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Portrait of Steve NoJobs from the After-life

Virtual Reality---P.T. Barnum in the 21st Century

Portrait of Steve NoJobs    from the After-life

Steve NoJobs had passed the divide separating those of Flesh from those of Shade. What to do? There was no one around to schmooze with or impress. A lonely place. As he moved forward—others—the shades—moved further away—like the expanding cosmos, he thought. So—he thought—I will write. But there were no key-pads, no typewriters, no pens. So, he thought, I will reminisce.

Steve remembered Being Born. This was a singular event. As he emerged from Mama NoJobs’ womb, instead of being slapped on the backside by the Birthing Doctor, Steve slapped the Doctor in the face. The Doctor, Doctor Jackal, took notes—wrote a still influential essay, Formation of Personality in the Womb—Foundation of Persona Prior to Freud’s Oral, Anal and Genital Epochs.

Steve was a Forceful Presence with his parents; they were intimidated by him. He refused Mama NoJobs’ nipple; refused to be bottle-fed. He wanted Mama NJ to spoon feed him homogenized milk with a spoon—like she fed him mushy baby food from tiny bottles. He loved being spoon-fed. If Mama NJ did not spoon feed him, he had a temper tantrum—shrieks, tearjets—a template for future strategy when he did not get his way.

Steve trained Mama NJ to place him in the carriage when he raised his right hand. When he raised his left, it was time to return home—for pablum—and reruns of The Honeymooners. He bellylaughed every time Ralph warned Alice: to the moon…and raised his tiny right fist triumphantly.

When toddler Steve toddled onto the streets, he saw kids playing marbles. Steve then thought—and thought—then jerry-rigged a mechanical device with twigs and discarded mattress springs that moved the marbles; and Steve convinced the kids to watch rather than play: the boys watched—amazed. Steve thought to himself: Humans would rather watch than play.

Steve’s favorite film: The Wizard of Oz  No! Not because Dorothy unmasked the Wizard as a fake. What if, he thought, the Wizard could maintain the illusion of being a wizard—being more clever than the Dorothys of this world!

One day, while sitting under a tree, an apple fell on Steve’s head. Newton! Theory of Gravity! I will create a device—like the Marble Machine—and call it Apple! A Grave Appellation! Steve bellylaughed. To the moon…he cried.

Steve NoJobs watched the first Moon-Landing in 1969. He watched Neil Armstrong prance around on the gravel of the Moon. One step for Mankind…Neil pronounced. Everyone cheered! Steve was impressed. Humans cheered when someone pranced around on a barren landscape. I just tasted The Future! Scrumptious! Like an Apple!

Univac! Giant Computers—were being developed. What if these Giants could be shrunk, made smaller, so Humans could carry them around in their pockets—and obtain information—call this information—“Knowledge”—and get people to purchase it. But these devices were already developed. Steve is a little hazy on the details. But somehow he secured the patents to these devices—and called them Apple—to see if humans would bite. At first—No Dice! But Steve relied on his favorite maneuver: the Temper Tantrum! Many were intimidated—and impressed. Apple devices, they thought, must be good—Laptop! I-Pad! SmartPhone! Smaller! Faster! Cheaper! Manufacture in Bangladesh—or some other “wiggly” place. Humans will bite—Access the Virtual Cloud! Everyone connected!

But not everyone was biting. Steve thought of Barnum, Ziegfeld, Henry Ford, L. B. Mayer—the Great Impresarios! The Wizard of Oz! Flash! Epiphany! Tell all—I will go into seclusion. Meditate. Like the Buddha. Have a Vision—Revelation! Thus he did. Went to India—Nepal—some “wiggly” place—thought and thought—came back to USA—Silicon Valley—told all: a Vision—an Apple—sleek, easy to handle, aesthetically beautiful. Beauty is Truth, Truth—Beauty. Humans—bought it! Steve thought—Life is an Illusion; the Virtual Cloud is an Illusion—of an Illusion. But I won’t tell this to Humans. They are convinced by an Apple. My reputation is secure. I am worshipped. Maya—Goddess of Illusion! The Wizard of Oz!

So Steve NoJobs trudged ahead—meditating—reminiscing—toward—Exoneration? Exaltation?    or the long gray road to—Forever…

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