X-NEWS: spcvxb alt.folklore.computers: 17407 Relay-Version: VMS News - V6.0-3 14/03/90 VAX/VMS V5.4; site spcvxb.spc.edu Path: spcvxb.spc.edu!rutgers!att!linac!pacific.mps.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!think.com!yale.edu!ira.uka.de!uka!irau38!hanssgen Newsgroups: alt.folklore.computers Subject: Computer Songs & Poems [part 5/5] Message-ID: From: hanssgen@ira.uka.de (Stefan Haenssgen) Date: 18 Dec 91 14:58:50 GMT Followup-To: alt.folklore.computers Organization: University of Karlsruhe, FRG Keywords: ok ... "computers songs poems parodies" - better? ;-) NNTP-Posting-Host: irau38.ira.uka.de Lines: 563 ***BEGIN PART 5*** Sitting there Bashing one last Bug Waiting for the Sun, Waiting for the Sun, Waiting for the Sun. Can't you feel it, Now that work is due, That it's time to Fight for some CPU Waiting for the Sun, Waiting for the Sun, Waiting for the Sun. Waiting for the Sun. Waiting... Waiting... Waiting... Waiting... Waiting... Waiting... Waiting... Waiting... Waiting for Make is Such a bore. Waiting for a.out to Stop dumping core... Waiting for some cycles All day long. Waiting for adb to tell me what went wrong. This is the strangest Bug I've ever known. Can't you feel it, Now that work is due, That it's time to fight For some CPU Waiting for the Sun, Waiting for the Sun, Waiting for the Sun. Waiting for the Sun. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Title : The Wall 2 Original : The Wall Group : Pink Floyd Author : Nathan Torkington Intro : Song : "Another User in the Wall Part 1" Root has flown across the ocean Leaving just a memory Coredumps from /bin ls Root, what else did you leave for me? Root, what'd'ja leave behind for me?! All in all, you were just a pain in the ass, All in all, we are all just pains in the ass. "Another Brick in the Wall part 2" {\lead} We don't need no pull-down-menus We don't need no rescaled fonts No dark icons in the corner Hackers, leave those Macs alone. Hey! Hackers! Leave them Macs alone! All in all it's just another WIMP up for sale All in all you're just another WIMP up for the sale. {\kids} We don't need no fancy windows We don't need no title bars No MultiFinder in the startup Hackers leave them Macs alone Hey! Hackers! Leave them Macs alone! All in all it's just another WIMP up for sale All in all you're just another WIMP up for sale. {\guitar} "Another Brick In the Wall Part 3" I don't need no mice around me And I don't need no fonts to calm me. I have seen the writing on the wall. Don't think I need any WIMP at all. No! Don't think I need any WIMP at all. No! Don't think I'll need any WIMP at all. All in all it was all just bricks in the wall. All in all you were all just bricks in the wall. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Title : What is a Hacker? Original : What is a DJ? Group : Spike Jones Author : Russell Street Intro : [longish - sth] Sometime ago I recorded from a radio programme a Spike Jones recording "What is a DJ?". I think it was recorded in the 50's -- it includes a reference to televison advertising stealing from radio. It has only recently occured to me that it is perfect for adapting to describe the "hacker". Above is my first attempt to do this, along with the original (below) Unfortunately I can not find out who actually wrote it or when. The only information that the announcer gave was that it was a Spike Jones recording, and it was only released once. I have only changed the words to suit computer ideas, keeping with the original flow, patterns and concepts. Any suggestions this could improve this are welcomed. The original recording has some organ music that flows with and emphasis the way it is read. It is difficult to reproduce this in text. Most of this is to do with the speed at which it is spoken. The original: What is a DJ? ------------- Between the commercialism of the sponsor, and the innocence of the radio audience we find a delightful creature called the Disc Jockey. Disc Jockeys come in assorted sizes, weights and colours. But all disc Jockeys have the same creed: to fill every minute of every hour of every day with records and commercials. And to protest with noise, their only weapon, when the last programme has finished and the radio sponsor switches his interest to television. Disc Jockeys are found everywhere -- radio stations, golf courses, advertising agencies, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running away to, on top of **OLD SMOKY**. Mothers ignore them, little girls don't understand them, older sisters tolerate them, adults HA! Heaven and the advertising agencies protect them. A disc jockey is truth with a script in