Do you remember punch cards stacked on a college desk
Do you remember print outs stacked up so very statuesque
Do you remember the compiler in the basement lab
Do you remember I thought it was four spaces not a tab

By the way didn't I fix that bug?
Please excuse me, I really meant to fix that bug
So sorry, I really meant to fix that bug
Cause you fixed mine

Margaret is it too soon to say it’s working
And Margaret should we get it to complete once again?
I just can't go on pretending I got it the first time you explained

Margaret, oh I never thought we’d miss it
Though Margaret we’ve been working on it since yesterday noon,
We said the code would run forever
We’d get that lander onto the Moon

Do you remember Skylab in the night with shooting stars
Do you remember late night engineering seminars
Do you remember Apollo almost reached it’s moment of “NO GO”
Do you remember how you skipped information overflow

By the way didn't I fix that bug?
Please excuse me, I really meant to fix that bug
So sorry, I really meant to fix that bug
Cause you fixed mine

Margaret I just wanna see it work once
But Margaret I'm too scared to press the RUN key
To hear you've found another infinite loop
That bungs up this system logic tree

Margaret I'm still trying to fix that routine
Margaret it’s much harder now this backtrace’s byzantine
Maybe it will prove that we were right
Or just prove we need more caffeine

(For Amorphia Apparel, who made this awesome shirt by request, and the first part of a proposed musical call, yes, “Hamilton”…)

Aug 31, 2017 under Poetry Cornered

’Twas the Night Before Canada Day

'Twas the night before Canada Day, when all through the igloo
Not a hoser was stirring, not even for a brew-
The snowshoes were hung by the outhouse with care,
In hopes that @jdalrymple soon would be there;

The mooselings were nestled all snug in their holes;
With visions of grizzly bears dancing on some po—
Wait, that was me…
And mamma in her goalie helmet, and I in my Rush shirt,
Had just finished a two-four, we weren't feelin' any hurt,

When out on the snow there arose such a fuss,
I sprang from my hammock, hockey hair all a-mussed,
And what to my wandering eye did appear,
But a giant toboggan pulled by eight cans of beer,

With a big furry driver so grouchy and grim
I knew in a moment he must be St. Jim.
More rapid than curling stones his coursers they came,
And he slurred, and burped, and called them by names:

"Now, Heineken! now, Heineken! now Heineken and Heineken!
On, Heineken! on, <burp!> Heineken! on, Heineken and <toot!> Heineken!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the stair!
C'mon, brother, you can carry me, I'm all gas, mostly air!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard by the outhouse
The stumbling and staggering, like a bull moose and spouse!
As I stuck out my head, I'd never heard worse:
In the crapper door came St. Jim with a curse.

He was dressed all in beard, from his head to his foot,
And his "clothes" were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of iWatches he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a hobo who'd lost at the track.

His eyes—they were dark, like a moon hidden by eclipse!
His cheeks were like bearskins, his nose over his lips!
His big grinning mouth spread from ear to ear,
And the hair on his chin was all sticky with beer;

The stump of a smoke he chomped tight like a log,
The smoke encircled his head just like Toronto smog;
He had a furry face and a furrier belly—
Jeez, I wished he'd worn a shirt, even if it were smelly…

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his task,
And first stole all the snowshoes, then a swig from his flask,
And laying his hand on the back of his hip,
His back it did creak, and he muttered "Aw, shit…"

He lurched to his 'boggan, to his team gave a fart,
And away they all flew like a wobbly lawn dart.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove them away—
"Happy fuckin' Canada Day to all, now take off, eh?"

Jun 30, 2014 under Poetry Cornered


I. Overture
"And the licensed shall inherit the earth."

II. Radio of iTunes
We've taken care of everything
The tunes you hear
The Boards you Spring
The pictures that give (App Store reviewer approved) pleasure
To your eye
All for one, yes—All. For. One.
Curate together
Average ratings
Never need to wonder
How or why

We are the Curators, of the Radio, of iTunes
Our great computers fill the tiniest pockets.
We are the Curators, of the Radio, of iTunes
All the gifts of life are charged by micro sockets.

Look around this world we made
Build quality our stock in trade
Come and join the Bro'hood of Steve

Oh what a nice contented world
Let the WWDC banners be unfurled
Hold the (Red) 5c proudly high WWDC eve.

