Two roosters in one of our pens 
               Found their pricks were no larger than wens. 
                    As they looked at their foreskins 
                    And wished they had more skins, 
               They discovered they'd both become hens. 

DR. SUESS ON PCS

If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port, 
and the bus is interrupted as a very last resort, 
and the address of the memory makes your floppy disk abort, 
then the socket packet pocket has an error to report.

If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash, 
and the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash, 
and your data is corrupted 'cause the index doesn't hash, 
then your situation's hopeless and your system's gonna crash!

If the label on the cable on the table at your house, 
says the network is connected to the button on your mouse, 
but your packets want to tunnel on another protocol, 
that's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall, 
and you screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss, 
so your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse, 
then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang, 
'cause as sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang!

When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy on the disk, 
and the microcode instructions cause unnecessary risk, 
then you have to flash your memory, and you'll want to RAM your ROM. 
Quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your mom.

Copyright © Gene Ziegler

Email: Gene_Ziegler@Cornell.edu

There was a young man from south Boston
Who's car was a small compact Austin.
There was just room inside
For his hair and his hide,
But his balls still hung out, so he lost 'em. 

THE MORNING SONG....FOR NON-MORNING PEOPLE

I woke early one morning,
The earth lay cool and still.
When suddenly a tiny bird,
Perch on my window sill.

He sang a song so lovely,
So carefree and so gay.
That slowly all my troubles,
Began to slip away.

He sang of far off places,
Of laughter and of fun.
It seemed his very trilling,
Brought up the morning sun.

I stirred beneath the covers,
Crept slowly out of bed.
And gently lowered the window,
And crushed his fucking head.

Robert

There once was a man named Houdini,
Who spilled some Gin on his weenie.
Said his date, "How uncouth!".
So he poured on some Vermouth,
And slipped the young girl a martini!

Sent by NINA