his hand, beauty with a bloodshot voice, wisdom with a cut of the profits, and the hope of the sponsor with a frog in his throat. When you are busy a disc jockey is a inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of noise. When you want him to play a beautiful melodic record his brain turns to jelly. Or else he becomes a savage sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying his Hooper rating and himself with a brass band playing into an echo chamber. A disc jockey is a composite. He has the brain of an adding machine, the ulcers of a banker, the persistency of an auctioneer, the diction of a train announcer, the subtlety of a meat cleaver, and when he has to put a record on the turn-table by himself he has five thumbs on each hand! He likes free albums, swimming pools, Dixieland records, cadallics, money, sponsors (in their natural habitat), free passes and the girl-across-the-street. He is not much for music, song sloggers, other disc Jockeys, the sales department, engineers, and the girl-across-the-street's husband. Nobody else is so early to rise or to late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of old joke books, loud records, fan mail and females. Nobody else can cram into one half hour so many commercials about soap, falling hair, toothpaste, deodorant, non-skid tyres and a large chunk of unknown substance. A disc jockey is a magical creature. You can turn him off your radio but you can't turn him off your neighbour's radio. You can get him out of your mind, but you can't get him out of the air. He's a bleary-eyed, syrup-voiced, fast-talking, bundle of noise. But, when you wake up in the morning with only the shattered pieces of your sleep and dreams he can make you wish you'd never been born with the two magic words: GOOD MORNING! Song : What is a Hacker? (version 1.01) ----------------- Adapted by Russell Street (russells@ccu1.aukuni.ac.nz) Between the commericalism of the MSIS department, and the innocence of the Real User we find a delightful creature called the Computer Hacker. Hackers come in assorted sizes, weights and colours. But all hackers have the same creed: to fill every byte of every disk of every machine with source code and old news. And to protest with flames, their only weapon, when the last process is KILLed and the computer centre switches to a "better" computer. Hackers are found everywhere -- univerities, colleges, corporations, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running away to, on top of **VAXen**. Management ignores them, secretaries don't understand them, Customer Support tolerate them, administrators HA! Heaven and the greatful user protect them. A hacker is intelligence with a head ache, elegance with a core dump, daring with a secure backup, and the hope of the admin with the root password. When you are busy a hacker is a inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding, resource hogging process. When you want him to solve your problem his brain turns to jelly. Or else he becomes a savage sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying his reputation and your data with a misplaced 'rm -r'. A hacker is a composite. He has the brain of a adding machine, the stealth of a thief, the percistancy of a tiger, the resourcefulness of cracker, the subtetly of a meat cleaver. And when he has to put a tape in a drive by himself he has five thumbs on each hand! He likes USENET access, e-mail, source code, nethack, money, admins (in their natural habitat), free accounts and the new-girl-in-the-operator's-room. He is not much for paper work, code grinders, other hackers on his machine, the MSIS department, dummy money, and the new-girl-in-the-operator's-room's husband. Nobody else is so late to rise or to late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of old news files, loud records, junk food and females. Nobody else can cram into one half hour so many requests for restores, bulk chowning, increased disk space, more processer time, faster CPUs and a large chunk of unknown substance. A hacker is a magical creature. You can kick him off your terminal but you can't kick him off your neighbour's terminal. You can get him out of your mind, but you can't get him out of the batch queue. He's a bleary-eyed, syrup-voiced, fast-talking, bundle of keystrokes. But, when you are editing, with only the shattered pieces of working code backed up, he can make you wish you'd saved sooner with the two magic words: SYSTEM CRASH! @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Title : When I was a lad Original : When I was a Lad Group : Gilbert and Sullivan Author : Tony Duell Intro : Song : When I was a lad I served a term As office boy in a computer firm. I cleared the bugs out, and I got to grips With polishing the silicon on all their chips. [With polishing the silicon on all their chips.] I polished up that silicon so carefully That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3. [He polished up that silicon so carefully That now he is responsible for Phoenix 3.] At cleaning chips I made such a name That a drinks pro-grammer I soon became: I mixed soup, cola and some fizzy tea, And when the program ran it cost 8p. [And when...] The users so enjoyed this Most Vile Tea That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3. [The users...] At making drinks I acquired such a knack That at operatorship I had a crack: I did the crossword, read about foot-ball And never tried unloading Printer 3 at all. [And never...] I tore off output sheets so carelessly That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3. [He tore...] The users often saw me every day, So I took on the job of a P.A. I told the beginners of GCAL and ZED, Or phoned up experts for their views instead. [Or phoned...] I passed the buck along so frequently That now I am responsible for Phoenix 3. [He passed...] I worked so hard that I required a rest, And so they got me dealing with SUGGEST: I took three months off, turned the users sour By claiming that I was a shortage of manpower. [By claiming...] I took a year off, did the C.S.T. To learn enough to work on Phoenix 3. [He took...] At user-friendliness I'd made such a mess, They got me working hard on MVS: I made commands obscure and twice as long, And changed the syntax so most jobs went wrong. [And changed...] I made such trouble they upgraded me By making me responsible for Phoenix 3. [He made...] Now hackers all, whoever you may be, If you want to do things faster than Queue D, If your eyes are forever glued to VDUs, Then leave the rat race and its four job queues: [Then leave...] Keep clear of machines, IBM or BBC, And you may get the blame for parts of Phoenix 3! [Keep clear...] @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Title : When you try to get work from the data network Original : ? Group : Gilbert & Sullivan Author : ? (First seen at Cambridge, England) Intro : Song : When you try to get work from the Data Net-work, and you're tapping the keys with impatience, It will say it's congested, your code stays untested, all users are waiting for sessions. For with C.I.P. errors and similar terrors the C.U.D.N. tries to thwart you And you hit RETURN thrice and ask friends for advice - for again the new system has caught you, As your password is typed out before it is wiped out (by hitting the button marked CLEAR SCREEN), And you hit CONTROL/P C and try to get busy at trying to conquer the machine! Then the system expires and you pull out the wires and you find that the VDU's broken, Get another one near, then walk out with a jeer for by now it won't let any folk on! Well at last it permits you to log on and hits you, you join all the users in weeping, For your session's such pain, and there's so little gain that you'd very much better be sleeping! For you find your UPDATEing a file, and you're waiting five minutes for ZED to acknowledge, While the user next door throws a fit on the floor and runs screaming back home to his college; And you're typing ahead as you're waiting for ZED, then refile to a file that is GUARDed, But forgot to say YES and you're now in a mess, as you think the result's been discarded; Then you try to use RUN and it's really no fun, for the scheduler's not very clever, And you're job's in queue D and you really can't see if it's likely to run now, or ever. Well you try once again and it runs right as rain, so you have a quick look with COLLECTREAD: The results of your look - "Standard Fixup" was took - IBM's guess not what you expect/need! Fortran IV you reject, as you're program's all wrecked, so you dump all your files TLS-wise, But the filename's too long, ARCHIVE always goes wrong, and you're finding it's too much now, stress-wise! So at INFO.NEW you look, feeling quite blue, and you find that the CS has faltered: All the keywords changed round, and you don't like the sound for the language is terribly altered: For it's IBM-ese, wasn't written to please, though amuses the people who wrote it, Each command a long word, of the like never heard, some anomalies that you've just noted. From your work you now rest, see INFO.SUGGEST, which no-body has looked at for ages, So you try SUGGEST-FILE, and ironically smile, which is better than yielding to rages! Now with PRINTOUT you fail, it is