We are the Curators, of the Radio, of iTunes
Our great computers fill the sweatiest hand.
We are the Curators, of the Radio, of iTunes
All the gifts of life—hey, don't interrupt the 3G band!

III. Discovery
What can this strange device be?
When I tap it, it gives forth a sound
It's got a scrollwheel and hard disk and playlists
But no streaming services to be found…?

See how it sings into its earbuds
And joyously shuffles songs
Prog riffs build high like a mountain
Goddamn, I wish I had my bong…

I can't wait to share this new wonder
The people will all see its light
Let them all share their own iMix
The Curators'll Ping my name on this night.

IV. Presentation
I know it's most unusual
To come before you so
But I've found an ancient iMiracle
I thought that you should know

Listen to this music
And see what it can cost
Look at these textures, this typography
Mere pixels, yet looks embossed!

Yes, we know it's nothing new
It's just a waste of time
We have no need for skeuomorphic ways
It's just a user interface crime

Another toy that helped destroy
The hearing range of man
Forget about your silly "pod",
We've already chosen, you—we know better than.

I can't believe you're saying
Some things are better bought than streamed

Our world could use this beauty
Our own music, not recommended by some fiend.

Listen to this music
It's purchased, mine forever
I can listen to it all day long
Even if my wifi is severed.

Don't annoy us further
Rented music is the way
Just think about the average
Why should they be expected to pay?

Another toy that helped destroy
The hearing range of man
If we decide we don't like your songs
We'll remove them—yes we can!

V. Oracle: The Dream
I wandered home though the silent streets
The Maps app had got me lost with its deceits

Escape to realms beyond the night
Flashlight app can't you give me some light?

I sit inside a self-driving car
An oracle confronts me there
GPS leads me on light years away
To locovore markets, Starbucks cafés

I see gatefold sleeves, with triple panes
Grooves worn out, yet no one complains

Long avourite songs, no one's disdain,
A lyric sheet, lovingly bent and stained

They left the planet long ago
Their campus spaceship left us all below

Their power grows with chargers strong
To claim the home where they belong
Home, to tear the monopoly down…
Home, to change…

VI. Soliloquy
The sleep is still in my eyes
The Glass is still on my head

I grab some fridgetoast and sadly smile
And tap the app to make my bed

I wish these earbuds had some bass
And that these labels weren't all lower case…

Just think of what my phone might be
With a gigabyte library like I have seen

I don't think I can carry on
Carry on this cold and empty algorithm

My signal is low and the depths of despair
My last coffee cup spills over…

VII. The Grand Finale
Attention all Vendors of the Open Handset Alliance
Attention all Vendors of the Open Handset Alliance

Tizen has assumed control
Tizen has assumed control
Tizen has assumed control

Jun 2, 2014 under Rush, under Poetry Cornered

Apache Server

Well they screwed up the back end dev in the repo last night now they screwed up his workflow too
Down in the conference room they're gettin' ready for a fight gonna see what them JavaScript boys can do

Now there's trouble bustin' in from outta RESTful states and the P.M. can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out on the foosball deck and the QA lead's hangin' on by the skin of her teeth

Everything times out, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that times out someday comes back
Switch your caching on fix your CSS with fervor and push it tonight to the Apache server

Well I got my specs and tried to pull my requests
But I got bugs that no honest dev can fix
So I patched what I could, checked it in Firefox
And I bought us that upgrade on that virtual box

Now our process may have died and our docs may be old but with you forever I'll stay
We're goin' out where the market's turnin' to gold so mock up your UI cause the coffee's getting cold and maybe everything times out
That's a fact but maybe everything that times out someday comes back

Now I been lookin' for a library but it's hard to find
Down here it's just JavaScript and PHP and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well I'm tired of comin' out on the losin' end
So honey last night I found this .git and I'm gonna do a little pull with it

Everything times out, baby, that's a fact
But maybe everything that times out someday comes back
Switch your caching on fix your .htaccess with fervor and push it tonight to the Apache server
Push it tonight to the Apache server
Push it tonight to the Apache server…

