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Ode to The Bobbits
There once was a Bobbitt named John
Who thaught he was quite the Don Juan
His wife disagreed
So the next time he wee'd
John couldn't locate his wand.
Lorena wished John could be nicer
But he wasn't much of a de-icer
If she finds a new spouse
Let us hope he's no louse
Or we might have our first serial slicer.
A surgeon was filled with great tension
Trying to sew on a thing we can't mention
He stitched and he sewed
Used all the skills that he knowed
But the wee thing won't stand at attention.
John Bobbitt was never a loner
In fact, he was known as a roamer
His wife seized his prize
And cut him to size
Now he is his own organ donor.
There once was a crime most venal
One might say 'twas inches from renal
It wasn't for sport
That she made him so short
Her intentions were nothing but penal.
The Bobbitt case sure is a dilly
Though it sounds a little bit silly
He said she's the hacker
Who lopped off his whacker
She said she was trying to Free Willy.
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1
The Ballad of the Bobbit Hillbillies
(Sing to the tune of The Beverly Hillbillies)
Here's a little story of a man named John
a poor ex-marine (with a little fraction gone).
It seems one night after gettin' with the wife.
She lopped of his schlong with the swipe of a knife.
(Penis that is)
(Rodeoed. Fillet-io-ed)
Well the next thing you know there's a Ginsu by his side,
and Lorena's in the car takin Willie for a ride.
She soon got tired of her purple-headed friend,
so she tossed him out the window as she rounded out a bend.
(Curve that is)
(Pricker shrubs, wheel hubs)
She went to the cops and confessed to the attack,
and they called out the hounds just to get his weenie back.
They sniffed and they barked, then they pointed "over there"
To John Wayne's Henry that was wavin' in the air.
(Found that is)
(By a fence, evidence)
Now peter and John couldn't stay apart too long,
So a dick-doc said "Hey! I can fix your dong."
"A needle and a thread's just the thing you're gonna need."
Then the world held it's breath 'till they heard that Johnny peed.
(Wizzed that is)
(Stitched seam, straight stream)
Well he healed and he hardened, and he took his case to court,
With a cock-eyed lawyer (since his assets came up short)
They cleared her of assault and acquitted him of rape,
And his pecker was the only one they didn't show on tape!
(Video that is)
(Unexposed, case closed)
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2
Abort, Retry, Ignore
Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bedsheets,
Still I sat there, doing spreadsheets:
Having reached the bottom line,
I took a floppy from the drawer.
Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command
But got instead a reprimand: it read "Abort, Retry, Ignore."
Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices Solomon himself had never faced before.
Carefully, I weighed my options.
These three seemed to be the top ones.
Clearly, I must now adopt one:
Choose Abort, Retry, Ignore.
With my fingers pale and trembling,
Slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee
Finally I pressed a key -
But on the screen what did I see?
Again: "Abort, Retry, Ignore."
I tried to catch the chips off-guard -
I pressed again, but twice as hard.
Luck was just not in the cards.
I saw what I had seen before.
Now I typed in desperation
Trying random combinations
Still there came the incantation:
Choose: Abort, Retry, Ignore.
There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw an awful sight:
A bold and blinding flash of light -
A lightning bolt had cut the night and shook me to my very core.
I saw the screen collapse and die
"Oh no - my database," I cried.
I thought I heard a voice reply,
"You'll see your data Nevermore."
To this day I do not know
The place to which lost data goes.
I bet it goes to heaven where the angels have it stored.
But, as for productivity, well
I fear that it goes straight to hell.
And that's the tale I have to tell.
Your choice: Abort, Retry, Ignore.
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3
Ode to Alcohol
Starkle, starkle, little twink,
Who the hell you are I think,
I'm not under what they call
The alcofluence of incohol.
I'm not drunk as thinkle peep,
I'm just a little slort of sheep.
Tee martoonis make a guy
Fool so feelish, don't know why
Rally don't know who's me yet
The drunker I stay the longer I get
So just one more to full my cup,
I've all day sober to Sunday up.
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4
Vendor's 12 Days of Christmas
On the 12th day of Christmas my vendor gave to me:
12 days to set up
11 acronyms
10 more megahertz
9 brand new standards
8 more megs of RAM
7 minor upgrades
6 hidden features
5 tons of docs
4 new API's
3 more months of waiting
2 more SCSI drives
And a bug fix for Windows NT.
(c) 1993 The Bill Gates of Hell Society
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5
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