Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary, System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor, Longing for the warmth of bedsheets, Still I sat there, doing spreadsheets: Having reached the bottom line, I took a floppy from the drawer. Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store, Only this and nothing more.
Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond’ring, fearing, Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more. "Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!" One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more, Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion? These were choices undesired, ones I’d never faced before. Carefully, I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises. The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more. Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more, From Choose "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
With my fingers pale and trembling Slowly toward the keyboard bending, Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored, Praying for some guarantee Timidly I pressed a key. But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before. Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore, Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
I tried to catch the chips off-guard I pressed again, but twice as hard. I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore. Now in desperation, trying random combinations, Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before. Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before. Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
There I sat, distraught, exhausted by my own machine, accosted Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor. And then I saw dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night. A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my core. The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore. Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
To this day I do not know The place to which lost data goes. What demonic nether world is wrought where data will be stored, Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes? But sure as there’s C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more, You will one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore, Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"
Look after yourself! it's the only place you've got to live in.
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Don’t know if this one has been posted before...
Footprints in the Sand
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there were one set of footprints.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints.
So I said to the Lord, “You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there have only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?”
The Lord replied, “The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand, is when I carried you.”
Neaw here’s a grand owd story Which ah’d like to bring to leet, It’s abeawt some wiggin ceawncillers Who met one mund’y neet; Well it seems they had a backlog O` topics to debate, Which wur listed o`th` agenda As th` chermon handed eawt.
Neaw one o`th topics listed Which had bin left i`th` dark, Wus th` ways an` means o`breetenin` up Th`teawn’s municipal park; So when th` chermon oppen’t th` session An` axed "Wot con wey do"? Aw th` ceawncillers i` teawrn Wur gi`ed a chance to air their view.
Well th` fust mon said, "Some fancy plants an` trees a`ll add new face, An` there’s no deawt abeawt it They’ll breeten up th` owd place "Statues i`stone o` famous men", Said another,"They’ll add mystery, An` they’re beawnt attract thoose soart o` foalk Wot like a bit uv history.
Neaw, there wur mony mooer ideas Wot wur browt up fer debatin` An` while th` meetin`talked abeawt `em aw Owd Tummus set theer waitin`; Then he said,"Ah`ve getten a proposal Wod ah would like to make, Why don’t wey ged a gondola Un` pur it eawt o`th lake".
Well th` meetin` talked abeawt it An`gi`ed it a gradely do An` mooest uv `em admitted As it would make a lovely view; Then th` chermon cawed fer order An` when th` noise ud deed away He said, "Ah’m gooin`t`caw fer th` vote Iv nobd’ys owt else t`say".
Neaw Owd Jem ceawered deawn i`th corner Ud ne`er spokken a word aw neet, But suddenly he storred hisel` An` geet up on his feet; Then he said,"Mesthur Chermon, ah’d like t`amend The proposal made bi Tum.