Nov 22, 2013 under Blues, under Poetry Cornered

Working on the Weekend

Everyone’s watchin’ to see if you can ship,
Everyone’s waitin’ for you, Oh shi—…
Everyone’s wonderin’ did you catch all the “lorem ipsum”
Cos everyone’s worried, you’re gonna make ’em look dumb, look dumb…

Everybody’s workin’ on the weekend
Cos somebody forgot to test IE
Hey yeah…!
Everybody’s goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs some extra pants, Oh

You done stabbin’ me in my heart?
You better brew a new batch from the start
You wanna go home to the kids?
C’mon baby, alias all the NIDs…

Everyone’s lookin’ to see if it the images fit
Everyone wants you to add Typekit,
Hey yeah,
Everyone’s hopin’ you can fix it in JavaScript
Everyone’s waitin’ to scarf the last chocolate dipped

Everybody’s workin’ on the weekend
Everybody misses their own beds,
Hey yeah
Everybody’s puttin’ content in the wrong place
Everybody’s lookin’ just a little spaced,
Oh woe

You wanna go home tonight
You better get IE to look right
You wanna fix that touch event
Aw fuck you Safari, get bent!


Oct 23, 2013 under Poetry Cornered

Working on the Weekend

Everyone's watching to see which bugs you fix
Everyone's looking at the queue, oh woe…
Everyone's wondering will you deploy tonight
Everyone's trying to launch it right, launch it right

Everybody's working on the weekend
Everybody’s wearing their unwashed pants
Everybody's long gone off the deep end
Everybody’s forking a second branch, oh woe…

You want a little sip of my coffee?
Make sure your commit log ain't sloppy
You want me to let you go home?
C'mon monkey, check it in Chrome!

Everyone's wondering where's that content you had
Everyone wants you to make it less bad, oh woe
Everyone's hoping you edited the right node
Everyone's waiting for the changes to load

Everybody's working on the weekend
Not everybody is even wearing pants, hey yeah
Everybody's going off the deep end
Everybody’s doin’ the Blame Shift Dance, oh ho!

You need a little shot of my booze?
Better not let me see you snooze
You can't get your updates to show?
Aw baby, I think we got let go…


You want a piece of my heart?
You better start from the start
You want to be in the show?
C'mon baby, let's go

You want a piece of my heart?
You better start from the start
You want to be in the show?
C'mon baby, let's go

Sep 22, 2013 under Poetry Cornered


Cachin’ Cachin’ Cachin’

Keep testin’, testin’, testin’,
Doritos we are ingestin’,
Keep them templates testin’
Don’t try to understand it,
Just try, catch, var_dump it
When you wrote this had you glue sniffed?
Man, this function’s regurgitatin’
But some booze will be a-waitin’,
A-waiting at the end of my shift.

Move ’em on, queue ’em up,
Queue ’em up, move ’em out,
Move ’em on, queue ’em up
Set ’em up, file ’em in
File ’em in, push ’it out,
Cut it out, file ’em in

Cachin’, cachin’, cachin’
Cachin’, cachin’, cachin’

Cachin’, cachin’, cachin’
Though the error log’s a-swollen
Keep them servers cachin’
That theme was cobbled together,
Hell-bent for leather
Wishin’ my iPhone was by my side.
All the things I’m missin’,
Webkit, love, and kissin’,
Are waiting once the buglist does subside…

Move ’em on, queue ’em up,
Queue ’em up, move ’em out,
Move ’em on, queue ’em up
Set ’em up, file ’em in
File ’em in, push ’it out,
Cut it out, file ’em in

Keep testin’, testin’, testin’,
Acetaminophen we are ingestin’,
Keep that module testin’
Don’t try to understand it,
Just try, catch, var_dump it
Wishin’ my iPhone was by my side.
All the things I’m missin’,
Webkit, love, and kissin’,
Are waiting for this dude to abide…


Jun 22, 2013 under Poetry Cornered

Square Icons

Square icons go on every screen
Square icons are the boss
Square icons on the shiny OS
Square icons got no gloss
Square icons are the latest thing
Square icons take the cake
Square icons gonna be everywhere
Square icons got nothing fake

Sometimes pushing beziers around
Sometimes pulling out the rug
Sometimes pushing all the buttons
Sometimes looking oh so smug
It's the power and the glory
Getting kicked out of paradise
It's a cinderella story
They no longer look like dice

