Text 811, 110 rader
Skriven 2004-12-20 09:06:44 av Greg Sears (1:153/307)
     Kommentar till en text av George Pope
Ärende: Re: Joke Today[10-12-2004]
==================================
Funny on 19-Dec-2004 00:52

 GS> It was the night before Christmas

 GP> Yup, twas'es aplenty!

> OBJoke: for our Moderator and all-round friend/servant

This is a song I created to the tune of Bryan Adams
"Summer of 69" entitled "Christmas when I was nine"

Santa bought me a toy truck
It was red and the paint did shine
It had a horn that honked and
I got it when I was nine.

Showed it to some guys at school
Santa didn't get them no trucks
They all got socks and long johns
And all the other stuff that sucks.

Billy even got a doll
One that cried and wet her panties
We all beat Billy up
Cuz that's what we do with pansies
That was the best truck of my life...
Oh yeah...
The Christmas when I was nine Unhunh!

Yeah my truck was fine
It was the best of the bestest
That little truck of mine.
But no truck can last forever
Forever NO!!

Yeah well my truck got broken
Wheels fell off and the chassi bent
No more fun in the sand box
So into the trash it went.

I guess that's Okay,
My times with my truck were fun
I'll wait till next Christmas day
WHEN I GET ME A B.B. GUN WHOAH!
That was the best truck of my life Unhunh!
The Christmas when I was nine
Shooting dogs and having good times
Oh yeah!
The Christmas when I was nine.

                                Et finis

                                        Robert Coughler


> OBJoke: for Mr. <+]::-{(} ("Cyberpope")

'Twas the night before installation,
And all through the shop,
Not a program was working,
It sure was a flop.
The programmers hung by their tubes in despair,
In hope that a miracle soon would be there.

The users were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Super-Programmer (with a six-pack of beer).

His resume glowed with experience so rare,
He turned out great code with a bit-pusher's flair.
More rapid than eagles, his programs they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
On Update!  On Add!  On Inquiry!  On Delete!
On Batch!  On Closing!  On Functions Complete!

His eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean,
>From  weekends and nights in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code; then turned with a jerk,
And laying a finger upon the "Enter" key,
The system came up and worked perfectly.

The Updates updated, the Deletes, they deleted;
The inquiries inquired, and Closing completed.
He tested each whistle and each bell,
with nary an abend, and all had gone well.

The system was finished, the tests were concluded;
The users' last changes were even included.
And the users exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want!"




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