SFGate Apple porn:
I have right here in my hot little hands that actually aren't all that little and are only slightly warm at the moment a brand new lick-ready smooth-as-love Apple MacBook Pro Core 2 Duo Super Orgasm Deluxe Ultrahard Modern Computing Device Designed by God Herself Somewhere in the Deep Moist Vulva of Cupertino Yes Yes Don't Stop Oh My God Yes.
I believe that is the actual name of the product. I might be wrong. I do not really care.
This machine, this silky hunk of aluminum and wire and divine Chinese factory-made love, was recently delivered into my hands by a squad of naked cooing angels who all happened to look exactly like Jenna Jameson or perhaps Eva Green and who also gave me a free foot massage and four hits of premium Ecstasy and a complimentary 3-hour tongue bath, all at the same time.
It is possible I imagined that last part. It is possible it was merely, you know, UPS. It is possible I am exaggerating just slightly overall. I do not really care.
Because these days, this is pretty much the feeling Apple products instill in millions of increasingly dazzled and devoted fans. Their products have become coated in some sort of hot golden fairy dust. Their gizmos come freely adorned with a luminous halo that tastes of hope and sex and candy. Their incandescent tech junk possesses a reek, a perfectly intoxicating stench that heralds another world, some sort of sleek well-lit utopia where people never steal and vibrators are free and dolphins teach babies to sing.