Square icons got sharp corners
Square icons it's not like you can choose
Square icons got no woodgrain texture
Square icons cut, don't bruise
Square icons show no pictures
Square icons all the rage
Square icons losing all their colour
Square icons grey and beige

Sometimes building walled gardens
Sometimes ripping denim down
Sometimes building you an app store
Lock you underground
It's no old-time religion
It's the morph they would skeuo
It's the fool at the dev conf
Getting paid to play the fool

Square icons for every app
Square icons give and take
Square icons for your own good
Square icons, make no mistakes!
Square icons sure look heavy handed
Square icons by Jan Tschichold

Square icons look like Windows Phone
Square icons got no soul...

[bwaa bwaa bwaaaaa {keyboard solo!}]

Jun 10, 2013 under Poetry Cornered, under Rush

The Spirit of WWDC

Begin the keynote
With a friendly voice,
A CEO, unobtrusive
Shows those sales figures, so elusive
And the payment total makes your morning mood

Off on your way
Hit the afternoon sessions,
There is magic at your fingers
For the notifications ever linger,
Demanding contact 
In your earbudded solitude.

Invisible wifi
Crackles with life
Bright antennae bristle
With the energy
(You're still holding it wrong!)
Emotional feedback
On 3G wavelength
Bearing four bars, a gift beyond price-
Almost free...

All this machinery
Making modern mobile apps
Can still be open-hearted
Signups so coldly charted
It's really just a question
Of your API
Yeah your API

One likes to believe
In the freedom of non-DRM'd content,
But glittering prizes
And endless tablet compromises
Shatter the illusion
Of sustained user engagement

"For the words of the profits,
Are projected on the theatre wall,
Session halls -
Echo with the sounds...
Of salesmen."

Jun 10, 2013 under Rush, under Poetry Cornered

Skeuomorphic Man

He's a Limey and a lover
His hardware's turning green
He's a middle-aged romantic
Wants to run the big machine

He's got a problem with his linens
But you know he'll find a cure
He's cleaning up his systems
To keep his icons pure

Learning to match the beat of the Windows Phone man
Learning to catch the heat of the BlackBerry man

He's got to clean up your mistakes
And learn to mend the mess you've made
He's old enough to know what's right
So you don't have to choose it
He's rich enough to win the world
His 30% "tax" can make them lose it -

He's no skeuuuuuuomoooooorphic maaaaan...

He's added radio receivers
Built in factories with ARMs
He's a poet and a teacher
And a bald man with burly arms
He's got a problem with his power
But he'll charge it on the dock
He's got to draw a fine line
Or up his design's they'll cock

Trying to save the day for the feature phone hicks
Trying to pave the way for the iPhone Six
He's not concerned with yesterday
He knows constant change is here today
He's smart enough to know what's right
And you don't get to choose it
He's wise enough to win the world
But man, Forstall really made him lose it

He's no skeuuuuuuomoooooorphic maaaaan...

Jun 6, 2013 under Rush, under Poetry Cornered

Tim Cook

A supply chain warrior
Lean mean stride,
Today's Tim Cook's
Got a mean stock slide.
Though his software's not for rent,
Don't put him down as arrogant.
His reserve, a quiet defense,
Riding out the market's events.
The market…

What you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
-Catch the MacBook -Catch the iPad
-Catch the iPhone -Wait, it's just a fad!
The world is, the world is,
Dumptrucks full of cash are deep,
Maybe as his arms are wide.

Today's Tim Cook,
His stock's down, it's true,
But the product space he invades
’Soft can't buy from you.

No, his OS's aren't for rent
To any OEM or on the Internet.
Always suffering your discontents,
He knows changes aren't permanent,
But tv rumors are…

What you say about his company
Is what you say about society.
-Catch the tv -Catch the iWatch,
-Catch the exception -Need a belt of scotch!
The world is, the world is,
Passbook wallets are deep,
Maybe NFC was tried?

Exit the keynote,
Today's Tim Cook,
The stock gets high on you,
And the money you trade,
Business Insider, you done got played!

