of the greasy spoon truckers’ caff and roadside stall’s squelchy tomato dispenser or indescribable, thank goodness, taste.
This is one of those times when I’m glad I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Nxx . . . is it wrong that I find myself *wanting* one of those squelchy tomato dispensers? And not in an ironic way, alas.
Do I need an intervention?
And, if so, is Steve. G the ‘objective friend’ who needs to stage it?
I have heard of curry sauces that required intervention, but not brown or red. You are fine, Brother Mugga, as long as you have some self-control.
Ahhh.
Rrrrrright.
Yup, that’ll be fine then, Ace…
Frankly, I’d rather prefer a bit of Marmite instead, if you would be so kind.
Marmite. The foods manufacturer’s revenge on us veggies.
Good with Cooper’s Coarse Cut Marmalade on your local craftman baker’s granary bread.
See, that’s another paradox-pair: marmite or bovril? You can’t like both, surely?
Mah Bruthuh…
Beef extract?! [Shudder] I can understand that the “Bov” must stand for “Bovine,” but what must the “ril” represent?
Actually, don’t answer that question. I don’t think I want to know. I’m afraid it might have something to do with the stuff that the highlanders decided was too weird to put into the haggis [shiver]. After all, I see where some Scot invented it. And apparently he made it for the French. THAT tells you something, doesn’t it?
And I don’t want to hear about how Shackleton drank it when he came back from Antarctica. At that point he’d probably have enjoyed a used leather belt just as much. I can hear him now…
“No, no, you needn’t mind about removing the buckle… I’ll have that, too, thank you. Good for the blood, you know, what with all that iron. Most kind of you!
“What’s that you say? A cup of Bovril? Well, I don’t know… You’ll pardon my asking, of course, but, how much might you be willing to pay me?
“REALLY?! My goodness… I had no idea you people had such resources! Well, then, I suppose… yes, by all means… After all, I’ve been through quite a bit already, haven’t I, heh heh! This ought not be any worse than that, eh? Heh heh!”
Sadly, Shackleton died at the early age of 48. Nothing to do with the Bovril, of course. Nothing at all.
Benny, the ‘ril’ stands for ‘rilly?!???!’
Personally I detest both Bovril and Marmite in a way that probably contravenes some kind of UN resolution.
And the only possible way in which Bovril’s emetic qualities could be more clearly flagged would be if the Jock had made it not for a Frog, but for an Englishman.
And your post merits inclusion in the Library of Congress archive. Twitter it immediately lest it be lost to humanity.
Like ’em both, obvious no taste but given up Bovril as a veggie.
Benny,
Anyone who knows that much about Shackleton, must have gone to Pelham’s old school. Go on, tell me I’m wrong.
…and presumably been the House Crumpet Rack?
Del? Psyko?
Can anyone help out a fellow American who’s hopelessly frickin’ lost on this thread?
At least there is no cricket reportage…
Well hang on, Deuce. The Ashes start in November, so unless that indolent iSlack Moltz posts again soon…
Thank God for Moltzy…
@Nxxx,
Sorry to be so slow to respond…
Well, I did go to an old school [1] that was not too far [2] from Pelham [3], so I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong. But it was while I was [4] at [5] Oxford [6] that I learned of Shackleton’s all-to-early demise.
I must also add, though, in all sincerity, that I have the greatest respect for Sir Edward. He and his crew were men among men, facing monumental adversities with determination, persistence, and skill, and creating for history some of the Great Moments in Navigation, Exploration, and Survival. I highly recommend to you and others here (in case you haven’t yet read it) Alfred Lansing’s Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage.
And @Steve G., I’m an American, so let me know if you have any specific questions, and I’ll do my best to help.
[1] built in 1925
[2] about 14 miles
[3] in New York State
[4] looking
[5] The
[6] English Dictionary
Er… oops! Heh, heh!
That’s Sir Ernest, not Sir Edward.
But I still respect him.
…in the morning?
I return the honourable gentleman to the Crumpet Rack.
I think the South Georgia ‘leg’ of Shackleton’s journey is the most hilarious. “Hurrah! We’re saved!”
“Oh . . . wrong side of the Island.”
“Bugger.”
“Oh well, what’s a 36 hour-straight yomp with frostbite between friends…”
Staggering.