lost in the mail, and your hair you are frantically tearing, POST and ROUTE get ignored, once again you've been floored! You log off with a shudder despairing... You are worn out and tired, feel the chief should be fired, For he won't sympathise, to use PHX never tries, And you're angry and cross, with the time that is loss, With a pain in you brain, swear "no more!" (all in vain!) For your session's a waste, never more should be faced, And you're nerves are all frayed, and your output's mislayed, You can't fix it today, the adviser's away, And you haven't been lying in clover: But the session is past, and it's teatime at last, And the torment's been long, ditto ditto my song, And thank goodness they're both of them over! @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Title : The Worm before Christmas Original : ? Group : ? Author : Received in a mailfile on Cornell's computer network. (Copied from m-net, Ann Arbor, MI) Intro : Song : THE WORM BEFORE CHRISTMAS Twas the night before finals and all through the lab Not a student was sleeping, not even McNabb. Their projects were finished, completed with care In hopes that the grades would be easy (and fair). The students were wired with caffeine in their veins While visions of quals nearly drove them insane. With piles of books and a brand-new highlighter, I had just settled down for another all-nighter -- When out from our gateways arose such a clatter, I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter Away to the console I flew like a flash And logged on as root to fend off a crash The windows displayed on my brand new Sun-3 Gave oodles of info -- some in 3-D. When, what to my burning red eyes should appear But dozens of "nobody" jobs. Oh dear! With a blitzkrieg invasion, so virulent and firm, I knew in a moment. It was Morris's Worm! More rapid than eagles his processes came And they forked and exec'd and they copied by name! "Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen! To the sites in .rhosts and host.eqi Now, dash away! dash away! dash away all!" [ Note: the machines dasher.cs.uiuc.edu, dancer.cs.uiuc.edu, prancer.cs.uiuc.edu, etc., have been renamed deer1, deer2, deer3, etc., so as not to confuse the already burdened students who use those machines. We regret that this poem reflects the older naming scheme and hope it does not confuse the network administrator at your site. -Ed. ] And then in a twinkling, I heard on the phone, The complaints of the users (thought I was alone!) "The load is too high!" "I can't read my files!" "I can't send my mail over miles and miles!" I unplugged the net, and was turning around, When the worm-ridden system went down with a bound. I frettedI fritteredI sweatedI wept. Then finally I core dumped the worm in /tmp. It was smart and pervasive, a right jolly old stealth, And I laughed when I saw it, in spite of myself. A look at the dump of that invasive thread Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread. The next day was slow with no network connections For we wanted no more of those pesky infections. But in spite of the news and the noise and the clatter Soon all became normal, as if naught were the matter. Then later that month, while all were away, A virus came calling, and then went away. The system then told us, when we logged in one night: "Happy Christmas to all! (You guys aren't so bright.)" @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Title : Write in C Original : Let it Be Group : Beatles Author : Intro : Song : Write in C When I find my code in tons of trouble, Friends and colleagues come to me, Speaking words of wisdom: "Write in C." As the deadline fast approaches, And bugs are all that I can see, Somewhere, someone whispers: "Write in C." Write in C, Write in C, Write in C, oh, Write in C. LOGO's dead and buried, Write in C. I used to write a lot of FORTRAN, For science it worked flawlessly. Try using it for graphics! Write in C. If you've just spent nearly 30 hours Debugging some assembly, Soon you will be glad to Write in C. Write in C, Write in C, Write in C, yeah, Write in C. Only wimps use BASIC. Write in C. Write in C, Write in C Write in C, oh, Write in C. Pascal won't quite cut it. Write in C. Write in C, Write in C, Write in C, yeah, Write in C. Don't even mention COBOL. Write in C. (and what about C++ ?) ***END PART 5*** -- ,-----,------,--,--, / / / / / Stefan Haenssgen, Comp Sci, Uni Karlsruhe, Germany / ---/-, ,-/ / / / / / / / / haenssgen@ira.uka.de or uk0w@dkauni2.bitnet /--- / / / / / / / / / / / / / "Use the SOURCE, Luke!" (Return of the RedEye Nights) '-----' '--' '--'--' "I feel a great disturbance in the SOURCE"