Jun 6, 2013 under Rush, under Poetry Cornered


Sprawling on the fringes of the GVA
In geometric mandate
An insulated candidate
In between the bright lights
And the far unlit electorate

Campaigning it all seems so one-sided
Resumes all provided
The future pre-decided
Detached and subdivided
In the Translink fare paid zone
Nowhere is the voter
Or the other voter
Or the other voter
Or the other voter
Or the other voter so alone

(Not seen) In the high school halls
(Not seen) In the shopping malls
Conform to the party platform or be cast out
(Not seen) On the mountain tops
(Not seen) In the coffee shops
Be online or be cast out

Any honest mistranslation might help to smooth
The unattractive truth
But the suburbs have no charms to soothe
The restless dreams of the power hungry and craven
(Except @scronide, he's a charming mofo!)

Drawn like hipsters we drift into the city
The timeless old Scienceworld attraction
Cruising for a latte
Lit up like a firefly
Just to see a winner on Election Night

Some will sell out their teams for small desires
Or lose the race to Libs
Get caught in unsafe cribs
And start to dream of Coquitlam
To relax their restless flight from St Lucia

Somewhere out of an unverified but holy smokes this transcript from 2005! memory
Of lighted streets or quiet Twitter streams...

May 28, 2013 under Rush, under Poetry Cornered

Adobe Creative Cloud

Better rifle through your wallet,
Dontcha be too proud,
Cos you’re all gonna subscribe,
To the ’Dobe Creative Cloud!

Gonna get real used
To the Updater interface,
Which app’ll finish first?
It’s a marathon, not a race!

Think you got some wifi?
Think you got some speed?
Better up your monthly ’llowance,
Always have less than you’ll need.

Say, the update’s ready?
Ha ha, we sure fooled you!
It failed at three in the morning,
How come? Like we have a clue?

Every silver lining has a cloud,
And sometimes the reverse is true;
But one thing we know for sure,
This Cloud’s a-gonna piss on you…

May 6, 2013 under Poetry Cornered, under Blues

WordPress Blues

@petethedude’s nerves are fraying,
This code’s gonna get a trebucheting,
When no one wins, ev’ryone’ll lose,
He’s got the Wordpress Blues

Settings don’t stick,
(Paid) theme don’t work.
Time to cut some cruft,
Look out! He’s reaching for his dirk!

The templating’s all whack,
He’s about to blow his stack.
PM asks for one more widget,
See his eyelid start to fidget…

About to cry, like a new-born babe,
Or foam at the mouth like a rab-
Id animal, it’s like a Carnival Cruise,
When you got the WordPress Blues.

Apr 8, 2013 under Poetry Cornered, under Blues

Adobe Updater Blues

Get on your knees, you lowly supplicator,
Prepare to run the Adobe App Updater,
Better make a little prayer, better leave a little offering,
Say, got yer soul handy? Time for a proffering.

Is that a lousy rhyme? You’ll find a better one,
Lots of time left ’fore the first download is done,
Now you know what they say, a watched pot never—
Whoops! Timeout error,  it’s a futile endeavour!

Now the updater’s downloaded something to install,
A manager for updates, for a manager, you recall,
Double click the icon, you’re almost halfway there,
Halfway? Well, maybe a third, shy a hair.

Now don’t forget these add-ons, they’ll really make you happy,
For your browser? And some spyware? They’re really quite face-slappy!

Before you proceed, you’d better quit your browser,
Don’t want you to see the help forums,
Uh, you’re gonna need clean trousers,
By now you’re full of regret, we bet—
Are you missing Flash yet?

Mar 19, 2013 under Blues, under Poetry Cornered

WordPress Blues

Well I stepped in some shit,
With holes in my shoes,
An’ I didn’t even care,
Cos I got the Wordpress Blues.

My dog up and croaked,
But mister, there’s worse news,
It stripped out all my <p> tags,
Lord, spare me the Wordpress Blues.

’Ere’s rain coming through the ceiling,
& smoke coming out the flues,
Someone hardcoded ’ese goddamned ID’s,
Sir, I got the WordPress Blues.

’Ere ain’t no booze in the cupboard,
& only vegetables in the stews,
’Ese user permissions are a crock o’ shit,
Dammit, you WordPress Blues!

Well, sometimes my cat pees on the floor,
& sometimes, well, he poos,
But I’ll take ’at any day o’ the week,
Over all these WordPress Blues!

