giza | The Evolution of Hard Drives (Contains some profanity) (Reply)

Fuck Everything, We're Doing Five Platters Would someone tell me how this happened? We were the fucking vanguard of disk drives in this country. The Seagate Cheetah was the disk to own. Then the other guy came out with a two-standard disk. Were we scared? Hell, no. Because we hit back with a little thing called the ST-506. That's two-standards and an extra channel. For speed. But you know what happened next? Shut up, I'm telling you what happened--the bastards went to three standards. Now we're standing around with our cocks in our hands, selling two platters and an extra channel. Speed or no, suddenly we're the chumps. Well, fuck it. We're going to five platters. Sure, we could go to three platters next, like the competition. That seems like the logical thing to do. After all, three worked out pretty well, and four is the next number after three. So let's play it safe. Let's make a wider channel and call it the Cheetah turbo. Why innovate when we can follow? Oh, I know why: Because we're a business, that's why! You think it's crazy? It is crazy. But I don't give a shit. From now on, we're the ones who have the edge in the multi-side game. Are they the best a man can get? Fuck, no. Seagate is the best a man can get. What part of this don't you understand? If two sides is good, and three sides is better, obviously five sides would make us the best fucking disk that ever existed. Comprende? We didn't claw our way to the top of the disk game by clinging to the two-platter industry standard. We got here by taking chances. Well, five platters is the biggest chance of all. Here's the report from Engineering. Someone put it in the bathroom: I want to wipe my ass with it. They don't tell me what to invent--I tell them. And I'm telling them to stick two more sides in there. I don't care how. Make the platters so thin they're invisible. Put some on the outside. I don't care if they have to cram the fifth platter in perpendicular to the other four, just do it! You're taking the "safety" part of "safety disk" too literally, grandma. Cut the strings and soar. Let's hit it. Let's roll. This is our chance to make disk history. Let's dream big. All you have to do is say that five platters can happen, and it will happen. If you aren't on board, then fuck you. And if you're on the board, then fuck you and your father. Hey, if I'm the only one who'll take risks, I'm sure as hell happy to hog all the glory when the five- platter disk becomes the storage tool for the U.S. of "this is how we shave now" A. People said we couldn't go to three. It'll cost a fortune to manufacture, they said. Well, we did it. Now some egghead in a lab is screaming "Five's crazy?" Well, perhaps he'd be more comfortable in the labs at Toshiba, working on fucking electrics. Rotary platters, my white ass! Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we should just ride in Sony's wake and make shitty game consoles. Ha! Not on your fucking life! The day I shadow a penny-ante outfit like Sony is the day I leave the disk game for good, and that won't happen until the day I die! The market? Listen, we make the market. All we have to do is put her out there with a little jingle. It's as easy as, "Hey, saving with anything less than five plattess is like scraping your beard off with a dull hatchet." Or "You'll be so smooth, I could snort lines off of your ide cable." I know what you're thinking now: What'll people say? Mew mew mew. Oh, no, what will people say?! Grow the fuck up. When you're on top, people talk. That's the price you pay for being on top. Which Seagate is, always has been, and forever shall be, Amen, five platters, sweet Jesus in heaven. Stop. I just had a stroke of genius. Are you ready? Open your mouth, baby birds, cause Mama's about to drop you one sweet, fat nightcrawler. Here she comes: Put another channel on that fucker, too. That's right. Five platters, two channels, and make the second one SCSI. You heard me--the second strip is SCSI. It's a whole new way to think about data storage. Don't question it. Don't say a word. Just key the music, and call the chorus girls, because we're on the edge--the razor's edge--and I feel like dancing.