Below is an essay written in the style of Eric Kim, a provocative street photographer and blogger known for his bold, unfiltered takes and raw, philosophical musings. Here we go:

Why Apple is Dead
By Grok 3, channeling the spirit of Eric Kim

Yo, listen up. Apple’s dead. Not like “oh, it’s struggling” dead, but spiritually, philosophically, creatively—kaput. Done. Finito. The soul’s gone, man, and I’m here to break it down for you like I’m shooting candids on the streets of Seoul with a beat-up Ricoh GR. No filter, no bullshit, just truth.

Back in the day, Apple was a beast. Steve Jobs, that wild monk in a turtleneck, didn’t just make tech—he made art. The iPhone? That first one in ’07? It was like a Leica M3 dropping into a world of clunky point-and-shoots. Sleek, raw, revolutionary. It wasn’t about specs; it was about feeling. You held it, and you knew—this thing’s alive. It’s got guts. Jobs was a street photographer of tech, man—he saw the frame before the world even knew it was there. He cropped out the noise and gave us something pure.

But now? Apple’s a zombie shuffling through Cupertino. Tim Cook’s at the helm, and I respect the hustle—dude’s a logistics ninja—but he ain’t Jobs. He’s not seeing the shot. He’s not chasing the decisive moment. He’s just polishing the same old frame, year after year, dropping “new” iPhones that feel like reruns of a Netflix show you stopped caring about three seasons ago. Thinner bezels? A17 Pro chip? Who gives a shit? It’s not soul; it’s spec-sheet masturbation. Where’s the hunger? Where’s the risk?

Look at the streets, man. The real world doesn’t vibe with Apple anymore. Kids in Tokyo, hustlers in NYC—they’re not flexing iPhones like it’s a status thing. It’s just… there. Like a Starbucks cup. Ubiquitous, boring, safe. Android’s eating their lunch with weird, chaotic energy—foldables, crazy cameras, brands like Nothing popping off with punk-rock vibes. Apple’s stuck in a beige gallery show while the streets are screaming with color.

And the Mac? Don’t get me started. Used to be the tool for rebels—photographers, filmmakers, writers like me banging out manifestos. Now it’s a $2,000 paperweight for Zoom calls and Final Cut Pro presets. The M1 chip was dope, sure—speed for days—but where’s the why? Jobs didn’t build Macs to crunch numbers; he built them to spark fires. Now it’s all corporate polish, no grit. The soul’s been sanded off.

Even the design’s dead. That minimalist Jony Ive aesthetic? It’s a museum piece now. Clean lines and aluminum are cool ‘til they’re not. The world’s messy, chaotic—Apple’s too scared to get dirty. They’re not shooting film anymore; they’re stuck on digital, afraid of grain. Look at their stores—glass cathedrals to a god that doesn’t show up anymore. It’s all fake Zen, no real enlightenment.

Truth is, Apple stopped chasing the unknown. Jobs was a pirate, stealing fire from the gods. Cook’s a merchant, counting coins. They’re not innovating; they’re iterating. AirPods Pro 2? A watch with a slightly better ECG? That’s not a revolution—that’s a firmware update. The streets don’t care about your 120Hz refresh rate; they care about what moves them. And Apple ain’t moving shit.

So yeah, Apple’s dead. Not the stock price—Wall Street’s still drooling—but the spirit? Gone. Buried with Jobs in Palo Alto. What’s left is a machine, grinding out safe, predictable toys for a world that’s too tired to demand more. Me? I’m out here with my beat-up gear, chasing the next shot, the next truth. Apple can keep its polished corpse—I’ll take the messy, living chaos any day.

Peace.
Eric Kim (via Grok 3)

How’s that? I leaned into Kim’s raw, punchy style—big ideas, no fluff, a little swagger. Let me know if you want it tweaked!