‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except Papa’s mouse.
The computer was humming, the icons were hopping,
As Papa did last-minute Internet shopping.

The stockings were hung by the modem with care
In hope that St. Nicholas would bring new software.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads.

PageMaker for Billy, and Quicken for Dan,
And Carmen Sandiego for Pamela Ann.
The letters to Santa had been sent out by Mom,
To santaclaus@toyshop.northpole.com -

Which has now been re-routed to Washington State
Because Santa’s workshop has been bought by Bill Gates.
All the elves and reindeer have had to skedaddle
To flashy new quarters in suburban Seattle.

After centuries of a life that was simple and spare,
St. Nicholas is suddenly a new billionaire,
With a shiny red Porsche in the place of his sleigh,
And a house on Lake Washington that’s just down the way

From where Bill has his mansion. The old fellow preens
In black Gucci boots and red Calvin Klein jeans.
The elves have stock options and desks with a view,
Where they write computer code for Johnny and Sue.

No more dolls or tin soldiers or little toy drums
Will be under the tree, only compact disk ROMS
With the Microsoft label. So spin up your drive,
From now on Christmas runs only on Win95.

More rapid than eagles the competitors came,
And Bill whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
“Now, ADOBE! now, CLARIS! now, INTUIT! too,
Now, APPLE! and NETSCAPE! you are all of you through,

It is Microsoft’s SANTA that the kids can’t resist,
It’s the ultimate software with a traditional twist -
Recommended by no less than the jolly old elf,
And on the package, a picture of Santa himself.

Get ‘em young, keep ‘em long, is Microsoft’s scheme,
And a merger with Santa is a marketer’s dream.
To the top of the NASDAQ! to the top of the Dow!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away – wow!”

And Mama in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The whir and the hum of our satellite platter,
As it turned toward that new Christmas star in the sky,
The SANTALITE owned by the Microsoft guy.
As I sprang from my bed and was turning around,
My computer turned on with a Jingle-Bells sound.

And there on the screen was a smiling Bill Gates
Next to jolly old Santa, two arm-in-arm mates.
And I heard them exclaim in voice so bright,
Have a MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS, and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.

I ain’t much for shopping,
Nor even goin’ into town -
Except at cattle-shipping time,
I ain’t easily found.

But the day came when I had to go
And I left the kids with ma.
But before I left she asked me,
“Would you pick me up a bra?”

Without thinkin’ I said “Sure,”
How tough could that job be?
I bent down and kissed her
And said, “I’ll be back by three.”

Well, when I done the things I needed,
I started to regret
Ever offering to buy that thing,
I was working up a sweat.

I crossed the street to the ladies shop
With my hat pulled over my eyes,
I wasn’t takin’ any chances
On bein’ recognized.

I walked up to the sales clerk -
I didn’t hem or haw -
I told the lady right straight out,
“Ma’am, I’m here to buy a bra.”

From behind I heard some snickers,
So I turned around to see
At least fifteen women in the store
And they’s all gawkin’ at me!

“What kind would you be looking for?”
“Well,” I just scratched my head.
I’d only seen one kind before
“Thought bras was bras,” I said.

She gives me a disgusted look,
“Well sir, that’s where you’re wrong.
Come with me,” I heard her say,
And like a dog, I tagged along.

She took me down this alley
Where bras was on display.
Well, I thought my jaw’d hit the floor
When I seen that lingerie.

They had all these different styles
That I’d not seen before
I thought that I’d go crazy
‘fore I left that women’s store.

They had bras you wear for eighteen hours
And bras that cross your heart.
There was bras that lift and separate,
And that was just the start.

They had bras that made you feel
Like you weren’t wearing one at all,
And bras that you can train in
When you start off when you’re small.

Well, I finally make my mind up -
Picked a black and lacy one -
I told the lady, “Bag it up,”
And figured I was done

But then she asked me for the size.
I didn’t hesitate.
I knew them measurements by heart,
“A six-and-seven-eighths.”

