CW: The world needs the wisdom and righteousness of He-Man

Me: Masters of the universe are we my loyal disciples. Send me $20 and unto you the lord He shall bestow glory. Amen.

CW: Maketh not small cheap plastic idols of me or my mountain volcano play-set.

Me: *unlicensed small cheap plastic idols. Think of the merchandising…

CW: Ahh yeah…render only unto Mattel and its subsidiaries.

Me: WhitAck Global Corp.

CW: All Rights Reserved, naturally.

Me: Patent Pending…in fact, you should probably have *** sign an NDA

CW: And a non-compete for when she’s 15 and wishes I was dead

Me: Ok, I’ll have legal draw up some papers and have them delivered by carrier pigeon (WhitAck Global communicates exclusively by pigeon for security. It limits our opportunities somewhat).

CW: Pigeons for now until we make our first billion or so, then it’s hell-fire armed recon drones.

Me: Freakin’ Sweet! “Hey, shoot me a hell-fire armed recon drone message about our power lunch tomorrow.” will be heard in the office halls and around water coolers.

CW: HaHa, yes! Strike fear into the underlings with heavy weaponry.

Me: “I’m sorry Tod, but you’re Hell-Fired!”

–brief tangent involving Groupon–

Me: He-Man church will have a 5% off your Tithe Groupon
Me: WhitAck Global will have a $5 off your religious figurine Groupon.

CW: Free trucker hat with every fifth conversion!

Me: Heaven on sale this week only!

CW: Hell-Fire missled fired into the competing shrine of your choice.

Me: Bring an impressionable friend, 2 for 1 raffle tickets, punch & pie.

CW: We have the framework, we just have to implement it. People will come ray. People will come.

Me: Bring me my carrier pigeon! I wish to correspond!

Ding dong the winters dead.
Which old winter?
The wicked winter.
Ding dong the wicked winters’ dead!

Once upon a work day dreary, while I sat quite bored and weary,
over many a quaint and curious volume of technical chore,
whilst I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
as of gentle cyber rapping, rapping at my office door,
”Tis my boss’, I muttered, ‘tapping at my office door -
only this and nothing more’.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the cold December,
and each separate blinking pixel wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished for ‘morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow,
from the webs a relief of sorrow, sorrow for the mounting chore -
For the ware and care of never ending systems to endure -
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of a solo person
thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
so that now, without remission I arose and stood repeating
’tis my boss harassing, perhaps just passing by my office door,
some late visit, possibly inquisit at my office door,
This it is and nothing more’.

Presently my soul grew stronger, fearing interruption no longer,
‘Sir’ said I, ‘or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
but the fact is I was mapping and so gently you came rapping,
very faintly you were tapping, tapping at my office door.
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep down the hallway peering, long I stood quite oddly fearing,
doubting, dreaming dreams no nerd ever dared to dream before;
but the silence was unbroken, and the hallway gave no token,
And there was no word there spoken only darkness and the floor,
Merely this and nothing more.

Back to my desk now turning, all my soul within me burning,
soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely’ said I, ‘the janitor must be cleaning this office floor’
Let me see then what there is to see, this office I must explore.
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore.
‘Tis the janitor and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the door, and reams of paper scattered
into the hallway flattered as if someone had adore,
perhaps a shot of coffee, something warm and frothy
a mug of the hot elixir, will my sanity restore.
Is it boredom, nothing more?

Now with my coffee steaming I returned to the office beaming
for there was no noisy rapping, no unfamiliar tapping,
tapping at my office door. Again I gazed with focus,
authoring my hokus-pokus when a wind blew open the door,
stirring papers tattered as they settle to the floor.
God damned wind! Nothing more.

Much I marveled now as I shouted to the wall,
‘might as well start with water, perhaps something a bit hotter
why don’t you light a fire if you seek to end the bore’
And then another tapping, an incessant gangly rapping now much louder than before
It was quite a trouncing, a truly noisy pouncing upon my office door.
I’ve gone mad. Nothing more.

T’was the night before Tuesday, and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, except for this mouse.
It wasn’t the furry little creature beware
but the clickable scroll wheeled thing right down there.

The admin was nestled all snug and well fed
while visions of data transfers danced in his head.
Wrapped up in a snuggie and wearing a cap
he’d just signed off for a quick kind of nap.

When out on the nets there arose such a clatter
he sprang to login and see what was the matter.
Into the server he flew using flash
to check the event log for reasons of crash.

His face glinting dim with monitors glow
the appearance of sleep deprivation did show.
When what to his watering eyes should appear
but a server elf fixing the things he held dear.

With little elf hands and a tiny mouse click
I knew in a moment that would do the trick.
More rapid than eagles his patches they came
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

On Windows, on Linux, and Mac now just listen
I’m the server elf here to make your web presence glisten.
From open source to closed, I’ll download a haul
and update, update, update them all!

Of the people, by the people?
Which people?
Collect the information,
inhale it. Consume it. Know IT.
It is neither write nor wrong,
to know.

If you picked a side…

you lost.

Stop. Inebriating, listen, coming back with a brand new description. Something. Grabs a hold of me tightly, makes me want write crap daily and nightly. Will it ever stop? Yes, probably. It’s beer.

When you say goodbye to those you love
perhaps not on the best of terms
It can leave you tired
Weak
Soft
Depressed an accurate word.
This can linger eb and flow
Torment you to no end
It can zap your strength
(So preserve your will)
Never should you pretend
That you’ve been so wounded
So fouled that all is lost
Persist!
Cry
Sleep (and run)
Embrace the quiet frost
Resolve to see the end
Stay up for the show
For when it passes
(And it will)
You will then have found
A strength you had not known
A new wisdom held within
A world to explore with those
Who still share your wicked grin