We had a falling out

So Steve calls this week and says he’s going on vacation. Says he’s flying to Vail, Kazakhstan, Maui, and India. In that order. And then, if there’s time left, maybe to Orlando so the kids can go to Disney World and see him get dressed up as Captain Jack Sparrow. And I’m like, that’s great Steve. Have fun. See you in a month, bud.

And he says, Larry. I really really need you to take care of my blog. And I’m like, what? He says, yeah. Nobody else around here will touch the El Jobso with a ten-foot pole. Al hates my guts after staying at my house. Bono’s too busy f’ing around with his hippie band. Jerry York still has dog breath. Nick Denton’s a friggin frigtard. So you’re the only one who can do it, Larry.

And I’m like, fine. Whatever. I’ll write a few posts so you can take a look and see what you think.

So I take a couple days and write the posts. And you know what? I haven’t had this much fun since I wrote the end of Melanie’s last novel. I email them to Steve and wait. Thursday comes and goes. Friday. Still nothing. Finally he emails me:

"Larry – No friggin way you’re taking over my blog. The stuff you sent me blows goats. Honestly, it made me throw up in my mouth a little. Ha! And anyway, you know writing about me is off limits. Shame on you, freak. See you in a month, huh? - FSJ"

I sit there for a minute – kinda slump down in my chair a little – and then I visit his blog. Just for old times sake, you know? And whaddya know? The flake says “Larry Ellison” is going to be writing his blog. See here. My favorite quote: “Larry Ellison has been bugging his PR people for a while to let him start his own blog at Oracle. But they're like, No friggin way are we letting you show the world how absolutely bonkers you are.”

Right. Because everybody knows I let my PR people tell me what to do.

Folks, something smells fishy. Because if I’m writing this, then who the heck is the fake Larry over at Steve’s blog? Steve, if I find out it’s some Apple cafeteria employee like I think it is, you better hope you packed a parachute and a bunch of dehydrated miso soup. Because that Gulfstream is going to fare about as well as an ultralight when you’re in my MiG’s crosshairs.

Just kidding. I wouldn’t really pull trigger and shoot you down. I mean, who would make my Macs and iPods and iPhones if you were gone? I’m still hurt, though. Shame on you, freak.