scancorp
Administrator
Indmeldt: 19. okt 2005
Indlæg: 257
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"THE COMPUTER OPERATOR"
Feet winging, heart singing, he trots through the door
So happy to be 'midst the clatter and roar.
Computer and printer, the job as a whole
Is Heaven to him, provides food for his soul.
No other, (his mother, his kid nor his wife)
Receives such devotion, gives meaning to Life.
To enter the "center" is Life's greatest joy
Providing a pleasure that surely won't cloy.
Pulsating, awaiting his gentle commands
The rig seems to recognize capable hands.
Confident, competent, he flits here and there
Getting things ready to go on the "air".
Drives counted, tapes mounted already to go
He pauses a moment, his features aglow,
Serenely, routinely he pushes the "Start"
And it's just about then that things fly apart!
One disk, then another, gives forth whistles and screams
The printer goes mad, spewing paper in reams
The lights on the console give a fire-works display
And in momentary panic his feet turn to clay
His heart begins pounding and surely must burst
As the whole darned crazy rig acts like something accursed
For what seems an eternity but is only a flash
His feet feel bogged down in a glutinous mass
He's unable to move and unable to speak
As the computer goes dead with a pitiful squeak.
Head ringing, eyes stinging, he goes for the switch
Knocking down power on his "beautiful witch"
Benumbed, feeling stunned, not yet able to guess
The calamitous cause of this horrible mess.
Traumatic, dramatic, the shock is profound
For fully a minute he utters no sound
Then 'waking, hands shaking, his temper gives way
And curses start flying (I'm sorry to say).
He curses the mainframe, the tape-drives as well
He curses the disk drives, consigns them to Hell
He curses the printer, he curses the punch
He curses the console, and then on a hunch
He curses the program, and still quite untiring
He curses the chips, transistors and wiring
He curses the present, he curses the future
He curses the day he first saw a computer.
At last, quite exhausted, he falls to the floor
Unable to utter one little curse more.
Bedevilled, dishevilled, his face chalky white
Eyes bloodshot, tongue lolling, a pitiful sight
It's over, all over, the battle is done
'Twixt man and machine, the computer has won.
Muttering, stuttering, completely insane
He mumbles his warning again and again
"Idiots, idiots, can't anyone see
That anytime now you may end up like me"!!
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Kalender 