Feb 16, 2013 under Blues, under Poetry Cornered

Internet Explorer Blues

Internet Explorer,
You're making my head sorer,
From all the damage to my layout
That you do…

Internet Explorer,
I tremble at the horror,
That z-planing looks like something
I stepped in with my shoe…

Internet Explorer,
That's output from a corn-borer,
I hit the refresh a hundred,
A thousand times…

Internet Explorer,
Be grateful I'm no juror,
Your margins and floats are
As elegant as my rhymes…

[kazoo solo]

Now, Internet Explorer,
Time to call the house restorer,
Cause I've got an axe
Like that guy in The Shining…

Oh, whoah, Internet Explorer,
My boss needs a bullroarer,
To drown out my griping and whining,
My rage is red-lining,
Beyond defining,
It's time for a side-lining.

A bad ending I'm divining,
If you don't fix that whack aligning!
There's no silver lining,
I'm well beyond declining
To support yooouuuuuuu…!

Dec 5, 2012 under Blues, under Poetry Cornered

WordPress Blues

Aw, screw you, WordPress
I did not need this duress
Just upload my goddamned file
That beach ball's been spinning for more than a while.

Jeez, it looks like you got stuck
And I was just about to—FUCK!
Why are you inserting that tag?
Working with you's like bathing in a quag-
Mire. This is dire.

Why is this always such a bloody scrimmage?
All I want is to post this section
I'm certainly losing my—

—Well that was unexpected
The permalink gets misdirected
The path is broken, the page unfound
And I am howling like a hound.

You're the IE7 of CMSs, WP…

Oct 18, 2012 under Blues, under Poetry Cornered

WordPress Blues

Ah got me the WordPress Blues, yes ah do, yes ah do…
Cos I woke up this morning, an’ I entered some code…

…But when I saw what you’d done, things did not well bode
You chopped out my <p>, an’ I was too sick to laugh… (that’s a rhyme, foax…)

…Ah was trying to sort, and yew made me ready for le Morte
d’Arthur. Your widgets so tiny, an’ my hand all sweaty an’ shiny…

…You screwed me for the last time, Wordpress, you screwed me for the last time
Til Monday. Blue Monday… (Kazoo solo)…

…Rock over London, rock on Chicago! Drupal: it just works!

Sep 22, 2012 under Blues, under Poetry Cornered

A Young Person’s PHP Primer

A is for array,
    with values and keys;
B is for boolean,
    true or false, don’t tease!

C is for constant,
    defined only once;
So you’d better get it right,
    coz D is for dunce.

E is for exception,
    something you can catch,
F is foreach,
    time to run a batch!

G is for global,
    else the var’s out of reach;
H is for hash,
    not encryption, I teach.

I is for if,
    let us ponder, and wonder,
J is for JSON,
    so your front end knuckles under.

K is for key,
    which orders your arrays,
L is for leak,
    it’s been one of those days…

M is for memory,
    too quickly disbursed,
N is for .NET,
    see? your life could be worse!

O is for object,
    made of classes, it’s true;
P is for print,
    which you should never do.

Q is for query,
    run as many as you want!
R is for regex,
    (you are using a monospaced font?)

S is for switch,
    a fast way to check it,
T is for timezone,
    don’t forget to set it!

U is for unset,
    I’m sure you’ll forget,
V is for variable,
    slippery, dry or wet.

W is for while,
    a chance to relax,
X is for XML,
    as fun as paying your tax.

Y is the big one,
    when there’s ColdFusion, and Ruby;
Z is for Zend,
    now you’re no longer the newbie!

May 20, 2012 under Poetry Cornered

Sales Are Off the Charts

(In Tim Cook’s office:)
‘And the man who holds the stock options
Must be the one to start
To injection mould a new reality,
Our sales are off the charts!’

(At RIM World HQ:)
‘The Blackberry and the PlayBook,
Aren’t being added to the carts!
We’re feeling kinda hosed right now,
Our sales are dropping like a dart!’

(At the Googleplex:)
‘Solicitors and Attourneys,
Each must know his part
To cover up the “inspiration”,
Their sales are off the charts… :-(’

(On the Windows 8 team:)
‘Oh, woe, you can block the gui,
And I’ll erase the “Start”,
Fading into irrelevancy,
Their sales are off the chart…’

Apr 25, 2012 under Rush, under Poetry Cornered

Office 2007

Here I sit, sending myself mail;
I pray you, Outlook, please don't fail;
You have no margin, your padding, weak;
I just want a border, am *I* the freak?

