Billie Jobs

Ashley and I attended the Mac event (The Macintosh Marketing Story: Fact and Fiction, 20 Years Later) tonight at the Computer History Museum. In attendance were numerous members of the original Mac team. The best part about this event was the numerous Steve Jobs stories.

Me with Donald KnuthIn one anecdote, Andy Cunningham recalled a trip to New York City. They arrived late and Steve, as usual, had to rearrange the furniture in the hotal room. He needed the furniture to be just right, as he could never stand the way hotel rooms were arranged. And he needed a big bowl of strawberries. With whipped cream. On the side. And a baby grand piano (despite not being able to play the piano). And some flowers of a variety he couldn’t agree on with Andy, not that it mattered, given that it was the middle of winter in NYC and nearly midnight.

The next day, the photo shoot proceeded as planned. Unfortunately, Steve hates working with photographers, and is normally extremely uncooperative. Luckily for the photographer, Steve was really into Michael Jackson at the time – in particular the song “Billie Jean”. Thus, Andy spent the entire film shoot watching Steve cooperate with the photographer in bursts of three “Billie Jean”-filled minutes, then desperately rewinding the tape to the beginning of the song.

These are not the stories you read about in Business Week.

Besides listening to the stories, I got the chance to meet two renowned pioneers in computing: Donald Knuth, and Margaret Wozniak. While you may recognize Knuth as the author of The Art of Computer Programming, the exhaustive catalog of computer science knowledge, you might wonder: who’s Margaret Wozniak?

She is the person without whom Apple would not exist: Steve Wozniak‘s mother.

What Is This Shiznit?

Somewhere in the past month, hip-hop/urban vocabulary became the new thing for companies, news anchors, and any other person who desperately wants to demonstrate that they’re “hip” with the teenagers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the continued development of the English language, but this is a load of shiznit that the vernacular could do without.

This stuff sounds like some kind of pig-latin for morons. Just look at the words: Shiznit. Hizzouse. Nizzle. Heck, some of the words don’t even have a real definition, just look at dizzle.

Now, I’m all for expanding the use of the letter “z” in the English language, if for no other reason than additional legitimate uses of “z” could boost my Scrabble score, should I ever actually choose to play the game. But if there’s one thing the black community doesn’t need, it’s yet another white boy or company ripping off black culture in a vain attempt to look cool, make money or get laid.

On the other hand, I might have just passed the point where youth culture, and companies’ desperate desire to profit from it, no longer makes sense to me. Oh God, at twenty-eight I can no longer relate to teenagers! Yes! I’m old!