Sunday, February 23, 2014

Man oh man old man I am

 









I still have a tool, it's called a slide rule
It's powered by porridge and steak
It slides back and forth on the flick of a whim
And calculates wealth oft with scorn

I have too a board and a t-square to boot
And angles and curves which can draw
Mansions with gold faucets and huge walk in closets
At scales of one thousand to one

My efforts at schooling were driven by yearning
For knowledge of cathodes that glowed
With a punch card inserted they'd give you the gigo
When loops just had no where to go

My commodore sixteen was hooked to the tv
The numbers came live on the screen
Games were envisioned with wild contusions
Till the memory was thrashed for the crash

Learned booting with floppies, dos pirated from Gates
Used Basic as the backdrop for programing
Silly paradigms with no hope of reward, so
Succumbed to compilers but my dog chewed them up

First cads were a nightmare, they should have been outlawed
Just took my computer and pawned it for greenbacks
And took my dog fishing, him with his floppies
Now that I'm ancient I just use it for porn


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