The size is wrong, that's much too large;
The CD'll say it looks like a barge;
The leading's off, but that's okay;
You've spited me enough today.

That's supposed to be centered, you piece of crap;
No, that should have been inside the wrap!
There's extra space, I mean, what the fuck?
Never mind the links, I'm out of luck.

I curse you, forever, Office 2007!
Even Yahoo mail is looking like heaven,
My hair is grey, my patience gone,
I click one last send, and again you've won.

Sep 30, 2011 under QA Hell, under Poetry Cornered

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Patent Lawsuit

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the fax of the patent lawsuit.

I was of three minds,
Like a blog post
In which there are three patent lawsuits.

The patent lawsuit whirled in the blogosphere.
It was a small part of the pantomime.

An OS and an OEM
Are one.
An OS and an OEM and a patent lawsuit
Are one.

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The patent lawsuit settling
Or just after.

Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the patent lawsuit
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the patent lawsuit
Coils around the code
Of the software about you?

I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the patent lawsuit is involved
In what I know.

When the patent lawsuit dropped out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

At the sight of patent lawsuits
Tweeting in a blue tweet,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For patent lawsuits.

The river is moving.
The patent lawsuit must be proceeding.

It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The patent lawsuit sat
In the outbox.

Wallace Stevens, he knew what was going down.

Aug 15, 2011 under Poetry Cornered

I'm Losing My Edge

With apologies to James Murphy.

Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Twitter and from Google+.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at Doug Englebart's Mother of All Demos.
In San Francisco.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose tweets I see when they get on the phones.
I'm losing my edge to the Internet seekers who can tell me every tweet of every good designer from early 2007 to late 2007.
I'm losing my edge.To all the kids in 4Chan and Baidu.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Brooklynites with one letter handles and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered baud rates.
But I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge, but I was there.
I was there.
But I was there.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can see the tweets every night in Tweetdeck.
But I was there.
I was there in 1991 at the first web site launch in a basement at CERN.
I was working on the Debabelizer super-palette
with much patience.
I was there when Tim Berners-Lee picked blue for anchor colors.
I told him,
“Don't do it that way. You'll never make it legible.”
I was there.

I was the first guy showing hex colors to the art school kids.
I showed them in the Mac Lab.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
I used to work in the games industry.
I followed everything before anyone. 

I was there when Macromedia bought Future Splash.
I was there when lowsrc was being discovered.
I woke up hungover on my desk after a launch in 1996.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.

I heard you have a compilation of every good CSS hack ever done by anybody.
Every great animation by Joshua Davies.
All the stat counter hits.
All the JavaScript rollover tricks.

I heard you have a first edition of every Lynda Weinman book.
I heard that you have a white iPod Touch prototype bought off the grey market in Taiwan.
I heard that you were being followed by @zeldman, @meyerweb, @jasonsantamaria, @gruber.
I hear you're buying a domain and a web host and are throwing your tumblr out the window because you want to make something real.
You want to make a static HTML site.
I hear that you and your team have sold your pcs and bought tablets. 
I hear that you and your team have sold your tablets and bought phones.

I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my bookmarks?

Angelfire,, Ultimate Band List, MacFixit, Hot Wired, Hot Bot, Web Monkey, Dreamless, Lycos, The WELL, AltaVista, WebCrawler, Excite, Dogpile, Metacrawler, LookSmart, Tripod, Geocities, Angelfire, Tiled backgrounds, imagemaps, applets, web safe, get Shockwave, GraphicConverter, skip intro,  Clement Mok, Jeffery Zeldman, A List Apart, Todd Dominey, Kevin Mitnick, Alertbox, Vincent Flanders, Kai's Power Tools, k! 10! k!, Bert is Evil, Dancing Baby, Cat Scan,, Praystation, SiSSYFiGHT, Soulbath, Icebox, Hamster Dance, the framesets, the framesets, the framesets, the framesets…
You don't know what you really want.

Recommended for Netscape Navigator 2.


With contributions from @scronide

Jul 26, 2011 under Design, under Poetry Cornered