Modern Love Poem A Trite Redundant Poem With a Laughable Excuse For a Structure Addressed To Absolutely No One in Particular and Whose Only Redeeming Value is That It's Short a.k.a. A Modern Love Poem My dearest darling with long dark hair and eyes azure, My love for you is eternal, tried, and sure. I stare into the infinite depths of your eyes, But I often find my gaze directed at your thighs. Everyone appreciates your unsurpassed beauty and grace, Your perfect supple form and enchanting face. Some say beauty is fleeting, and boy do I agree. Your personality sucks, so when you're 40, with you I will not be. My sweet, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways... One...uh...one...hmm...number one...gimme a chance... how about the way your body sways? Let me once more restate my love for you. 65% of the time, to you I'm true. There is no other woman with whom I lay, At least, not at this particular time of day. My dear, you're absolutely the best. How 'bout accompanying me to the next Centralfest? (That is, unless I don't have another date) The events that brought us together must have been fate. I love you, I love you, I love you. You're the greatest, Jenny, I mean Cherry, I mean Sue. Send this poem to a friend 1 Ten Little Gigabytes Ten little gigabytes, waiting on line one caught a virus, then there were nine. Nine little gigabytes, holding just the date, someone jambed a write protect, then there were eight. Eight little gigabytes, should have been eleven, then they cut the budget, now there are seven. Seven little gigabytes, involved in mathamatics stored an even larger prime, now there are six. Six little gigabytes, working like a hive, one died of overwork, now there are five. Five little gigabytes, trying to add more plugged in the wrong lead, now there are four. Four little gigabytes, failing frequently, one used for spare parts, now there are three. Three little gigabytes, have too much to do service man on holiday, now there are two. Two little gigabytes, badly over run, took the work elsewhere, now just need one. One little gigabyte, systems far too small shut the whole thing down, now there's none at all. Send this poem to a friend 2 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 Send this poem to a friend 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. Send this poem to a friend 4 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. Send this poem to a friend 5
