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Today's poems [3.10.09]

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There was a young man of Datchet 
               Who cut off his prick with a hatchet. 
                    Then very politely 
                    He sent it to Whitely, 
               And ordered a cunt that would match it. 

               "There is a young girl here at Vassar 
               And none, for your needs, could surpass her. 
                    But she cannot detach it 
                    And much less dispatch it. 
               You'll still have to bach it. Alas, sir!" 


Something  --  by Beatles
Something in the way it fails,
Defies the algorithm's logic!
Something in the way it coredumps...

I don't want to leave it now
I'll fix this problem somehow

Somewhere in the memory I know,
A pointer's got to be corrupted.
Stepping in the debugger will show me...

I don't want to leave it now
I'm too close to leave it now

You're asking me can this code go?
I don't know, I don't know...
What sequence causes it to blow?
I don't know, I don't know...

Something in the initializing code?
And all I have to do is think of it!
Something in the listing will show me...

I don't want to leave it now
I'll fix this tonight I vow!


Part 2 of 12
                    He could vary, with proper persuasion,
                    His fart to suit any occasion.
                            He could fart like a flute,
                            Like a lark, like a lute,
                    This highly fartistic Caucasian.


               A pathetic appellant at Reno 
               Was as chaste as the holy Bambino, 
                    For she'd married a slicker 
                    Who stuck to his liquor 
               And scorned her ripe maraschino


There was once a sad Maitre d'hotel 
            Who said, "They can all go to hell! 
                What they do to my wife--- 
                Why it ruins my life; 
            And the worst is, they all do it well." 


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