SF Weekly may as well be called the Weekly Nostradamus. In 2007 we prophesied that aggressive proselytizing by atheists would create a spiritual vacuum only fillable by Steve Jobs
We were right about everything.
No sooner had the Apple chieftain announced a lateral move from CEO to Board Chairman, then his followers prostrated themselves teary-eyed in the direction of Cupertino
When all seemed to be going well, an e-mail in my inbox -- without as much as the new message sound -- arrived: Letter from Steve Jobs. It was as if the inbox was observing the solemnnity of the occasion.
It is incredibly hard for me to write right now. To me, like many of you, it is an incredibly emotional moment. I cannot look at Twitter, and through the mist in my eyes, I am having a tough time focusing on the screen of this computer. I cannot hear the sounds of the street or the ring of my phone. The second hand on my watch moves slowly, ever so slowly. I want to wake up and find it was all a nightmare.
And while I wish for him to have more time with his family, I am also being very selfish. I will miss the thespian who made inanimate objects like a computer become a thing to behold.
This deification of corporate chieftains was bound to happen. A a post 9/11 fad for evangelistic atheism consumed the publishing world in the mid-2000s. Books such as Christopher Hitchens' God is not Great,
Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion
, and Sam Harris's The End of Faith
mocked members of the world's great religions as superstitious simpletons.
In 2007, I posited that if these pundits got what they wanted, a great spiritual vacuum might form. A corporation might craftily suggest a replacement deity, and use advertising and corporate PR to offer up their figurehead as spiritual leader.
As Om Malik put it: "Some men dream the future. He built it."
In the future Steve Jobs built, we literally worship corporate CEOs.