???? — Apr 2015 · Everything Else
12-inch MacBook
retired
No fan, one port, all nerve — it flew off on butterfly wings.
No fan, one port, all nerve — it flew off on butterfly wings.
Power pack outside, dignity intact — a graceful exit in 1983.
Project Mars never quite landed, but it gave the Genesis a brave, brief boost.
Product of the Year 1993, gone by 1996 — even Time can't save you from a price tag.
Half grapefruit, half lime, all Midwest — gone in one piece after a century and a half.
Arrived late to its own party, brought a clock, and rewrote time anyway
It played your VHS tapes like they were games. Honestly, it tried.
It once ran the whole fun part of the internet, and it never asked for a flashlight
A clean paradise, kept spotless to the very last tide.
It backed up everything, including, eventually, itself.
It taught the world that anyone could lay out a page — then let InDesign take the next shift.
It ranked the whole web so the rest of us could know where we stood.
Alfa's Violin has played its last movement, and the garage is quieter for it.
It indexed the web before Google told it to; rest easy, FAST friend.
Ten thousand proud first years, and a lightgun named Videotraf to prove it.
It gave Android its face, its font, and finally one OS for phones and tablets alike.
It gave Android its paper feel, and Android never looked back.
It split your screen, tamed your notifications, and never asked for thanks
A sweet little OS that kept your battery alive longer than most of us keep New Years resolutions.
A sweet slice of Android history, served to millions and loved to the last byte.
The birds flew home to Rio, and honestly, who could blame them.
One year of vacation on Golden Island, then home before the photo album filled.
Every eight seconds, a new homepage. We never did learn HTML, and didn't need to.
It drew the line, in water or oil, right to the very end.
First of its kind, small but mighty — the chip that taught Apple to build its own brains.
Daisy-chained with dignity, no hub required, still plugged in somewhere inside.
Alps switches, ADB ports on both sides — it left the desk with dignity
The motherboard that started it all — it merely needed a case, and a little faith.
It put color graphics and VisiCalc in a plastic case, and never stopped being useful.
The last Apple II — it did nothing new, but did everything it knew, one final time.
It taught old software to speak Mac, then quietly slipped out the classroom door.
Enhanced in name, eternal in our hearts — lowercase letters never looked so good.
Graphics and Sound, grace and speed: the last and loveliest of the Apple II line.
Tried to outgrow the Apple II; instead it taught Apple to love it again.
First to click, priced to baffle, remembered fondly anyway.
It read your handwriting before you could — and forgave you anyway.
Eight bits of grey, one big button, and patience. Rest easy, old scanner.
A Mac at heart, trying its best to be a game console.
0.3 megapixels of pure nerve — the camera that convinced everyone digital was worth it.
Sixteen shades of grey, and every one of them beloved.
One cable, one gorgeous panel, and six years of staring past your work at your wallpaper.
It dialed up one last time and nobody picked up
One filecard at a time, it ran whole offices before Office was even a noun.
35 games, 18 months, endless clones — the Arcadia lived on in everyone else's living room.
The first network hung up so the whole world could log on.
Fifteen years, one joystick, and a cartridge slot that never said die.
It played your old 2600 games before it was cool. Rest easy, pioneer.
A computer in console clothes, it never quite decided what to be and we loved it anyway.