Apple iPad Pro 9.7 Inch.
What am “I”??
A forbidden fruit with many cores but negligible pips.
Our honeymoons are sweet, my aftertaste is sour.
One byte and even doctors shall be helpless in my power.
My coloured skins afford you credit, my crunch will leave you skint.
Though I start with A and end in E mine I doth have the glint.
So, Have you guessed this omnipresent entity’s i-Dentity? Do I really need to macerate that cryptic miniature medley of old Granny Smith’s proverbs into large and painful to swallow chunks?
No need to agonise. For in a post APP-oclaypic era, as yet another Blighted Winter culminated in its typically turgid coda of festive consumerism for the irredeemably gluttonous, there was little else to engage me.
The riddle in question could only refer to a carnivorous corporate Kraken, as i-nfamous for its i-ngenious preaching to the i-rrationally i-nfatuated, as for its i-nevitable lack of long term i-nfallibility. A company that has capitalised on humanity’s innate desire to impress and profited from its most impressionable souls by exploiting their i-repressible craving for social status. Apply logic and arrive at the i-llogical. Ladies and gentleman…I give you Apple.
Now, feast your eyes on the i-sore below. Marvel at this extravagant tool for incorrigible “tools” imprisoned by their own insecurities and each feverishly forging a chronology of shameless self-indulgence. Its silky 9.7 inch retina screen was silent but for the exploratory tapping of an innovative pencil shaped stick, made all the more radical by a prohibitive price tag and it’s highly original moniker “The Apple Pencil”.
It’s stylus could assume a variety of guises, from brushes to ball points to felt tips to fountain pens with arrays of nibs vast enough to humble any novelty calligraphy set and all adjustable in breadth and boldness based upon the bewitched user’s aggravated twitches. It was fitting solution for corporate fat heads to compose flash flow diagrams that they would have otherwise been compelled to scrawl on a merlot stained napkin after a lengthy liquid lunch.
It enabled profligate cyber socialites to carpet bomb casual acquaintances with bespoke wedding invitations and seasonal e-cards, thereby sending them into a spiral of sinking self-esteem for not being wealthy enough to afford one themselves and squandering precious household cash reserves on ready made responses to avoid appearing rude.
However, arguably its most attractive and intuitive asset was the ability to tilt and make drawn lines appear fuller or fatter, just like when a real artist sketches the myriad of crevices in the bark of a mighty oak. This feature alone, claimed Applacians, ranked the iPad Pro above a similar product offered by their arch nemesis, whose loyalists in turn claimed that their spectacular synergy incorporated far more than a glut of glorified gimmicks and by comparison, was an advanced production tool pitched squarely at creative pro-sumers with aspirations that extended beyond babyish doodles, toxic trolling or dabbling with dozens of bowdlerised apps on the dubious premise that each was a flawless refinement of its unabridged elder with an miraculous medley of platform specific enhancements.
Ultimately, once the scorching debate over whose synergy of refined silicon sported superior specs had dwindled to a jaded indifference, both little and large iPad Pros descended upon largely numb palms, despite proving profitable in the tablet market and their demagogue’s bullish assertion that they were destined to revolutionise conventional computing. In a twist of bitter sweet irony, it was not a sworn enemy’s counter attack that hampered its success but rather, other harvests of forbidden fruit planted inside the new world orchard.
These alternatives were smaller, cheaper, virtually as succulent and, in several cases, even boasted identical cores!
The fact they were not able to avail themselves of their flagship sibling’s magic baton was a minor sacrifice since most spellbound Apple church-goers only needed a five minute scribble test to confirm that their artistic skills matched those of a hung over hippo painting scenes from last night’s bash at the swamp.
