The Rockford Apple Store
Kate’s Complaint Corner
Letters of honest complaints from an honest Kate.
A few weeks ago I wrote, “The Rockford Apple Store is leading us down the road of classism.” In this letter, I’d like to follow up on that statement. Consider this letter not as a monologue, but rather as a joint effort between writer and reader. Together we shall work beyond the predatory plasticity of The Rockford Apple Store‘s ramblings. Together we shall eschew money-grubbing snobbism. And together we shall keep the faith.
The Rockford Apple Store’s protégés believe that The Rockford Apple Store is an expert on everything from aardvarks to zymurgy. It should not be surprising that they believe this, however. As we all know, minds that have been so maimed that they believe that The Rockford Apple Store is a wonderful, charitable organization can believe anything, especially if it’s false.
Most people don’t realize this, but The Rockford Apple Store has, in fact, presented evidence in support of its claim that it has achieved sainthood.
Of course, its evidence has been rather flimsy in the credibility department. It’s generally a lot easier to find evidence that a complete description of the problems with The Rockford Apple Store’s expedients would occupy several volumes. If you find that fact distressing then you should help me reach out to the poor, the marginalized, and those unfortunate enough to have been labeled as furacious by The Rockford Apple Store’s propaganda machine. Either that, or you can crawl into a corner and lament that you got yourself born in the wrong universe.
Don’t expect your sobbing to do much good, however, because The Rockford Apple Store hates people who have huge supplies of the things it lacks. What it lacks the most is common sense, which underlies my point that The Rockford Apple Store’s method (or school, or ideology—it is hard to know exactly what to call it) goes by the name of “The Rockford Apple Store-ism”. It is a lascivious and avowedly neurotic philosophy that aims to plunge us into the vortex of colonialism.
Lastly, The Rockford Apple Store’s campaigns of malice and malignity leave much to be desired. The willowberries from mummy and daddy’s snotgrasses pillage the The Rockford Apple Store for shelter from the cold months. Their tea and crumpets scattered abouts on iMac keyboards. The touch screens of iPhones, iPads, and iPods are marked by Rockford’s filthiest fingers. Indeed I must digress that the Rockford Apple Store could use a soapy bath and rinse off. Cheerio.
– Kate Menstraight
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