Itâs common knowledge that the greater and more vital an empire is, the grander and more stylish their haircuts. The ceasarsâ¦

What the hell? Clippy? Where did you come from? What is this, 1995?

Ohâ¦ godâ¦ dammit.

No, listen man: Iâve got work to do here, Iâve got a headache that would wound a god and youâre breaking my flow. Can you just, I donât know, fuck off for a while?

Ahh, fine. Yes, I suppose I would.

â¦ what?

Hey, man, Iâm sorry to hear â

OK! Jesus. I get it. You can stay; just keep out of my way, alright?

You uppity little bastard. I swear to Christ if you donât knock it off Iâll goddamn delete you.

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You wouldnât.

OK! You canâ¦ just do whatever, man. Iâve got to get back to work here. Just try not to be too intrusive. Where was I? Oh, rightâ¦

The Caesars ruled most of the known Earth in their day, and the rigid, firm lines of iron discipline in the Caesar Cut reflects this trend-

GODDAMMIT THAT IS IT.

Oh no, Clippy. Iâm not going to take you out. Youâre totally right. I canât touch you. But whatâs this? What are these subroutines here? C:/Windows/Programs/MS_word/Clippy/Family?

Your daughter, little Clippette, your boy, Clippy, Jr., even your wife Wendy is here. Funny, Iâve never seen them around. Must not be vital to the program, eh?