Here I Am at the Apple Store - a letter to Steve Jobs from GBGC
Just ten days before my birthday, all my cherished Mac equipment was stolen. The following song (lyrics below) says it all:
p.s. Please be patient while GBGC Studios gets back on its feet again!
Addendum: Just hours after posting this video, I learned that Steve Jobs resigned from his position as CEO of Apple. GBGC wishes Mr. Jobs all the best, and hopes that, in his new position as chairman, he will continue to be a creative inspiration in the world of computers. Mac macht's möglich!
Dear Mr. Jobs,
You don't know me, I sing opera professionally. In fact, I'm on the verge of a breakthrough. I took my laptop wherever I went; working on my website was time well spent. And this is the matter that concerns you.
You see, the other day when I was at work, I fell victim to a thieving jerk who snuck in through the back door at the cafe. He emptied our bags of all they were worth, then disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one's ever treated me that way.
So here I am at the Apple Store. I don't have a MacBook no more. They took it from me while I wasn't looking, out from the kitchen where nothing was cooking. Ain't nobody ever done me so wrong, and so I wrote you this little song. Dear Mr. Jobs, won't you please send a new MacBook to me.
As if that wasn't bad enough, they also took some other stuff, like an iPod Touch with fancy In-Ear Headphones. Yes, an iPod Touch with 8 gigabytes and cool apps like Skype and Flashlight, so I could always find my way home.
So here I am in the Apple Store. I don't have my iPod no more. He took it out of my purse and left me my keys. You can have my house, just give me my iPod back, please, so I can play Scrabble while I'm on the road and listen to my favorite NPR shows. This American Life is hard to believe. Give me an iPod, Steve.
I bet you didn't expect to hear a third verse. My sob story just keeps getting worse. The MacBook and the iPod weren't the only things stolen. That bastard took my external hard drive and now I want him - dead or alive - to "back up" into my hand until his ass is swollen.
So here I am in the Apple Store. Heck, I don't even have an external hard drive no more. I wish I could climb into that Time Machine and catch that guy who swiped me clean of Breaking Bad, Mad Men and Weeds, and yes, even a season of Glee, not to mention my work: my writing, my singing, my whole life's oeuvre.
I got a bit frustrated, I'll admit, when iMovie would always unexpectedly quit, and I couldn't open certain types of files. But I've always been an Apple girl - the thought of a PC just makes me want to hurl. But dreaming of my MacBook makes me smile.
So here I am at the Apple Store. I know you can't give me my pictures no more, nor letters from my family, recordings of my voice. But what can I do? I have no choice. Dear Mr. Jobs, you know how I feel. My love for Apple is something very real. A MacBook, a hard drive, an iPod Touch is all that I want - am I asking too much? I just don't have two thousand bucks. I got talent and a dream, but otherwise my life pretty much sucks. So dear Mr. Jobs, I'm down on my knees, send me a new MacBook, please.