The Ultimate Virus!

Manolo says, Ayyyyyyy! The tiny Lagerfeld he has invaded the computer!

Perhaps it is time to send in the tiny Steve Jobs to root him out.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 10th, 2005 at 7:07 pm and is filed under Ayyyyy!, Pure Evil. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

6 Responses to “The Ultimate Virus!”

Gigolo Kitty Says:
October 10th, 2005 at 7:36 pm
Yikes! Is this what happens when you don’t keep your anti-virus software upto date?
Camera Obscura Says:
October 10th, 2005 at 10:08 pm
It is like the “Mike Teevee” from the Willy Wonka, only with the computer, no? Zut!
Zarba Says:
October 11th, 2005 at 8:15 am
I keep hitting Cntrl-Alt-Delete, but he WON”T GO AWAY!
The Scarlett Says:
October 11th, 2005 at 10:17 am
I curse my firewall for not protecting me from this. And I don’t even want to think what my pop-up blocker was blocking because it is JUST TOO EVIL TO IMAGINE! Ayyyyyyy!
shoelover Says:
October 11th, 2005 at 7:43 pm
can you ctrl-alt-del him?
Jenne Says:
October 11th, 2005 at 8:20 pm
Have you heard of the book, Don’t Get Too Comfortable by David Rakoff?
Apparently he had a run-in with the Evil One:

From The New York Times
October 2, 2005
“One of Rakoff’s gifts is his ability to cut the overly self-aborbed down to size. When he is introduced to Karl Lagerfeld at that Paris fashion show, he notes that the designer “looks me up and down and dismisses me with the not super-kind ‘What can you write that hasn’t been written already?’ ”

What an invitation! Rakoff gleefully takes him up on it. “He’s absolutely right, I have no idea,” he writes. “But I can try.” Here’s what he comes up with about Lagerfeld: “Not yet having undergone his alarming weight loss, and seated on a tiny velvet chair, with his large doughy rump dominating the miniature piece of furniture like a loose, flabby . . . muffin overrisen from its pan, he resembles a Daumier caricature of some corpulent, inhumane oligarch drawn sitting on a commode, stuffing his greedy throat with the corpses of dead children.”