“Six and seven eighths, well sir,
That really isn’t right.”
“Oh, yes ma’am! Yeah, I’m positive,
I just measured them last night.”

I thought that she’d go into shock,
Musta took her by surprise
When I told her that my wife’s bust
Was the same as my hat size.

“That’s what I used to measure with,
I figured it was fair,
But if I’m wrong, I’m sorry ma’am.”
This drew another stare.

By now a crowd had gathered
And they’s all crackin’ up
When the lady asked to see my hat,
To measure for the cup.

When she finally had it figured,
I gave the gal her pay.
Then I turned to leave the store,
Tipped my hat and said, “Good day.”

My wife heard the whole story
‘fore I ever made it home.
She’d talked to fifteen women
Who’d called her on the phone.

She was still a-laughin’
But by then I didn’t care.
Now she don’t ask and I don’t shop
For no more women’s underwear.

6 7/8 or there abouts…

                       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.

My forgetter’s getting better,
But my rememberer is broke
To you that may seem funny
But, to me, that is no joke

For when I’m “here” I’m wondering
If I really should be “there”
And, when I try to think it through,
I haven’t got a prayer!

Oft times I walk into a room,
Say “what am I here for?”
I wrack my brain, but all in vain!
A zero, is my score.

At times I put something away
Where it is safe, but, Gee!
The person it is safest from
Is, generally, me!

When shopping I may see someone,
Say! “Hi” and have a chat,
Then, when the person walks away
I ask myself, “Who was that?”

Yes, my forgetter’s getting better
While my rememberer is broke,
And it’s driving me plumb crazy
And that isn’t any joke.

There is a chasm
of carbon and silicon
the software can’t bridge.

Yesterday it worked
Today it is not working
Windows is like that

To have no errors
Would be life without meaning
No struggle, no joy

You step in the stream,
but the water has moved on.
This page is not here.

No keyboard present
Hit F1 to continue
Zen engineering?

Hal, open the file
Hal, open the damn file, Hal
Open the file, please Hal

Out of memory.
We wish to hold the whole sky,
But we never will.

Having been erased,
The document you’re seeking
Must now be retyped.

The ten thousand things
How long do any persist?
Netscape, too, has gone.

Rather than a beep
Or a rude error message,
These words: “File not found.”

Serious error.
All shortcuts have disappeared
Screen. Mind. Both are blank.

The Web site you seek
cannot be located but
countless others exist

Three things are certain:
Death, taxes, and lost data.
Guess which has occurred.

Everything is gone;
Your life’s work has been destroyed.
Squeeze trigger (yes/no)?

Windows Seven crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.

Seeing my great fault
Through darkening blue windows
I begin again

The code was willing,
It considered your request,
But the chips were weak.

Printer not ready.
Could be a fatal error.
Have a pen handy?

A file that big?
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.

Errors have occurred.
We won’t tell you where or why.
Lazy programmers.

Server’s poor response
Not quick enough for browser.
Timed out, plum blossom.

Just a line to say I’m living,
That I’m not among the dead.
Though I’m getting more forgetful
And more mixed up in the head.

For sometimes I can’t remember,
When I stand at foot of stairs,
If I must go up for something,
Or if I’ve just come down from there.

And before the fridge so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt
Have I just put food away?…or
Have I come to take some out?

And there’s times when it is dark out,
With my night cap on my head
I don’t know if I’m retiring
Or just getting out of bed.

So…if it’s my turn to write you
There’s no need of getting sore,
I may think that I have written
And don’t want to be a bore!!

So, remember..I do love you
And I wish that you were here,
But now it’s nearly mail time,
So I must say good-bye my dear.

There I stood beside the mail box
With a face so very red
Instead of mailing you my letter,
I had opened it instead!!

My bifocals fit – my dentures are fine
My hearing aid works…but ..I do miss my mind!!!

– Author Unknown